Jennifer
Soto
Robert
Lunday
English
1301
June
29, 2013
Life Worth Living
I was born the youngest to Charles and Gloria Bownds; my name is
Jennifer Soto. The date is not important. The content of what
I have learned and not able to grasp since that day is important. As many
families I was raised around, that stay together on my block, my parents did
not. They divorced when I was three. I don’t remember the fighting however;
I knew that something was different. Dad was living with us
one day and then moved out the next. I
grew up on a block that had many houses, but I am going to focus on three
households.
One house was ours, where my mom raised my sister and I. The
second house was where the Jody’s lived: both parents with the children, Ivy, Eva,
Ricky and Anita. The
third was the Ortiz family that had both parents and children: Jennifer, Corie
and Raul. I don’t remember ever focusing on the
fact that my parents were split up. I was happy; nothing bad ever happened when
I was a child.
Once
in Houston it snowed, and the ice on the streets turned into a sheet that
allowed us to skate. The children from
all three households skated together. I
did not notice a lot of the things that were going on because I was a
child. We played in the street that
whole day. My mom let us play
outside. When it was too cold, we went
inside.
Since my parents were not together, I
was able to travel for dad’s visitation.
Mom would walk me to the gate, hand me to the flight attendant, and away
I went. I loved going to visit dad! I rode the flight like a big girl. The walk onto the plane was so rewarding. My adrenaline would bubble like a steamed
pot that was filled with salt water to the rim with a high fire. The pilot let me come into cockpit. I said “Hi.”
The lady would give me wings, and that is all I remember of that. I do have memories of the plates of food that
my mom bade me not to eat. They no
longer exist on the flights today. Now
we get peanuts or pretzels. The flight was liberating! Being on my own at dads was even more
exciting. I was in a different role. I was his only child, and so life shifted
when I was with Dad.
I don’t
remember how much about all the cities I traveled, but I do remember Mango: not
the fruit, but Mango, the dark, retired thoroughbred horse. I would ride in
Cedar Lake Stud, New Jersey. I would ride while dad trained. So one day at the barn, I was on Mango. Dad was with Red, a red hair thoroughbred that
was wild. When I say wild, I mean
wild. She broke away like a bull with a
cinch. She fired out at full pace, like
a bullet shot, right at me. I was on
Mango, but was lifted off the ground.
Mango was old, and well trained.
When Red fired out, she spooked Mango.
Mango
kicked up and stood on his hind legs: I squeezed tight with my thighs, and let
out the yelp. Mango arched down but
danced back. It was a boost to my ego,
because I never fell off of him. I was not
a trained rider. Dad just threw me on
the horse. Dad told me to lay back when
going down, lean forward to go up and squeeze when in take-off. Afterward I rode with confidence, and became
close to Mango. Every night I went down
to the barn to give him an apple. I cried
like nobody’s business when I had to go home. That was the first year I did not want to
leave my dad’s house.
Once
I went to New Mexico. We stayed in a
trailer park where all the trainers, travelers and owners stayed. It was on a hill: there were a few dozen
travel trailers that pulled in and posted ground for the races. Dad would go to the stalls at four a.m.,
and I would wake up and head down later.
I received my first horse owner license that year. I was independent when I was there. I enjoyed this independence. I worked for the owners at the track. I babysat and ticket watched.
Now ticket watching is a story in itself. There was a bar in the mezzanine level where
I would watch for the people to throw away their tickets because I once found a
winning ticket. I never found another,
but it was one of the many great times.
That year Dad bought me my first cassette tape. I still have that cassette of Trisha
Yearwood. Music and singing is still my
favorite.
Growing
up, my sister Christina was five years older. She had a voice of an angel. She was mean about singing to me: I wished
she would have sung to me more often, however she did not. She was annoyed by me all the time. I
remember the time I found an envelope with money. She used it for a gift for her boyfriend. I have saved money as far back as I can
remember. I enjoyed making money, and I
did not enjoy using my money for my stuff.
I wanted to save my money and use my parents’ money. However, I sought attention, love, and
acceptance. I tried to be cool and gave
it to her. I was never really happy about
that decision. Let’s just say I am still
processing that. I still think back to
sitting on that couch and wondering how that happened. I never was good at hiding things.
