An Unread Essay

There was recently an essay contest that made the news last month. I thought about entering but it would literally be a drop of water in a bucket of millions of writers. It was for a mansion of a house and all a person had to do was write an essay and pay the $25 entry fee. The money earned from the entry was going to a domestic abuse charity which is something I could get behind. Why didn’t I do it? Well, $25 is a tank of gas for me or money needed to purchase ingredients to cook dinner for a night. This is what I started. Please understand, I’m not wanting pity. It’s just an essay written that I never submitted. Viewer discretion is advised. Read at your own risk.


I wouldn’t take the house you are offering for a well-written essay. One chosen that would hopefully move the reader enough to choose the most deserving writer. I know what it’s like to live in an abusive situation and in a beautiful home both at the same time. I would sell the mansion but not for what you would think.

I knew to escape my situation I would need to further my education. My first day of college was great and I felt an accomplishment until I got home. That night when I got back from a day of classes, getting lost, and learning the ropes of things I realized my mistake. My abuser wasn’t proud of his wife coming back from class, didn’t ask her how her day was, not even a hug. Instead, he was upset that there wasn’t dinner and his property disobeyed him. I can still feel the words sting before the broken rib snapped under his fist. I remember feeling the earth come to a halt. I retreated into myself and waited for it to stop hoping my body can withstand the force of anger. I could feel the earth start to spin again and from the comfort of inside my soul, he was done.

I wrapped my battered body with bandages and made one of the best meatloaves ever. The potatoes were thick and creamy and the meatloaf was seasoned perfectly and was careful to make the right amount of eye contact. When he was done with dinner I made sure the kids were washed and ready for the next day and as he slept that night I looked over my agenda for classes. I devised a meal plan that involved a crockpot and weekends of cooking meals and freezing.

What’s the ending, you may wonder? I found my strength and escaped my abuser and graduated college. I also accumulated a mountain of student loan debt and C-PTSD. So, no. I wouldn’t move into the home but rather sell it to pay off my debt. Helping rid me of the final shackles of my past and my abuser. I would purchase a house that I can sustain without debt and donate the rest to women that are still shackled by their abusers.

 

July 31st, 2017

I’m writing this while sitting at a laundromat because our washer decided to challenge our basic necessities. Bright side – it’s relatively quiet.


House Hunting Hoopla

I’m now off from the bar every other Sunday so my husband and I wanted to drive around areas we have chosen as possible locations to see properties in person. One thing I’ve learned is that the pictures on real estate sites are lies!  ALL LIES! We mapped out the route and already planned on having breakfast beforehand. This was because we were taking the kids going this would get them excited about moving.  Feeding our clan world help ward off early meltdowns. Again, were we every wrong!

After breakfast we headed to the first house. This gorgeous home possessed 4 bedrooms, 2 baths, large kitchen and parlor, sat on 10 acres, large pond, and 10 outbuildings. This is when my son decided he was now afraid of woods and bells. Then declared he wasn’t going to move and demanded we take him to the house. That’s when I decided my will was stronger than his stubbornness. I wasn’t going to allow my anxiety win over my patience. BREATH.

We went to several other houses and were able to omit  several. We took a break to support ‘Guitars for Vets’ and had dinner brats, sides and water. We listened to some great live music and made a donation. We were off to the next town. This is when my son had another meltdown and we eliminated quite a few more. I told the kids we’ll be having an early dinner because there was a lot to do at home to get ready for Monday.

We stopped at A&W for some burgers and floats. Once opening the door I immediately regretted it. You can obviously yell that the kids that work on the weekends don’t really care about their duties and only wanted to complete bare minimum chores – including cooking. Dirty tables everywhere, trays of leftover food on chairs, smashed fries in the floor, and I’m not even going to describe the bathroom. Let’s just say the food was greasy and wretched plus no toy for the kids meal. I told my husband that we will never go there again and what we paid for bad service and food we could’ve gone to a sit down restaurant.

There were laughs, and wishes of ‘I wish that was in our price range’, and a very willful child. The hunt still continues…next time without kids.

July 28th, 2017

All I can say, my patience was stretched very thin this past week. Not because of my family or errands or even my job. It’s because of the people I work with or rather one individual in particular. I have been a graphic designer for over 5 years and worked with the Adobe suite even longer. Let’s jus say I know my stuff. I have now also been trained to work on certain machines throughout the factory since we’ve been so slow.

Monday’s Fiasco

A company sent something for us to imprint because they just couldn’t do it. I was trained on this certain machine last summer. I’m not only accurate but proficient, so when these 492 pieces came to us they knew who would do them. I haven’t gotten any work in almost two weeks and have been doing odd jobs where they needed help, so it seemed like I was the logical solution.

The Problem

The Thursday before, I was warned by a CSR that a major project for a certain team was in the works and to expect it by mid afternoon. So I waited and waited but nothing landed on my desk. I trimmed and filed paperwork to kill time. Friday morning there were 4 color-ups on my desk. To say the least, I was excited to have work. I’m reading through the specs and realized the CSR writing them up basically left me to do his job for him. I felt that if that was the case then I should get paid his salary too. I brought it to my supervisor’s attention about the necessary information was missing along no with the file name to save the art. She promptly took it from me and reassured me she will get the specs that I needed. She came back later that day and said that she will talk to his supervisor about it on Wednesday about not only his attitude (as he was constantly harassing me about artwork and snapping at her) and the how to properly write a color-up form.

Monday, I woke up and dressed for the day to work with this particular machine, got my coffee (and good mood) and headed to work. I arrived, clocked in, checked my emails for any artwork that was needed (surprise-none) and headed to the floor. I checked in the garments, set the machine up and away I went. I had a great rhythm going knocking out almost a full hundred WHEN the CSR comes to tell me about the artwork project. What he fucking failed to mention was that there was a meeting that this team manager had and needed the artwork to present to the owner. KIND OF A BIG THING TO KNOW! I looked him square in the face and explained how the pieces had to be moved quickly. Bile started to build in my throats as my anxiety wrapped around me like a blanket. The only solution I had was to ask for overtime knowing I could do both with a quick turnaround. HE FOLLOWED ME!  He had the audacity to eavesdrop on a conversation between me and my supervisor! I was told no obviously as he was the one that dropped the ball. I got the pieces done and the meeting happened between the two supervisors. As of this morning no color ups were to be found. I took a 1/2 day of vacation to decompress as now he blames me for his mistakes. It was for my mental health.

Is that wrong? Nope. I paid bills, spent time with my kids, got a chance to write this entry and will even catch up on some sleep because I didn’t sleep well at all this week. One good thing this week is that my family has been pre approved for a home loan. Which means I can move our family away from a town known for meth labs and the cops driving through our neighborhood with lights flashing at 2 am in the morning. Now the dream of staying at home with my kids, writing, painting, and taking care of our own home is in the first stages.

So…take a break when you need. It’s ok to say enough is enough. Have dreams and get everything in motion. It’s ok to take care of yourself and your aspirations.

 

p

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