Live Worth Living

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