I Came From Such Ugliness… I Could Have Looked Like A Monster If I Had Become What I Lived As A Little Girl…


Monster… Monster… Monster… Monster… Monster… Monster… Monster… Monster… Monster…

I Could Have Become A Monster From The Ugliness I Lived In As A Child… A Monster… Monster

Gloria Faye Brown Bates… yes, I loved ‘me’… I loved being me.  I loved being pretty… and being a good person at the same time.  I was fortunate… I looked like anything at all… I could not have been a ‘Gloria’ at all.

 

Now… I am ‘this me’… below.  No longer so young, beautiful… full of life, as healthy.  I live with pain every day of my life.  That’s okay… my pain threshold has grown more, since Tommy died.  Both physically, mentally.  There’s not a day pain doesn’t reside in my body.  It’s a part of my life; it will be always.

 

I ‘didn’t go crazy’ like I heard some people say.  ‘Something didn’t  happen to my mind’ like some of you thought; said without any empathy that my child had died.  If it was your child… I just laughed to myself… something would happen to you… because to you… your child is more important.  ‘You would go crazy’.  I feel I am stronger… so, no matter who you are… I don’t wish that for you.  You just don’t know… so, how could you know better?

 

 

 

 

 

This me… who has permanent sadness, grief etched in her eyes that began when she became a grieving mother.  No matter how much I smile, laugh… I can run, look in the mirror… it’s always there.  Tommy, I love you.  I miss you.  My only child… is gone.  My eyes are… bittersweet… good and bad, happy and sad… all mixed together; pain and grief… all with a bittersweet smile.

 

Yes, grief and sadness have found a permanent home in my eyes.  That’s okay… when someone looks into my eyes… and remembers they never knew that expression ‘before’… they will know they are witnessing love for a child who is now gone.  They will remember Tommy.  My eyes will never forget Tommy… the day when my eyes are closed in death… grief will already be in them… for the sadness of it all.  For the sadness that Tommy died, the sadness that any of us die after making it through the obstacles of life, after the knowledge learned from life’s lessons.  It ‘seems’ like our lives are… wasted, in that respect.

 

If you think I look ‘ugly’ now… I don’t care… I’m thankful to ‘look like anything at all now’.  I’ve found my love for living again… I don’t focus on what you think.  I don’t have time… life isn’t about that.  I’m not a little girl any longer… I don’t have to put up with negativity… I have the choice to turn my back on you.  You got your pleasure from seeing me ‘down’… I don’t have to put up with you… now.  I’m old enough, now.

 

Those people… so, so many more than I could possibly count (this one blog in no way reflects all the people who have become special to me…. all these, and more), who care, have shown concern, gave encouragement… now, you are the people I’ve grown to love.  I love people I don’t know the names of, people I have never met… yet, you all have touched a place in my heart.  You are the people who matter.

 

When I looked so bad… you still liked, cared about me.  People who knew me before Tommy died… saw me afterwards, quit liking me because I looked bad… I was no longer anyone.  Guess what?  They were right.

 

I really was the ‘walking dead’.  So, I understand… I understand… I might would have walked past you, too… snubbed you, whispered behind my hand with a gossipy gleam in my eye, too… never simply walking up to you, say I sense something bad has happened, I’m so sorry.  I care.  I might would have been this kind of friend to you, too.  Or, I may have been glad your child died… so, you had nothing, anymore.  If you did this to me… you did… I can do it to you.  I might would have… In truth, I’m not like that, never want to be… I care too much.  But… I know who was like this to me… in my grief, I saw, heard you.  Just saying…

 

Things have a way of coming back full circle… it might be your ass ‘it bites’…  I’ll be watching… but, not with happiness because it did.  I have a big heart… a forgiving heart.  I just… remember.

*******************************************************************************

I Came From Such Ugliness… I Could Have Looked Like A Monster If I Had Become What I Lived As A Little Girl…

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

 

 

This morning I looked for a scar, but… couldn’t see it.  I’m going to look closer; I know it’s there.  As I think about what caused it… I could feel the sensation in that spot.  Strange, I can’t see anything… I thought surely I would see the scar there.  It’s there… I just didn’t want to really see it.  I don’t sit, dwell on the things I talk to you about.  So, don’t think when I quit writing… I’m going to go back to thinking about them, stay depressed.  I’m okay.  I write about these things… it’s okay.

 

Don’t feel sorry for me, sad for me.  I’m here… I made it here.  :))) Everything is going to be alright.  I’m not looking for pity, sympathy… so, don’t feel that for me.  Life prepared me to be ‘this strong’…

 

I write; I’m a writer, this is what I write about… I have to pull these things out from the past, examine them, gently open them up… to take the story out.  Sort of the way you do an oyster… to retrieve the special pearl inside.

