|About the Book|
Violence, bi-polar disorder, ADHD- along with drugs, drunken all-nighters ending in a morning stupor that only fueled the desire to do it all again- shit, that was just my kids.You take one woman with a past that is littered with one bad decisionMoreViolence, bi-polar disorder, ADHD- along with drugs, drunken all-nighters ending in a morning stupor that only fueled the desire to do it all again- shit, that was just my kids.You take one woman with a past that is littered with one bad decision after another or worse yet, no decision. What a beauty I was. If I had a dollar for every time I stood there with my mouth hanging open with that moronic look on my face I could pay down the national debt. How do you spell duhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?My decision to look back on my life was not an easy one. It was fraught at every turn with fears and anxieties. That is how I live my life, completely optimistic but afraid of everything. It isn’t easy being me. I am by far my own worst enemy. When feet frighten you, you know you have some serious issues.Although I was terrified to venture into that dark place I like to call my memory, I knew it was something I had to do. I was determined to pinpoint when my life went from carefree to crazy.Once you realize, and more importantly, accept that you are different from the masses, life is so much easier. For so long I tried to conform, to change, to become what I thought everyone else was. I strained for what seemed most of my life to hear the drum beat as others did. It never happened. The world listens to the grand bass drum. Alas, I think I hear bongos.But low and behold, as I neared my fiftieth birthday it came to me. It was ok to be different. I realize with crystal clarity that that is a no-brainer, but for me, it was an eye opener. Who knew that different didn’t necessarily mean wrong or bad. It just meant different. I had always told my children to be themselves and to embrace their individuality, to follow their own inner voice and to never follow the voice of others, why couldn’t I do the same for myself?Hey, could be on to something. Individuality! What a concept!The result of my soul searching resulted in my writing IT’S OK TO LAUGH. It isn’t easy looking back with an honesty that adults rarely possesse. That kind of honesty is reserved for the young and innocent. I was neither, but I did see, for the first time how I got to where I am now- one or two steps away from being certifiable.Decisions made as an immature teenager make me wonder how I found the nerve to have children of my own. God smiled on my parents the day my children were born, it was payback time for all the sleepless nights that I caused my mom and dad to have. This is God’s way of saying GOTTCHA!!I have an ex-husband- who doesn’t right? Ok, everyone who had bunk beds during their marriage, raise your hand. Only me, just as I suspected. I don’t know many women who would stand for that, especially if they were the ones who had to sleep on the top.I don’t hate my ex-husband, although I should. I had endured infidelity in my own home, furniture tossing and an array of other bizarre and humiliating events that I put up with so as not to hurt his feelings or more importantly, piss him off.Life goes on.I have lost my car and my home, but not my pride or my self worth. That is something that can’t be taken, only given back. You get what you give, but sometimes you give and get nothing. I believe it will always be ok and there is always someone who has it worse than you.As an added bonus for women hearing my story, I am neither good looking nor thin. I am the poster child for nonthreatening. Who in the world wants to listen to the problems of a tall, tan, good looking blond? Not me. I would assume that she was perfect and was patronizing me.Women around the globe would look at me, hear my story and thank God for who and what they were.I am a survivor, not a victim. If you wake up every day you are ahead of the game.