Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Melanie, my sister, says they call that curse breakin’.”
“Yup. That’s when I decided to get counseling. Unlike you, I couldn’t be my own therapist because baby, I don’t know everything. I know a lot, but not enough to heal all on my lonesome. I was bleedin’ too bad to stop all the hemorrhaging. Bleedin’ in my mind and my heart. Being smart is also admitting that sometimes, you just ain’t got all you think you got, and you don’t know all you think you know. We’re constantly evolving. I needed to deal with the little girl inside of me that had been betrayed, before I could be the woman I am in the present, and the mother I will be tomorrow.”
He grabbed his beer and polished it off fast. He could feel his face flashing with heat. Perhaps he’d just swallowed a piece of humble pie. It felt rough going down. She just told me in the politest way possible that I’m full of shit. That’s cool. Maybe I am.
“How did you sort all of this out? Recognize that this was what you needed to do?” He scooted closer to her, placing her legs and feet over his lap. He also made room for himself, so he could hold on hard to every word she uttered.
“I had a nervous breakdown. That’ll do it. I was pregnant, and alone. That’ll do it, too. I knew something had to give, but before that, when I was getting my G.E.D., I just knew I deserved better. I can’t tell you where it came from, but I imagine it had to be from the strength of God. That strength is in all of us. We just got to open our eyes and see it.”
“Did the therapy help?”
“Therapy is what you make of it. To be honest with you, had I been more receptive at the time, it probably would have been more effective. I didn’t trust myself, Legend. You may not understand this, and it’s hard to do unless it’s happened to you. But sometimes, kids who are sexually assaulted second-guess themselves and never feel truly secure. We feel like somethin’ we did caused us to be touched or abused. We pretend we’re okay when we’re not. We build walls by being angry. We argue and fight with people who didn’t have anything to do with it. We become promiscuous, or scared to love somebody and have sex at all. We question ourselves, and we look at our bodies differently. It’s a whole list of stuff we do to cope, and it’s all bad. What’s crazy is that when I got pregnant, I wasn’t out in these streets wildin’ out or anything.”
“I always found that interesting, like, back in the day, I had a lot of female friends and the ones that got pregnant were the ones with boyfriends, or were pretty innocent. The girls we saw as hoes a lot of time didn’t have kids, or at least, not more than one. I used to think about that.”
“Yeah, it happens. I had gone through a promiscuous stage, but that only lasted a year or so, when I was like fifteen, and I stopped doing it once my foster mother spent time with me, explaining why I needed to respect myself. She let me know what happened to me wasn’t my fault, and I didn’t need to give myself away as if that was the only way to be loved. My child’s father was my boyfriend, not some fling, and we always used protection. I was on birth control, too, but somehow, it happened anyway.” She shook her head. “I changed birth control pills after having my daughter, and have been fine since, but I was absolutely terrified because like you, back then I used to say I didn’t want any children, either. Now, here I was… about to be a mother. Once I went to counseling, things got a little better. It didn’t fix everything, that’s an unrealistic expectation, but it opened the doors for me to think more freely, and cut myself some slack. Forgiveness has to begin at home.”
“You were a victim. To me, people who mess with kids should be shot ’nd killed. Once we know they did it for a fact, justice should be swift. Immediate! No questions asked. I think it’s bullshit that our tax dollars pay for these mothafuckas to eat, drink, sleep and read. To be in protective custody while in prison, if they ever even make it to jail!”
“Tell me about it!” She snuffed the cigarette, and her expression was one of repugnance.
“Meanwhile, a drug dealer like me was getting twenty-year sentences that thankfully didn’t stick, but a guy can violate his own baby girl like that, his own flesh and blood, and get a slap on the wrist. It’s bullshit.” He felt his anger soaring, and he was afraid he was going to detonate.