Just a Walk

My life from begining to now may make some cringe. But I take the good with the bad and go away with a lesson learned. And as Ive learnt many times over now, it isnt always the "good" and the "bad". Without one, the other would have little to no worth......

My life began with my parents. My mother, a young woman going through college in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. My father, also young, has been through school and was living with his parents in the same town. The story of meeting is still nothing clear to me. I was concieved (on accident) and such began my journey. My mother knew right away, so she claims, that she was pregnant. My father (whom I call "biological" due to details later) proposed and married her. My biological father wished up and down for a little girl. I have an extremely exotic name.I was named after an actress in a movie...not extremely creative but the name was. So it was decided, Yasmine. Yes, its like Jasmine, but said entirely different.

I was born and much to everyones saddened suprise, I had a life threating birth defect. Its proper term is a T.E. Fistula. Lamiens terms : my esophagus and trachea hadnt fully developed and fused the way they were intended to. At birth all fluids were in my lungs. Originally, it was thought that I had pneumonia. Thankfully, my mother's doctor caught the defect sooner than later. I was rushed in a helicopter to a pediactric hospital and put in infant ICU and underwent an extremely delicate surgery. To this day I carry scars physically from the surgery. Some have pointed them out in curiousity and some in disgust. I find them to be a reminder how precious life really is. My family often jokes that I resembled a diesel engine with hoses,tubes and beeping monitors running all over my tiny body. Family that lived hours away flocked to my mothers side for support. I spent many months in the hospital recovering from my surgery and being watched by nurses and doctors alike. My only baby picture that Ive ever seen is of me once I was healed enough to come home to my parents finally. I had hair that was shaved to a mohawk. My mother loves to show that picture to prospecting boyfriends and close friends of mine. But who would a mother be if they didnt embarass you every now and then?

I grew and did the things most babies do on their way to childhood and all its glory. My next surgery was at 4 for a broken arm. But not just any ordinary broken arm, I didnt fall off a swing- I tripped over my own feet. I dont remember much of it. I do remember waking up and being hungy with a blue cast on my arm. Leave it to me to not let a broken bone and surgery to kill my appetite!

As I grew up and tripped less over my own feet, my mind tripped over my home. My father was abusive. Both physically and emotionally. Most of his hate and negativity was directed towards my mother, whom never deserved any of it. I ofter sat in the middle of the house, my biological father at one end screaming and tearing down my mother whom is at the other end. She worked many hours to provide for me and my now physically unstable father. My biological father had a heart condition and hardening of the arteries. To go with it he was a chain smoker and had bad circulation. I also smoke socially. And the heart condition is often passed on seeings how it is inheritable. Ive had issues that have been passed off by my doctor as stress and tension in my muscles in my chest from the stress.

My father stayed home most of the time. Often driving my to my grandparents ( his parents) to have a playdate with my cousin. I remembered hours of play in their old Victorian house. Terrorizing each other up and down stairs and jumping on beds. My Nanny has since passed after battling breast cancer. My Poppy has since moved to a small house by himself.

My biological father's health worsened after my mother decided to move us out of the house and all its tramatic memories. She moved us to a small town in PA near the New York state border. After arriving she talked to her father and he asked that she move back home....all the way. So my mother scooped us up and moved to my grandparents literally just up the street. We lived there maybe a total of a month or so and my mother came to my room asking to tell me somthing serious. I was on the verge of being 8, so what possibly could be considered "serious"?

My father's health was slipping. Quickly. She kept me updated throught the night until she finally brought me to the kitchen to tell me my father had passed away. I was shellshocked. What really does that mean at 8? Death? Yes it means they go away for a very long time. A permanet goodbye...Many of the family complained that I hadnt seen him in his final hours, but bless my mothers soul that she'd not let me go. At 8, Id have not understood the full situation Im sure.

Many teachers at school did their best to deal with me and my stress. I remember spending many times in the nurses office calling my mother at work and home crying and being very confused. Kids treated me different. More different than before being a "new kid" and all. I spent hours in the school counselors office being asked what I felt and that there were ways to deal with everything I was feeling. I didnt feel there was a way to "sort and deal with" everything. It was a big ball of confusion that some days hurt because it made sense and others hurt because it really didnt make any sense at all. My mother started me with a journal. And to this day I still keep one. When life tries to throw me a curve ball I write it down and vent until I feel Ive inked my demons down.

Moving to my mothers parents wasnt bad. It was like summer vacation but forever. My grandmother was abusive. So escaping the abusive was many years away. I never really saw it that way until many years later and took a step and look back. Im on speaking on terms with her but sometimes seeing her takes me back to many times of her lashing out. Much of the family has lost its contact with the meaning of family and my Papa's passing has brought the rest of us together. Im not religous in any real pin point sense, but I do believe that my Papa is my gardian angel. Driving is something new to me now at 20. Everytime I drive I say a little prayer to him to watch me and please keep me safe. I know anything I ever do my Papa is there watching and just seeing me through.

