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The Secret Tears of a Butterfly (Part 1)

The Secret Tears of a Butterfly (Part 1)

The Secret Tears of a Butterfly

Section 1

Disaster and Pain

A hard head makes a soft ass, and I think mine was softer than Charmin toilet paper growing up. But one thing is for certain. I didn’t get this way on my own. There was help.

Chapter One

Disaster In The First Degree


It wasn’t until the age of 33 that I realized our lives really do begin when we’re small children. Our character, personalities, and habits, everything begins when we’re little. What does the statement “You have your whole life ahead of you” really mean when all the events that happen in your life and how you grow spiritually, emotionally, and mentally begin to count at the moment of your birth.

Growing up in a house where we didn’t really express our feelings in a way that was healthy for proper conflict or circumstantial resolution growth was very hard and hurtful. We yelled and cursed about everything. Although cursing at my parents would get me killed, there was never enough courage within me to curse at my father, but I did try my mother once or twice. The first time my father saw my funeral and burial happen all within one second and managed to save me from it. The second time he was no where around and what came before my eyes was a glimpse of a chair and brief sparkle of what I knew to be a knife coming my way. Let me just say to this day, I’m barely alive to tell you about this, and with the help of the Lord I made it through.

Calm conversations were very rare. There was always a confrontation with someone yelling at the other about something, whether it was my parents arguing or my sister and I arguing and fighting. My mother was always mad about something, and always confrontational. It didn’t matter what it was, she had to argue about it, and she always had to be right. Everyone had a problem within themselves except for her. I was always angry, always had a poor attitude, and always obnoxious because of it all. There were countless times where I really wanted to shout, “WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” Going completely over the edge was a few steps away. I couldn’t take it anymore, and was on the verge of losing my composure. All that was needed was for someone to hear my voice and listen to what I had to say, only wanting the arguing and fighting to stop. Between being raised in a household where it was “do as I tell you and shut the hell up” and all the arguing, it was very hard to get this accomplished.

There were very few hugs and “I love you” growing up. It was like showing your emotions and your love and care for one another was unheard of. These things were needed to feel like and know that I was loved. Yes my parents kept a very nice roof over my head, kept nice shoes on my feet, clothes on my back, and food in my mouth. I love them because they did that much for me. But these were responsibilities they had as parents and this was the only way they knew how to show love. – Through their responsibilities. “I keep a roof over your head, shoes on your feet, clothes on your back, and food on the table.” This means I love you. “You aren’t naked are you?” This means I love you. Don’t get me wrong, my parents did the best they could do to raise me with what they knew how and what they were given growing up themselves.  Taking the time to really hear, listen, and give the proper love affirmations of simple hugs, and “I love you” is what I needed to properly grow.


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