Straw

 

WOW.  I watched Straw on Netflix, and I am a wreck.  It's hard to see through the tears; they just won't stop. It's that kind of soul cry when I have so much of an understanding of that movie. I have a sense, a knowing, and the heartbreak of many experiences in what I just saw. This is more than a movie of something that I cannot comprehend. Today, I sit here watching it in my own home, and in Graduate school, and I have the job that I worked more than hard for. The tears are coming from that place of understanding that not everyone makes it. I understand having to do things on your own. I know not having enough. I understand how people treat you differently and how your children are perceived. I know what it's like to be left out and not have enough money for the simple essentials. I sometimes forget just how far I have come, and still feel like the person that the world is most unkind to. Because I forget just how far I have come. 

I could go minute by minute in that movie and explain things that have happened to me, how I have been treated, and where I was not even given a thought of kindness or concern. Moments where I was degraded and mocked. Moments that chipped away at the very person that I was. But I always smiled with a grateful heart, things could have been worse. I took each and every moment to express how thankful I was. Now, looking back, the moments that stand out sting like a million bees out for the attack. I could never have acknowledged the disrespect at the time; it would have been too much for me in the moment. I could write a book just about the moments where I was treated like a second-class citizen because I didn't have what others did.  I never experienced life the way that others did. I have always said, and will always say, I never expected to be handed life on a silver platter, and I never expected things to be handed to me. I just wanted to be believed and respected. I just wanted to be believed and cared for. I just wanted the everyday life things that each person deserves.

When it was just me, I  was able to keep moving and not think about the effect. When you don't see your worth, it's easy to keep going; it's just what you do. You aren't worth better, you are just grateful. When I had my children, it got much harder. I was more than aware of how we were perceived, treated, and overlooked. 

We never had much money when we were growing up.  I remember arguments about utilities, and I didn't understand them, but there were times we had food stamps. It was a big deal when Clementines were 10 for a dollar at Winn-Dixie, and I got to pick out the ones I wanted.  I remember seeing a bandana with fluorescent colors that was so cool, and I wanted it so badly. My grandmother would dig in her change purse to get it for me. I was so very excited. There were always little things like that, and I wanted better. 

I wasn't sure I realized just how differently people treat you until after my children were born.  I didn't even have insurance at the time.  So I went on Medicaid.  That is never a good thing; they treat you like a second-class citizen, and I was often looked down upon. For me there was an extra layer, of shame because of the rape.  Many times, questions were asked, and I would answer them to the best of my ability. When there was talk about the father, I always grew silent.  I saw myself as the slut who got pregnant and figured they saw the same. If anyone had taken a few extra minutes, they would have understood the situation so much better. Shame upon shame upon embarrassment upon silence but I never stopped smiling I was going to keep these babies healthy. We would have a very thick book, so I'm going to explain a few of the key points that stand out, in no particular order. 

There was the first week after the kids were born, and you had to go to the health and human services office. I was still recuperating from a C-section with twins, and making sure that I had everything that they needed. The waiting room was oh so full and more than dirty. Just walking in I could feel the mood in the air. You are treated harshly and unintelligently. I was called back; they needed their crib cards, and I had everything. Then, they had questions about the father. I said I didn't know. I gave what I knew, but that wasn't enough, and she threw a pen at me across the table.

I was devastated.  I was in this state of awe, being a mom, having my most amazing children, and they were cruel and uncaring. I can remember taking Mariska out to the car and trying to nurse her. I remember talking to them, telling them how amazing they were, and that we would be fine. I just kept smiling, grateful for my two healthy babies. And every six months, they call, and you get the same questions, the same disrespect; those were the days that I dreaded the most. Those were the reminders that made me feel like I was so much less than, you know, you need to file child support, are you making any money? Sometimes you would get kind case workers, and other times, they would make you recount every detail from beginning to end. There were the WIC appointments where people would ask Oh, are they yours. No amount of care and support. But I smiled and kept going. I had my wonderful children.

