Book Part 3

Being the little feisty child I was, I started climbing over my brother ready to go in the house and punch my father dead in the face. I only stood around 46 inches and about 55 pounds with patchy milk chocolate colored skin and dark red-brown hair. My father on the other hand was a fairly dark man, and he was cocky in stature (about 210-220lbs) holding his height steady at 6’1 during that time. Either way this little David was ready to take on Goliath. My mother grabbed me, “Anasia calm down…” She told us that we will wait until after Christmas before she makes any decisions. We all went in the house together and for the next five or six days, no one said a word.

My birthday turned the corner soon enough. And family was coming into town for the holiday. All I could think of was that George Foreman lost a boxing title earlier this year, also Jordan came back to bball, and how I thought those were emotional moments; mainly because the way my father and uncles reacted to them. I also remembered crying so vividly for some bombing in the middle of our nation² only because everyone else was. Yet this December, I was crying for US.

The following day, December 17^th, my dad said happy birthday to me as I ate macaroni and cheese for breakfast (it was my favorite meal and it was my birthday) and asked, “before you open your presents and see if you got what you wanted, what do you want for your birthday?”

As I had begun to open my mouth, I hesitated, flash backs rolled through my mind of getting beat for various activities that all started with me opening my mouth or my father losing his temper and this was both. Andrew [who was 4’2, about 60lbs, and who also had patchy brown skin like myself,] and I learned at a very young age to keep our tears hidden, they weren’t accepted in our household along with many other things. But like the child I was I could of cared less. I said within a swallow of a mouthful of mac, “I wanna know why would you cheat on ma since I was three years old, was it because I was born and you all had to move into a new house and be stressed and stuff?” [Dare to Love was released this day³]

He raised his hand in the air which seemed so high up to me and asked “what did you say?”

I thought for a whole two seconds and looking away from him down to the ground, “It’s my birthday dad, please don’t hit me!” That’s all I remember.

This Sunday morning, my mother was in the shower, and with no school, my brother stumbled like a zombie and walked into the dining room and turned into the kitchen to find food. My grandmother, Carolyn Ruth Sturdivant (aka Mama or dad’s mom), was outside and ready to take Andrew and I to church. I said to my grandma that day, “Mama, can I get on the altar?”

She simply replied, “Bless your little heart, of course you can, you don’t have to ask.” I still can’t recall what I got for my birthday that year. I do remember asking God to save me, and save my family.

The next few days went by very slowly and with lots of tension in the air. Eight days later, Christmas had finally arrived; and with my family being the masters of hiding emotions, we pretended nothing happened two weeks ago. Family started to pour in and we started to put on our façades. Mama was a sweet grandma, one of those down south type of grandparents, the ones that would fix you something to eat because they thought you looked hungry. She wasn’t skinny by any means but just the right size grandma to crawl up in her lap and rest your head on her black woman figure and fall asleep to the sound of her heart beat. Her complexion was smooth and rich almost like that of a Hershey’s chocolate bar. My dad’s family came and went as did my moms. Christmas became a blur that year and so did new years.

On bus w/bout12amish &handful othrs. Now letz set aside da fact dat I thnk they r gonna take us all 2children of da corn, but didn't know they spoke diff languages. It's kind of cool if I may say so myself. Back to napping though.

Bored outta mind &itz freezin. Now would b a good time 4a poem or somethin of dat nature. Any thoughts? saw da Social Network, bloggin has become more relevant

So I'm sittin @da ISU memorial union waitin on a bus 2a different middle of nowhere spot! The bus is late:(

random

Random, so I bought a recorder the other day. Same day I saw social network. Now i've been recording the most random thoughts. It's kinda cool and will hopefully help me get my book done alot faster.

Book Beginning: Chapter 1 Age 9 part 2

As the sounds played through the system we heard our father proceed to tell this woman (Karen), who later developed the nickname “home-wrecker” to my brother and I, how he would leave his wife for her, but he has to stay a little longer for his kids. Little did she know, “they never leave the wife.” At this precise moment I wanted to be at school, in Ms. Kappler’s class, best teacher ever, having fun away from my family.

As he continued to talk, he started to boast of how great of a man he is, all in all not knowing that this woman was recording him. Otis was one of those types of men that played by their own rules and didn’t take lightly to those in any way. My mother was the opposite of my father yet so similar. [She only stood 5’2 light-skinned, born 1964 like my father, about 130lbs, and a medium build. Her complexion was more of a buttered toast and she was more reserved with her actions but also very stubborn in them.] As my mom and brother sat there listening to the tape, my 8 year old mind raced a mile a minute. How could my dad ever talk about stepping out on us, would he really leave? As my mother sat there crying, I also saw tears run down my brother’s face, and then I felt something cold and damp hit my arm. It was only then in that moment that I realized that I was crying too and that my life would never be the same. Soon I tried to reach my tiny non-lengthened arm around my mom, I thought in my head who would give such a tape to us.