 

I don’t mind you feeling sadness, anger, happiness… I do that when reading things others write.  We all have to feel things… if we are to read them.  We have to feel, see them in our minds.  It’s how we understand things; it’s how we entertain ourselves when we read.

 

Suppose I wrote about wonderful, beautiful things all the time… all a bunch of soft, white, pure, wonderful fluffy… lies.  You’d become sick of reading ‘me’… you wouldn’t be interested in reading ‘me’.  It would be the same way with acting… someone would be thinking, ‘hey, you have to put real feeling there’ if you want someone to pay attention.

 

I’m the same way… give me real feelings any day!  The ones who don’t want to know ‘real life’… please go back to your soft, wonderful, safe life where everything comes to you on a silver platter… if anything painful comes toward you, you have someone to catch it just as a ball player catches a ball in his ball glove.. before it strikes you.  I’ve never known such… my life has always been full of struggles… even when… I had everything.

 

Sometimes, Skip will say to me… if you say a ‘dirty’ word… you’ll take away from being ‘Granny Gee’.  No, I won’t.  I’m real… and I’m ‘me’ before anything else.  Granny Gee is the special name Tommy gave to me before he died… I don’t claim to be a ‘perfect Granny Gee’.  I don’t pretend to be other than I am.

 

Just remember ‘I’m not a perfect Granny Gee’… I am Granny Gee, because Tommy called me that for my grandson.  It’s a special, magical name when one person ever says it… that’s my grandson, Taban.  Only when he says it… does it begin to have meaning; I feel Tommy. When I hear it… I can hear the most special little boy… saying it.  That’s ‘what the name Granny Gee’ is all about.  I don’t hide behind it, pretending.  When I ‘tell you like it is’… it’s me… Gloria ‘Faye’ Brown Bates.

 

I don’t use excessive ‘bad’ words… that’s not me.  There will be several words from time to time… because I thought them.  I still think ‘bad words’, sometimes.  ‘Back then’… oh my, the whole world was full of ugly words.  I’m lucky I don’t cuss every breath I take… I don’t.  But… I will use several dirty words from time to time.  Life isn’t all perfect… it might be for you… it honestly isn’t for me.  I don’t complain. If it bothers you… I know you’ll go on from here… to your wonderful world.  I wish it to be only more wonderful for you.

 

Lately, as memories surface in my mind… my body ‘feels pain’ from the past where it was abused when being a little child.  Thankfully, as I became older… I could ‘bluff my way’… scare anyone who thought they could walk over me.  I would somehow, project the illusion that I could be a force to reckon with… in my mind I became ‘the force’.  It worked almost every time…

 

‘If’ I had to back up my position… I stood my ground.  I didn’t look for situations… I only wanted peace in my life.  I could have held my ground… but, not against a strong man.  But… when it came to a… woman, it was different.  I began smiling, speaking softly… and if I raised my eyes to look directly into theirs…

 

Peace and quiet was all I wanted in life when I began to have a choice.  Sadly, I married too young; in a marriage with a young man who didn’t know how to settle down.  He was always gone… always with other women.  My heart never knew peace; I cried a lot… I went so far as to end my life.  I was too young, too naive.

 

I had gone from all the screaming, gnashing of teeth, hatred,noise in my life… to what I wanted… ‘peace and quiet’… only I had all the quiet I wanted… but, no peace.  Sometimes, I wanted to go back to Hell… where it was noisy, hell-raising.

 

I had lived in town all my life… now, I was fourteen miles from any town… living in the country in a nice home… but, I was alone all the time.  A teenage girl left alone for the first time in her life.  In an isolated place… in the countryside… away from the night lights, sounds she knew.  Away from people…

 

I cried in silence, all alone.  No one really knew… no one came around… excepting the friends of the young man I had eloped, married.  They knew when he was away… they knew, because they went with the same women.  They all did the same things.  They were all… friends.  Young men do those things whether a young wife likes it, or not.  It’s a part of life… my life.

 

When the husband is away… their best friends want to come play… usually, young wives played.  Why I had to be different, I don’t know… I kept hearing that little girl from the past calling me a ‘whore’… I wasn’t a whore.  I … should have been.  I ‘missed out on everything’, not only that… being good brought me much… loneliness.  I can’t say that I didn’t… daydream… I would be lying.  I just had this ‘damn’ sense of right, and wrong.

