To be read with fava beans and a nice ciante:
I've been asked to write this, a bit against my better judgment, but I have a serious shortcoming that I haven't been able to overcome. I began to think of how polite my neighbors have been in the office, and how I just can't say anything about how they act towards me that can be heard by refined ears.
I live here now because one day I found my way into a hospital in Lebanon Tennessee with aphasia and confusion about my identity. I had for several years been remembering my childhood differently than I had before, and this was as a result of a concussion brought on by domestic violence that went untreated, leaving me unable to speak well for several years. After a few years of my confusion and stubbornness the man who had put me in that state had the police take me out of the house which he had put in my name after his loan was canceled.
Because no one would tell anyone anything straight about who I was, and because I was insisting that the people who I shared a name with weren't my real parents I was left there in the hospital for about 21 days. In that time a social worker started looking at me, at the way I talked, at my eating habits, sleeping habits, facial features and started talking pictures of my feet and the roof of my mouth and asked me when I began puberty and when my teeth had come in.
All she would tell me is that I was not crazy but I was disabled. To this day, no diagnosis is disclosed about why I receive social security. But I had already discovered that my chromosomes were transposed. I had met too many people like me who knew what they were.
I have a different way of speaking, thinking I told her I just needed a place to work, and she said no one is going to give you one. I said my gramps is like me and he worked all his life, she said it is different for men. I said I'm not retarded, and she said no kidding. But the truth is no one will tolerate people like us. And so the diagnosis is disability.
When I left home I was looking for somebody. But I couldn’t remember who. My so called family told me that I was looking for my soul mate and explained to me that I had a bond with someone from another life.
The energy of a mother seeking her child has no equal even when she can't remember him.
I know it is hopeless, I know how it looks. I know I can't see someone slam their door, call me a whore, stomp up and down the stairs 5 or six times at an odd hour and not think that it is odd behavior I shouldn’t have to deal with. I can't stand there and be polite about it all day and have it done to me all night.
Maybe you think this of me, in my years of confusion seeking to find a man who I thought hadn’t been born only to find out that I gave birth to him. I was so ashamed when I realized. I could only cope by blaming it on the deceptions that allowed him to be taken away from me, deceptions that were not my doing.
My spontaneous honesty in a world so sexually obsessed was unwelcome. I was a goody goody in a perverted way. I could not be told that what I was put to was wrong or I would cry and cry. But being told it was ok, I couldn’t be seen in public with the people I was "helping" because "if its ok, why cant I talk about it?"
The scars had to be hidden, the use had to be obscured, I know now how tricked I was and how helpless I was. My life at home was unbearable though I had a job I knew it was wrong the way my step dad acted. The people who took my son were college educated. Though I couldn’t remember cognitively I knew somewhere and I knew I had to catch up with them or I would never get him back, but I did not know that if I kept visiting "home" they would inspire the worst in me.
When Bruce spiderwebed my skull, I lost the ability to say what I was remembering. I was thinking without words and keeping a few secrets. Slowly I remembered one thing after another. By the time I began to remember my son, even foggily, I realized it was a hopeless battle but it explained all my feelings.
I cant help but keep up, keep it up, keep it up, though I'm tired there's no stopping no place to stop. Friendless, I don’t care.
I live in a world where whores get married and give away the children of little girls. Where mothers do homework so that obedient girls can get good grades and good jobs and hand her boys over to step dad, and the one that takes it is the good one.
I had straightened out my credit and it ended me in a house with a man who took it from me and made his house and beat me up and threw me out when he was done.
I don’t trust people. I just need an escort to go to another country where people know Im an honest type of person. I hope when my son realizes what this country has done to him he will want to take me there.
Please let me know when you patience has run out with me, that’s all I can reasonably ask, I cant ask for sympathy I don’t even qualify as the same species.
I know that what I do for myself is never sufficient for security of life or home and I await the next blow for my worthless struggle.
When I say someone is doing something beyond what can be expected of normal activity, they are. But I can't smile like them when I lie.
Thank you if you have taken the time to get some perspective.
