Life is chaotic, crazy, and definitely not what I expected. I dreamed that I would go to college, become a journalist, move to NYC, meet and marry Mr. Right, and have a couple of children. That dream was not meant to be.
The reality of my life is a big struggle. I became pregnant and married at the tender age of seventeen. My dream of going to college and becoming a journalist was shattered. In reality, I was married to an alcoholic that couldn’t and wouldn’t hold a job. I became the ‘bread winner’ of the family and the provider of insurance. I worked long, hard days; including all the over-time I could get. It was still a struggle living from one week to another.
After working at a shirt factory for sixteen years, I left for a better paying food factory. At the food factory the work was hard, but it paid very well, and there were a lot of opportunities for over-time. Finally, I felt secure enough to divorce my husband of nearly twenty years.
My youngest daughter, and I, made it just fine.
Nearly three years after my divorce, I married my second husband. He was retired from the Army, had a great work ethic, and his shoulders were big enough to carry me and my baggage. This marriage brought a lot of changes; a move to a new city, my daughter having to change schools, and eventually a change of jobs.
My new husband didn’t want me to work, so I went back to school. I, no longer, wanted to be a journalist; I wanted to be a writer. I had kept a journal during my first marriage and had kept dreaming up stories in my head and typing them up.
I took some English, Literature, and Creative Writing Courses, but my degree turned out to be an AS in Human Services. I found myself working for the local school system, where my husband was working. My job title was Homeless Children and Youth Home-School Liaison. The job included: identifying homeless children and youth, ensuring they had all the required school supplies, and passable clothing. I also had to do home visits and keep in touch with parents or grandparents. I was strictly on salary, but my job included many hours outside of what I was getting paid for and required heavy lifting and hauling.
By this time, my thirty-three years of production work, overtime, and heavy lifting started showing up in the failings of my body. I was suffering from lower-back pain, osteoarthritis in my knees, and found out I was a diabetic. My health deteriorated rapidly and forced me to have to leave my job. Then I developed chronic kidney disease, sleep apnea, and Neurothopy problems.
Thank goodness for computers and the world wide web. I found I could still write and started doing some freelance writing, here and there. I began blogging and soon found that I could write and self-publish. Writing has made me happy, but it is my grandchildren that keep me going.