Chapter 9 Love? What is that anyway?

I will talk about this subject a lot. I am going to treat this chapter as if it were a journal entry. Love… So many of us, if not all of us seek love. So what is love. That is a question all of us seek in our hearts. There is such a stigma that comes with a woman when talks of love. Well darn it everyone wants and needs love. It’s what we think love is. So let me take you on a journey of what that looks like for me.

The definition of Love



1.An intense feeling of deep affection

2. A person or thing that one loves

3.(in tennis,squash and some other sports) a score of zero


  1. Feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to

So that is what the dictionary says. Thank you Bing and Siri for that help. Haha

To me that definition is very subjective. I know for me I, like most people have wanted a love that is so deep and true it would make the heavens rejoice. I always envisioned my very own prince charming. Not only did he have all the looks and that V that drives any sane woman crazy. Thick hair, strong jaw, strong shoulders and the most gorgeous arms that can hold any woman tight and to top it off can wear a great pair of jeans and plain white T-shirt. To me that was just physical stuff. I wanted that and the heart of gold as well. The man who knew how to treat people with the great empathy, respect and knew how to stand his ground. Who has great morals and ethics. Who was proud of me in all my flaws and goodness.A man that would take care of me in all ways the way that I would take care of him. A man who knew how to just love me unconditionally. Finally, good in bed. Of course there is so much more to all of that. I wanted a man that could talk to my heart and intrigue my mind.

As I grow older that all changes a little bit. But I noticed that as I do age there are many kinds of Love. I was wanting a movie or book love. So I thought.

So with me, even though I want to talk about something may or may not exist. There are loves that are very real. There is the love we have for our parents, siblings, other family members,our children,community, our pets, love for our church, friends, friends who are family,movies,books, activities, hobbies. I don’t hear many people talk about how they love themselves or the love they have for our Creator. We have love for them too.

All of those things and I am sure that I have missed some things and people that we love. So what is love to me? What is love to you?

Love to me is God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. They are one. One is not higher than the other. They each bring different things to the table but its all love. Selfless and raw love. Everything done with the purpose of love. I didn’t that until I actually allowed them into my heart fully. That is the greatest gift that I was given a little over a year ago. The road was long and hard with great moments of life that I cherished. There were all those other moments that happened as well, but even then I always saw a brighter side to those situations. To me they are one and one love that is so perfect.

Then there is love of my children. Everything I have ever done for my kids was done out of love. I knew that I needed to stop the cycle that my own parents had tried to pass down to me. Not that they knew that was happening. I choose to love my kids almost to the point of smothering. Haha. I showed them the love I had always wanted from my parents. I love the crap out of all my kids! I hold them, I kiss them, I cuddle with them, I praise them, I correct them, I would do anything for them. I teach them the why we do things and why we don’t. I prank my kids, I play with my kids. I laugh with my kids, I cry with my kids, and I love watching them grow into the awesome humans they are. They are my world.

The love that I have for my parents is pretty awesome too. I love them both for who they are and all the things they don’t know about themselves. Mom always told me that one day I would learn who they are as people not as mom and dad. She was so right. I learned who they are and some of what they went through to attempt to raise me. Like I said before I wasn’t always easy. I wasn’t meant to be easy. I didn’t love one more than the other. I love them both for who they are and what they mean to me. My mom is one of my bestie, and so is my dad. I can tell them anything. They each give me words of wisdom and they each do it in love. I also love them for all the pain they went through. They are very much a part of my life and love. My mom is my rock and one woman who I love going on adventures on. We have a lot of fun together. I don’t think we would have had that kind of relationship if I hadn’t been me the whole time. My mom wasn’t the only teaching me things in life. For us its a two-way street and it feels great that we push each other in ways that at times makes us uncomfortable but we do it. I love my momma. My dad is kind of like my teacher. We talk about everything too. We love to talk about Jesus and life. He helps me see things from a different point of view and perspective that I may have overlooked. My dad loves me all of me. I definitely get his sense of humor. He and I even talk similar when we talk about life with others. Almost like a teacher would to students. Its wonderful. He knows my mind for the most part. My mom knows my heart for the most part, and together we all make a great team. I feel they raised a pretty awesome human. I think of them like immortals. I can’t see my life without them in it in some way. I felt the same way about my Granddaddy. That man had all of my heart. He and I were connected in such a way that only God knows. He is the man who made a great model of what my husband will be when I was a little girl. I loved him and still love him. Its been two years since he went home to Granny and Jesus. Now he gets to hang around the cool crowd. That makes me smile.

My friends and friends I have considered family…. There are no words for I how I love them. There are really only three people who I have let get close to me. That is just because of all my junk that I carried with me. Some were willing to stick with me through it all. I love them like I do my family. I would do all that I could for them.

Then there is everyone else. I have a lot of love that I want to share with people. I love people in such a way that I don’t judge what you are going through. I don’t even to pretend that I know what you are going through in life. I don’t have that kind of power. There is a lot of people out there that just need someone to let them know that they matter too. Maybe no one has ever said to them Hey I freaking love you. You are important too. But I am not Jesus y’all. I can’t fix this world. I can only do my part in just loving my neighbor, brother and sister. For instance when people say awful things to me, I don’t dare think with feelings or take it personal. I have no idea what that person is going through. I have no idea what pain or joy they have. I choose to respond in such a way that makes me question myself at times. Like, there are times that maybe I should have been pissed but I wasn’t. Forgive and move on. I know that I am different but there are people who feel that they need to tell me awful things they think about me. When really it may be them who is having these feelings about themselves.

Like some people have told me that I need to do something different from spend my time writing or working from home. I am not that person that fits into this world very easily or at all. Trust me and ask my parents. They tried to have me follow what the ” world” expects me to do. That is just not me. I was not put on this earth to do what the world expects me to do. I do what I am asked to do by my Father. What he says goes. Not the world. I have no idea if that makes to y’all but it makes sense to me.

Love is so important to all of us as humans. That is the one thing that we crave the most. It is the MOST WANTED, most desired. We all want to be loved. I am curious what love means to you. How has it impacted your life. Or the lack there of love?

I crave the deepest of intimacy from those close to me. I am so willing to share and I do crave to listen and be there in the most intimate times of people’s lives. If that is one thing I want it’s that sort of intimacy from another human. I don’t how to describe it … yet but when I do find the words I will share. I want a relationship with you all. I want to get to know you, and that is my expression of love to you all.




Chapter 6 First Love

I am officially with my mom, her new husband and my little brother. My sister is now doing her own thing. This was the summer that I really experienced all the hype of those hormones that all the adults in my life were talking about. I mean sure I was emotionally but as far as boys went I was not interested. That was until this tall boy on a bike rode passed my house. Who was that?

That was it for me. He was all that I thought about from that moment. I didn’t even know his name and yet I have seen him ride passed my house on his bike several times. I have never wanted a bike so bad in my life! Oh and how I wished my brother had a different babysitter than me! I must know this boy. I watched out my window everyday to see if he would pass by, and he did. I finally grew a pair and saw that he was coming and I went outside with my brother. I needed a reason to be outside.

Thankfully my brother was eager to go outside! I happen to step right outside as he was passing my house. He stops abruptly and turns back towards my house. I have major butterflies happening right now. I think I need to pee. Oh MY Gosh. He is very cute. I might be in trouble. He stops and the first things he says is ” Hey are you new here?” Oh yes I am very new here. I tell him that I just moved back from Texas. I tell him my name and he finally tells me his. Joe.

There was this connection between us. I can’t speak for him but it was there for me. From that day on he was over at the house everyday, and I didn’t care because I was with him, and my brother. I broke rules to be with Joe. I had impure thoughts about Joe. Now before you make this something it isn’t. It wasn’t like that for me. Sex was furthest from my mine but my first kiss on the other hand. I envisioned that being with him. The first time I ever snuck out was to be with him.I don’t remember who we were with but I just wanted to be with him.

