When I started campaigning for John Edwards I was rather lack luster, but I so wanted to be involved and I really was drawn to his message. To be honest, I had been a political ghost for so long. I faded in and out and was not very alive to the process.
I wanted to be a writer in high school. I read so much about so many different things and I thought I was finding my voice. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was quieted, well, silenced. I lived in a highly dysfunctional home and even though music and words is what kept me alive, my self-esteem was so non-existent I found that I struggled to whisper at times.
I was stubborn, wore a little too much black and a chubby girl. Not fat. I’m fat now, but not then. My mother stayed with an abusive man and married him in order to fulfill some kind of security for us. She had left my father many years prior due to his mental illness and drug use. He was a Vietnam Vet, bi-polar and a heroine addict. I’m sure a joy to live with.
So, she packed up and we went west (I was born in Queens, New York). She went through a great deal of substandard men who treated her just as poorly and unfortunately me as well. My Mother told me the story of throwing an upholstered arm char when one of her boyfriends slapped me so hard it left a handprint on my face. That image haunts me and so when my daughter was abused by her daycare in the exact same manner, the bruise on her face was too much to bear.
So, having survived verbal abuse (therefore the self esteem issue), emotional neglect and a great deal of drug use by both parents, I still think I’m doing pretty well. I just didn’t think I was smart enough for college when I graduated and I went on to work in a bookstore. Retail was not my calling even though at the age of 22 I was managing a store on my own with a small staff of 8.
But I just couldn’t do this and decided to go back to school. My time after high school was a rather wild ride. I befriended people older than me and dated artists and hung out at local galleries. I wrote some here and there and received modest praise from peers. I went to a local community college and after a couple of years of that was confronted by a teacher, "Why are you still here?" He meant well, he just didn’t understand why I wasn’t in a four-year school. I said I didn’t have the money, etc. I never took the SAT. He said that was bullshit. I don’t know if that was the phrase he used, but he really encouraged me to move on. I had a couple of other well-meaning teachers do the same, they loved my writing and they encouraged me to move forward. So I did.
I started Smith College in Northampton, MA in the fall of 1994. This teacher had pressed me to apply and it was the only place I did apply to. With financial aid and loans I was able to afford the school. I was considered financially independent and my Mother’s income was not a factor (I don’t know how it could be, she didn’t make that much more than what it cost to go there for year).
This was the hardest three years of my adult life so far. I was "old" for a sophomore at the age of 23 and I was well, not so sure of myself still (And trust me, there were women there younger than I and much more self assurred). I enrolled as an English Major and discovered that my writing needed a great deal of work. I really didn’t do very well as an English Major. I loved my film minor and even thought of going on to Film School, but the outcome of my tenure at Smith was a mixed bag. I was completely convinced that I had no talent and I still didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grew up.
The irony was, the classes I took that were not English or Film related were interesting to me still (I love learning about almost anything though) and I was encouraged to go into other majors (Economics, the Professor was baffled, I was so good at it). And I had a Physics Professor as me why I hadn’t gone the way of "hard" sciences. Huh? Granted, I took a class called the "Cosmic Onion" that was physics for Dummies, but he really encouraged me to study science. He also loved my writing, he was so impressed. Too bad my English Professors didn’t agree.
So, I graduated and came home to no job and moved back in with my Mother. Stuck again. NO voice. I treasure my time at Smith, but it just seemed that I could not overcome the crippling self-esteem issues.
And, I met my husband the day after I got back from Massachusetts. We hit it off right away and our summer romance was a whirlwind really. I didn’t have a job and he was a full time student. We had tons of free time to just, well, bond. He asked me to marry him just a few months later and I said yes. We married a year later on September 12, 1998.
So now what? I just got myself into more dead end jobs. I didn’t know what to do, even though I had this amazing degree, I sold myself short, again. My husband struggled to finish his Ph.D. He just had a dissertation to finish and that was it. He started working full time though in 2000 and in 2003 we had our daughter Charlotte. Things were strange.
We lived paycheck to paycheck and I struggled with my jobs, my boring jobs. I have been at the current boring job since 2001. It’s like I’ve lived this nightmare presidency at this job. It’s not a bad job, I’m just bored, I’m not challenged, and I’m suffocating inside.
I haven’t been the same person since I had my daughter. Hormones and health issues have plagued me. My weight continues its upward march and I get doctor after doctor tell me there is nothing wrong with me (A whole different story but so important, just not here).
I have a hard time getting up in the morning to go to work. I spend far too much time on line. I started with gossip. Yes. I got so infatuated with celebrity and then thought, what am I doing? How is this helping anyone? I decided that my old passion, politics had to come back to life. It was time.
So, I started writing here in the summer of 2007 to get myself going. I found myself inspired by John Edwards and his message. I found myself wanting to speak out again for him. I found my voice.
And, I need to thank everyone who has actually read my diaries. I think this has saved my life. The positive feedback, the praise and the constructive criticism were like gallons of fresh water in the middle of the Mojave.
I was always a strange kid, even though all the awful things in my childhood, I always thought I was blessed. Even with all my battles with depression, I have always remembered that my life is still good. To have these two forces in me has been quite devastating the fight within, I felt like I was losing.
And when I was younger, I always felt I had a purpose. I never spoke of it and I’ve never shared it with anyone, except right here. But I always felt like I was supposed to do something important, that my life had meaning, I just hadn’t figured out what it was. I still don’t quite know, but I was so afraid to admit that, because you know what, we all have purpose and meaning, it’s not unique to me.
So many in this community embraced my writing and encouraged me to use my voice. I want to thank you for that. For being patient with me and for being along for my journey so far. I think when John dropped out; I just felt, now what? I don’t have a second choice, now what do I do?
I’ve thought of quitting my job, but I have a home and a mortgage, student loans (the husband actually), debt up to our eyeballs, childcare, you name it. And people wonder why aren’t more involved, there are so many like me who are struggling to just keep things together, just as many would like it. How can you change anything if you can barely get through your own day? This populace has been silenced by our debt, our consumerism and our fear. Also, another diary I think.
But I want to thank John for helping me find my voice. That one voice can matter and that one person can make a difference. That I have a cause and that the things I believe are not so far fetched. It made me realize that I wasn’t weird for inviting homeless people to eat a meal with me or for buying bags of groceries for someone who happened to be on the side of the street with nothing to their name.
I wake up every morning thinking, how can I do more? It’s overwhelming most days. I get so caught up, I care so much that it’s paralyzing at times. And I’m so tired and fighting to just get by that I feel helpless to do anything to break out.
But this, this campaign, this place here has helped me stay afloat. I think my husband saw that maybe his wife was coming back. I have been so dead inside for so long, maybe I was fighting for a come back. Maybe I had really found my voice.
-----------------
Okay, so this was far more rambling than I ever wanted it to be, but it was cathartic. And I want to share with you if you are unaware, that Smith College is a women's college and one of the Seven sisters (Which includes Hillary's Alma mater Wellesley, ew - and that's not to Hillary bash, there is just a long rivalry between the two. Smith to bed, Wellesley to wed. I guess my husband didn't get the memo, although he does like to say that he might have been better off with a Wellesley Grad.)
I really was blessed to go there, we had a first black female President in Ruth Simmons (Who is now at Brown) and many amazing scholars and writers visit, from Cornel West to Molly Ivins (Alum!). I have to share some of my favorite Smith T-shirts.
'Smith College - A Tradition of Women in Exciting Positions'
And a favorite among many Smithies:
Charlotte and me:)