just another story

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

just another story of a lost girl, who turns into a lost woman....how will it end?

Submitted: November 28, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 28, 2017




I was anxious sitting in the waiting room of Bonnie Hunt's office.  Wondering what she would think of me.  Just another crazy lady needing to vent her problems.Blah blah blah she would write on her pad, tell me about yourself, tell me about your childhood.  My childhood.  What would I tell her?  Did I really want to share my story after all?  Not really.  I wanted her to make it better, make it go away.  Give me a magic wand so I can erase all the memories of abandonment, hate, beatings, molestation.  Yes, that is really what I needed, for it all to have happened to someone else and then I could be the happy, carefree, lovable woman I knew was inside me. Okay Bonnie Hunt, let's see what magic you have up your sleeve to make it all go away.  I needed something.  Anything.

The door opened and there she was.  Hmmm....where were the glasses, skirt suit and notebook.  This woman looked like a motherly sort.  Warm and round but not overly plump.  Her hair was a shade of red that wasn't quite natural and she had a casual, comfy outfit on.  She smiled and waved me in her office.  It was actually more of a sitting room.  It had plush purple couches and was painted in warm, comforting tones.  I smelled a hint of Lavendar and there was a dreamcatcher hanging in the corner.  It felt safe, not clinical as I had expected.  Maybe, just maybe, I could talk to this woman. 

We did the usual getting settled in that one does the first time they meet.  She had hot water for tea and made me some chamomile.  I felt like I was in the home of a good friend and we were about to have a good gossip.  So far, so good.Then the dreaded words, "So, Cassie, tell me why you've come to see me.  What is going on in your life?"  God, what do I say?  That I'm completely lost, depressed, and barely functioning through my day? I honestly have no idea what I said.  I babbled something and then waited to see what would happen next.

We sat for a moment, sipping our tea.  "I came to see you because I didn't know what else to do.  I'm stuck and I don't know how to make it better." I couldn't believe it, I said it out loud.  "Okay, how long have you been stuck?" she asked.  "My whole life."  "That's a long time.When do you recall the first time you felt like you were stuck?"  "When I was five, I think."

I flashed back there and remembered everything as clear as day. Me, wearing my red and white checkered dress, white cotton anklets and shiny black shoes. I carried a cigar box with my pencils and eraser in it and some pennies I had gotten from my mom's jewelry box.  I didn't ask to take them but I figured it was okay, I just wanted to have them with me at school to show to the other kids. There were a lot of them and they made such a sweet rattling noise in my box. The other kids thought it was neat but I remember one kid Beth, she was kind of big and mean, seemed angry that I had something she didn't.  We had our usual recess and when I came back in the teacher pulled me aside and asked about the pennies in my box. "Where did you get them?" she said.  "They are mine" I said.  I suddenly got scared, the teacher seemed angry.  "Beth said you took her pennies and put them in your box and won't give them back" she stated forcefully.  I started to cry, I didn't know what to do.  I was five.  I remember I kept saying they were mine.  The teacher didn't believe me.  I always wondered why me.  Why not the other girl?  Why did they think I was the liar? The beginning of my self doubt and my understanding that life was not fair.  It  got worse.  They called my parents.  Of course, I hadn't asked permission and my mother had no idea I took the pennies from her box.  When I got home my parents sat me down and said if I told the truth I wouldn't get punished.  So, I told them they were my pennies.  They got very angry and my stepfather said if I didn't tell the truth I would get hit for every penny in my box.  I kept saying I was telling the truth but noone believed me.  At five years old I was hit 51 times in a row for telling the truth.  At five years old, I learned that you can't trust anyone.  Even the people who were supposed to love you the most could not be counted on and would not only turn their back on you but cause you physical harm.  I changed forever that day. 

I wish I could say that was the worst thing that happened, but it wasn't.  It was just the precursor to my story.

© Copyright 2018 Michelle Williston. All rights reserved.

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