There was a crisis pregnancy center, and when they were newborn, they gave you diapers and clothes.  My mom came home with things for them, and I started to cry. The clothes were stained and terribly worn.  And there was a bible in the baby bath. The tears began to flow. I didn't for a second want to be ungrateful, I didn't want their bible, and I wasn't going to put my precious children in those awful clothes. That was the same place where, when I asked if they had an extra high chair, they brought out this high chair with mold on it, and said that we just needed to scrub it down. I was at a loss for words.   So I said thank you, with tears running down my face. That was the last time that I went there. 

As they grew up, I did a lot of smiling and was very grateful. I also did a lot of crying myself to sleep at night when they were peacefully sleeping. I was not okay, and the weight on my shoulders was incredible. When I went to ask for help, I was told that if I wasn't experiencing hallucinations and wasn't a danger to myself or others, then they were unable to offer any assistance.  I was on my own. Once I reached out to another organization, they requested that I enroll my children in a drop-in daycare while I attended the orientation. Being the mom that I was, I wanted to check them out, as I never left my children for a second.  What I learned was terrifying; the daycare had been investigated for child abuse.   When I read the reports, I was beyond furious, so because I need help, you want me to put my children in harm's way. I found a neighbor to watch them, and I attended this meeting. They talked down to me and treated me like I was clueless in the world. I just wanted someone to see me and who I was.  I was grateful at every step of the way, and even in the worst moments when I was treated most unkindly, I remained grateful.  I was a mom to the two best kids, and they were happy and safe.  For their first Christmas, that was the first time I felt seen and cared for.  The local library adopted my family for the Christmas season. The kids got amazing, thoughtful gifts, and I was whatever the word is when you hold your heart kind of tears, grateful. That was the emotion that I felt. Everything was perfect, and they had the most amazing Christmas. I still have the stocking holders that they received as a gift, and each year I put them out and think about how far we have come. I hope that they know what a difference they made for me and that I still thank them each year, despite the passage of time. 

Things never got easier; my car was taken. I can remember sitting on the quilt, as they played on the floor, and they came to get my car.  Goodness, I loved that mustang, and just like that, it was gone. We thoroughly enjoyed every single second, and I was there for every moment. When they started school, I went back to finish my degree at UNT. There were times when they attended class with me and brought their reading buddy to campus. We were going to make it the three of us. Home was getting worse and worse, my mother had changed, and I became a problem. I was the dirt under her feet and was treated terribly. It was her house, and we got in the way. I tried to talk to my brother, but he saw nothing wrong; he couldn't understand where I was coming from, and I got tired of trying to explain. I was crying a lot of the time, so many things were going on, but there was no time for me, and no time to deal with the sadness. So many things happened during this time.  It's hard to put into words all that occurred because I had to pretend to be ok and just keep going. During this time, my mother had weight loss surgery and became a secretive person.

We lived in the same house, but all of a sudden, everything was separated and everything was hers. I was often belittled and asked, 'Are you going to eat that?' Her self-centeredness was blaring, and I continued to be caught in the crossfire. I will never understand what happened during this time. Furniture moving and not leaving enough room to walk by; she constantly did that with the dining room table. It became a battle that I will never understand. There was even a time when she complained about the kids' backpacks on the back of the chairs. I was finishing school at UNT, subbing at the kids' school on the days that I was needed, and a single mom to twins, and nothing that I did was enough. So, when this woman asked me if I wanted to move in with her, I was scared to death, but I jumped at the chance.  I often felt less than, and it began on moving day. I knew that I wasn't doing well and could no longer pretend that things were okay at home. I totally took the leap and moved out. 

The woman was sad; she had just lost her husband and had a young son. Initially, I believe we both needed each other. There were signs that I didn't fit in with her or her friends, but goodness, I tried. When we delivered my furniture there, she had it all sitting out in the front yard and scrubbed everything down.  It was pretty humiliating, though at the time, I was just grateful. She had people there unpacking our things and going through everything; these people were deciding what was worth keeping, and it felt terrible. Things were truly okay in the beginning; we helped each other. She even gave me money every month for gas when my mother changed her mind.