The way he held my hand and even the way he was proud that I was his girl made me feel good. Boys are dangerous. Haha. I say that kind heartedly because he was the first boyfriend that I ever had. I will never forget the way he claimed me to be his. We were together one afternoon and he pulls me into his tall body and lifts my chin and says ” You know you are my girl forever right?!” Talk about a smooth talker that one. He had my heart from that moment on.  We both started middle school that year and school was about to start. What would that mean for me and him? I had so many questions about his feelings? Did he feel the same for me? Did he talk about me? Did he think about me? Did he still want me when we start school?

First day of school we went our separate ways but not too far apart from each other. We were always there for each other but he was definitely the ladies man and well-known for that. I don’t think I saw that side of him. He always treated me like a lady. He enjoyed flirting, I mean we were young for crying out loud! I was occasionally jealous but it wasn’t something that consumed me. He would date other girls in school and it was nice to talk about him with the others, but I can tell you that non of them would express the same feelings as I had with him or even be treated the same way. He would be kind of like stuck up with the other girls, but he was not like that with me. Even if he wanted to he never did. Joe cared for me. I was his girl. Although I don’t think anyone knew that about me and Joe.

I mostly hung around my girls in school but one day this new boy came into my life. Jeremy was his name. He was sweet boy. He wrote me love letters all the time he even asked me out in a sweet letter. Of course I said yes. He brought me a new stuffed animal everyday. It was the cutest thing ever I felt like I was special. I didn’t know how to have anyone except Joe. But everyday I saw Jeremy I was in awe that boys actually treat young ladies like this. Middle school can be a crazy time for all of us kids. I was torn with my friends telling one thing, Jeremy being so incredibly sweet but that I am hurting someone else because they were in love with him, then there was Joe. My sweetheart who was dating one of my best friends.

I finally gave into peer pressure and let Jeremy go. I didn’t want to but I did. I didn’t like know that I was hurting someone else’s happiness for my own. Although, Jeremy was amazing to me. He brought me something everyday. I still have one of the stuffed animals he gave me but thinking about now, receiving gifts wasn’t something I was always comfortable with but I cherished them. The night that I broke up with Jeremy, my heart was broken. He didn’t want to be a part and I didn’t either but I didn’t like someone else hurting. He ended up going out with that other girl and I spent time to myself for sometime. I thought I always had Joe.

Joe ended up calling me one night and asked me to go the baseball fields near where we lived. I said sure and had permission to go. We met up in the middle because by this time I had moved into my new place in ” Barbie Town,” and we just talked like we always did. Once we got there he told me all his dreams of what he wanted to do when we graduated high school. As he ran around the bases of the field I tried to catch him. We were as his mom calls us Sweethearts. I got on his back and we fell to the ground and we laughed so hard. We just laid on our backs looking at the stars holding hands, he rolled over and just looked at me. We proclaimed our love for each other but in my heart I knew I would never get the guy kind of thing. I just knew that guy loved me, and Jeremy was my puppy love experience. It lessened the blow of losing such a great guy. I mean no one meets their soul mate at that age. IF you did congratulations.

Since that time Joe and hung out a lot. I think he liked having me around but didn’t really commit to me kind of thing although we were accused of that a lot. People thought we were having sex and doing all that sort of thing. I am sure he wanted to but not with me. He sure liked to tell everyone I was his. It made me happy but maybe I wanted more. I am not sure. I mean I have never done anything with a boy but one day at the horse stables I went over to help him out. He had some friends with him and they dared him to kiss me and we just looked at them like they were crazy. He walked over to me and pulled me into his arms and gave me that Joe look. He lifted me onto the bars of the ramp and he kissed me. Oh my! I have not experienced that feeling ever down below but wowza. We just looked at each other while his friends laughed making fun of us. ” yeah sure you guys are just friends” we were. Even after that I never thought of sex. Boys at that age that is all they think about. haha me on the other hand didn’t cross my mind. I didn’t plan on using my body that way for a very long time. Like marriage 

He made me feel so cherished. That is how my dad told me what a boyfriend should treat me like. My mom, I don’t think worried about me being sexually active. I didn’t give her reason too. I didn’t exactly share my body. Summer was soon coming and I inquired new friends. Let’s be honest I have known many people but not very many were close to me. I felt used most of the time. I had some close friends who I could tell everything too. I was lucky to have such cool girlfriends, but boys complicate those relationships at times. Joe was always asked about and if we were a thing. The same answer always came out of my mouth. No we aren’t a thing, yes I will give you his number, yes I know where he lives. Yes I guess we can go see if he is home. It was weird after a while.  I mean we are talking about a guy who claimed me as his but didn’t want me like that. Boys… I like to think that he honored me and didn’t see me in that way, but the connection was there. Or was on my end. Jeremy was happy with that other girl and I was ok with being alone.

During that summer though I was feeling a little left out. All my friends were starting to date older boys and I couldn’t get a date to save my life. I have often wondered why? Why was I in a rush or was I? I was just feeling left out or the third wheel. Or the ugly boy in the group would try stuff with me. Hmm No! Oh that’s it I wasn’t approachable. I was called a prude a lot. I was okay with that. I had nothing to prove. Older boys were always around my friends and I don’t think I liked how they talked or even thought they were entitled to grope. Gross. But I did meet a nice older young man and my parents approved me to be with him. He was marriage material for sure. He was a lot like Joe and a giver like Jeremy. I hit the jackpot with him. His name is Chris. He was good to me. He honored me a lot like how Joe did. He protected me. He was 17 and I was 13. He never tried anything with me.

That summer my virginity was taken from me and I was shamed for it. I later found out that one of my best friends liked my boyfriend. She liked him so much that she paid for another young man to have sex with me. It was NOT consensual. I have not ever felt so dirty in my life. Not only that I felt ruined. I was alone even more so now. I have turned fun me to don’t even look at me, don’t touch me, and don’t talk to me. I was not me anymore. I came home that afternoon and showered. I just wanted to wash it all away like it didn’t happen. This so-called friend ran to my boyfriend spinning lies. My sister asked me if I was okay and I broke down and just cried. She made me tell my mom. I hated telling my mom. She made me talk to the police, do a rape kit and lastly I had to go to school with this ass hat the following year. My whole world has changed once again.

My boyfriend called and he was hurt, he was scared and the guy who raped me was one of his best friends. He kept telling me there is something called Saying NO Kristal!! Like I didn’t try in his eyes. he broke up with me. I just wanted comfort not shame. I got shame and a lot of it. I was once again a loner. That is how it felt anyway. The guy’s girlfriend and friends would throw soda at me when I would walk home. I don’t think my mom knew all that I was going through at that time. I felt like everything that happened to me was my fault. Like I had asked for all of this. That shame turned into rebellion against my mom. I had to survive Hight school the next year. Who was I going to hang around? Who can I trust that is a girl? I met my best friend Tab that eight grade year. She’s still my best friend to this day!! We did everything together. After awhile the whole rape case went nowhere and all those clothes they took from me I threw away. I gave up having girlfriends, and I really hung out with my two best guy buddies. I realized at that moment boys weren’t worth it to me and I was really not wanting sex. NOPE!!! Closed for business…. it was robbed and now closed for sure.

