Don't Eat Your Vomit! (eBook)

We All Do This

Carolyn L. Austin (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2021 | 1. Auflage
260 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
978-1-6678-1888-7 (ISBN)

Infos

My mother's cautionary words, 'You know, you don't eat your vomit,' spoken at the demise of my first marriage, could be heard in my head again when I was at the same crossroad with my second marriage. I was in disbelief because I worked even harder to keep that marriage together. At some point, I remembered it was Scriptural. Proverbs 26:11 NIV [11] As a dog returns to its vomit, so fools repeat their folly. My mother is the inspiration behind Don't Eat Your Vomit! Those words of wisdom were received with shock and awe, grabbing my attention amid a tumultuous time. They were later remembered when approaching that familiar moment of, 'Do I stay, or do I go?' In this context, vomit is a metaphor. The reader will be forced to recognize don't-eat-your-vomit moments past or present - including those that do not necessarily involve a love relationship. Don't Eat Your Vomit! will help you purge or manage your vomit, since we all do this at least once, if not more, at some point in our lives.

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I introduced the concept of "e;Don't Eat Your Vomit"e; in my first book, Prayers of My Mother. Since the book's completion in 2017, I have been overwhelmed and humbled by the emotional, heartfelt, and sincere impact Prayers of My Mother has had on the lives of others. Mostly, I continuously received questions about "e;Don't Eat Your Vomit."e;Don't Eat Your Vomit! is the precursor to Prayers of My Mother. As I began writing this book, I saw how my journey lead directly to Prayers of My Mother. My path began with my mother, who was a prayer warrior. It was her prayers and healing ministry that catapulted me on this journey. But it was my trials and tribulations in the 80's and 90's that clarified my journey. During the '80s, I entered adulthood. I went to college and earned an associate degree. I landed my first job, married my high school sweetheart, gave birth to my one and only child, and divorced - all in four years. Before I divorced, I talked with my mother and expressed my disappointment regarding the state of my marriage, even changing my mind. She told me, "e;You know, you don't eat your vomit."e; Although I understood, it was not until years later that I recognized my vomit alluded to so much more; certain people, unhealthy relationships, and patterns of destructive behaviors. Since then, I have returned to my vomit by remaining in a particular relationship - whether professional or personal to simply maintain my livelihood or fulfill a perceived desire or thirst. I have also danced around, purposely toyed with, and even bathed in it - believing these actions would satisfy some desire or quench my thirst. Even when dissatisfied or my thirst was unquenched, I embraced my vomit, yielding to the emotional rollercoaster and believing the outcome would change, only to be very disappointed in the end. It is my desire that "e;Don't Eat Your Vomit!"e; helps you recognize or identify specific people, unhealthy relationships, and patterns of destructive behaviors in your life and teach how to deflect or cope with the consequences of returning to those same people, relationships, or patterns of destructive behaviors. We all do this (eat our vomit) during our lifetime. Too many times, it is simply about perception. Some people learn after the first time, others continue their destructive cycle in hopes of changing the outcome. Rarely will they be successful. In this book, I recount events in my adult life as I endured physical and emotional abuse while managing a successful, but challenging career. By allowing you to live vicariously through the choices I made and the corresponding mistakes, I pray it will assist you with recognizing and understanding your relationship and career vomit. Understanding is the key to preparing yourself to either purge or manage your vomit. Only then can you survive and thrive.

Textauszug

Part I – Kick Off!

CHAPTER 1

First Love

In 1980, I earned my associate degree in business, which, at that time, was viewed much like bachelor’s degrees are today. In early 1981, I got my first full-time job as an accounting clerk in the insurance industry. I remember being so happy and yelling to my mom and dad, “I got the job!” It only paid $10,000 a year. I cannot imagine making a living on that salary today. After working at the insurance company for approximately one year, I married Danny, my high school sweetheart.

Danny was cute as a button and fine! He was a bad boy, not a scholar like me. I guess it is true when they say opposites attract. My geometry teacher tried to warn me one day when she pulled me aside and said, “He is okay for now, but not later.”

Although I did not listen to her, I have always remembered what she said about him.

The first time he hit me, we were in the front seat of his mother’s car. We had just pulled into my parents’ driveway. He distracted me by kicking my left foot and then used his hand to slap my left arm as I sat next to him. I cried immediately. After hitting me, he said, “You didn’t cry because it hurt. You cried because I hit you.”

I remember nodding my head, answering yes. I cannot precisely remember what motivated him to hit me, but I am sure he wanted me to do something that I would not or did not do. Besides, we were still in high school, and I did not give the hit much thought.

During our senior year in high school, Danny called me to say that his mother was dead. He explained that when he arrived home the night before, he thought she had fallen asleep in the chair as she had many times before. Danny said when he awoke the next morning, his mother was still in the chair. He further described shaking her body incessantly failing to wake her. Danny believed his mother had died the night before.

Danny and I had been dating for over a year, yet I had not met his mother. Although I knew where they lived, I had not gone inside their home. I remember once or twice seeing an elderly woman sitting on the porch. It was not until after Danny’s mother passed away that I understood that the woman had been renting the left side of her house to Danny and his mother. The part of the house rented to them contained two rooms and a kitchen.

