Chinks in My Armor

I have grown up a lot in the past few years. But before I tell you how, let me say that growth wears different hats in life and it is not only just measured in chronological order, (age determinate), but also in terms of progress, success, achievements and personal bests. I am happy to say that my growth has included all four metrics in varying degrees, and that it did not just happen by nature. As it is in our age progression, we should naturally grow in wisdom and understanding.

Sometimes it was mostly an uphill struggle because I was trying to do it all on my own. There were lots of times when I was ready to give up, throw in the towel, concede defeat, but I didn’t. I persevered and as I continued to do so, I had no idea that although I was metaphorically speaking on a battlefield, I was in fact growing even in the middle of my fight, and even because of it.

Before I learned to pray, I had to learn two very important lessons; what prayer was and how it worked into my life and how to do it effectively. What I actually had to learn about spirituality and how God would work in my life was how to listen for his voice. I was clueless as to how I needed to “fix my life” and as so many of us have done, I finally tried seeking God’s help when nothing else would work. It was the best decision I had made in a very long time, one I would never regret and one that would continue to reward me for the rest of my life as long as I stayed close by his side.

You must understand that although I was raised to attend church dutifully and to pray, I was not taught anything about a relationship with God, and that prayer is a two-way conversation that means listening for as well as talking to God. I had no idea at all that Satan (the enemy) is very real and that his job is to keep opposition, negativity, self-reproach, doubts and worry front and center in our lives, and that it is a daily; sometimes hourly fight against him and his demon friends to keep him in his place.

Knowing that God loves me unconditionally, that even if I don’t see things happening right away, and that he is definitely working in my favor has become one of the most enlightening revelations in my life. I wasted so very many of my younger years trying to solve my problems, bear all my burdens, alone. To me prayer was limited to “The Lord’s Prayer” and if I did pray my own prayers they were almost always selfish ones and I was totally ignorant of the fact that I was asking him to do things and give me things that he was absolutely no part of.

Now I know when to pray to the Father, and when to pray to God; always with thanksgiving and bringing my supplications to him “in Jesus name”. In other words, I have learned how to pray effectually and with patience and that prayers do not have to be a long drawn out speech but a simple and honest conversation from the heart. God just wants to know that we love him and his son Jesus, and that we have given him our hearts and our willingness to listen and obey.

I used to be a “judgmental extremist” meaning that I judged everyone and anyone by my standards. I was manipulative, full of strife, argumentative, selfish and miserable. I was lonely and often felt left out because others got tired of my extremist personality and obnoxious ways, so often I felt secluded, but to my way of thinking they were the ones who were wrong, not me. What surprised me the most on my journey of self-discovery was that I was compensating with attitude for things lacking in my life, and the important things were lacking in my life because I had no self-control.

Learning that stability and self-control are major factors in having real peace and victory in my life was a startling revelation. Coming into knowledge of the truth about who I am, and how life can be lived with joy and happiness regardless of my circumstances has been wonderful. I have begun the learning process that teaches me that I don’t have to say everything that I think, especially if it will be something hurtful, sarcastic or will cause a rift in a relationship.

I am making progress in controlling my thoughts. And I am grateful for the roller coaster ride because it has shown me how fabulous it can be when the ride slows and steadies itself.
With a humble and a grateful heart, I am who I am, and that person is pretty special!

This article can also be read under the 'My Portfolio of Short Stories' section tab of the navigation bar at the top of the Home page.

What Will Happen to Me?

In 2010, a research study on the number of children in the United States with a parent behind bars was alarmingly high. According to the source I used as reference for this article http://www.rawstory.com, one in twenty-eight (1/28) kids in America has a parent in prison. This translates to 2.7 million kids or more than one in one-hundred (1/100) parents are incarcerated.