The reason why I brought up my first love. I think that it was one of the most important parts of this age for me. When I came back home with my mom. There was a lot of change and there was hope that all would be well when I came back. There was a lot that went well and were happy moments. But for me as a young woman, finding your first love is something you don’t forget. Through the boys I have dated and hung around they showed me something. Jeremy was a kind young man. I feel he just wanted to pour his heart into his relationships. He was super attentive and attractive. I gave him up because I felt it was the right thing to do for someone else. I learned my first experience with puppy love with Jeremy. He is a successful man who I think enjoys his job and having drop dead gorgeous women on his arm. We haven’t talked in many years. Chris and I never talked after that summer. I tried to get back with him but I was grounded and couldn’t meet him to talk. I have no idea what he is up to but I am sure he is doing just fine. The guy who raped me… well I choose to forgive him. I have no idea what he’s doing and don’t care to know. I just know that I made a choice to move on with my life and not allow what happened to me to define me. The girls that threw soda’s at me, well I am friends with most of them. Women are stronger together than competing with each other. Guys come and go. So do friends. I have chosen to let all that go and redeem my life. For a long time that event of that summer scared me for a long time. Finally, there is Joe. Joe is living what looks like a fulfilled life. He has done a lot of great things in his life thus far. He showed me what it was like to be cherished. To know what it felt like to be honored. I am not sure what he felt on his end. I can only tell you what actions he bestowed onto me. He will always have that one piece of my heart. He impacted my life is such a great way. He has overcome many things in his life that are respectable. His momma is an amazing woman and raised him right. His father was hard on him but he knows his story and it is not for me to tell. I can only tell you what my first love was like. He was a man of respect, a great sense of humor , he was a young man who had big dreams running around in the middle of night on a wet baseball field, who dreamed of a life outside of this small town, to take pride in something that was his. In those moments with Joe I was his and he knew it. I am not sure if he ever knew how I felt. We were kids. I just know that he is living out his dreams and making things happen. I would love to hear what your first love was like. I know that mine was great. His Mom still would refer to us as sweethearts. He is happy and doing well y’all.

So the moral of this story…. Just be happy. Choose to forgive people who have hurt you and move on. Find good people in your life that will be your humans. Remember that we all are flawed and give a little grace and love! Love each other and Love yourself. Remember the good times just don’t unpack there all the time. Give all the glory to God.

Chapter 5 Time

Being with my father made so much sense to me now. I was talking with my mom just over the weekend and she said something that was so profound to me. She told me that I have always been different. I am not the type of person that fits into a cookie cutter box. She said the word weird in there too. Haha but that is actually a fair statement to have to be honest. I know I am different and occasionally weird. I hear that from some of my closest friends. Some actually come out and say that I am weird and some use the term funny. But the one thing she said that really hit home was that she didn’t have the time to give me to nurture that part of me. Being with my dad I was essentially the only child.

My father had my two brothers from a previous marriage.They were pretty much adults when I came to live my dad. I didn’t see them much, but that was something that was out of our control as far as sibling control goes. I guess the point that I am trying to express is that my father had the time to give me. Although, My step mom was the one I spent most of my time with along with my grandparents. I love my Grandparents. Granny and Granddaddy. They all had time for me, and they did nurture those things about me that are ” weird.”

I don’t know how to be a “normal,” human who does things that are expected of them. I am not that person. I have always known in my heart that I am meant for so much more. I wasn’t given the gifts that I was just to let them fade away into world of “Hopes and Dreams.” I am not afraid to do the things that are outside the box. So many of us don’t reach what we are really meant to do. Most people do what the world expects them to do. I do what I am instructed to do by my creator. In an other words I listen to my heart. Or as my mom said over the weekend that I go the beat of my own drum and I take that as a compliment. So many times my mom has said how she wished she would have done what she  dreamed of. During the course of this last year alone, I have had so many questions about life, and what my real purpose is. I am one of the lucky ones that knows what I am meant to do. I just have to do the work to accomplish that. I am blessed to have the opportunity to make that happen. I have thought many times over if things hadn’t turned out the way they had, would I still have this same revelation. Probably but I wouldn’t execute it because I was defining my life based on what the world wants me to do. You know the routine.

  • Get up and look presentable for the world
  • Make the coffee
  • Go to work and make a small difference in the world
  • Secretly hate the job you have
  • Remind yourself to be grateful you have a job
  • Pay bills
  • Secretly die inside wishing you had done something different in your life

Yes, that was a low of lowest of lows of what some people deal with everything. I can hear the same things said when I bring something like that up, because people tell me all the time that not everyone has the luxury of writing a book like I do. Or whatever else they have said. Or the other half who tell me how blessed I am and how it inspires them to do something they have always dreamed of doing. Well Let me tell you something.I used to be that person who struggled with paying my bills on time, working dead-end jobs, or working really good jobs and something happens, being a single mom for a little while. I know the struggle but my dreams haven’t changed and it’s because with my father I was given the attention I needed to hold on to what I have wanted to do all my life. That is to write. That doesn’t mean that I don’t struggle to accomplish those same things as the next person. I don’t judge people because its not my job to do that, and furthermore I don’t know what they are going through. They may have some things that they are going through just like me. You just don’t know what people are going through is all I am saying.

While with my father, he and my step mom bought me my first journal. I have written in a journal but it was a notebook and I would end up using it for something else. So before we went on vacation in Jamaica, I was given that journal. That was the start of the actual life story being put into paper. I was encouraged to write about everything and anything, and what a better way than in Jamaica. I still have that journal, and all the memories of going to Jamaica. Y’all let me tell you if you haven’t gone there GOOOO!!

I had so much fun there. I was afraid of the ocean. I am way too small of a human and that is poop ton of water. NO thank you! I still don’t like the big bodies of water. My dad did take me swimming in the ocean. I didn’t get far in the water because I was too scared. I am okay with that. I respect the ocean. Haha. I enjoyed writing about the canoe ride my step mom and went on. It was so beautiful but I was humbled that day. We had made a pit stop along the river. There was a swing on a tree there. So I sat on the swing just so I could admire the clarity of the water that was beneath my feet. That was until I was so far in my own mind about all the stories I had going in my mind about the water. It was so beautiful as it covered my entire body I felt one with the water in that moment. I felt the sand between my toes and how warm the water was. I came up for air and got out of the water. I had fallen in and now soaking wet.

I had bad luck with water where ever there was water. Side story here. Almost all ( minus one) the field trips I had in Texas that involved I fell in somehow. I was accident prone when it came to water. We were on a field trip to the space/science museum in I think Ft. Worth and there was this huge landscape of water but you could walk on the sidewalk thingy’s ( I don’t know what they are called) and I was proud of myself that I hadn’t fallen in. My step mom was there on that trip, she even warned me not to run like the other kids because I would fall in. I didn’t listen. This game of tag was awesome!! But I fell in!! I was covered in this weird green and white sludge stuff from all the plants that were growing there. Oh and WET!! I was used to the embarrassment of being wet during the rest of the past field trips, but not this one. Mystic mom asked the staff there if they had something I could wear instead. Guess what they did. A beat up old NASA jumpsuit. I had to undress there and put that on without shoes. I was grateful that she did that, but now I had a new thing for everyone to talk about. The electric light show was next on the itinerary. I was paranoid the whole time that I was going to get shocked because I was wet. Insert your favorite eye rolling emoji here because what did I know. That is why we were there right?! To learn these things from the professionals! Ok back to our regular scheduled program.

My step mom made the same face when I came out of the water! Haha oops. We boarded the sugar cane stalk made raft and continued forward, and out of no where on both sides of the river, children and women came running to the raft to sell their self made things to make some money. I didn’t understand. I asked my step mom why they were dressed in basically rags and shirts with holes. She told me that they were very poor and they are trying to make some money. While this was all happening the raft operator was yelling at these kids to get away, and pushing them.

I was given a Jamaican 100 bill. I gave it to a little girl who had wanted to sell a raft made of sticks.She gave me flower she just picked from the side of river as a thank you. Who knows if it actually helped but I was given the chance to think if I wanted to give it up or not. I chose to give it to them. It was so heartbreaking to me. Homeless here in the US is bad but it looks totally different there in another country. Homeless and less fortunate all have one thing in common. They need help. I want to be that help for that family.

I was told later on that in Jamaica that you are either rich or poor. There is no in-between for them. And so many of their people are poor end, but they are a happy humble people. They touched my heart more than they will ever know. I was going to save that 100 bill as a keepsake. Even though at the time it was worth four dollars in the US. To me I did the right thing. I have always gave when I could even when I couldn’t.