Once I was hiding a pack of
cigarettes in the garage, because I thought it would be nice to smoke like a
man my mom dated. I wanted so bad to be
grown. I never thought of myself as a
problem, because I was respectful! I was
called a late bloomer. I was so late; I
was on the wrong date. I tried so hard
at being a grown up that I left out learning to be a child. This is where the story really begins.
In
1996, I graduated Pasadena High School. I
barely graduated is more accurate. My
English teacher mentioned I was making a mistake. I laughed a nervous laugh. I never wanted to feel defeated. I use to picture him running on the side of
the freeway with a speedo. Who takes a
man wearing a speedo seriously? I had no
business graduating at the age of sixteen.
“I have plans.” I thought
The
plan was to graduate with a bachelor degree.
I wanted to be the youngest to graduate with a bachelor degree. So I enrolled with my boyfriend. Yes! I
said it. Strike one. I did not want to go to San Jacinto
College. I was following what’s his name. I did not graduate or stay with the
boyfriend.
I
lived in and out of failed relationships. I call them “failed attempts to stay
single.” The only thing steady was my
position at work and the steady relationship I have with money. I started working steady at a young age.
Once, I
was the server at an event. Yes everybody starts somewhere. I usually was never
allowed in the kitchen. This time I helped the chef in preparing the food. I watched
closely as he gave me my first lesson.
We passed Hors d’oeuvre that had been prepared by me. We served brie
with pear sandwiches, garlic asparagus rolls, fried green tomatoes and lamb
bites with tomatoes bruschetta. This was the start of something bigger. It gave me the desire to cook. I would go home and cook. It was
so fun. I learned how to make food look
absolutely amazing!
I
was married in 2005. I had a son on
March 29 of 2006. Although I waited
until I was twenty five, I felt I was too young to have a child. I felt happiest when I learned I would have a
son. I felt as if I was chosen. I felt like God showed me I was favored. I believe that if your first child is a boy,
you were chosen. It all seems silly,
because having a child is God choosing you to care for his child.
God
was blessing me with a son. When the
baby was delivered, the clock on the wall was directly in front of me. I called the time I felt him come out. It was time stopping. I did not have a gush of feeling. People said that I was going to have this
overpowering feeling of love and pain.
However, I felt nothing. I felt
empty. I was alone after I had
Jeremiah. He was small. I would uncover him just to see his
feet. I was scared to touch him with my
hands. I would bunch my lips to feel his
face with the skin under my lip. He was
so soft. His skin was smooth and he
smelled so indescribably new. I never
watched over small children, nor did I care to hold other peoples small
children. I was so confused about how to
care for my newborn. He was
precious. I asked for help. The nurses tried to help but I realized they
were not that helpful. Jeremiah never
latched on and I was powerless. I was
hungry and over worked. Jeremiah was fine
with formula and what I could pump. I
wish I could thank the nurses for all their efforts.
The
first night home from the hospital, he projected like the girl in the exorcist
because I feed him too much. I made so
many first mistakes with Jeremiah. I hit a brick wall mentally. It was then I decided to read books. I enjoyed the books. I read some books on development and others on
recipes for growing children. I believe
this is where my mind opened up like muscles after being cooked.
This
child was depending on me. I had to
learn what I did not know. The books
sounded easy but breastfeeding was hard, so I learned through reading. I had a
little more than just motherly instincts with Jeremiah. I did everything by the book.
My
marriage was everything. I was a wife. I don’t remember ever doing anything for
myself unless I was celebrating something.
I was no longer first. I did not
care to have the latest fashion or the latest shiny thing. I started going to church faithfully. I enjoyed my life as a mother. While I was pregnant, I took cake decorating
classes. I kept so busy with different
projects. I made all of Jeremiahs cakes for his birthdays,
and my baby shower. I even made my
wedding cake. I was happy.
My
husband traveled, and I was a home maker.
He lost his job when I was pregnant with our second son. I was asked to come back to work that day he
lost his job. I remember getting the
phone call that I walked outside to take.
The house was so stiff. I walked
in thinking “God is good.” I knew that with him losing his job and me
being asked to come back in the same day was God. “Don’t worry honey. It will be fine, because I will get paid
weekly.” I said. My husband said “This will only be until I
get my job.” I agreed.
Later
that year Pete, my husband, did find a job.
