I don’t really know where to begin or how this part of my life happened but it has been an interesting ride. I heard on Oprah once that when she reads a book she can tell if it will be a good one by the very first sentence. Well, I wonder if life is actually like that, I didn’t say anything when I first came out. The doctor slapped me so that I could make my first cry and I was silent. I didn’t have anything to say nor cry about.  I was blue and couldn’t breathe. I didn’t have the lungs of a rock star, nor did I utter the softest shout of femininity. I was just there, looking around entranced at my surroundings for however long I was going to be here to enjoy it. I don’t think I was sure that I wanted to be here.

 It was weird putting faces and things that were outside of my mother’s womb to sounds that were familiar. I mean, I spent these first eight months of my transformation into being encased in someone whom they themselves detested being in the world. I felt her sadness and anger every day. I was fed off of the hemoglobin of her lack of self esteem. I slept within the very crevices of her unhappiness and I was what was produced from the reproductive organs of two teenagers who were not thrilled with their own existence.  I see my mother’s distraught face as she wearily holds out her hands for me as if I am her newly found savior. I quickly hear another familiar voice, it was always so cold and deep but this time it had a tinge of excitement to it. It was who my mother told me was my father.  He was elated obviously at my presence here but how long will that last. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted to even be here at the hospital at least that was the last conversation that I overheard. I guess there could be other things to look forward to but if there was I haven’t encountered them yet.  What was I doing in the midst of all of this? I don’t think I want to be here……not now…..I don’t think I am ready for this. That is why I couldn’t breathe, I really didn’t want to.

The doctor and nurses quickly put their skills and education to use and assisted me in what would be my first introduction to breathing in this world. I guess for someone so small the choice of whether to live or die is not one that is given. No one thinks that we have a choice. If the doctor could have seen what was going on in my life even before I was born or had the foreknowledge of what I was to endure he would have allowed me the right to exercise my free will of not taking in the oxygen flow of life. That was many, many years ago and though I have given my lungs and heart every opportunity to support me I have just started to breathe life with an enlightened joy.

We have all had experiences in life where we go into various forms of apnea. I have encountered many along the way who have even yet to exhale. Though they have lived many years, they have seen the life around them, they have come in contact with an environment in which they were not prepared, they have been exposed to situations that they are not sure how to handle and they have literally stopped breathing. This was why I was supposed to be here, to share with others who are afraid to take that first breathe. To acknowledge that it is okay to endure things that are not familiar and may be uncomfortable. Some of those journeys, though painful, produce some amazing results and life lessons.

My name is Rebecca, an ordinary name, yes, but a story to tell none the less. Some of the experiences and thoughts that I am going to expose here, you may not agree with but hey, that is what life is all about right, Life and experiences.  I just thought I would get some foundation set up front so that we have an understanding of what is to come. So let me get to writing.

 

As I stated before, my name Rebecca and I don’t talk a lot but when I do speak I definitely have something to say. I am thirty something(we will leave it at that for now), happily married with children, a wonderful career (finally), great and sometimes emotionally challenged family and friends, and can you believe just getting to enjoy this thing called life? I know crazy isn’t it? Anyway, I have sat here and decided that now is the time to speak up. I mean get a lot off of my chest. Thoughts, ideas, secrets, dreams, testimonies, etc… I decided today was the day.  I didn’t want to hold anything back. I thought about this for quite awhile. Who would read this? What would people think? What controversy would I cause by being real? You know what….I DON’T CARE!! This is my life and I may actually help someone to be real with themselves as well. Heck, I may actually help someone BREATHE!! I have kept quiet long enough, time to shout from the roof tops. Let me start off by saying that life was really not “a crystal stair” but I can honestly admit that I helped to get the materials to build what my stairs were made out of.

 I married at what I thought was too old, twenty six. Here I wanted to be married by at least twenty two because in my family a women being married after twenty five was considered too old. A freak of nature, or perhaps something was wrong with you. I had a family that had old, and might I add solid, values. As women we were taught that the man is the head of the household and that there was strength in submission. As children my siblings, cousins, and I were taught to be true ladies and gentlemen. It was imperative that we be polite, respectful, dressed a certain way, and most importantly that we revere and honor God. Church was at the forefront of EVERYTHING. Nothing else mattered, and if it did you were going to hell because of it. So, needless to say we were at the Church basically every time the doors opened. Everyone in my family (especially the women)were married or had children before they were twenty five and here I was at that age and not even close in the annual “who has a family” race. I can say that I was involved with someone, I mean I was in a long term relationship (four years) that was going nowhere FAST. As a matter of fact I did try to end it…