Actually, I just realized that I have blogging for years, in journals. The power of pen! Creativity! I did not realize I was creative until the age of forty. In 1990 I created Figwort and Company TM when I hit rock bottom. Ironically, Figwort and Company is a comedy business. I knew my husband was leaving the marriage due to midlife. I was a stay at home mom to four boys. As my friend told me once: ‘You never needed bells and whistles, you just needed a family intact and a man that loved you.” She knew me well.
I have learned many life lessons in life. ” You can love someone with all of your heart, you can forgive them but you cannot fix them!”
Therefore, when I hit rock bottom, and God literally picked me up, I was on a journey to find me.
1950 THE LEFT HANDED FATTER TWIN, WITH THE CHIPPED TOOTH!
Going backwards before I could go forwards was a first step in my healing journey. I was one of three girls. Susan was the oldest. Karen and I were identical twins. We were born when Susan was not quite three years old. Mom’s favorite story was when Susan was three years old she would help her feed us. The entire time she would say, “I hate these twins.” I believed for years that she did hate us. According to mom, Karen was the smart, talented, gifted twin. She played the piano by ear at age two and a half. She would grow up and become a nurse. Mom would call her my little mother.
I was labeled the left -handed, fatter twin, with the chipped tooth who did not quite get it. Mom always said that I was backwards. After all, I was the only left- handed person in the family. I process from the right side of my brain. The rest of the family were right handed and processed , from the left side of their brain . I also had learning disabilities, but I was not diagnosed until 1990, at the age of forty. In the 50’s and 60’s parents and teachers were not aware of the affects learning disabilities had on a child. Therefore, they could not understand why I didn’t get it in school like Karen did, and neither did I! It was engrained into me as far back as I can remember that I must not be trying hard enough. Oh! but I was funny. I certainly did not feel funny. Honestly, I was an angry little girl. When they would laugh at me I would cry, and say “but I am not laughing.”
Mom was lost in her world of depression, prescription drugs, and alcohol to hide her childhood grief. Dad tried to fix it all, and when he could not, his frustration and anger turned into rage. His rage was certainly scary. His solution was for us to just love our mother and pretend what happened the night before did not happen. Of course, you did what he said, and the cycle would start all over again the next day. Sadly, our family secrets became a game of manipulation, mixed- messages and pretending in our house. It was our normal