As I neared the completion of my education and gained strength, I began to stand on my own feet, and things started to change. I was working full time, which is a different role than just being a substitute. I couldn't go have coffee, and just get supported and cared for. I was expected to be that babysitter whenever she wanted.  She always said Are you sure and to ask for help when I needed it. As my student teaching began, and I started subbing, there wasn't much time left, but I was expected to watch him frequently, and I always did. She even bought me a car that was huge, and I was more than grateful.  I wasn't sure that I was worth that kind of generosity. I passed all my exams and was saving so that we could move out; I also landed my first teaching job. I was working so hard, and was so tired. And at the same time, she was on a lot of dating sites, and there were a lot of dates and overnights. Many things made me feel very uncomfortable.  Well, it was another work trip, and the kids were off from school, but I had an in-service. I was asked to pick him up late Sunday and then bring him somewhere else in the morning. I asked if someone could take him, because I still had to work.  Well, the reaction was that he won't be there at all, and when she returned from the trip, she said she wanted us out by Thanksgiving. She always said to ask for help, and the second that I did, I was no longer welcome. The leaf came out of the table; there was no niceness. She removed me from Facebook. Often, men would come over for dinner, and the kids and I would eat in the car in a parking lot. There was no room for us. It was more than uncomfortable as soon as she said she wanted us out. I went and found a place, and we were out before her timeline. Once again, that made her angry. I was less than her, in every way, and she made sure I knew it. She even went out of town the weekend we moved. She just left a note wanting me to leave the key. And that day, it had broken, so I left her both parts of the key and never spoke to her again. I will always be grateful for her taking us in, for her generosity, and for my ca,r but how I was eventually treated was not ok. When I was stronger and my dreams were happening, we seemed to get in the way. It was years later that I received a text from her, something about us being on her heart. I laughed and deleted the number.

There were a few trips that we were asked to join, with our favorites, and they planned all of these activities.  If you don't have money, those are things you cannot do. The dinners and horseback riding, the kids and I were never given a thought; those are the times when you realize just how different you are. And just how little money they have and just how much it matters. You make excuses and pretend that you don't care.  But it hurts and breaks your heart. But you smile and think of something else fun for your kids. I was always that person who was different in how I did things and how I viewed the world. Everything was always fine, no big deal, only they were all a BIG deal, and I was significantly affected. Then I found my perfect house in Anna, TX, and the kids and I were overjoyed; we had finally found our own place. Where we could be happy, and eat at our own table, and not worry about being a bother. It was everything excellent and perfect, and that will forever be my favorite house. For once, it was all mine, and no one could kick me out or tell me that I didn't belong.

Not one person who called me a friend helped me move, or even connected with me once I had my own home. No one reached out to make sure I was okay.  It felt like I was seen as a piece of trash, and she was the hero.  She offered me her broken couch when I moved out. I politely said No, thank you.  She made sure to tell me that it was going in the trash anyway, and that I couldn't start out with everything I needed. I was literally crushed.  It was new people that I had met who stepped up and truly made a difference. My favorites even became her favorite, and when they came back in town for a visit, all those women who claimed to be my friends all met for dinner, but I was never invited.  It hurts, still, but I know those were not my people. They were always mine; I was never theirs. I had to learn that the hard way, but I wanted so badly to belong. One woman even tried to make excuses for her, but I was never seen or heard.  My experiences were never understood, and I was forgotten about. 

There are many different pieces of the story that are overlooked; it's challenging to compile them all. Some things are so small, while others are so huge. Yet each piece is a significant part of the journey.  All of which broke my heart a little more, each of those things has led me here. 

So as I sat and watched Straw, I understood and felt each and every emotion. A few different choices, and I could have been her. This movie is one that will stay with me forever. There is a scene where she is so upset that she screams, "I've always had to do everything myself," and I understand that to my core. In my moments of greatest need, I required help and support. In it all I needed care, and that was often to much to ask for. 

I will always be that person who cares, that person who notices and makes sure that I am aware of what is happening in the lives of those around me. This is one that many need to see, which will open many eyes and prompt a choice to speak a little softer, be more understanding, and give people a break. My story is far from finished, but I hope that when others look back, they will remember me and how I made a difference by being there, noticing, and caring. 

I heart your heart.