It is for those moments I am grateful that I was given the chance to give. I am often criticized for being a bleeding heart but that is who I am. That is something that won’t change about me. #notsorry My father and step mother I think were proud of me. I am not sure but I am proud of myself. I hadn’t seen anything like ever since that time.

So time, because that is what I am talking about here. The time that my father and step mom gave to me was not ever wasted. I learned a lot of things about who I was in those moments, and because of the time given I was able to really grow. Time is still an issue for me. I see time in a whole new way these days. Well maybe not new but in a fresh way that I try not to waste it. Time is the only asset we really have on this planet. Why waste it on things that are out of our control, or on things that don’t make our souls happy, or on things that we have no business being in? That is how I see time. I see it as I have one go at this thing, I was blessed with new ways to see this blessing and doing the things that mean something to me and serve others. Life is to have a deeper purpose than your every day-to-day task lists. Leave room to live! Leave room to experience things. I can’t wait for those things to come my way. I love that I know in my heart that they will happen for me because of my hope, faith and love of my dreams. I am practicing everyday to experience small pieces of my dreams come to life.

My writings to you are a gift. Not only for you but me too. It really all started with that one journal. The first of so many. I give it all to God. He made this season in my life at that point a place for me to grow. That is why everything happened the way it did. I am so happy to hear that mom over this last weekend said what she did. I feel like that was the first time that she really acknowledged in a positive way who I am. I feel that part of her is really happy that I am who I am and she’s unashamed of me, more over that she is no longer feeling shame for not being able to provide that to me as a child. Which is huge to me, because that is the last thing I want my mom to feel. Her seasons with me weren’t easy life lessons, and my father had seasons of teaching me in new ways to grow. Both were equally important.

At the end of my time in Texas my father showed me part of his shame that he carried. He and my step mom were getting a divorce. He blamed me for it, and that I would be moving back with my mom. Before I moved back with mom he showed me an ugly side of him that I haven’t ever seen. He threw their divorce/ custody court papers in my face. Like I knew what all that lingo meant?! I sat there crying as he slaughter my moms very existence and how I am just like her. I just ruin things. I think I may have been triggered or something because I just couldn’t hear anymore awful things about my mom. I just yelled that I wanted to kill myself. I felt that I was the biggest mistake to my parents. It was because of me they hate each other, and why their lives are so hard.

So my dad went into his room and came back with a small revolver in tow. He handed to me and said then do it. Just pull the trigger Kristal. I looked at the gun and then him. So many new questions are going through my head. I don’t know who to believe anymore. I don’t know who to trust. One thing is clear my dad was crazy thinking this was a good idea to hand me a gun. I don’t even know how to use it much less kill myself with it. I thought he was crazy at this moment. I went to my room and died a little inside and probably had a panic attack.

He later apologized for his actions and believe it or not that was not traumatizing for me as much as you think it would. What was traumatizing was the crappy things said about my mom. I knew at that moment that they both had put me in the middle of their crap. I vowed from that moment forward I would never put my kids through such a thing when I had kids. Secondly, I would be moving back to New Mexico with my mom. She is now married to a great man at this point in her life. Maybe things would be different now. I would be starting middle school after that summer. We said our goodbyes and I was sad and happy. I knew that might be the last time I would see my step mom. She means so much to me. I unconditionally loved that woman and I would see my dad soon.

I was back on the road to New Mexico with my sister and my mom. A new chapter begins.

Chapter 4 You did what to your hair?

So now that I am living with my father and step mom, my life changed so much! I had All these new experiences, room, clothes, school, lack of friends… Just plain new everything. It can be overwhelming, but in my mind I had this. I can do anything. I was with my dad!

I had to adjust but I didn’t realize that I needed to do that. In my young mind I was with my dad and it was going to be like it was during the summers. I would get to do so many things! I mean I did get to do those things, but it wasn’t always easy street. Especially for them.

They went from a couple’s life with no kids. They liked to enjoy their time together, which was really cool because it show me that they were stable with one another. It was a good balance for me. My dad is a very animated man especially when he is around my step mom. They really did know how to have fun!!

So the first hurdle was me actually going to school. That was a hard thing for me at first. Ok Ok like the first few months. They kids were mean to me, because I was very different from they were. These kids were for the most part well put together and very smart. I didn’t fit in from the get go, but really at this point I don’t fit in anywhere. Kids would make fun of what I wore, my hair, my shoes even my body! It was brutal while I was at school. Lucky for me I was in a good place in my mind.

Their words hurt as well as their actions but it didn’t affect me. I mean it really was child’s play compared to what I was used too. I was good with myself then. It’s not like I knew any different. I couldn’t wait to get home everyday not because they were dicks at school but because I had a purpose. I had chores. I had something to do and parents who encouraged me to do them. I still was a little turd when it came to doing them, but I did like the reward.

I would walk the dog every morning, then get ready for school. walk to school, try not to bark at the other students, walk home, walk the dog, have a snack, do my homework… I did take that last one as a suggestion more than anything. That is the one thing I feel that they struggled with the most with me. Doing homework. I think maybe that is a normal thing. Maybe?! I struggled academically that first year there.

I see now it was because of all the change and stresses that come with that. I had no real excuse of not doing my homework. A lot of the times I didn’t understand the work, and given my past with asking a parent was OUT OF THE QUESTION for me. My dad and step mom did offer their help but I also didn’t want to be shunned for being dumb either. She was a dental assistant and he was an Engineer. They knew stuff. I was more afraid of the rejection and judgement. I know that maybe they had a meeting with my teachers because eventually I was being pulled out of class for special education time. I thought it was fun, but I retained some but not a whole lot. Time was the issue.

So that summer my step mother took me to one of those tutor places. I was sooooooo scared to go but glad I did. It helped me so much the next year I didn’t need those sorts of classes and I had more confidence in asking for help, asking questions and doing my homework.Turns out I really did like school.

So I made my first friend before the school year ended. Her name was Shelby. I will never forget her. One day while at after lunch we were all out on the playground. I went to my normal place under the tree by myself. I had my baseball cards that I just gotten at the Texas Rangers game. ( Oh yes!! I did. It was a blast!! I even got to see Nolan Ryan!!) I was putting the collection into a binder and some kid started making fun of me…again.. and I barked at him. haha yes I barked. I didn’t know what else to do. So this girl named Shelby came to my defense and we were instant friends. That day I made a vow that I would be like her when new kids came to school. I did keep that promise to myself all the way through my senior year of high school. We played everyday. We spoke on the phone everyday. I even got to stay at her house!!! My first sleep over.

We did everything together. We went to Sixflags over Texas, the movies, to Janet Jackson concerts, Boyz to Men concert. She introduced me to her friends which became my friends later. It was so much fun having friends. I had a new purpose at school. I even met my first crush. His name is Chris R. Man I had it bad for this boy and he lived down the street from Shelby.

They both lived in these huge houses where the kids basically had their own wings, backyard pools, queen sized beds, their own phone lines. It was pretty cool. Life was getting pretty awesome. I had friends and I enjoyed life until…. I found my first pubic hair that is.

Six grade was hard!!! Oh my gosh! we learned about puberty early in the year and I was already growing boobs. You can imagine how I was feeling. I was not only tall but had chest nubbies! oh goodie!! NOT! I was now thinking ” Great. Just when things are going great I have to grow boobs.” I was so embarrassed. Anyway, I was soaking in the bathtub one evening because I was not allowed to go swimming because I had swimmers ear. So my step mom suggested that maybe if I take a bath it would ease the craving of wanting to be in the pool. She was so good to me. Well, while soaking I was humming a song and happening to look down and something caught my eye. I wondered what it was. It looked like a hair, so I did what normal people do and grab to throw it out of the tub. But NOOOO it was attached!!! Hmmm noo! No! NO!NO!

