I Am Moving On

Amanda-Leigh and "The Open Boat"

I feel much better after previously expressing my thoughts on my marriage. I was able to have a sense of identity again. That is a wonderful feeling to experience. Everything I have experienced since the year 2010 has drifted me into feelings of alienation the male literary characters share in Stephen Crane’s short story “The Open Boat.” Not a character jumps to his death in the water. Each day is a new adventure of survival. There are signs of hope along the water and land. The process of being rescued seemed to take forever. I am sure the Bible would estimate this time frame as forty years. Forty years would be fitting considering there was no hope at times.

“The Open Boat” does not share any hints as to where the crew has come from or where they are going. The dialogue is dry and not really lively. The focus is centered on getting from Point A to Point B. There is no actual center. There is no way to identify with a character or his or her interaction in their world. There is no way of knowing whether the character is struggling with the soul searching process of who he or she is. As readers, we do not know. We do not know how these characters relate to their environments. We do not know what challenges these characters face on a daily basis. From this story, we do not know the characters struggles of living outside of an open boat. Would having more knowledge hurt the story or help the story?

As I reflect on “The Open Boat,” I am able to think about my own life. How did I get into an open boat? How did the waters wash up my personal happiness for the past three years? I am unable to understand where I went wrong as a wife. There are times when I feel like breaking down crying. The pain of hurt and disappointment make me feel like a crushed rose. There are days when I do not want to deal with everything that is happening. There are days when I wish I could sit in my closet and cry all day instead of forcing myself to step outside to be happy and not feel like an ugly duckling. What bad thing did I do to deserve so much hurt?

Right now, I feel powerless about my situation. I am not able to move forward with my life and happiness until I move out. When I move out, I hope to feel so much better. I will not feel stuck anymore. I will no longer be confined to an uncomfortable role. When I use uncomfortable, I am referring to feeling like someone I am not. I am not a mother to anybody except a Chihuahua who was abandoned. I will no longer feel alienated. I will no longer be stuck in my home during bad weather. I will feel safer in my new place. I won’t feel hopeless anymore. I will be rescued the way the crew was from “The Open Boat.”

Amanda-Leigh and Moving Out

As I write this morning, I reflect on something my husband told me about a week ago. when he looks at his friends page, he wanted to have what they have. I am assuming my husband meant having the American dream every man wants. To me, this also meant my husband was not completely satisfied with me in our marriage. I do not really know what his comment was referring to. What I do know is pretty clear and to the point. I will be moving into a new place in a week or two. This decision was not what I saw in the future when we married three years ago.

Three years have passed. Four days into our marriage, my husband began a series of medicine changes. He also underwent Electroshock Therapy. Before the ECT treatments, my husband was a sweet and loving person to be around. We would go around to different stores and feel happiness. He would pick out romantic cards for me and treated me nice. I enjoyed being around my husband in the beginning.

In the middle of our marriage, emergency room visits and hospital stays dominated our marriage. Everything good collapsed. When I say collapse, I mean that my hospital stays and his mental health clashed like vinegar and oil. After I had my hysterectomy at the Health Plex in Norman, we argued inside my hospital room. A divorce was expressed. A divorce never happened though. I had enough to deal with recovering from the surgery. I did not need that added stress.

In the end, as I reflect on my marriage, I believe in my heart that moving out of our marital home is the best decision. I am still experiencing health problems. I have to be seen by a gastrointestinal specialist towards the end of August. My doctor wants me to have a scope done to find the source of the pain. I also have poison ivy on my body. That is not pleasant. And, I am moving out as I have mentioned before.

I mention moving out so many times. Maybe I am trying to convince that everything will be okay and don’t need to scared. Moving out is not a sign of weakness. This is a sign of strength. I will no longer be criticized for drinking Dr. Pepper or eating foods that will not get me to my weight goal. I will no longer have to worry if someone else really loves me. I will no longer feel trapped in a web that has no holes.  

As I filled out paperwork to move out, I entered into the commitment a bit scared and nervous. I did not wish to be judged nor did I wish my husband to be judged. I really do appreciate prayers and love. This road has not been easy. I have been disappointed and hurt in my marriage. What other people do not know is everything that happens behind closed doors. I do not express everything that happens behind closed doors. Only those who are closest to me need to know and do know.

Women in our society are taught to suffer in silence and not speak up. We are taught to pray our marriages work out. We are not told, “I will be praying for your happiness as God works on you.” We are taught to suck things up the way men do. We are taught to stay in the home or we will be judged. Who really wants to be judged?  Who wants to be gossiped about? Nobody does and nobody should be. We have enough to deal with in the home and do not need to be crushed by the ones who loves us the most. Being open comes with a cost for us; therefore, we must be silent or risk losing everybody.

I only have a few more things to pack. Hopefully I will get a phone call soon. I am prepared to deal with the phone call the way a loved one responds to a corrections officer when he or she delivers bad news. For this situation, I have had time to prepare for the bad news. I could have lost my husband to death after a terrible incident happened in Norman. I believe that a police officer coming to our home to deliver the news that my husband had died would have been worse for me to handle. That was something I never wanted to deal with. Nobody should.

Amanda-Leigh and Trayvon Martin

For the month of June, I was in physical pain. My abdomen hurt. When I ate oranges and drank orange juice, the pain increased. For the month of May through June, I suffered from severe depression. The EMDR increased the depression. Writing every painful incident was not easy for me to cope with. The next counseling visit I was scheduled to have would have involved me listening to different tones of music and opening up to the young male counselor. I did not feel comfortable.