 

The older I got, the more thankful I was I stayed ‘true’… it felt good to have a good conscious; it felt good to know I didn’t have to hide something… like that… should I say ‘so much like that… that tried to come my way’?  I never told anyone… I never told my young husband that his friends wanted to keep me company, keep me from being lonely, play with me… while he was off playing.  Why would I?  I never told anything…

 

They came on pretense of looking for him.  I became afraid… I never told anyone.  I was a big-little girl now… I was used to keeping my fears to myself.  I had to watch out for myself…

 

 

 

Not only that… if I did tell someone… I ‘knew’ something bad would happen.  There would be flesh pounding flesh, cussing, blood… my stomach would shake thinking about it.  I couldn’t cause trouble like that.

 

The little girl inside me, knew that much.  I had become a holder of many secrets… I never thought about telling anyone… anything.  Why would I?  If I saw things even being older, such as a wreck… or something unusual… I ‘forget to tell it’.  Who cared… anyway?  :)))

 

No one wanted to beat, whip, hit me as I grew into a teenager.  Well… maybe twice, three times… when I became an adult it happened.  I became a tigress whenever I felt threatened… and fought like a bear.  Didn’t matter if I lost… I didn’t lose… the little girl learned to ‘fight like hell’ when she had to.  I’d forget… I was a person… I would become ‘the fight’…  ‘I happened’… if, pushed.

 

I knew everywhere to strike… because as a child… I learned.  I was the victim.  I knew every place that would ‘hurt like hell’… those were my targets… only if pushed.

 

Three times… I allowed 3 times, hoping someone would come to their senses, realize they needed to leave me alone, or just forget me.  When they crossed the line the second time… I would become upset.  I would know I was going to have to take action, I was going to make someone respect me; I wasn’t going to take it.

 

I would become ‘twice as angry’… because I never looked for hell-raising (I’d had enough growing up)… I never looked for trouble.  I minded my own business.  Sometimes… trouble came looking for me in form of ‘always some big-ass, blonde-headed woman’.

 

Through the years, it was always a ‘big-ass blonde-headed woman’ who would be drawn to me… drawn to try to bully, dominate me.  I always recognized … ‘the one’.  I ‘would know’ somehow… it was going to happen.  It did.  Maybe they sensed I grew up ‘hating women’… my life was full of dominating women who bent others to their will.  What these big-ass, blonde-headed women didn’t know… my will wasn’t going to be broken… by a ‘damn’ woman.

 

Usually it was a fat, blonde-headed woman, taller than me… sometimes, once in a while it’d be a tall, slender blonde-headed woman.  From the time I began to ‘be out in the world’… as a teenager onto in my thirties, I ‘met them’ in my life.  Always… ‘big, mean… wanting to find someone to pick on, verbally/physically abuse.

 

Now… how was it they ‘knew to come for me through time’?  How?  I never figured that out… if someone has an opinion, I’m interested.  I didn’t wear a sign saying ‘hey blonde-headed woman … come kick my ass’.  I never bothered ‘them’.  So… I wonder ‘why?’  They could be across a big room… their eyes like bees flitting here, there… until… they beamed in on me… like I was nectar, be drawn to me… naturally, wanting to be mean to me.

 

In my mind, I began to be taller… hoping they wouldn’t do it.  Do it… they would begin … I would try to keep my eyes hidden from them… to not cause them to be more aggressive.  Didn’t work.

 

I understood as a child the ‘why?’… but, as I grew older… ‘these women’ would be strangers; I’d never have any contact with them.  The anger, hatred inside me… would rise to the surface… they would back off from me.  My eyes lit up from inside, with a fire from Hell.  I didn’t dare to let them see my eyes.  I didn’t want to challenge anyone. If I looked up, and they saw my eyes… it was time… and I was ready to live… or to die.  At that point, it would no longer matter.  Time stood still…

 

 

 

 

When they saw my eyes… ‘when I finally had to lift them to look directly… in theirs’… I think, they ‘saw the Hell’ in them.  They saw ‘I had nothing to lose’… they’d underestimated the little, short girl who seemed so nice, so… easy to use as a scapegoat.

 

The young girl who wanted to be good, go through life smoothly without Hell constantly nipping at her heels.  I think they knew they’d get more than they bargained for… they wanted a ‘simple ass’ to intimidate, to use as a whipping post… nothing as … complicated as, I.  My question was ‘why’… I was always ‘the one’ …they singled out?

 

This is not saying I’m a ‘bad-ass’… I was all ‘girl’; I didn’t like bad things… I had a horror of blood (you wouldn’t believe how I had to become ‘strong’ when I first began working at the emergency room!).  I sure didn’t have a death wish, nor did I ‘want my ass beaten’… I’m sure any of them through time could have crushed me.  It was simply… ‘I wasn’t going down without a ‘helluva’ fight’.

