This book tells the story of a young woman who grew up in a poor, single parent home, surrounded by drugs, violence, and welfare recipients. K'Dee was known to be smart, academically, but the question was: Did she have common sense? K'Dee has always aspired to have the finer things; however, life had a different plan. At a young age, she ran from her problems until she built up the courage to face them head on with prayer, perseverance, and persistence. If you want to know how she survived the pain, hurt, and agony of an abusive marriage, managed a family while moving ten times in one year, overcame depression, coped with the death of her mother, battled her own illness, and conquered love, while chasing her dreams . . . it's all here! Through it all, people wondered how she could wear a smile on her face, dress like a millionaire, and still be thankful to God. Through all that K'Dee was challenged with, she came out on the other side of life with self-esteem, expectations and standards as high as Mount Everest. This humorous, yet serious self-examination of K'Dee's life is no exception to the hard work she produces.

It's Been A Hard Life, I Just Make It LOOK Good

By K'Dee Talley

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 K'Dee Talley
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4520-5953-2

Contents

Acknowledgments.................................................................xiPrologue........................................................................xiiChapter I: The Move.............................................................1Chapter II: "Welcome To Our Buy One Get One ½ Price".....................10Chapter III: "Seriously Lord, We Need To Talk!!"................................19Chapter IV: Where Do I Go From Here?............................................23Chapter V: "Bitch, What The Hell Were You Thinking?"............................30Chapter VI: In Sickness And In Health...........................................40Chapter VII: "Devil, Get The Hell Out Of My Back Yard!".........................47Chapter VIII: This Shit Has Got To Stop!........................................62Chapter IX: I'm Tired Of Fighting!..............................................71Chapter X: Bitchezz And Jealousy................................................77Chapter XI: Let's Get This Party Started!.......................................82Chapter XII: A Breath Of Fresh Air..............................................88Chapter XIII: I Got Love On Lock................................................99

Chapter One

The Move

In April I moved back to my hometown Houston, Texas from the north; Sheboygan, Wisconsin to be exact. Not that you would know where that is but hell, for what it was, it was good living. Let me tell u how I ended up in such a 'white ass' place.

When I graduated high school from Jack Yates, class of '95, I knew I had to get away. I'd been on my own since I was 17 years old. My mom was the best mother she knew how to be. She'd had some health issues that prevented her from doing a lot. More specifically, she'd had a cardiac arrest in her early 30's.

I remember after she had the cardiac arrest and was in the hospital, all of our family from Chicago, Louisiana, and Mississippi had come down to Texas. Everyone would sit around at Hermann Hospital dreading the impeding bad news that she wouldn't survive. Our eyes fixated on every white coat that entered through the doors of the waiting room like a crack head fending off that white demon.

The doctors came in several times letting the family know that they were doing everything in their power to save her, but it wasn't looking good. The doctors pronounced my mom dead at least three times and each time we would tell them that they had to be mistaking because my mama wouldn't just die like that. They must have thought we were the craziest family that had ever graced that damn waiting room.

They'd told us that shit three times 'til one of my aunts, Vera from Chicago, got fed up and told the doctors to stay their asses out of that waiting room with that negative shit and to get back in there and save her damn sister. She was adamant that it just wasn't her damn time and we were not accepting that bullshit. Vera was our family's spokesperson because she was known for telling a muthafucka just what the fuck it was she was feeling.

Is she dead or not bitches? The problem wasn't the doctors. Hell, they really didn't know what to make of my mama. To be such a little woman, she was a fighter, and she wasn't giving up—literally. Shit, back in the day I'd heard many stories of how "dem Talley sistaz" had beaten bitches down in the country. One thing was for certain, if you fucked with one of 'em, you dealt with 'em all—all fourteen of them muthafuckaz. Madea, that's what we called my grandmother, made sure that shit wasn't gon' be a fair fight. She had fourteen girls and six boys!

My mom was on life support and just when they thought she was a goner, she would take another breath. My sister Trina would sit by mama's bed and basically order her to open her eyes and say something. Trina constantly reminded her that she'd just had her grandson and that he needed her. I never said anything, but I always remembered thinking, "Damn, Trina is sho telling mama what she NEED to be doin'! Hell if she does wake up, she'll probably get the shit knocked out of her ass!"

You wasn't gon' be sitting there raising your voice at Joann Talley. She didn't give a damn if she was on her death bed or not. You'd betta watch yo tone, and remember that SHE was the parent. Mama was in a coma for a couple of weeks and miraculously made a full recovery, however ended up living with a defibrillator for the remainder of her life. For those who just need to know what this "defibrillator" is all about, well, it is an electrical implant in the form of a small box placed in her stomach and served as a pace maker. Its' purpose was to regulate her heart rate in the event that it became weak or to a point where it couldn't function properly on its' own. Well, back in those days, this was a fairly new device and she was very afraid of it and if her ass was scared to death of it, what in the hell were we supposed to be?

My mother was very small framed and this device was tiny yet powerful. If at any time her heart rate would increase or decrease above or below the parameters in which the device was set by the surgeon, the damn thing would fire this current through her body to get it back right. Shit, we were kids back then and that mess was scary as hell to see your mother being ejected out of the bathtub because she'd gotten over heated. This damn monster would throw her to the floor! That's how our young minds viewed it.

Because of this handicap, mama was unable to get a job. So, financially it was difficult for her to take care of the three of us. I mean, the bills were paid, but for all of the extra shit, we were on our own. Mama had done her part and had done a damn good job at that. I didn't even know we were poor until I was older, in high school, and began to hang around my peers whose parents had money. Hell, prior to that, we were the best dressed on the block. Our apartment, in the projects, was the cleanest and best decorated, sorta like the Evans on Good Times. Shoot, all the neighborhood kids wanted to hang out at our shit. The kitchen stayed filled with food, she'd bought with food stamps, and we fed the entire damn neighborhood. We had a good life.

Mama definitely did whatever it was that mothers do to make sure that their kids are taken care of. To date, I have no damn idea how she pulled us through the storms and we dare not ask about her damn business. She had a mean back hand just for the muthafucka who didn't wanna stay in a child's place. Exactly where that place was, no one knew. But she damn sure knew how to knock yo ass there with a pimp hand!

My brother, Mykel, who was called Talley, was the man of the house, and what a great man he was and still is. Talley was dealing in drugs; shit, don't ask me what exactly. I wasn't allowed to know nobody's business! As Talley's "little sister", he was gonna defend me at all costs; whatever that shit meant. You could get away with a lot of shit, but yo ass didn't stand a chance if you were fucking with me and everybody in the neighborhood knew it. Talley wasn't to be fucked with and neither was I.

I remember people's lives being threatened just for looking like they had something to say to my ass. They were scared to even speak to me or make eye contact; I felt like muthafuckin' royalty. It may sound over exaggerated, but I...