This week's topic for our Motivational Monday Moment message was dealing with the guilt of our afflictions. More often than not, we don't deal with past issues in our lives, and as a result they lead to an even greater problem, as we try to carry the affliction on our own.
Sometimes, we point the finger at others, as my character, Paige does in A Woman's Design: Afflictions. Check out today's #writerwednesday excerpt.
“Mommy, I’ve told you that I don’t like you driving anywhere. How come you can’t just wait for me to get over here?” I was furious. I had called my mother and told her that I was on my way over after work. I guess I didn’t get there fast enough, because she drove herself to the store. Problem? She didn’t make it back to her house before I did. I was waiting in the driveway when she pulled up.
My mom, Helena Yvonne Dougherty, wasn’t supposed to be driving anywhere. She was an alcoholic, and the last thing that she needed was a DUI.
“Look, girl, I’m grown. I do what the hell I wanna do. I don’t owe you no explanation, and that’s what the hell I gotta car for. If I need to go somewhere, I go. What I look like waiting on you when I have a vehicle that’s working just fine sitting in my drive?” my mom replied, rolling her eyes at me and then sucking her teeth.
She was a little woman, but she was so feisty. That feistiness had come from her having to deal with my father and his abuse all those years. Instead of moving on, she had become stuck in the past somewhat. Never becoming involved in another relationship, alcohol had become her method of dealing with her hurt and pain. She simply shut the world out.
“You look like my mother, who’s playing it safe, that’s what you look like. I don’t have time to be bailing you out of jail, nor the funds,” I declared.
“Well, hell, if I did get locked up, you can bail me out, and I’d just pay your ass back when I get out,” she retorted.
“But why even play that game, Mommy? I have no problem taking you where you want to go,” I stated.
“I know you don’t. But instead of babysitting me, you need to get out and get a life of your own. It’s time to start planning a family. You’re not getting any younger. You’ll be thirty-three this year, and honey them eggs are getting older. I don’ told you, I ain’t gon’ be babysitting no retarded grandchild,” she said, screwing her face up at me.
“Mommy! That’s mean. Why would you say something like that?” I asked. I was going through her refrigerator, counting her beers. It didn’t matter, because I knew she had so many hidden throughout the house that I could never account for.
“Because it’s true. You sitting up over here worried about me driving instead of getting a man and some babies. I ain’t going nowhere but around the corner. It’s not like I’m driving to the other side of town. Hell, ain’t shit gon’ happen to me around the damn corner. You need to get a life and quit popping up at my house all the damn time anyway,” she fussed, taking another sip of beer.
“If I didn’t, Mommy, who would check on you?” I asked, firmly shutting the cabinet doors underneath the sink. I had completed my exploration of her kitchen.
“For all you know, I might have a man.” She stood up and joined me in her kitchen, pulling a container with leftovers from her refrigerator.
“But you don’t, and why would you?” I folded my arms across my chest, waiting to see what smart remark she would have next.
“You don’t know what the hell I got! And what you mean, why would I? I need to get my chimney swept just like the next woman. I need some good lovin’ between these legs just like you do,” she commented.
Eeww! Now that was just disgusting as hell. Why’d she have to go and say something like that?
“I’m not out here getting anything done, Mommy. I’m career-oriented. I don’t have time for foolishness from no man,” I argued.
“Is that why you sleeping with all those different men, including the married one? Girl, yo’ ass betta be careful. You always worried about me; your life in more danger than mine. Something gon’ catch up to you if you keep doing wrong. Paige, you mark my words, one day one of these diseases is gonna get you in the ass, somebody’s woman’s gonna catch up to you, or some crazy ass man gon’ take you outta here,” she predicted.
She straightened up from where she had been pulling a pot from underneath the counter to warm her food in. I don’t know why she just didn’t use the microwave I had purchased her. My mother began laughing at the expression on my face. I hated when she called herself warning me about my future because of my lifestyle choices.
“Look, I’m careful with what I do and with whom I do it. My life isn’t as wild as you make it out to be. I think that you just do that, because you’re bored and it makes for interesting conversation with Aunt Laura. You two need to stay off the phone gossiping and find something productive to do with your lives,” I reprimanded.
“Mm-hmm, like laying on our backs and spreading our legs for random men, because we couldn’t face our life challenges?” she said, turning her back on me to place her food in the pot.
“Why do you have to be so mean? You make me out to be some whore, and that’s not what I am. I just decided I’ll use men before they use me. I won’t go through the hurt and pain you and Aunt Laura suffered. I’m just saying, there’s some things for you older ladies to get into that will keep you out of trouble. Discussing your fallacious tales about my life isn’t one of them. Get it together, Mommy.”
“No, Paige Antoinette Dougherty, you need to get it together before something happens to your little hot-tailed ass,” she warned.
I was beyond pissed and wanted to tell her about herself. But I got tired of arguing with her all the time. “Mommy, we need to get you into some rehabilitation center. You’ve got to start dealing with your drinking. It’s getting out of control the older you get. Do you know your speech is slurred during the middle of the day?” I asked in disgust.
“You’ve got to start dealing with your freak bone. Do you know a man doesn’t respect a whore in the morning?” she asked, as she placed her glass cup on the countertop a little hard after taking a swig of her favorite malt liquor.
I was done. I couldn’t talk to this woman. I hadn’t come over here to discuss my personal life. If she hadn’t been so damn difficult while I was growing up and set such a horrible example of how to deal with relationships, I wouldn’t be in the situations I found myself in most of the time anyway.
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About Chelle Ramsey...
Women's fiction author and blogger, Chelle Ramsey brings a refreshing perspective into the lives of her readers and wants them to find entertainment, healing and inspiration in each novel. Using real problems and challenges faced by ordinary people, Chelle wants readers to become empowered to rise above life's adversities, with faith in God, and belief in themselves.
Her stories are relatable to individuals of diverse demographics, who have suffered a loss, been hurt, have low self-esteem, have lost hope, or need a word of encouragement. She strives to take your emotions on a roller coaster ride, one page at a time. Chelle holds an MBA in Human Resource Management, which she puts to use in her Human Resources role by day, while she writes her fiction novels at night. And in her spare time, she’s a blogger, freelance writer, and ghostwriter.
Her most important roles are those of a wife and mother of three. During her “me time,” she becomes enraptured with the enthralling stories of Terry McMillan, Nora Roberts, James Patterson and Stuart Woods. Chelle Ramsey resides in a rural community in Atlanta, Georgia and enjoys writing, family time, and watching NBA games.
She hosts the annual 20 Days of Love authors’ blogging campaign, March Madness authors’ giveaways campaign, and showcases other authors on her blog at www.chelleramsey.com/beautifully-inspired-blog. Her novels can be found online at Chelle Ramsey Amazon.
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