I quickly got up and emptied the tub wrapped my towel around myself and ran to my step mother in fear!! Luckily, she kicked my dad out of the room and I told her all the gory details. ( even though there wasn’t any bloodshed that day) I cried in arms and she started giggling. I was in shocked!!! Why is laughing? She peels me off of her and she puts her arms on my shoulders and she tells me that I am going through the change. I started bawling even harder. After some time calmed me down and I asked her NOT to tell my father. Of course she told him. He came in to tuck me in for bed and he said, so I heard that you are going through the change… That darn word! I started crying all over again. I was embarrassed. Now my dad knows!! UGH! why!!

He laughed it off and I did too… Kinda. The Change… I rolled my eyes and went to bed. It was one pubic hair and it felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Good grief. Weeks passed and hair grew and I felt everyone knew at school what I was going through. I feel like I wore a marquis sign saying” I, Kristal, now have Pubic hair. I am going through ‘The Change'” in a constant loop.

One morning I was finishing getting ready for school, and I noticed that my bangs were a little too long. No problem right? Just cut them. I have done that before this wouldn’t be any different. Man, teach me for thinking that morning.

I start cutting. They aren’t coming out straight. So I cut some more. Still not straight. Next thing I know I have a razor in my hand and shaving cream in the other. HONK HONK!!! That is my ride to school!! Crap! I grab the nearest mad hatter hat I had and threw it on. I had art that morning, and it was a combined class that morning and Chris R. was there.

The art teacher asked me to remove my hat and I told her no thank you. She persisted and I politely declined her request which she accepted finally. Hats were allowed for girls but not boys. I knew my rights and that day I was going to use them to the fullest. Well Chris R. opened his mouth and said to everyone in class ” OOOOo someone got a bad haircut!” I leaped over all the students and started swinging at his direction. To which he started laughing which made me even more mad. She told me to go to the nurse and I told her I didn’t want to go. I did my work quietly in that class, then we went back to our normal classes. My teacher kept calling on me during mind math quiz. We had to give the answers to the math on the board without using paper to figure it out. I sucked at this sort of thing. I needed the paper. Not that day. I got every one those questions right. He knew then something was wrong. He made me go to the nurses office.

I sat there as my two teachers explained to the nurse that something wasn’t right and maybe I would talk to her about it. At this point I am shivering. I am so upset as she walks she grabs a thermometer and shoves it in my mouth. It beeps and it reads 95 degrees. I am dead…. yup dead inside at this day. I just want to go home and die. She takes my temp again, and its stays at 95. yup there is the phone to one of my parents. She calmly asks me what going on. I just broke down and started crying and I pulled off my hat. She said ” Okay who do I need to call?” I said my step mom. She handed me a blanket and I waited. She got all my work for that day and my bag. Next thing I see is my FATHER!!! I looked at her with the most evil look. She said that my step mom couldn’t come. Now I am mad!!!

My emotions were all over the place and of course my dad’s response is to laugh at me!! Super great day for my self-esteem! Not! ” Do I even want to know Kris?” I just shock my head at him No and rolled my eyes and walked to the truck. He took me home and wrapped me in a hot blanket and made me my favorite sandwich. I didn’t say one word to him or anyone until my step mom got home.

When she got home, she just gave me the look of “follow me,” to which I complied. She sat me at her vanity and she asked me to remove the hat. I sat there and I slowly peeled the hat off my head. It took all she had to not laugh. There I sat with a mangled , spiky, bald spot of hair. She just started laughing and then I did too. I mean it was bad…. I had a short hair cut to begin with and now I have fashioned a nice buzz cut look for bangs. She then grabbed some bandanas and they became my new fashion accessory until my hair grew out. It was much better than the crazy hats I was wearing. I told her I looked stupid with the headband. She took off the bandana and asked if my new hair cut was better. Touche. She told me that I could start a new thing at school. That didn’t help me feel better at that moment, but I did end making a bandana movement at school. All the girls were wearing bandanas in their hair.

That was my first experience with PMS, I got my first period five days after that moment!! Aren’t I lucky. I learned a lot from this moment.

PMS is a real thing. The phrase ” The Change,” scares all women and makes them cry. Fathers don’t always know how to handle young ladies when they do crazy things with their hair, Pubic hair is not fun when you don’t expect it, the boy you have a crush on is now dead to you when they make fun of your hair, and finally bandanas are a great Oopsie cover up when in need of one. I am fortunate to have had my father and step mom that day and through that moment of puberty. I don’t know how I would have gotten through it. I have not cut my hair on my own since then. #Lessonlearned


I hope you enjoyed this experience as much as I did. I was considered a woman after going through it and I am not sure I liked that at the time. Made going swimming difficult. I love y’all. Talk soon.



Broadening Horizons. 

Today’s post is a little different. It’s something that is on my heart right now. I feel inspired and must share. 
A year and some change ago I attempted suicide. Yes let that sink in a little bit. It happened. I finally hit that low. And I will say this. When that sharp object was slicing through my skin I was so calm and everything around me was quiet. Peaceful. 
So many people are curious as to why someone would want to commit suicide. Which is usually followed by harsh statements on how selfish it is and how much pain we would put our family through. I can only speak for myself but when I heard those things it was only solidifying why I was attempting suicide to begin with. 
Suicide ideation is such a crappy term. I learned about this term as a few others to add into my mental illness resume. I say that very facetiously. I was given a diagnosis shortly after I was put in a very nice treatment center. 
I was angry at first that I was put there. I agreed to go after I was already forced. Ha-ha. My condition got so bad that I couldn’t even talk on the phone or go outside. I couldn’t talk to people. All those things and so much caused me so much stress an anxiety that it would send me into a fit almost with just the thought. 
So what got me to that point you ask?
Well it was a few big things that happened in succession in a course of a year. All starting with the end of a job title and being promoted into another job title. To being away for three weeks away from my family for training. Then to been so busy at work that I am not home. Then my grandfather passed away. That was the beginning of the end for me. 
So many things that felt so unbelievable was happening all at once. I didn’t realize that I was experiencing PTSD. That every single thing that happened to me and my family that year was all recall of things I had suppressed. I thought I had a better handle on my life than that. I mean you all will know more of these things that triggered me soon enough. 
After I have attempted suicide I felt like a newborn and not knowing a F-being thing!! I didn’t know who I was anymore. Who am I? Every day since then is a new day and new way to see the world. To not deal of things of the past but to keep moving forward. 
But the question remains the same or the attitude that comes why I attempted suicide. How could I possibly do that to my family and my children. Well the answer is simple. For me anyway. It was because I believed so strongly that I was the problem and the cause of problems. In my mind if I am the problem I will get rid of the problem. 
Although I am super grateful that my family supporting me and still do from that moment but I still had to take the steps myself to get better. 
I had to make a real committed choice to get better and believe in myself in my journey that I can do this. After a fews days into treatment I had hope. That was until I got my real diagnosis then I was pissed off but it’s only taken a year to say that and accept it. Ha-ha I agreed with most of the diagnoses but not the big one. I won’t reveal that now but it’s still too fresh for me. 
But for now every day I make a choice to get out of bed, to eat, to developed my skills, to learn who I am, to take care of others, to get guidance, to ask for help, to make new friends without fear of rejection or abandonment, to approach life with new eyes, to pray and give my worries to God if I have worries. All those things are choices. Every day is a new fight for my life. This is not always an easy road of recovery but I am recovering. I have good days and bad moments of parts of the day. 
I am learning that I literally have the whole world to explore. I have life!!! Life to broaden my world. I have been given this life to live it as full and complete as possible. I have been given tools to use to do exactly that. 
Some things that try to hinder this process is other people. Other people who may not know me and people that do know me will discourage what I want to do. It sounds too unsafe and not traditional way of life. I am a writer. You know how long it has taken me to say that?!!! But when I would try it on other people would tell me discouraging things. ” That’s not going to pay the bills!” Well you know what neither is me being jobless because I don’t fit in. It’s not what I am meant to do. 
I may be really awesome at my job but that is not what I am supposed to do with my life. God has shown me a piece of my future. It just made my mustard seed of faith grow larger and even more since that moment. I trust that God knows exactly what I am to do with my life. It’s my job just to obey and do. Life makes sense to me now. 
God has told me to write. Just write Kristal. Every time I have talked to God about my worry of making money to live he reminds me to trust in him, that he will provide just write Kristal. Or if I ask him if I am good enough. The love that washes over me tells me that I am and just write. 