The children become victims themselves over time because of the stress they deal with in having a parent behind bars. Among the disabilities that plague them is how their schoolwork and attendance is affected. This is probably the worst non-physical stigma that they face. They become disillusioned, saddened, belligerent, socially disconnected and that's just naming a few of the maladies they face. It's a given that these attitudes will severely compromise their attention and desire to excel in school. Compared to the overall population that comprises these 2.7 million children, twenty-three percent (23%) are expelled in comparison to the number of expelled student for other reasons. A further breakdown shows that African American students make up one in nine, Hispanics make up one in twenty-eight, while Caucasian students account for one in fifty-seven.

Long term effects that jeopardize the welfare and productivity of these children are a lack of emotional bonding, poor peer relationships, anti-social behavior, low self-esteem, diminished cognitive abilities, anxiety and withdrawal. Of course, not absolutely every child will demonstrate such dramatic symptoms or behavior. Some of the children who live with the knowledge that they have a Mother or Father in prison use that fact to make sure they don't follow in their footsteps. They are focused on making sure they don't fall victim to a pre-determinate behavioral pattern. In other words; they want to do better.

Most children who fall into the category of statistical figures mentioned earlier ask the question "what is going to happen to me" now that Momma or Daddy has to go away for three-five years. Was it something that I did? Another heartbreaking question. Those three-five years can make a world of difference in the life of a five-nine year old child. These are after all, critical development times, where some life-long attitudes are developed and nurtured.

Logically speaking, first of all, the children who are involved need to be made to feel that they are not to blame. They need assurance that they will be taken care of, that they will be loved and that they will be encouraged to excel in their school work, to make friends and learn to trust others.

They will need to understand how the justice system and the correctional systems work; that if you commit a crime you must be punished. An attitude of self-righteousness will only prove to harm the child in the end. He/she must come to terms with what happened with a parent, and although it is not necessary to delve too deep into the ramifications of committing a crime, enough should be said in terms they will understand and relate to. Doing this can ward off any adverse psychological damage that could result if the situation is not properly diffused.

Post-incarceration is just as important for the children of parents upon their re-entry into society as it is for the inmate. Interventions and highly visible support is tantamount here. The focus and the significance go back once more to the best avenue for maximum effectiveness...the family unit.

This happened to me when I was nine-years old. My Father went to prison. Read my personal story in my newly released book, ready for purchase now in the Create Space e-store. Please follow this link to buy your copy. You'll really enjoy this book, and its only $5.99! http://www.createspace.com/4341572

Coming Attractions

Wonderful things have been happening in my literary world! The 'book' as it has been referred to so many times is just about ready for its launch! And this is the place to find out all about it! In addition, there are two children's' books ready for publication as well. All three books; "Not Easily Forgotten (my novella), "Bernie and The Enchanted Forest" (children's book) and "School Days in Tuckersville" (children's book) are all three ready for the printers.

But...that's not all. There is a bigger project underway and it will all be announced in about five-seven days from now. I will post the details RIGHT HERE and share with you about what's going on. I will tell you this much right away; it's exciting and it has the potential to be BIG!!

I am walking in the favor of God, I am following my dreams and I am hoping and believing in the success and the prosperity of that dream.

Thanks to all of you for coming along for the ride, and for being a fan of this blog!

Best,

Wiladene

Sample Chapter From My New Book

Hello Readers!

The book is in the rewrite stage, preparing for final editing! It's been a long journey (12 months) but I am very proud of the work. I thank God for bringing me on this journey, and for all He has done for me; not just in my creativeness...but in all aspects of my life. He is awesome! Read on to enjoy a sample chapter from the book. I will be posting at least two more "teaser chapters" as a preview. Above this post is a video that I have posted on YouTube as a book trailer. Simply click on the arrow to watch it.  Please watch, and if you are so inclined...leave a comment, or at least a 'thumbs up' for me!! You are welcome to comment as 'anonymous' if you're a bit bashful! Anyway; enjoy both the trailer and the sample chapter. Until next time...take care and happy reading. Remember to support an author and buy a book. 