My mother and her step mother and her father were close. Or so I thought. She was very close to her father. Bonnie was another story. My mother worked at a retail store and then at a small hardware store downtown from our home. She worked there years and met my step father. My grandmother sabotaged (or tried to) the relationship she was stepping into. She made my mother feel less than dirt in my eyes about it. Many dates they went on were in secrecy. Eventually my mother gave up on trying to impress this woman and moved her and I to my step fathers. I remember moving and getting used to this arrangement. At first I was confused by Bonnie's twisted take on it all. But I could see clearly my mothers happiness.

I didnt like my step father at first. It was just my mother and I, how dare he barge in and lay down rules? My mother was a single parent and bless her it was hard and she did a damn good job. I spout out my ground, he wasnt my "Dad" or my boss. But this man stood toe to toe with me at 13 and said nice try. He didnt need to be my "Dad" he said, but these were the lines and the rules- and Im going to follow them.

I called him "Pop" for awhile. He had earned my respect. Caught my attention and didnt back down to my attitude. One day Pop didnt answer me when I wanted. So Dad came to be. Much of the family still just call him by his name. And thats ok. They dont acknowledge the father I have. Its not my place to make them see what I see. I call him Dad because he's earned it. Hes been everything plus 1,000 that he ever had to be. A best friend. The man who taught me the worth and feeling of a hard,honest days work. Respect and manners. How to make a living no matter how menial it is to someone else.

My life with my Mom and Dad was perfectly normal. I did my time rebelling and did my time grounded. I did sports and won many trophies and awards. I decided one day that Id join the USMC. It was the biggest thing my life had in it. The center of my universe. I was unoffically turned away. Ive never had my heart broken like that before or since.

I met a guy in my senior year, he wasnt the greatest of people. The "bad boy" and it infatuated me. I went half my senior year convinced he was it. I moved out of my parents to his place with his mother and himself. This is where many people would say they regret it. Nope. Somedays I think it has made my life just 100 more stepping stones than if Id done it differently. But in no way would I go back or change how I went about it. I moved in. I spent my last half year of school there. Buried in drugs and alcohol. I graduated by spite and the fact that I made illogical choices- not because Im stupid. It was the first time in months Id seen my parents happy with something Ive done. I stayed with this guy for almost 3 years. In my high and drunken stupor. At the lowest point in my life I had a bag of change equalling about $3.00 and had stale ceral to eat. There was a local strip club I decided was my only chance at survivng. I called them up and came in one night to try out. For me there was no "trying out". There was no, "Most girls cant hack it". It was quite literally do or die.

I worked there a year or so. Making money to pay for all my habits and the bills. I let the stress get to me one night and left my now fiance without a kiss. It all got heated very quickly. It ended with him smashing me in the face with the back of his hand, bouncing the back of my head off a soild wall. I left for work that night shaken. The manager of the place had worked the strip club scene since 17, he spotted the whole situation before anything was ever said of it. One of the girls I rode with to work had pulled him to the side and explained the whole story. I always thought this guy was the most heartless and unsympathetic person Id ever met. Now I see it as profesionalism and years of a hard life himself. A week later he had me talked into moving out of the place I was in. Stoicly asking if I enjoyed being on this side of the dirt and proceeding to tell me he didnt want to find me dead and beaten in a street somewhere. He helped me move safely. I quit the job after seeing the belittling of my bosses and my friend quickly followed. Giving up the job itself and the fact he stayed there too. I worked on other strip club after that and soon decided to retire from the industry.

This guy is now my best friend and boyfriend. We've been togther a year, but who's counting? Theres a 13 year age difference between us but I dont pay attention to that. I focus on the face Im sober and happy. Something I cant say Ive been in 3 years. We argue sometimes but its over being stubborn and the fact we dont want to come off our point. Ive learned that love isnt easy and that" the boy who makes you cry isnt worth the tears and the ones whos worth the tears wont make you cry". The credit to that quote has eluded me but the quote has never rung more true.

My other best friend has put a roof over my head and kept that head level on my shoulders. Hes my touch of reality. Somtimes that touch is more of a nudge, but sometimes thats what I need. Either way, hes sometimes takes the brute force of my stress and frustration, and I thank him for knowing when to listen and when to say its only a mountain if I make it out to be.

Today I have a tattoo, like many of those whom ever had money in their pocket and the urge to be inked. I got the tattoo to remind me of the freedom in life and the beauty of it. Everyday I look at it and see the freedom of my actions and the freedom to change them. Its a tattoo of a green and yellow butterfly.

Because when was the last time you saw a caterpillar cacoon itself away from the world? Watch the cocoon tear away to reveal something that was more beautiful than it was before? Ever watch that butterfly dry its wings and then fly away?

I see that every day.