My heart quickly raced as I ran. Blurred lines, of green and red in the brightest hues, caught slightly by my peripheral vision, sped by. In the distance, not too far ahead of me, was a small, though peculiar boy, and I seemed to be chasing him.
It all began with the most whimsical of dreams’ that my mind may have ever conjured. But that was beside the point; as the events that were to follow would certainly become my “literal” nightmare. My story is one of pain and perseverance; of struggle and succession; and ultimately, how I turned the tables around toward my true calling.
“It’s raining cats and dogs, folks. Be careful on that drive home today,” said the man on the radio show. His words were the last I heard and all that lingered in my mind, as I woke up from the multiple-car accident, which happened during the summer of two thousand eight (2008). The circumstances of what led me to drive my husband’s car that day, I’ll never understand; however, I can say it ended up changing my life in dramatic ways.
Within just a few short years, not only had I managed to graduate at the top of my class from Hunter Business School but I had also gained employment within a multi-million-dollar, real estate firm that was one of Long Island, New York’s, “biggest” residential-leaders. During my spare time, (at work sometimes I’ll admit) I concentrated on jotting down the things I could remember from this repetitious dream. At the time, the words really had no direction.
I just wrote about the “Evil Enchantress” that kept trying to steal the light from every planet she came across, although I wasn’t quite sure why. I wrote about all the silly characters and perhaps which roles they would assume. And I wrote about “him” my story’s main protagonist. Of course, as I did this, I did without notion to what it could become. I wrote because it made me happy. Plus, I felt like my dreams were trying to tell me something; meanwhile, this feeling of fierce-fiery, flame-like, needles that protruded from my lumbar spine, down to my toes never seemed to relinquish. The two weeks of paid medical leave that I had taken from work soon became a month and a half of me being “too afraid” to call my office every day with the same excuse. Consequently, I ended up losing my job.
For the longest time, I stayed lost in a cloud of darkness that trapped me in its clenches like that of a vortex. No longer was I concerned with being cheerful, clean, or even slightly courteous. I laid in bed for hours at a time and cried as my prescribed medication took its course throughout my system. Hopelessly, I would lay in the dark, all alone, and cry due to my own self-pity. And surely enough, within only a few weeks, I lost about half of my support system. People just didn’t know how to reach out to me, nor did they truly try. One by one, people that I loved, left my side as I began to lose hold of myself and the things that I possessed, including my family’s home.
What in life prepares you for failure? At the age of twenty-five, I sure didn’t know. But once I realized how my life had truly been affected, I became more appalled by the actions of others; the friends who turned their backs and by the family who mimed me; moreover, even strangers had become hasty with generalizations. That’s when my writing shifted and suddenly, it had a purpose. I began writing about a boy who was different from his peers, because of this “difference” he was subjected to bullying behavior. I wanted the story to reflect as much as my life as possible, while still being relatable to kids. I felt like there was indeed a strong message there that deserved to be heard by all. However, besides actually writing the story, I had no idea where to begin with my plight. I was alone in my endeavor. There wasn’t another soul, besides my immediate family, who supported me. So, for almost four more years, “Hobbity Bobbity” had to wait.
I’ve constantly reminded myself, “That the Lord makes no mistakes.” So, on dark days when the past undoubtedly tries to render my thinking, I remember the car accident and I know that day my life was indeed changed for the better; no matter what obstacles I may have faced. I held tight to that belief as I waited daily for the money to finally arrive in my account. After what seemed to be a long one year battle, I had won my disability case. The moment the funds were transferred into my account, I authorized my publishing deal with Author House Publishers. My hands shook while I held the phone and handled the deal, so much that it seemed like I was having a medical emergency. While tears of joy dropped from my eyes and down my cheek’s I tasted a few there were so many. I was so excited that I failed to pay attention to some details, pertaining to my contract.
I felt as though the nightmare would just never end. In some sort of twisted way, it just seemed like whenever something was going good, not too far behind it, waiting in the dark somewhere; like a burglar, waiting to pounce on his innocent victim, was how my life seemed to be ping-ponging itself. The contract with “AH” wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. Although, by the time the book was published, it did become available to most on-line retailers. Plus, the book was also published in many formats. I had to work extremely hard to get my name out to the masses which apparently turned out to be much harder than I thought in a world that praises negativity. Nonetheless, I have been able to be heard on platforms such as, “The Inspiration Show” with Michelle Tate which airs on-line and is produced all the way in London. I have had the ability to speak at my child’s school, as well as at book readings, and other small gatherings where anti-bullying and self-difference awareness are key issues.
There is nothing more important to me as a mother than my children. It is because of this and what I had to assume of other mothers, that I write the positive and encouraging stories that I publish for others to enjoy. It is because of the loss, the struggle, and all the pain that my family endured together, that I challenge myself each day to follow my dreams. I had given up for so many years. I had let them see me give up. And now, every day I devote my life to my kids. Not only, by just going to school because I need them to see me get myself together, “educationally,” but also by me homeschooling them; by me writing every day and them seeing that I haven’t given up on my dreams. I am showing them in a sense, that there is nothing you cannot do, once you have your mind made up!
To think, it all started with a dream, then like life most certainly does, it threw me quite a few lessons to learn; lessons that I am still learning. However, one thing is certain, I have awoken from my nightmare with a fresh new mind and I am walking straight into the future with hope, optimism, and pride.