 

I didn’t live in Hell for nothing.  I wasn’t a survivor from… not surviving anything.  I wasn’t a fighter for not… fighting to just get to grow up.  I fought for the right to just exist… not bother anybody, mind my own business.  People through my young life heaped any, everything on me… to hurt, crush me… until I became old enough.

 

Does this photo show you anything about me… that would make people be that way to a little girl.  I’ve sat, looked at the few photos that survived the house fire… trying ‘to see’ something about me as a child… that would make people mistreat a little, innocent girl.  Look at it again, below…

 

 

 

Through our married years, Skip, will mention my eyes when I feel angry.  He says he has never seen anything like it… he knows it’s the Hell in them… I came from Hell… my eyes reflect it.  It doesn’t mean I became a ‘devil’ or evil person… I could have been, I was taught well.  I do have a bad temper… I am a positive person… thank-God.

 

They must have seen that I was ‘willing to die, than to let them run over me’… and that, I wasn’t going to run from nobody.  They forced the ‘ugliness’ to come out of me, when I always tried to never feel it again.  I never wanted to be mean… never.  I’m not… but, I’m going to hold my ground… I will give 3 chances first, before doing so.  Sometimes, I … might not.

 

I never felt good after inflicting physical, verbal pain on anyone… strangely enough… I never found the pleasure others found when inflicting pain on me.  I was …different.  I ‘felt’ the pain of other people.  I sensed, saw what no one else saw, chose to ignore.  Why did I have to be different?  Why couldn’t I have been a ‘full-blown hell-raiser who thrived on the blood ripped from another’s skin?’  I could have been… there have been times I remembered ‘wishing someone would get their ass tore up… glad that they did’.

 

Whenever someone inflicted pain on me… I never felt it from that moment on.  I became a whirlwind… when the whirlwind slowed down… so, did I.  I would look around… and see evidence that ‘all hell broke loose’… then, I’d remember.  I became… I ‘was the whirlwind’… I was ‘the Hell that broke loose’.  I wasn’t proud of it.

 

The only times in my life I couldn’t win…. was when my father slapped me with all his might, in my face… when my stepmother began hitting me in the face after he walked out of the bathroom.  Respect for both… loving them… stopped me.  The shock they created in me… paralyzed me.  I’d never seen, suspected they hated me… that much.

 

Another time I couldn’t win was as a young girl… I told a lie.  The guy had been seeing other girls… telling me what he, and the girls did.  The details were in depth…  I sat, smiled …. with all my being, I pretended it didn’t hurt me.  It was devastating me, my insides.  He turned to look at me, asked me if I’d ever cheated on him… anger made me lie, and say quietly, “Yes, I did”.

 

I was in instant shock when he began slapping me, then… choking me.  I was shoved on my back, he jumped on top of me, hitting me in my face, my head.  He was killing me, he was choking me, I struggled to breathe; the pain… I went unconscious.  When I come to, I heard crying… who was crying?

 

The guy was holding me close, crying.  He knew I was dead… I began to remember; I felt hatred toward him.  With all my strength, I began to get away.  I was hurt too badly to cry… I made it to the bathroom… where in the mirror I saw a monster staring back at me.

 

 

 

 

 

I didn’t know ‘me’ anymore.  I looked like the ugliness I lived in as a child… I was the ugliness, now.  My eyes, my face were swollen beyond recognition… my hair was all out of place.  My throat had marks on it… I cried inside.  I was battered, beaten the worst I’d ever known in my life.  I slid to the floor, I could no longer stand up for the pain in my body… my heart. He came to help me up… I kicked weakly at him, I tried to tell him how I… hated him.  He couldn’t hear my cries… they were deep in my soul.  The pain…

 

The next day, both my eyes were black, blue.  I’d never had a black eye, even in Hell.  I did that time.  My throat was bruised… my thoughts were… ‘I’m too embarrassed to let anyone see me, they’ll think bad of me.  I have too much pride for someone to know that he would dare to hurt me. They’ll think I did something really bad for this to have happened to me… I’m ashamed.’  I never told anyone what happened to me… my mother saw me.

 

 

 

My mother’s eyes, oh… my mother’s eyes.  Her voice… when she saw me she spoke softly… though her voice was soft… it sounded like a scream to me, like… “what happened to you, what happened to you!!!”

 

Tears filled her eyes… as I looked her in the eyes, reminded her of the rails around the deck of where I lived…. “mama, I climbed up on those rails to walk around on them, you know how high that deck is!”  She never asked me again what happened… I never told her until twenty five years later… what happened.  She looked at me, told me, “Faye, I knew”.