He traveled more and I stayed on doing the payroll. The boys were getting bigger. Pete was married before and had two daughters
that stayed with me in the summer. I
loved the time I spent with them as they got older. I was not the best step mother. I was hard.
I am still hard. Some things
never change.
Pete
was never home when traveling. However, one night after going to sleep for the
evening I was woken by my stepdaughter, Jackie.
Pete had left and not returned until early morning. I never expressed a thought. I had a hard time analyzing my moods. I never could process my feelings. I always believed I was good at moving on and
letting go. This was not something I could
let go. His daughter witnessed this and
I was in the middle. I could not deny
the truth anymore. Pete had an indiscretion
when he went to Canada. He never would
admit it, but it was evident. I was
pregnant and I worked it out. Worked it
out meant I never was to get a straight answer and I dropped it. At first I denied that he would do this to me
and the children. “The children were in this too.” I thought. I began to ask: I began to pry into his
private business. I began to find
out. The truth was ugly and now he was ugly. He was not the man I knew. He was not the man I wanted to know. He was not the man I wanted to anyone to know
I married. I cried. I stopped eating bad foods and dieting hard. I was able to run for miles.
Lost
is how I felt. I felt absolutely
rejected. I felt like an animal without
a home. An animal that had been operated
on for hours, fought hard. Then told I
was not the one. That day I cooked and
carried on as if nothing happened. He came in and said he had been at Wal-Mart
with his mother. His mother came to
visit that day. It was funny. She asked him “Son, why do you look so
tired?” He sat there with a blank
stare. It was perfect. I took that opportunity to say “Was he with
you this morning?” She replied
“No.” He was stuck.
He made the focus about my smoking.
When this started I picked up cigarettes. “I
have a stupid wife” he yelled. Somewhere in that conversation I had
closure. I snapped. I had finally been done making up excuses. I
put it out there, and somehow I was to blame.
His mother asked why I was smoking while her son was trying to
quit. I remember saying “I don’t
care”. It was all I could think of at
the time. I was so angry I would have
said anything at that point.
This was the beginning of the end.
We
separated for two years after that indiscretion. During that time, I lost my job. I became aware of my options. I started school. It was one thing I could do. I knew that I felt at home in school. My home life was disappointing. I never wanted to fail at marriage. I am
extremely competitive, sentimental, and people pleasing. I wanted to hide
behind something I was doing while I figured out the pain. School was just perfect. I was taking classes full time and going out
like a wild weed fire.
Once
I went to a place called Drink Houston.
It was my girlfriend’s birthday and I did not have the boys. A girlfriend came by and begged me to go. She said “Why not?” I said “It’s Sunday.” I had school Monday at one. She laughed.
“at one, really. That is
ridiculous. You can get out and I will
wait while you get dressed.” We
went. I usually drive but this time I
let her drive. I remembered the club
from years before and knew I wanted to cut loose. She and I sang karaoke. This was so much fun! I laughed and cried that night. I learned that I enjoyed singing. I had a beautiful voice. The girls asked me to sing to them that night
after we got home. I felt
validated. I know that self-esteem is
just that but it does not hurt to have inspirational women tell you.
I
enjoyed having the liberty to go and come as I pleased. However, Pete constantly would try to
sabotage my plans. I thought to myself
many times. He was the adulterer but I
am the bad one. The truth was he was not
worried about what I was doing. It was
to make me look bad because it made him feel better. Legally,
there were not any boundaries in place. He
never came to say hi, or drop off some money for the children, or the bills he
left me strapped to because of his absence.
He only came to put me down, see what was new, or to tell our sons how I
did not allow him to return home. I held
great resentment towards him. I always
tried to explain things away. The
explanation was simple, he is not responsible.
I went through many encounters when I was
unemployed. I was encouraged to file unemployment. I found the ways to support my boys, and the
high bills left from the marriage. I
made tacos and sold them in the morning at school for a dollar. I started out with just a few so I could make
the gas money for school. The things I
would dream funny adventures but not far-fetched. It’s amazing how powerful you are when you
are hard pressed.
Once
I went to visit their father. His place
was nice, and he was helping his brother.