I looked in the middle of the front seats where my brother and I were squished; and began to read this beige envelope, with bubble rap and my dad’s tie inside, silently to myself. It said in the top corner: Karen Willis

3…………..

Bedford Hts, OH 44139

My reading was shortly followed by my hands ripping the envelope up into pieces, as I broke down. The car fell silent after the whimpers died out and our tears were beginning to run away. Always being the person that has to break the silence, I said, “Ma, what happens now?” She shook her head letting me know that she had no clue and was just as lost as me. My mom mentioned that she wanted to leave my father but in the current financial state she was in we knew that was not going to happen.

Book beginning: Chapter 1 Age 9

It was March 28^th 2010, just after Relay, and a decision needed to be made. Either end it all: that total unexpected path or move to Minnesota and pursue a career with the American Cancer Society. So as I parked my van in my west Ames apartment lot and walked up the stairs to my quiet household thinking back: I soon recalled the first memory I had where I knew that my life was going to change for either the worse or the better and was this situation the same. I had come a long way and even if life’s obstacles seemed to hit me at such a young age, here I was again feeling the same. It was just after Thanksgiving 1995, about 5 days before my birthday…

You always remember your first; your first kiss, your first love, your first bike, your first out of body feisty I wanna fight someone that I love experience.

1995

As mom returned from the store, she honked the horn. At the time, pops was laying in bed in his lilac colored walls bedroom watching TV, as my brother and I laid on the burgundy carpeted living room floor watching Doug. My brother went to the blue ledge window seal to see if the horn was for us. What do you know, it was mom. My 10 year old brother (Andrew Sturdivant), who is a year and a half (542 days) older than me, yells “yeah mom, what’s up?”

She replied only saying, “Don’t say anything to your father, go get your sister and come get groceries from the car.”

“Ok”, he replied nonchalantly. Not paying any attention to the weird feeling inside, I hadn’t realized that mom, while leaning over to open the passenger door of the ’94 burgundy Chevy Lumina, was crying. My brother must not have noticed either because he was already down the porch stairs and yelling, “Come on Nasia,” to me. We head to the Chevy in the driveway; Angie (my mother) was stationary in the front seat while the two of us climbed in the front passenger seat alongside her. My stomach began to sink as I saw tears roll down my mother’s face. All I could remember was walking down the stairs with images of cartoons in my head, how “Crazy Sexy Cool” (TLC)¹ was on it for Charita (my bff) and I earlier that day, and smiling because I was living life without any clue. What was to come of this I thought to myself? Angie popped in a cassette tape and as it played we heard an all too familiar voice, it was Otis (my father). The tape continued to play and my life began to change quicker than popsicles melting on a hot summer day.

Part four Book Prologue

Friday the 13^th, flashing bright lights, people screaming my name, all a blur. Saturday morning I wake up in the hospital. My hospital bed was surrounded by people from work, Rosa, my mom, my dad, Regina, and Chris. I was pissed, “dang-it, I’m still here,” I said to myself from my hospital bed. So angry, I was sure you could see me turning my favorite color.

“Anasia, Nasia, you’re woke,” Chris screamed as she pulled her two-year old body up on top of me to hug me. Everyone stopped talking and looked at me.

“Um, hey Chris,” I said just above a whisper, my throat was killing me. I saw the nurse walking in.

“If everyone could step out for a minute, I need to speak with her” the nurse said. “I see you’re finally up, got a lot of people that care about you I see,” I rolled my eyes and kept them down as she continued to talk. “Well looks like we’ll be keeping you here for the next few days for observation, Behavioral Health Ward…,” then she left, as a tear filled with anger and disappointment rolled down my face. The family and people walked back in.

“So, hey everyone,” I spoke first, “thanks for coming, man my throat is killing me.”

“You have pneumonia,” Rosa said, “sorry Nas.”

People slowly poured out to let me get some rest and Rosa quickly informed me of how I obtained pneumonia. Who knew that these actions were signs of my later informed illness?

Part 3 Book Prologue

I reached for the six pill bottles I had. Muscle relaxants, migraine pills, Seroquel, and Advil. I laid each pill bottle around me and opened them as I thought of my recipe. “Lord, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I have to, the pain is too much.” I scribbled a suicide note on the opposite side of the one I had tucked in the seam of my bible from March:

[To Whom It May Concern:

I’m sorry, I failed. I don’t belong. I couldn’t get the help I needed. The rich get better, the poor end up crazy on the streets.