I have heard other people say that the middle school years are the best years of a child’s young life.  I have even witnessed other people saying this and saying it with a blissful and almost reverential remembrance. Sure, it is a time of higher learning, and it is wrought with indecisiveness, self-consciousness and an overall sense of awkwardness, but it’s supposed to all be balanced out by the fun side right? The years when kids enjoyed stuff like football games, pep rallies, parades, bonfires and such. It can be described as “tantalizingly tumultuous”, or maybe a case of a “love-hate affair”. No matter how you describe it, it was not a fun time for me. At least, most of it was not. 

First of all, I had two very strong factors in my life that were against me. Number one and the most important was that I was fat. I was fatter than all of the kids in my class.  No, I was not huge, but to a ten year old girl whose closet friends were at the most a pre-teen size 10, and you are a ladies size 14 that can be a tragedy. And add to that tragedy the fact that your parents could not afford to give you a stylish and pretty young girl’s wardrobe, and then what you end up with is a real heart-breaker. 

I was riddled with self-consciousness. Number two, I got my period when I was only nine years old, and when I discovered the blood on my panties after a trip to the bathroom, I went to my Mother afraid and confused about what was going on. I thought that I had somehow been hurt. Her first reaction was to run to her room, shut the door and bawl her eyes out with exclamations of “Oh God; My baby! My baby!” over and over while her ‘baby’ was left standing in the hallway scared and bewildered.

This certainly did nothing to help my situation at all. I started to cry, my Mother was in the middle of a fine show of histrionics and my younger brother stood at the doorway of his room looking like he would burst into tears at any moment. All of us except Mrs. Duncan our house guest were about to come unglued.

Mrs. Duncan was the woman who was temporarily renting a room from us at the time who actually took me aside and tried to calmly explain to me that I had started to “menstruate” or get my period and that it was a natural process and I was not hurt nor was I dying. She assured me that the same thing would eventually happen to all of my friends too.

Mrs. Duncan took me into her room, removed some items from a dresser drawer and laid them out on the bed. She talked to me about how these were a few of the necessities I would need now and for the foreseeable part of my future. She showed me how to use a sanitary belt and to attach the sanitary pad to it. 

Afterwards, she spoke to my Mother and firmly told her that her hysterics were not of any good to me, and in no uncertain terms she needed to get it together and get out there and be a Mother to me. When Momma came to my room and sat down on my bed to give me the “talk” which included her version of the “coming of age” story, she was indeed a far sight more calm than she had been. Although her voice still slightly trembled, there was no more weeping and wailing. I didn’t receive the full birds and bees education at that time, but she emphasized in no uncertain terms that boys were absolutely NOT to come near me while I was ‘on my period’.

The next day, Momma prepared a special bag for me to take to school. In this brown paper bag (same as the one I packed my lunch in) she placed an extra sanitary belt, a washcloth and about six sanitary pads; called Kotex back then. There were no choices of sanitary pads then. There was Kotex and that was it. There was nothing available on the market with wings or adhesive strips. The ultra-slim fitting barely noticeable and comfortable little pads of today had not even been dreamed about.

Kotex was bulky, thick and each one felt as if an intruder was in my underwear next to my body. They made me feel clumsy and extremely shy when I had to wear one and to say nothing of the embarrassment I felt at presenting my fifth grade teacher with my bag each morning for safekeeping. My Mother had asked her to look after me and to send me to the bathroom to change my pad often enough to keep me clean. 

For three to five days each month, my humiliation at being subject to this curse was complete. While the other girls giggled and went about happy and carefree, I concentrated on the fact that I was wearing a thick, uncomfortable and twisted piece of cotton inside my ladies panties. I couldn’t even wear my frilly nylon regulars, because my mother told me that they were not “fit” to protect me during my cycle. So, she bought me several pairs of the heavy-duty cotton kind in plain colors. No lace, no patterns, no thin prettiness.

I would think back on these days later on in my life during the times when I’d be hard put to understand some things about myself. And after intensive retrospect...the pieces would fall into place. The early onset of menstruation, the unfortunate disappearance (and subsequent explanation for) of my Father would then be recognized as building blocks for the many chinks I’d find in my armor.