About this blog....

Welcome to Things In My Rear view Mirror. This is a collection of stories based on true events throughout my life. Some are very good memories, some are not so good. However, all are written from my point of view at the age they occurred. No harm, pain or otherwise negativity is meant with my writing. This blog is intended to help me heal as well as share with those important in my life the good, the bad, the ups and the downs that make me who I am and who I am proud to be today.
And no, I do not and will not change names.
All material, stories, pictures, videos on this blog and all it's pages are completely and fully the original work of Janet Jones and are not permitted to be used in any form without express written permission of the author Janet Jones. Protected by Copyscape DMCA Takedown Notice Infringement Search Tool

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Planes, Fear and Overcoming

What was I thinking when I accepted the invitation to teach a 2 day marathon workshop on a subject in which I had no professional training? What was I thinking when I booked my flight in which I would travel to get there?

I know. I was caught up in the glamorous idea that I was actually making something of myself.  Against all odds and especially against all the proclamations of  doom and gloom drilled into my soul by my parents since an early age. You'll be nothing. You'll always fail. You're stupid. You're nothing more than one of those whores strutting her shit down on D street in Killeen. The words and the pain wash over me consuming me from within. A lump forms in my throat as my head begins to pound in my ears. Sweat overtakes my freshly applied deodorant. 

The ringing of my phone jerks me out of my downhill spiral and causes me to visibly jerk upright. People sitting around me stare at me quizzically. Nodding my head and offering a lopsided smile I hope that they will look away as I fumble for my ringing phone.

Finally locating the phone and flipping it open I hear a frantic plea coming from my daughter scream through the phone.

"Mama, please don't go! I don't want you to crash and die!"

Taking a deep breath I spend the next five minutes calming her down and fail miserably in blocking her fears from grabbing hold of mine and growing into a much larger monster in the pit of my stomach.

As the sound of the loudspeaker comes across announcing boarding for my flight I assure her one more time and hang up the phone. Trying to swallow the ball of terror in the back of my throat I can only offer a weak smile and nod of my head to the lady checking in my ticket. 

The walk down the long tunnel to the plane feels as if it is never ending.  In fact I feel as if I am in one of those movies where I am walking but not really going anywhere.  And the door to the plane is getting farther and farther away.

Finally, after what seems like hours but was truthfully probably only a minute at most I reach the doorway to the plane where two pretty stewardesses stand waiting. All in one moment my legs go on strike and I find myself simply standing there. Not moving forward but not turning around either.

A look of panic must be evident on my face because both ladies gently grab my arms and attempt to guide me in. I visibly shake and they quickly let go. Closing my eyes an image of my parents' face appears and I know I must go forward even if it's only to prove them wrong. I am not a failure and I CAN succeed. I will get on this plane and fly to another city to teach, I said TEACH a seminar to willing participants that WANT my knowledge and expertise.

I take a deep breath filling my lungs and expel over 30 years of pain, abandonment and insults from my parents. More determined than ever I take the step over the threshold and know that I have begun a new chapter in my life.  One to be filled with self growth, confidence and new friendships.

I have overcome my daughter's fear of planes and my own parent induced childhood fears of worthlessness. I will succeed.

Friday, May 20, 2011

Tap Tap

The sound of the car engine pulling out of the driveway registers in my ears. Knowing I have to wait just a few minutes to be sure it's safe I creep over and wait impatiently outside his locked bedroom door. Using my forefinger I give a quick two taps on the door which is quickly followed by a familiar responding tap.

Creeping to the back door I slowly pull back the corner of the curtain and steal a quick glance outside just in time to see the taillights of the car release and my parents take off down the highway for their weekend shopping trip.

I hold my breath as I wait just a few more seconds to be sure they won't turn around and come back. When I am satisfied all is well I turn, race to my brother's door and unlock it only to be greeted with him looking up at me with sad, hurt eyes.  For just a moment I can see a glimmer of relief and happiness spread across his face.

I grab him, hug him and tell him to follow me.  Over the next half hour I make sandwich after sandwich taking great care in piling them with several layers of meat and cheese. It takes no time for him to devour them, as if he is storing up nutrition for the week knowing it's his only real source until the next time a "shopping trip" occurs. Because the week ahead is sure to entail nothing but yard work and an occasional peanut butter sandwich.

Looking at the clock, sadness washes over us as we both know the time has come to lock the door once again because the "shopping trip" could end at any time. We turn slowly to the door and he enters his undeserved dungeon once again.  As he turns to face me tears fall down both of our faces. Clinging to each other I whisper I'm sorry. I feel a tap, tap on my back as he assures me he loves me.  Quickly, I turn away, lock the door and fall to the floor.

Tap... Tap.
He responds with a tap... tap from his side of the door.

This continues until I hear the sound of the car pull into the driveway. The "shopping trip" has come to an end.