Truth, P.K.Wells [short books to read TXT] 📗

Its like an eclipse. You start out bathed in bright light, then suddenly it begins to darken until your shrouded in shadows. The world can seem such a horribly sad and desolate place in the dark, but no matter what, you can always walk in the light again. That's how I see my life personally. I started out in Gods grace, the light. But suddenly and surly the darkness of sin took over, washing me in its inky blackness, filling me until I didn't remember how warm and good the brightness of light really felt. Slowly the real world started to take over, the worry of every day life, and I just sort of put god on the back burner. If I had only realized how much he loved me then, as he still does now, if only I had realized that I could turn to him, things might have happened differently for me. As it is, though, this is real life, my life, and i'm just happy and thankful I got to find him again before it was too late.
I've come a long way, though I still have miles to go. Yes I walk in Gods light once more, but the darkness is still there, I'm still struggling. Unfortunately its going to be there until the day I die. Fortunately I now have God to help me through it, to help me push back the shadows. Without him, I don't know how I could have come to this point in my life where I'm happy, where I wake up full of peace. Yes I still have my bad days, but like I said, God is always with me and all I have to do is look to him and everything's better even if not immediately fixed.
The thing is, i'm not the only one out there who went through, who is still going through, these struggles. Lately, i've been hearing alot about testimonies, whether in church or on the television, and I had a thought that maybe if I could get my story, my testimony, out there that maybe it would help someone, be it even one person. So i've decided to sit down and write this. I always wanted to be a writer, I just could never finish a piece unless it was for a grade in school. I have a different feeling about this one though. This one I don't just want to finish, I feel I have to.
My childhood really began for me when I was six. Then again, my childhood ended for me when I was six. I say this first because I don't remember my childhood up until the point that my grandmother adopted me, when I was six years old, though even then I don't really remember much; bits and pieces really. My parents were no account drug addicts who did indeed love me, they just loved their dope more. I still really can't explain what happened, I myself have never really gotten a straight story. From what I understand, my father was in prison and my mother decided to leave with some guy. Of course she couldn't take kids with her, so, being the thoughtful mother she was, she left us with a friend of my brothers. His parents had no idea my mother wasn't intending to come back.
Thus, my older brother, little sister, and myself ended up in the shelter of my fathers mother. She tried as hard as she could to raise us right and we never lacked for anything. She did everything she could to give us a normal life and It wasn't just us either, but my two aunts children as well. I grew up with my cousins as siblings, only really knowing two of the many of my legitimate ones. It may sound sad, but I didn't know any better so I was happy with the family I had. Well, most of them anyways.
Now your probably wondering what I meant by the latter of my previous statement. My grandmother worked in Kansas City in a plant. She would work nights, so of course she needed someone to baby sit us kids while she was gone. Poor woman, I still don't know how she did it. She had to drive two hours just to get to work and back, pick us kids up, get us off to school, all the while having to deal with the mundane tasks of everyday life; bills, cleaning, shopping, etc. This is the point in time where she made the biggest mistake of her life. This mistake would ruin the lives of us children. Needless to say, we weren't children for long.
We ended up at one of my aunts, the only one of the three of my grandmas children who didn't do drugs. Her and her husband had a foster home so a few more kids wasn't that big of a deal. They were only in it for the money anyways. If I ever wanted to stop and think about hell, this is the place that comes to mind. How to describe it to you? Locks on the fridge, cabinets, and doors. To want a snack, you couldn't just go into the kitchen to get one, it was considered stealing. The place ran rampant with animals, cats, dogs, birds, no one but young kids to clean so it was never done right. The stink will never be forgotten let me tell you.
The adults were lazy and mean and quick to strike. Starvation, beatings, molestation, rape. I really don't want to go any farther into this. I believe you have a good picture of what happened. Even now, years later, I can't think about that place. The feelings of hate, revulsion, and terror are too strong. The feelings that I didn't protect my loved ones, that I failed, are too fresh. Its like a cut that you think has healed, but with the slightest remembrance, its like its been ripped back open to bleed for days. This was no place for children and I don't even want to begin to think of what might have happened if we hadn't gotten away.
But really, we didn't get away. Once those things happened to us, we were changed. We weren't right anymore. We didn't act quite like kids, we didn't think quite like kids. We were pushed to grow up way too fast. Our angers were quick to strike, our tounges sharp, knowing these things we shouldn't have had to know yet. Now, I'm sure at this point your wondering, "Well, where the heck is the grandma? Doesn't she realize whats happened?" The answer is no. The stress was far too hard on her and she sought the comforts of the bottle. Whiskey to be in fact. The woman would mix it with water. She wouldn't know what happened for years to come, but even then, even now, she doesn't know everything. She really barely knows anything and this is how I want it. The woman had to go through so much, whats happened is done, and what she does know eats at her every day. To tell her everything is a suffering I could not, will not, put on her.
Life was a blur for the next few years following my personal hell. We were all eventually in school, went through a couple different babysitters until my other aunt, the only one I really claim, came to live with us. My grandmothers home was beautiful. It was like two houses in one. She had the three bedrooms upstairs, then another one bedroom downstairs, complete with kitchen and bathroom. Then a two car garage to boot. So we'de stay downstairs and really, these were happy times.
Again I tell you, I don't remember much, but I do remember that I was happy. My aunt truly took good care of us, even though she was still on drugs. She cooked, she talked to us, she loved us. We were in bed on time and up in time for school. I remember distinctly the time when my sister and I got chicken pocks, my aunt would take us with her when she ran errands and would turn up the music and we'de stop and get chocolate milk. Today i'm not quite as naive. I do remember the times we'de stop and she'd be gone for awhile. These were obviously drug missions, but at the time, I just wanted to feel loved. I wanted that mother I never had. Not to mention I didn't understand about drugs.
Your probably thinking right about now that I'm not making much sense, but this is how I really remember it. So don't feel bad, it doesn't make much sense to me either and I lived it. Maybe thats how I did in fact live it, or rather, survive it. By shutting out alot of those years. But no matter how hard I try, the worst stays with me. Then again, some of the best have stayed with me. Over time, little bits and pieces have also come back to me. These things though I don't know if they really happened or if I just picked them up somewhere to fill in the gaps. Some things I hope i did, others I hope I lived.
When i was in sixth grade my grandma finally had enough of the city life. She wanted us to be raised right and she thought that maybe a country environment would be a better place to raise us. This is where I came to myself. Where I used to read alone at recess. now I had friends. Where I didn't talk, now you couldn't shut me up. The town we moved to only had about four hundred some odd people and it was my salvation. A tiny little piece of hick paradise if you will.