I haven’t been so secure in a choice that involved my career but this makes sense to me. It fits who I am. I don’t quite know who Kristal is yet all the way but I can tell you that my past doesn’t define who I am. My past is what I have gone through. And it’s my testimony that will help someone else. It’s my testimony that I didn’t get this far on my own. I was given a new beginning by allowing my old me to die that day that I attempted suicide. That person does that day and Kristal is emerging from that moment. Everyday I have learned so much about myself. 

I had so many people come into my life to help me get to God. I will explain that also on another day. But today I am just In Awe that I have a life to experience and experiences awaiting for me to arrive! And also that I have to guard my heart, discern, and do all things for the glory of God. 

I am sure that this sort of topic makes some people uncomfortable. But maybe just be open minded and see that He changed me and saved me. And look right now I have been adding to my growing bucket list. My world is expanding. Growth is great!! 


Chapter 3 Wait… I have a Dad too?

So by the time that I was five years old. I have experienced so much already. There was a moment in my moms daily life with that she decided that it was time that my dad start being in my life too. My mom had this moment of recognition when my sister left for her dads again. She said that I was standing there at the door as usual and I guess I told that I must have a dad that loves me.

This actually broke my mom’s heart. She recalls the moments as tears are filling her eyes. She did a very selfless act and tracked my father down.  She had to go through many of people that have hurt my mom because of my dad. As she tells me more about the story I see a woman who has been deeply hurt and has kept those things to herself. She tells me that even though she would have rather raise me alone than to share me with my father.

I didn’t know the full extent of why she felt this way about my dad. I was young my mind isn’t going to understand adult issues. I know more now and it is so much more than what I expected. I will say this though. You have to love someone so much to hate them as much as my parents hated each other.

So back to the selfless act that my mother did. She tracked my father down and arranged a visit. I would soon be on a plane flying to the big D! Dallas. What a wondrous place.

You know for a young child who just discovered that she actually had a father I was more in awe that I had a step mother. Man was I lucky girl that summer. So many new things happened to me that I may have been on an overload of information.

I mean I flew in a plane for the first time. My mom bought me gum for the flight, she packed me things to do, and made sure that I had my name badge draped over my neck. Thinking about it from as a mom now, I will be honest, me sending my young child on a plane alone would be F-ing scary. That is putting a lot of trust into many people to take care of your child. Blind trust= faith on a whole other level! I earned my wings. You know the plastic wings that they hand to all children who fly. I always sat in first class. I remember just enjoying peanuts looking at all the clouds. I actually thought that the clouds would actually feel like pillows and hold me up. I later shared this thought with my sister and she ruined that for me . Haha, she told me that I was stupid for believing such fairy tales. That if I were to ever touch or sit in a cloud that I would fall to my certain death.  ( you see what I mean by not having a tribe to keep me accountable) Even though she was right, I still wouldn’t back down from what I thought.

Flying then was a true fun experience. All kinds of people, all around all the time. Coming and going. I now am one of those many people who are going to and fro. I was lucky that this was happening. Although, I didn’t know it at the time. I was just excited that I had a dad waiting for me on the other side.

I came out of the terminal with the tall lady holding my hand and she securely handed me over to my father. He held me tightly, I savored this moment. I was being held. Just think about that…. being held. Can you feel the security and the affection that person holds for you. You are wrapped in their arms and the whole world is quiet for those moments. Think about how many times a day we don’t hold each other. Well for me as a child I craved those things. I craved being held and cuddled with. To be kissed. I didn’t have that with my mom. That was something that she wasn’t raised with. I often think how many times in her life she just needed to be held and shown that she was loved with a simple gesture. That thought alone brings tears to my eyes.

He let go of me and pulled his wife close to him and I met my step mother. We clicked immediately. She presented me with a gift. A wind up ceramic clown. I still have that clown. It is very special to me. It went pretty much everywhere I went that summer. I got to spend a lot of time with them both, and so many others from that side of family. That summer I spent a lot of time in the pools, eating the most delicious ham sandwiches, riding in a Model T Ford truck, playing with my cousin Amanda in the Ft. Worth heat, having carmel popcorn with my Granddad and learning how to sew with my Granny, and lastly crying all the way to Wichita Falls to visit Granny Burt.

So many hugs and so much affection. So many gifts. I belonged with these people. You know things made sense to me. The way they spoke me, or corrected me, I felt secure. My dad was a funny guy. He played with me. He showered me with simple things like just holding me until I fell asleep. My step mom painted my toes, she made jokes about how men were pigs and ladies are ladies. The voice she said it in made me laugh every time. We would take showers together and we were two hams, singing as loud as we could. She showed me how to take care of myself by loving myself. I would switch back and forth between everyone for all this love, but I was never far my dad. I would soon have to return back to my mom.  I wish I could stay here with them.

Little did I know all the complications that were going to come from these moments with my dad. Not only for myself but for my mom too. When I came home I was full of life and couldn’t shut up about all the things that I did that summer. Things were so different between the two houses. HUGE!!! Even though my mom was supportive of my experiences, she would be waiting for the other shoe to fall with my dad. I am sure that it was a constant worry for my mom now that I spent time with him

I would eventually talk about my dad all the time. I didn’t know that I was causing my mom stress and anxiety. Maybe jealousy and feeling like I was an ungrateful child. Then visitations seem to be a regular thing now and my mom was getting a little more frustrated with the topic of my dad. I started really acting out. But not only just because my dad was in the picture but I started trying to figure out why my parents acted the way they did with me and how it was confusing to me. Who was I? Who were they? Who were they to me?

I started asking questions. It was like the pandoras box of things that I was to young to really understand what their points of view were. I did gather one thing, they hated each other.

My mom decided to transfer all of us kids to a different school district. A much nicer school system I might add. I for the most part fit in with those children. They were a lot like me as far as witty, smart and just well rounded of awesome. I am biased though, I really liked all the kids there and the teachers.

My previous school wasn’t so nice. Kids there had a different set of codes to live by. It was survive or die. Roughing it out kinda of thing. School of eat or be eaten. haha Even the teachers were so unhappy there it felt like. They didn’t as attentive to students. For instance I was telling my second grade teacher about my mom and nothing happened. I am not saying that I wanted my mom to get into trouble, but we were learning about ” good touch bad touch, and ‘if anyone is hurting you at home, we are here to help’ or ‘ Stop child abuse.”  with a toll free number to call. So really I was just taking my education that was just taught to me in class to reach out to someone. But at this new school I wasn’t going to say anything. I just might make some friends. Which I did, it helped that I had a cousin who was going to the same school.

What made me kind of uncomfortable was that I was not as smart as these other kids. I struggled, and this was too much for my mom. That is what my perception is anyway. I learned how to spell Knock after my first time encountering vocab night with my mom. Haha Oh my gosh the stories about vocab nights. My mom was something else when it came to education. She made it very intimidating to ask for help. Anyway I am getting off track a little bit.

So I had this math teacher. Ms. Davis. Man she was a great teacher. Intimating at times only because I didn’t understand the operations that she was teaching. She observed a lot. That also made me weary. She asked me to stay behind in class. I was actually scared. All my class mates left to go to lunch and I was stuck here with her. I wonder what she is wanting from me.  So many thoughts were running through my mind. This whole situation is making nervous.