Danny always had a bunch of excuses when I asked to meet his mother. After we attended the Junior Prom, he told me that his mom had viewed our prom pictures. Danny said, “She likes you.” I had no idea what she looked like until after she was deceased, and Danny showed me a picture. She was an obese woman with a nice smile. It occurred to me that he may have been embarrassed because of her size. My thoughts were confirmed years later once I had grown to learn Danny’s superficiality.

Danny told me he had an older sister and brother who lived with their father in Georgia. It appeared that when Danny and his mother relocated to Florida, she left his father and siblings. I believed his mother married again because Danny mentioned his mother’s last name, and it was different from his. Eventually, I met another man who was a father figure to Danny, although that man was married to someone else at the time.

Danny enrolled in night school and got a job after his mother’s death. He did not attend night school for long before enlisting in the United States Army. His first duty station was in Heilbronn, Germany, where he obtained his high school equivalency diploma.

While Danny was away, I enrolled in Miami-Dade College with a full scholarship. The scholarship required maintaining a B average, and I graduated only a year and a half later with an associate degree. While in college, I hung out almost every weekend with my girlfriends at 8600 Big Daddy’s, the local night club. Although I did not drink, I loved to dance. It was so much fun! Even when men occasionally approached me, it never occurred to me to date anyone else. After all, Danny was my first love, and I was extremely devoted to him. Isn’t that how it is supposed to be?

When Danny returned home from Germany approximately a year later, he asked me to marry him. I was surprised at his proposal because I did not recall him mentioning marriage in any of the letters we exchanged while he was away. Being young and naive, I did not give marrying Danny a whole lot of thought. I was in love! As a matter of fact, I did not even remember that he hit me while we were in high school since he had not hit me again. I believed Danny was not only in love with me but that he deeply cared about me.

During the two weeks that Danny was home, he was persistent about our getting married. My eldest brother, Charles, visited me while I was deliberating Danny’s proposal. Charles expressed reservations about my getting married, but when he saw I was determined and too stubborn to listen, he said apprehensively, “Okay.” Charles’ tone was something that I will never forget.

I finally gave in. Danny and I went to the courthouse and married on his birthday in February 1981. He was 20, and I was only 19! I did not know Danny’s friends had been watching me while he was in Germany and giving him a full report of my social activities. Danny made several snide remarks about my partying with my friends. It was apparent he disapproved and wished he could control my choice in social activities.

He was only in Miami for approximately two weeks after we married. I quickly discovered that it was more than enough time to conceive when I began feeling differently, although I never experienced morning sickness. In less than one month after Danny returned to Germany, I learned I was pregnant.

Sometime after my first trimester of pregnancy, Danny advised in one of his letters that he would be stationed in Fort Polk, LA. I resigned from the insurance company after my second trimester and prepared to move to Louisiana. My family was extremely sad that I was leaving. I was sad too! However, I knew my responsibilities had changed. I had a husband and was expecting a child; therefore, it was time to start a life of my own.

I arrived at Fort Polk, LA, during my last trimester of pregnancy. Fort Polk was a culture shock in comparison to Miami, FL! Private first-class soldiers were not allowed to live on base because of their low position on the seniority list. To make matters worse, Danny was assigned to North Fort Polk instead of South Fort Polk. North Fort Polk was comprised of old, run-down looking buildings and structures. South Fort Polk had more newly constructed buildings. Even in 1981, it appeared that some areas of the military base remained segregated.

We moved to Leesville, LA, a small city bordering Fort Polk. Danny chose a small two-bedroom trailer located in a trailer park community at the perimeter of the military base. The only semblance to Miami was a mall located over two and a half hours southeast of Leesville in Baton Rouge, LA. Someone once commented that Fort Polk was the “armpit of the USA,” and it was!

Initially, things seemed fine between Danny and me. Our first disagreement was in the commissary (grocery store). Danny thought I purchased too much of specific foods and household items. I was accustomed to purchasing items in bulk. Danny disagreed, which was evident as he walked around the store, putting the things I had placed in the shopping cart back on the shelves.

After leaving the store, he commented that people probably thought I was stupid because he put the items back. That’s not what they thought! It was evident that people thought Danny did not want to spend the money on the bulk items.

During my last month of pregnancy, I purchased a car seat for the baby. Danny complained about the car seat purchase and demanded that I take it back to the store. He claimed that the baby did not need a car seat. I refused to return it. Until this day, I am still baffled about Danny’s reasoning. Was it because the car seat cost $100? Was he stupid, cheap or both?

The day my water broke, I had just returned from buying a compact crib for the baby. I thought the water was a little urine since the baby had begun to press on my bladder. After all, it was my first time being pregnant, and I missed my scheduled Lamaze class in Miami. I was unaware of amniotic fluid warnings and other necessary information. Oblivious, I continued my evening as usual and slept without discomfort. It was not until I arrived at my scheduled doctor’s appointment on the following morning and mentioned the urine incident that a litmus paper test was performed confirming I was in danger of infection. The doctor told me, “You need to have the baby now!”

“But I’m not ready!” I exclaimed.

The staff instructed me to walk around the waiting room to encourage contractions. If contractions had not started after a full night’s sleep, why would they start after I walked? When walking around did not jump-start my contractions, I was given the drug Pitocin to induce labor. The Pitocin pushed me into advanced labor pains in what seemed like zero to...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 2.12.2021
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Biografien / Erfahrungsberichte
• ISBN-10: 1-6678-1888-0 / 1667818880
• ISBN-13: 978-1-6678-1888-7 / 9781667818887