Truth Bomb đź’Ł Tuesday: When Life Hands You Lemons
How the hell did I get here? I’m looking into my rear-view mirror, but it’s a strangers’ soulless eyes gazing back. Hesitantly, I bring my jittery hand up to the loose door handle. I can’t bring myself to open the door.
I shouldn’t be here. They’re all wrong. I don’t need help. So, I haven’t been feeling well lately. I’m still slightly moody only because I can’t sleep; money’s a little tight. It’s just a streak of bad luck. My life is under control.
I’m feeling a little dizzy. I need to just sit back and relax. As I lean back in my stained seat, raising my trembling arm to shield my weary, blotchy eyes, I begin to ponder the answer to my question. How the hell did I get here?
Right from the beginning of my minuscule existence, I had a rough go of it. The doctors were confused as to when I’d be making my grand entrance into this crazy world.
On one visit, “Looks like the baby will be ready in early May,” the astute doctor reported to my mother.
The next visit, “Perhaps more toward the end of June,” the now puzzled doctor replied.
Not wanting my young, ignorant mother to have to endure a hot sticky summer carrying my added weight, I took it upon myself to attempt to break free of my confines in the middle of May.
It started off as a normal day. She plodded to the nearest supermarket, bought her typical diet of donuts, ice cream, and soda, only to come home and maniacally clean. When her back was bothering her she just chalked it up to all of her hard work. She had no idea that women could experience back labor. Later that night, her water broke. Upon hearing the news, my father made a quick call to my grandparents, grabbed her bag, and patiently waited as my mother washed her feet. The hospital was just right up the street from them, yet they arrived after my grandparents who lived in the neighboring town. Although I was prepared to meet these freakish people, my parents, face to face, my mother’s body decided to vehemently disagree.
The doctors became quite alarmed as I began my journey. Something was wrong. Convinced that I was breech, they had my disgruntled mother escorted to X-ray. Now would be a wonderful time to admit something- I loathe even the idea of my feet being touched. A breech birth was out of the question for me. It turns out my huge melon was stuck, essentially getting crushed in the birth canal. It was emergency c-section time for mommy.
Obviously I lived to tell the tale, but when I was yanked from the isolated home I knew, I was literally a cone head. Not exactly the way you want to go through life, looking like a Saturday Night Live skit character. Perhaps it would have been better if my head had just been crushed. I would have been none the wiser.
“Will it stay like this?” my new young father asked with fear in his voice.
The kind nurse gently explained about babies soft skulls and how with time my head should form into a normal, healthy cranium. “Be patient, show her love, and be happy she made it through this ordeal with her life and not any long lasting debilitating effects. Sure, on the outside she looks a little unique, but in the way that truly counts she is a healthy, strong newborn.”
Daddy gingerly took me into his tan, behemoth arms, stared into my blue clueless eyes and whispered, “Your head better grow normal, cuz I ain’t having a cone head for a kid. We’ll take you for now. We really don’t have a choice but only time will tell what the future will hold.”
My troublesome birth coupled with the fact my naive parents reluctantly decided to keep me meant either of two things.
I was destined to have horrible things happen to me and I should just accept it lying down.
Or
Destiny is what you make of it. If life hands you lemons, lick the salt from your thumb, throw back the tequila shot, suck that lemon dry and say, “Ahhh”.
As it turns out, I’m a survivor who absolutely adores my tequila.
Recollecting how it all started opened the flood gates of my memory. My eyes welled up with tears as I remembered events in my life best forgotten. This is the answer to my question, this is why I’m here. With as much effort as I can muster, I get out of the car and go in to that unfamiliar place, the place that I now realize I need to be.
I plop down in a seat anxious to begin my new journey. As I listen to the others, hope begins to well-up inside me. Finally, it’s my turn. “Hello, my name is Lily and I’m an alcoholic.”
Truth bomb đź’Ł time:
Although a fiction story, it was inspired by some truths. I’ll leave that a mystery.
Well, this is the last of my old writing assignments. Thank you for indulging me.
*Reminder/disclaimer:
My reasoning in writing these posts are to not only hopefully amuse you, but allow you to get to know me, (my thoughts, opinions, & personality), and perhaps feel a connection- so as to not feel crazy or alone- as we often sometimes do. As always, take what I say with a grain of salt- if it resonates awesome and if it doesn’t then let it go.
Much love and appreciation 🙏🏻💜