She asks me to sit down, and she asked me if something was wrong. Well that is a loaded question. I didn’t know what to say. Then she asked me why I was behind in math and turning in my homework. These were hard questions for me. I was a little defensive. I didn’t want to say that night before my mom got mad at me because she didn’t understand why they were teaching pre-algerba to a third grader. Needless to say I hadn’t turned in my homework because I don’t get and can’t ask for help at home. Then she hit me the what she really wanted to know.She asked me if I was being abused at home, and not to be afraid of saying anything. That I was safe.

Well this is a moment of discernment for me. Do I trust that this teacher is really going to help me or is she going to be like the last teacher who caused more of an issue for me? Those questions were tossed in my head for too long, because the subsequent statements of encouragement helped me in my choice. I decided to talk about it. After telling her my life story with my mom, she comforted my the best way she could. She empathized with me the best she could. She gave me affirmations that it was a good thing for me to have told her. She also told me that she had a feeling that something was happening at home.

Later on that day, I was talking to two other people in the office about what I told my teacher, and I just told them everything that happened. That mom was so pissed at me because I didn’t make it back to her boyfriends house when she asked me to, so she left me there and went home. Which was in the next town over. About 30 minutes away. You would think that I would be used to her leaving me but it was something that never felt good. When she drove all the way back to get me and she was furious with me. She made a lot of blind threats with the exception of being grounded. She took away dinner from me as well. I know now that she was pissed but then I just thought that she meant what she said. I mean its not like my mom and I had a solid foundation of trust. So in that office I was singing like a canary. I just thought WOW someone is actually listening to me. I didn’t know it was CPS!!! oopsie my bad.

I went to the library to wait for someone to pick my up, and when I saw my mom. She was mad and I didn’t know what about. That is when I found out that those people I talked to called my mom and told her that she was being investigated for child abuse. This was F-ing confusing to me. Who do I trust??? Who am I? I mean think about it…. I get in worse trouble when I am being honest, but nothing happens when I lie? Who, what, where how am I do be??? Who Am I Really?? For crying out loud there is no winning. I am just not worth this trouble, because that seems to be all that I am at this point in my life. I am confused as to what is right and wrong.

I was honest with CPS about everything I said to them. I am a great story teller, so maybe I made the impression that I wasn’t suppose to? I don’t know, I just know that my mom blames me if she loses her job for my “false” story to these people. I mean I told them EVERYTHING!! Then she lays it on me…. KRISTAL YOU ARE MOVING WITH YOUR FATHER. I CANT HANDLE YOU ANYMORE. I AM AFRAID I MIGHT JUST KILL YOU.

Cool. That was probably the best news I have heard! I didn’t get to say bye to anyone. She literally put on a plane the next day. haha Things changed for us both. I feel that she made a great choice.

I know I talk more about my mom from my early years. She was the one that was there. She was the one taking care of me. I feel that sometimes kids take things out on the parent that is actually there everyday. They take them for granted. That is my opinion. I am not saying that the things I am talking about define my mom. My mom is my mom. She gave me life. Very cliche I know but its the truth. Now that I know my dad, I feel that the grass is greener on the other side. That just shows that I didn’t know what was really there for me on that other side. Almost everyone has had those moments of thinking of the grass is greener, but that is because of something they are lacking, or things that were presented to be better with that person or people. Whatever it is. In my case it was my parents.

I mean I have only known my dad for a small amount of time. The time that I had with them was brief. That is not how life was going to be all the time. I didn’t know that. Before I left my mom, brother and sister my mom told me that I have put my dad on a pedestal and I would learn who he really was. Of course she was angry, hurt, feeling betrayed, sad, rage, disappointment and relief. This was new start for the two of us. This was another selfless act that my mom did and something she needed to do for her own sanity. I know I didn’t help her condition. I feel that my mom like so many others back then didn’t talk about depression, postpartum depression, or any mental illness. I mean a lot of people did NOT talk about that sort of thing. Unfortunately, that still is the case.

My mom was raising three kids on her own, with little to no help from our fathers. She was our soul provider. She took the brunt of everything that happened. The sad part is that  we didn’t know what was going on with mom. My mom was carrying the weight of her world and I was just focused on mine. I feel that she was suffering from all these things and said nothing. Just held it all inside. Then lashed out. She didn’t have an outlet maybe? I am not sure if there were real help or tools to help with such things.

I know for me what helped me through all of this up to this point was God. My dad had given me a bible. My Grandparents from both sides and my dad taught me things about God. He seemed totally trust worthy. I talked to him all the time when I younger. I would tell him how I felt like a curse. How I just wanted my mom to be happy. I wanted to see my dad. How I wanted to be loved and cherished. I wanted to be worthy of love. I would talk to him like he was my friend. He guided me. I would open my bible with no real understanding of His Word, but man I was hungry to know Him and I didn’t even know it. I really saw God as my friend.


Chapter 2: Divorce Rate of Shoes is High

As I move forward in this moments of my early childhood. I have had to reflect on some things over the weekend about my chapter 1. I was feeling so incredible vulnerable and naked. I had this moment of panic that EVERYONE was going to see this. Which is kind of funny because I am writing a book to where the public is going to read it at some point.

I felt a great overwhelming support from all my followers both new and continued. Not much about the past is ever really easy. There are moments of love and laughter. Good memories that have stuck. I just don’t want you all to think that I am stuck in the past because I am not stuck there. Thank goodness right. There are not many of us who would choose to go back to the past. I mean, sure we make jokes about things we would change. Thinking about it though. I see the grace of God that has been with me the whole time.

Grace and forgiveness. I think that is where I want to take us today.

So there was this one weekend my sister went to her dads. It was my baby brother, my mother and me. I was playing in my room when my mom entered the doorway. She told me to get my shoes on that we were going to the store to get ice. So I got up and started looking for my shoes. Well I was looking and would find one shoe but not the other. Find a separate shoe but not its partner. I mean looking back at it now I can kinda giggle. I mean who loses one shoe? Just one shoe of each pair of shoes I had. Leave it to me to accomplish this flawlessly.

My mom however at the time didn’t think it was such an accomplishment. I heard her footsteps coming to my room. I am starting to feel stressed and scared. She said ” let’s go,” which turned into ” where are your shoes?” to “you have a minute to find them or I am leaving without you!”speech. The absolute terror I had in my heart that my mom was leaving without me was so overwhelming that I just started crying. I tore through everything I had in my room. She came back in without my brother on her hip this time. The look in her eyes scared me. For the first time I am actually scared of my mom.

She pushed me so hard that I hit the back of my head on the wall as I fell. Then the assault that came after that, I was in shock! As she furiously hit me I was crawling to find my shoes which was only pissing her off even more. I was a moving too much but that didn’t stop her assault. It didn’t stop the rage that she had against me. I just wanted to please her and find those shoes so she would be happy again.

The hot tears running down my aching face. The stiffness I felt all over, but yet I am still tearing a part my room just proclaiming that I can’t find any of my shoes. She is yelling at me and I can’t hear anything she said until at the end. ” You better find a pair of shoes by the time I get back, OR else!” as she points her long finger at me. She and my brother walked passed my window, and they drove off. I cry even harder now. She left me. She left me because I am a bad child who has lost all her shoes.

As I write this out I am sitting her reliving this moment. But lets look at what is really happening here to all of us. There is stress, trauma, fear, rejection, shame, guilt, disappointment, sadness, breakdown of trust and abandonment. There is pain there at the time. Physical pain. My goodness my head hurts so bad, I am finally calming down. You know that cry that is so bad that at the end you can’t  get all your breathing under control and you make that noise. You know that noise. I feel my eyes getting heavy. I just want to sleep now. I hurt all over but I need to find those shoes. I am full of fear that I won’t find them by the time she gets home and she will hurt me again.

But my eyes are so heavy and there is no where else to look. I have found every shoe I own. I have them lined up neatly, but I don’t have their partners. Maybe she will be happy with what I did do. I just need to close my eyes. I hurt…* Car door slams shut* I don’t move from my bed I don’t feel so good. * front door opens and shuts*  She walks to my doorway. I am so scared but I can’t move. I have accepted my fate with my mom. She looks down at me and asked me if I had found my shoes. I told her no. The hot sting of tears are forming and running down my cheeks. She throws the bag of ice on my face, and tells me to put it away and that I am not to leave my room.

