Are you concerned about your relationship choices? Do you wonder why people behave the way they do in relationships? Are you sick and tired of being sick and tired of dysfunctional relationships? Do you need to change? Do you know how to change? Wonder why the cycle seems to go on and on? Does your past affect our relationships today? Keep thinking negative before accepting the positive?
Momma said, "NEVER FEEL SORRY FOR A MAN"
Feel you have been affected by your past? Want to be set free? Ready to give life another try?By Ramona PhillipsAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Ramona Phillips
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4685-4067-3Contents
Acknowledgements....................................................viiIntroduction........................................................ixChapter 1. In the Beginning was the TEENYEARS.......................1Chapter 2. SevenYears and Not married!!.............................15Chapter 3. Out of the frying pan into the fire......................21Chapter 4. New Home ... New Season..................................32Chapter 5. Rehab? Not Me!!..........................................34Chapter 6. Going Home Facing Reality................................44Chapter 7. Yes ... I Married Him....................................47Chapter 8. The NightClub Escape.....................................72Chapter 9. A New Journey in St Lucia................................78Chapter 10. Marriage #2 Still Growing...............................95Chapter 11. The Lessons.............................................122Chapter 12. Wisdom, Knowledge and Understanding.....................133
Chapter One
In the Beginning was the TEEN YEARS
I was seventeen years old living in North Philadelphia in an abandoned house; well actually, it was a condemned house. We were heart broken when my mother said we had to move from our home near 38th and Girard. She tried to cover it up by telling us she had a disagreement with the landlord Ms. Chase. The house did need some ceiling work, but in reality it was because she could not pay the rent. I was taking classes at the time, and working at Gino's. (a.k.a. now KFC).
Myself, my mother three brothers and three sisters had no place else to go except this condemned house. Well that is what my mother thought. A relative whom we had never met owned the house as we were told. I remember when we got there, a so called boyfriend of mine who had introduced me to my first taste of monster(speed)had helped us move. I never put it in my nose, only my tongue. That experience only lasted a few weeks. I got tired of it challenging me when I wanted to get some sleep. God's grace would not allow me to be a drug addict.
I still remember the the hurt on my little brother's face, as he was told to help pull off the aluminum siding from the windows. I noticed the orange sticker from the city that was proof the house was not livable. You are probably wondering why were we living in a house not fit for anyone to live in? We were forced to move out of our home after my mother's gambling debts had to take priority over the bookies who had threaten to break her legs. My mother had been gambling since we were little children, not every day. It was her plan to get extra money when the money was running out.
She managed to keep food on the table and was a good cook. We hated the gambling habit. She worked sometimes as a nurse's aide or at the candle factory. But raising 7 children alone was difficult. I guess she felt that hitting the number would help, and strangely at times she would hit and it did bring in some extra money. But most times she didn't.
Some time later, I had a minimum wage job at an insurance company in Center City Philadelphia after taking some keypunch classes. I called it my first real job after working in fast food restaurants during my early teen years and cleaning the meat man's home for Trans Pass money to go to school.
I had no belief at the time that I could go to college. Dreams and goals were never discussed in our home. Nor was I affirmed as to how special I was. I was self motivated by what I already knew or hoped for. I thought middle-class or rich people could only go to college. I wanted to be a nurse but felt my family did not have the money so those dreams went out of the window.
I got paid bi-weekly and hated the fact that my mother would make me feel guilty until she got at least half my paycheck. We had agreed on a specific amount and I honored that. I loved my mother a lot, but I just wanted to see her make better choices. I wanted her to show me appreciation.
I wanted a better life. I was tired of the insanity in our home. Later after the water was shut off we had to borrow water from the neighbor and the kitchen was shut off with a board in the doorway, because of the rats. My mother cooked on a hot plate in the dining room, she sank into depression. The rooms were always dark except for a little light coming in from a open curtain.
I would come home from work everyday and play one of my albums and just dance myself tired until I was ready to go to sleep. That was something I was good at, even dancing in school. But when I got to high school I did not have the confidence to resume a career in the Arts. Nor did I know anything about Performing Arts School. I loved drama, dance, singing and playing the violin.
My sister and I use to perform in middle school. We both played the violin, danced and sang in our younger years. It was a few good memories I have from my childhood. Dancing was also a way to keep warm in that cold little house. Remember The Jackson Five, Earth Wind and Fire, Teddy Pendergrass, the Ohio Players, Heatwave? Now that was music.
After dancing, and bathing in cold water, well sometimes if I wanted to wait I would heat the water on the hotplate. I would then put on my mohair nightgown that I got from the thrift store to keep me warm and get on the sofa bed in the living room. We had electric but no heat. We had to bathe upstairs in a cold room after the bathroom sink and tub stopped working. We would never allow any friends to come in to use our toilet.
We all had our way of coping. Some did drugs, some drank, some looked for others in relationships to rescue them. I had done enough drugs and alcohol by the age of nineteen to last me a while including selling speed(yellow jacks, christmas trees)in capsules on the street to friends, just for $2 a piece for lunch money.
Strangely, I loved angle dust; it smelt like peppermint. A so called boyfriend introduced this green stuff to me. When smoking it, I felt I was standing high off the ground as if wearing elevator shoes. During those Summer nights, I would look up at the sky at the stars and just wish I could reach up and touch it. I was too ignorant and immature at the time to know that I was doing a drug that was very dangerous.
I still can't believe I was doing these things at such a young age, it was my way of escape.
I watched my mother in and out of abusive relationships every since I was a little girl in elementary school. I watched my mother feel sorry for each of these sick men. In my earlier teen years, there were three that were the most insane.
The first one was Mr. Walt short, stocky built and probably never stepped foot in a gym. He had a cool walk and a swag that got most people's attention. And Mr. Kenny, red bone skin tone with a dual personality. He would change from a perm to an afro so quick you would wonder if his real name was Clark Kent. He would look in the mirror after changing his hair and admire himself.
My sister and I would peek at him when the bathroom door was open and watch him talking to himself as if in love with himself. At the time I did not understand what vanity meant. He would say to himself "I am a pretty motherf____. You know the word. My sister, and I were fifteen months apart and close. We were the two oldest girls, I was the oldest. We did a lot of...
