Saturday, October 20, 2012

Autobiography-The Beginnings of Chapter One

***As some of you may have read, I am writing my autobiography and am posting portions of it here.  This is all raw, unread, not reviewed.  I invite you on my journey of writing my FIRST book!  Hopefully, the first of many.***

I am the first born child of Mary and Michael, born in Oceanside, California.  My mom was 22 and my dad was 24 when they had me.  It was a long 24 hour labor.  My paternal grandmother, Phyllis, and mom often retell the story to me.  My mom wanted my Grandmother in the room with her, but the doctors kept making her leave.  Over and over, mom would call Grandma back and over and over, the doctors had her leave.  Finally, I came into the world at 5 pounds 4 ounces.  The doctor’s announced, “It’s a girl!”  Before I was even cleaned up, I was placed in my Grandmother’s arms as the doctor told her, “You deserve this.”  That day began a special bond between my Grandmother and me.  My Grandmother still laughs when she recalls my mom announcing, “I’m hungry!”  The nurses asked, “Well, what would you like?”  My ravished mother says, “Well, what did everyone else have?  I’ll have that!”  My Grandmother says it was a burger, my mother insists it was steak.  When my mother brought me home, my dad had made a huge sign on our beach front apartment saying, “It’s a girl!”  They were so proud, but with the happiness also came darkness.

Shortly after I was born, the police knocked on the door, arresting my father and handcuffing my mother.  They were being arrested because my father was growing pot outside of our home.  My mom said, “That’s his!  Why am I being arrested?”  The cops said, “You knew about it.  You should have reported him.”  My mom now tells me, “Why would I have reported my own husband?  I thought that was his thing.”  I began crying, just a few days old, and my mom told the police that she needed to nurse me.  They took the handcuffs off and let me feed, while they took my dad to jail.  They told my mom, “The only reason you’re not going to jail is because you’re nursing.”  That was the beginning of my life; the beginning of a long journey with a mom who was a brand new, born-again Christian, and a wild, alcoholic, drug-addicted dad.

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