I just lay there and cry. She hates me. I must be a horrible person. I wait to hear her door close on the other end of the house. It is safe for me to go out there to put it away. I go back to my room and lay down. The whole thing plays over and over in my mind. I can’t stop crying. Over and over as it was playing I am just telling myself that I was just not a good kid and my mom doesn’t love me. I cried myself to sleep apparently because I woke up in fear when I heard my mom come to my room telling me dinner was ready. I think it was hard for my mom to look at me after that happened. I was covered in bruises and I was sporting a pretty impressive shiner.

Oh my goodness the pain is too much. My whole face and body hurt. I am unsure how to be around my mom. I suppose anyone would be after something like that. It was almost like I hit the save button on what not to do. I will say this, I have not lost a single pair of my shoes since then. I have been very diligent and mindful as to where I put my shoes. In fact I have developed a great habit, I will literally take off my shoes in front of the door, or in the middle of the room. Man it irritates everyone except me. I am totally laughing about it as I write this out. The frustration on everyone’s face is comical at times, but I know where my shoes are. Unless they are moved by someone then I am on the hunt.

My mom and have talked about this incident a few times and we don’t ever talk about the details of the abuse that happened that day. I see the pain she feels when she recalls the moment. I see the emotions that she goes through as we laugh and giggle about me losing one shoe to every pair of shoes that I owned.She ended up locating most of my shoes from all over town. School, neighbors houses, the babysitters.

I see that she has shame and remorse about what has happened. I know that she does know what she did and how it has shaped my life. But at the same time my child self doesn’t know what is going on in her path. My child mind tells me that my mom hates me and that I am no good.

I feel from this moment in my life as a child this incident was the crack in the vase,if you will. I feel like the first time you do something that is intoxicating you have made it ok to do it again. I can tell you every time that she beat me. The things she would say to me, and how that affected my daily life. I know the things that stress her out and not to do those things. Some of the things that happened were excessive punishments. To put it mildly. I remember the first black eye she gave me. That was the only time she ever said sorry to me. I feared those footsteps to the back of the house. Because I knew that they were coming for me. Every bad thing I ever did was going to be beaten out of me into submission.

There was this time that she just got done doing laundry and she would always have all our piles separated neatly. Shirts, pants, dresses, folded socks and underwear. She would ask us,my sister and me, to please put them away.Not me. nope nope nope. Almost everything I did was half done. Thinking about it now,I I did it because I wanted to. There wasn’t a hidden meaning to me not doing it, I just didn’t want to. That it was just too much work. In reality it really isn’t. She did the hard work. We can empathize when it comes to laundry. Anyway there was the first time that she asked me to bring her my dirty laundry.

I kind of panicked a little bit. I hadn’t picked up my dirty room nor my laundry but if I don’t produce that laundry basket I am going to get my ass handed to me….again. This was a weekly thing that we have done. It was a habit now, I do something bad, Kristal gets her ass handed to her. Oh Kristal didn’t do the dishes correctly like she wanted, Kristal gets her ass kicked again. Anyway, I hadn’t put away the clothes from last week away. To me here is the funny part, and this is something that I still do to some degree. The clothes that were left behind was one jacket that I needed hang, which was literally a foot away from the laundry basket. Two shirts and a few pair of leggings. Still folded, I stuffed them in-between all the dirty clothes. I casually put the laundry basket where it was to be and walked away.

I even had a very brief moment of second guessing. But NOOOOO I made a choice to hand over that laundry basket anyway. I went back into my room and moments later I heard those foot steps heading my way. I knew exactly why she was coming. SHE KNOWS!!! So she comes into my room and has the clothes. She asked me if they were clean. I lied. NOOOO mom they are dirty. She gave me that look of ” Oh no she didn’t!” commence the angry mom look. She asks me again, I lie again. Not a smart move. She walked over to the hanger and hung up the jacket yelling at me…” IS IT SOO HARD TO HANG THIS UP KRISTAL? ITS RIGHT HERE! LOOK KRISTAL! IS THAT SOOO FUCKING HARD?” Then she walks a few more feet to my shelves where I kept my clothes, and she put the leggings and shirts there and said the same thing.

I was calm and soft toned when she was yelling at me, that seemed to put the cherry on top for her current mood. She is really pissed. I am sitting on the ground watching her closely, she’s coming for me and it will be same and I was right. She grabs me by my hair and drags me to the same spot in the living room. Right over the heater vent closest to the kitchen. She would throw me there and choke me until I would pee in my pants or pass out. The rage that would come out of her was unreal.

In this case, I peed she got off me. Telling me the usual. I was worthless. How her job was more important than me, and how I can’t do simple things. I was stupid. Finally she would tell me to clean up the mess, and go to my room.

So lets talk about me as a child. I did not make things easy for my mom. Like ever. From the moment that I was born. I was independent from the get go. I came into this world when I was ready. That is what I joke to my mom about. I have always seen the world through different eyes than most people I know. I couldn’t ever conform into my moms ways and the way she wanted things. It wasn’t with the lack of trying but I felt that it wasn’t me. I mean, I would tell her the truth and she wouldn’t believe me. Its funny now because even now today she still won’t believe some things have happened. Maybe it was because the first time I went to school, I made up a very convincing story.

She was doing dishes,and she asked me about my day at school. I was in kindergarten mind you. I told her it was good until the principle hit my hands with a ruler. Oh my gosh that still makes me laugh. Who would think of something like that….. Yours truly… Kristal. She was furious, but it wasn’t at me. That felt good. I was getting positive attention. It was like a drug. That feeling wore off as soon as she said that she was going to my school to talk to the principle. Well crap. I knew I was in trouble and I think she sensed that I was lying but my story was so convincing, I still kept to my story, in fact I was adding to it. I don’t remember what I said but I am sure that it was good.

The next morning we are waiting to be seen by the principle. I was nervous as she was called in. I hear and the way she was talking to him that she was mad and really confused. They finally call me and there he sat with my mom. Thinking about now maybe wanted to be right I wasn’t lying but when he started drilling me with ” which ruler did use?” may have thrown me off. Even then I picked out the ruler and said that it wasn’t him that it was another teacher. I just kept the lie going even after walking the entire school to find a teacher that hit me with a ruler. We got back to his office and he just looked at me and said ” ready to tell the truth?” I guess so. Oh my gosh the look on my moms face after I told the truth. I know now she was embarrassed.

This was a kind of new thing for me. I was getting my mom alone when I did things like this. That is what I was thinking as she was yelling at me on the importance of not lying and how I won’t make friends if I lied and how embarrassed she was that she went in there thinking someone was hurting her child. Weird. That was weird to me because she hurt me?! Anyway I don’t remember what happened after that.

I just know that for my own accountability I did not make things easy for my mom. I was just in my own world. Things were amazing to me. Good and bad. They were things that I was seeing through my eyes and no one to talk to about these things. How was I to know when I didn’t have a balance to keep me accountable? 

I will share more stories of all the off the wall things I did that made total sense to me. But before I leave this I want to tell you something that means so much to me now.

At this point in my life, I have come to learn that any attention was a good thing for me. Not always the best choice of how I get it but I got it nonetheless. My mom was alone and so was I. But at this points I learned that The weekends were scary, and put your clean clothes away and finally don’t lose your shoes. Lastly, my mom showed me mercy that day that I lied. She made a choice to teach me a life lesson that really did stick and something I have told my own kids. Those words stuck with me. As I have grown up I have learned that forgivness wasn’t for my mom but for me. I made a choice to forgive my mom and show her grace because I didn’t know her path. I didn’t know the things she was going through as a single parent. I thought our family was normal. I didn’t know anything diffrent. My mom is a power house of a woman and I admire her.