Sorry Maia Davis and Rosa.

I had to do it; it was too much to bear.

The One the Only,

~Anasia ]

[7/12/2007

It’z always the “happiest” people that do this, but screw it. Sometimes enough is enough. Read the old note from March please (other side). Dad, everything is not about what’s on the surface.

Mom, I have nothing to say to you, well -> it’s not always about you. Thanks Tracie for trying.

Always tryin’ to smile,

~Anasia ]

I no longer cared. Nothing mattered. It was over. I lost. I grabbed the shiny red box cutter from inside my pillowcase and I cut, I cut deep. My right arm had two deep incisions on it and my left wrist was covered in a red sticky liquid and felt so weak. I took 36 pills and washed them down with orange juice flavored rubbing alcohol. It was disgusting. My plan was to finish the 54 pills I had out, but 36 was the last number I reached when I felt my heart slow down and I could hear it beating inside my mouth. My arm was now too heavy to lift.

So loud, yet my heart was barely beating. I was still alive, but barely breathing.

general knowledge

So i'm working on my book now. It's the story of my life.

I've gotten a lot done and I'm now up to high school, which is the last part I have to finish. Most of college is written out, the rest is in note for, which shouldn't be hard to write out quick.

I've spoken with a few publishers and hopefully I meet my deadline of December 1st and it get out there. Please read it.

part two Book Prologue

“I’m here for the dinner shift. I believe at seven.” “Well I’ma head out. I already dished deserts for tonight.” I walked to the locker room/bathroom, grabbed my bag and tried to keep from crying. Something inside me was eating at me. I was falling apart and my small world was crashing. I don’t believe I ever walked so fast to the bus stop on Lincoln Way and Beach. I was headed home and I knew what I wanted to do. The bus ride was silent for me; eight people on the bus and I heard not one sound as I was zoned-out. I was scared of me.

Finally, west Ames, I was home, 4708 Steinbeck. I climbed to the third floor and went straight in. I turn on the radio in my room and there’s Carried Underwood followed by Rihanna, I was temped to turn it right off. Once I heard Irreplaceable, I turned the radio off and broke into hysterical tears. I slammed my door shut. Crying in my room, I heard Rosa come in; I started my playlist (titled Hurt) on my computer to drown out the sounds of my deep cry. I was in pain, so much pain that it physically hurt to breathe. I hear Rosa leave back out, I turned the music back off and tried to pray; I needed a savior at this moment more than any other moment in my life I felt.

Reaching for my water-bottle with orange juice in it, I poured rubbing alcohol in it. I cried harder. I opened the box that laid next to my bed, ah pills; this would be easy I thought. I lay out on my air mattress from Wal-Mart and opened my bible. I cried to the point that I was out of breath. “Lord, please, ayudame, I’m lost,” I said just above a whisper. Then I screamed, “Jesus!”

Book stuff... pre-prologue

2007

Thursday, July 12^th, I rolled over in my bed to reach for the annoying sound coming from my black AT&T razor phone. Immediately I make way to the shower followed closely with grabbing a beader and throwing on an ISU Dining work polo. Prepared to head out I sat on the futon waiting on Rosa. Rosa was 5’7 with long dark hair, glasses, and a shy personality that showed. It took Rosa a little longer to get ready that morning before we headed out to work; her hair seemed to do that from time to time.

We reached Knapp-Storms dining facility and started morning prep for the campus cafes. This morning shift was the only shifts we worked together this week. After we finished prep, we got in Rosa’s two-door laser red 2003 Honda Accord and headed to Maple-Willow-Larch Dining Center. I got out and told Rosa I’ll see her at home as she headed to the opposite side (Westside) of campus’ dining center (Union Drive Community Center) for her lunch shift. I walked in said my greetings and put on a fake smile. After returning from my Fourth of July so called vacation the previous week, I was still down and out. Charlotte, an older sweet woman grabbed me and hugged me as usual; it took everything in me to hold back from crying.

On the sub-station (deli-sandwiches) I was able to keep to myself somewhat. The sinking feeling in my stomach grew. I was here and I didn’t want to be here. I looked around and pulled out my Sudoku book and finished two puzzles. I slipped it away as I heard someone yell Anasia. I turned toward the hotline and saw Jeanne summoning me.

“Yeah Jeanne, I was just about to stock up my station for tonight’s dinner person…”

“I was just going to tell you to set out deserts then you can go or eat.” She stated, “Do you work over here tonight or are you somewhere else, or done for the day?”