 

The secret is to ‘become what you want to be’ in a good way.  Whenever I did, life was wonderful.  Sadly, as I became older… it became harder to hold onto the vision/image in my mind to ‘stay what I wanted to be’.  When young, it’s easy to pretend, to see your dreams… fun things happen.  As life, illnesses, deaths, bad things happen in abundance… it weakens a person… this person.

 

Life… the pain, grief of life made me forget; took me on many paths farther from what I wanted to be… most.  Look at me… you can see the difference.  So much has happened in my life… I’m so fortunate to be here, today.  I’m happy with ‘what I have left of me’… I could have not had… anything.  I wouldn’t have known life anymore… I would have become… death.

 

I’m proof… that if you don’t hold onto your dreams, let life pry your mind off your vision to be… you will be a shell of yourself… just as I am.  That’s why I’m always chasing myself in the mirror.  My long-time readers know about this… new readers have to go back in my blog to … know.

 

Your thoughts, words will reflect what you wanted most in life… but, ‘you won’t be’… like me, you’ll just be ‘chasing a dream you let go of’.

 

If you are young, reading this… dig those heels deep into the ground… hold onto your dreams, never lose sight of them… don’t let life pry your mind off them… stay determined to accomplish what you want in life.

 

This is my advice to a young person… one of the secrets to making your dreams come true.  I can only hope for a comfortable life, hope life won’t be harder as I grow older, hope I stay at least as healthy as I am.  It’s almost … too late for me.

 

Sometimes… you ‘can see me’… just as I do.  You will maybe see I was once a very attractive woman.  When I ‘see me’ in my mirror… I run for my camera.  I try to capture ‘me’… I smile if ever I do.  It means the world to me.

 

 

 

I recognize ‘myself’ when I can find me; I love ‘me’.  :)))  Skip laughs, calls it ‘vanity’.  He always thought me beautiful… he even says that ‘now’.  I think because he is biased because I’m his wife, loves me.  I don’t nod now, agreeing with him, ha!  I do smile at hearing love in his voice, though.

 

After all… that’s the main secret to life… love, caring… not one’s looks, or material things.  I won’t lie and say they aren’t important… truthfully, they are… they do help one in life to go places, have comfort.  I treasure anything in my life that brings me comfort, happiness.  I’m always thankful, grateful.  I think that’s another secret to life… be very grateful.

 

I was never vain… maybe I was at one time… but, I honestly was a ‘good vain’.  I did fall in love with myself, thought I was the prettiest girl ‘I ever saw’.  I was thankful everyday… because I came from such ugliness.

 

I was fortunate, I could have looked like a monster if I had become… what I lived as a little girl.  When all is ugly in our environment… if we see something pretty… we all focus on it.  I did… and I was pretty.  :))) I loved to look at me, dress me, hear me.  It was a good vanity… I finally had something special that was ‘mine’ in my life… ‘me’.

 

Yes, I could have looked like a monster if I had become the ugliness I lived, come from… as a little girl.

 

If all unseen scars were to pop up to the surface on my skin from all inflicted on me… yes, I would look like a monster from the ugliness people ‘who loved me’… inflicted on me.

 

That’s okay… I’m completely opposite.  I love, care… though, I can still ‘hate’.  Remember … I told you I’m not perfect at all.  I can still be mean, ugly … I never mean to be.  It’s in me… I lived it, it was taught to me.  It’s something I have to battle all my life… and I do.  :)))  I’m still a very good person… and I mean to stay that way!

 

The monster below… is what I could have been!  :)))

 

 

 

Instead… I’m a ‘good monster’…

 

 

 

Ha! Ha! Ha!  See, I told you I’m not perfect… I can be silly, mean… too!  I forgot to tell you all through time, that Skip has a nickname for me…. he calls me ‘Monst’…. I wonder why I forgot to tell you?  :)))  :)))  :)))

 

 

 

Smug… a smug monster… :)))

 

 

 

Oh, where did my pride go?  I would have never let anyone see my face ‘looking ugly’!!!  I’m old, senile now… that’s the only excuse I have now.  When I do these ‘silly things’… you can know I miss Tommy.  I used to send ‘goofy’ photos to him while on the road… to make him laugh.  It almost guaranteed a phone call from him… every time.  Now… it doesn’t… work anymore.

 

So… ‘you all are here’… :)))

 

You all mean the world to me…

I hope you like the ‘monster’ that I am; that… I have become.  I could have been a ‘real-scary monster’… I couldn’t… I would have scared myself!

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s