I went out and was held captive by this man’s inability to strive hard
for his children. I maintained the anger
towards him even more. The payments I
was making towards his loans in my name infuriated me. He always had excuses and never a plan to
solve this problem. It was my
problem. I know that all things come to
an end. His did. He lost everything, and came to my house for
refuge. I allowed him to stay on the
floor of my home. I know all the things
he has done, but unlike him I had compassion.
I wanted to be careless of my children’s feeling. I could be callous, despiteful and
resentful. Why? It only hurt me. I heard one time. “That you can be mean to mean peopled but
they are better at it. It only would
hurt you.” I believe that.
I
let go again. I let go in a way that
affected my children. I thought I would
never be able to correct my mistakes. I
was so lost for a year while trying to find myself. When I realized how much time had passed me
by I felt like nothing could correct my mistake. I woke up after a binge, trying to remember
what had I done. How did it happen? I was not fond of wasting time. I spent a lot of wasted time trying to
recuperate after a late night. I felt as
though I wasted time, and not to mention the food that I could not hold down.
I stopped going to church. I did not was to deal with people knowing my
business. I never discussed my problems
with my mom. Why would I a
stranger? I never grew up telling my
family how I felt. I grew up shouldering
my pain, because nothing was ever resolved.
I was the problem with the problem.
Jackie told my mother what had happened in my marriage. I remember thinking that sounds bad when you
say it. I did not want to see how bad it
really was, so I would mask my feelings.
I met a man that was total opposite. He cooked, cleaned, and provided. I know this is what I desired, but not the
person. I moved in and out of love with
him. Love is what we will call it. I used anything to help me change the way I
felt. I did not want to confront this
coward who I wanted to pays his bills, and pay child support. Much less file for divorce and pay for that
too. It was not until I let go and surrendered. I was powerless and never going to gain
control until I let go and let God. I
started to ask God into my life. I used
time in the morning to do affirmations that were suggested by an outreach
program. The church came to visit me and
asked me to visit their church. I
went. I did not feel judged. Nobody knew
me. I did not know anybody. Everybody had been through something similar
and I was asked to share. The church
offered a solution. I was able to talk
to women that had been through abuse and recovered. In the beginning, they talked to me about
recovery. They offered to love me until I
could love myself. They asked me to do
simple things first. I was not working
so I volunteered in the office to stay busy.
I started to put days and months together. I left Pete alone and started caring for
myself. The loneliness disappeared. I was starting to plan a future for myself and
my boys. I was living again.
I started to move on emotionally. I did not react anymore to how I felt. The things that set me off before just set me
into motion the opposite direction. I
was able to evaluate how I felt. I was
able to express how I felt. I was able
to put myself first. What did I want in
my life? I asked and answered. I set goals.
I made plans and they were my plans.
If they changed it was okay with me.
I am and will be okay. God
brought me a long way not to drop me. I
met other women with the same setbacks.
We stuck together over the last eighteen months. Some stay and some
drift in and out. However, each time we
see each there is a bond. We get to
discuss our achievements, the crazy thinking, and our solutions. I am bonded to those women. It’s out of that disaster that I found an
opportunity to find myself. A brand new
me.
Today,
I work hard to finish my degree. I am a
friend to my friends, a daughter to my God, and sister to my fellows. I am accountable to my sons. I am accountable to myself. I pray in the morning. I pray everywhere. I know that if I go anywhere God and I are
going to do a good job. I asked him into
every part of my life. I don’t listen
to excuses from myself today. I don’t
listen to excuses by others. I know that
we are all sick people everywhere needing to find our way. I know that there is only a solution if you
are willing to accept you have no power over the outcome. I sometimes believe I can change things. Yes this is true in some cases; when I am
only trying to change myself. I made a
decision to change myself. It was the
best decision I ever made. I believe I
am alive because of that decision. Boris Johnson said it best when he said” My friends, as I have discovered myself, there are no disasters, only
opportunities. And, indeed, opportunities for fresh disasters.”
I don’t live perfectly. I know who
and what I am today is the result of my actions. I thank God for having grace on my life. I am
able to share a part of this journey called life. I may not be able to grasp or understand all
the things that happen, but I know it’s a life worth living.
Works Cited
Johnson, Boris. "Disaster
Quotes." BrainyQuote. Xplore, 2013. Web. 26 July 2013. http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/disasters.html#4lZcWqlk8HzAzAOj.99