At the end of my last session, Dr, Crackerjack (name is fictitious) provided me with a list of feelings to choose from about my current frame and then some more on how I would like to feel. The feelings I chose beforehand were negative. The feelings I chose afterwards were positive. At the time of the session, the thirtieth anniversary of Grandma’s was approaching. Bringing all of the painful incidents sent me into a whirlwind of depression. Since the weather was rainy on the days of my scheduled appointments, I had to wait. Finally, I decided that I did not need to sit in a room for an hour pouring my heart out to a person who did not like me using literary characters to relate to the way I felt inside.

I am able to write today thanks to loved ones who cared about me. I now have a stack of literature and Humanities II textbooks for  the Fall semester. I have a few weeks until the Fall semester. I am going to be moving soon. I have friends I would like to handwrite letters to.

My self-image has changed from May. I no longer view myself as worthless, a failure, or helpless. I no longer have to see how Dr. Kevorkian is doing. I no longer have to feel trapped in a dark cellar that refuses to opens. The tools I have are much cooler than  the cellar lock anyway. A stationary bike, a pink Yoga mat, and arm weights are more powerful than any health problem in this world. I enjoy working out in bright Capri pants and tank tops. I like to eat fruit and foods that do not contain citric acid. I have also healed as I took a daily woman’s multi-vitamin.

Last night’s verdict in the Trayvon Martin murder case has the majority of the world upset. The message being sent is that the Open Carry Law has no form of justice in the legal system. Every news photo features Trayvon Martin wearing his hoody and baggy jeans. This was his individual identity. However, this is not the image of the young man I keep in my mind of him. I keep the image of Trayvon wearing a black suit and a nice dressy shirt with a tie.

I remember going to eat a Cracker Barrel in Norman in N. I wore a black pant suit. I saw two professional businessmen. We waved at each other as we passed on our paths. These two business men had no idea that a few months ago I had been hospitalized for blood clots and a hysterectomy. I liked that. I really liked that. I liked that wearing my nosiness suit hid everything I had faced on a daily basis. These businessmen did not have to see anything other than the woman I had become. 

I have another business suit hanging in my closet. I have black tights to wear with my skirt. I am looking forward to wearing these clothes as I work on homework and wear black dress shoes to match. Experiencing pain is worth this feeling. I feel the same as Faith Hill when she sang “This Kiss.” The road on becoming a writer and editor is really happening. Perhaps I will create one of my literary characters wearing a business suit for others to see. Perhaps I will create a strong heroine who falls for the man who gets rejected and put down too much in his society.

I close with Claude McKay’s heartfelt poem “America.” I am not sure how I should feel right now. George Zimmerman walks away a free man. A child from Oklahoma was sent to live with her “Father” with the Judge having full knowledge he had been a sex offender. A couple in South Carolina continued to adopt a little girl even though the girl was happy living with her biological Father.  At the end of the night, two strong parents walk away without justice for their son’s murder. Do two strangers in the middle of the night not stop believing? This journey we call life is not easy. 

 "America"

Claude McKay (1921)

 Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess
I love this cultured hell that tests my youth!
Her vigor flows like tides into my blood,
Giving me strength erect against her hate.
Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood.
Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state,
I stand within her walls with not a shred
Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer.
Darkly I gaze into the days ahead,
And see her might and granite wonders there,
Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand,
Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand. 

"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven

belongs to such as these" - Matthew 19:14

 

Trayvon Benjamin Martin

Date of Birth: February 5, 1995

Date of Death: February 26, 2012

Amanda-Leigh and the Princesses of the Round Table

Good Friday morning from Amanda-Leigh! This has been one busy week from Oklahoma legislation. A law prohibiting smoking in public places was passed. The Governor stated that schools should not be required to build storm shelters. This statement comes days after tornadoes blew through towns in Oklahoma. Since I am not a political person by heart, I will only state my fact. Realism in literature is much easier to cope with than realism in real life situations.

With that being written, I will admit that I have been suffering from depression for the last two days. What is going on? I believe reality has finally caught up with me. For months, I was excited about beginning college to work on my BA. When I search for employment, nobody will give me a chance. Nobody will take me seriously because of my speech difficulty. For anybody who thinks I have self-pity, this is far from the truth. I am not the only person with a physical disability that has doors slammed in her face. We want and deserve more. We wish to be financially independent. We wish to provide clothes and basic necessities for our families with our own money. We wish to have the American dream.

I am back to square one with the princesses of the round table. How did Queen Esther save the Jews? How did Mary have the strength to weep for her son being crucified? How did Catherine Beecher begin teaching? How did Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton have the fighting power to win equality for African American and female citizens? With so much debris plaguing inside of me, I wish someone with the strength of Hulk Hogan would knock the debris away so I can think more clearly. I am frustrated at this point.

One of my prayers was answered this week. My husband began working yesterday. He works on Thursday through Sunday part time. My husband is grateful to be able to work at all. He applied at several places in our town. Several employers would promise to call or e-mail replies on their decisions. I would watch my husband be disappointed by broken promises. Getting angry at the employers were not worth my time. In the end, a few businesses have lost our service. We were loyal customers at one place. After this, I don’t feel the need to go back. There are several other places to go and try out.

I am truly appreciative of the power of prayers and the great people behind them. God works in mysterious ways. I have always believed this. This is my down time. I don’t know which path to take. I have to be careful and not move in some directions for my cyst to not hurt. I am able to work out after taking Aleve. I am able to go places in my electric wheelchair as long as I am tilted back. I am able to read fine literature and dream of dancing. I am able to write. I am able to dress my husband up before he goes to work. I am able to sleep at night and wake up refreshed in the morning.