The runaway

I lay in bed this morning half asleep, half awake.  I sprang up very quietly as to not to disturb the others. You see I had to disappear before the others realized it was daylight, I figured if they didn’t see me, they couldn’t NEED me. (out of sight, out of mind.)

Sure enough they didn’t call; I made contact about 11:00 a.m.

 In a way I feel like Harriet Tubman on the Underground Railroad, a modern day slave. I’m supposed to work my job, be a wife, a mom, a house-keeper, a care-giver/daughter (my father is in stage 4), and stay SANE! The emotionalism of having a terminally ill father, shuffling kids back and forth, making PTA meetings, becoming an entrepreneur, writing my memoirs, and attempting to be sexy is killing me. Instead of being enslaved by  racism,I am being enslaved by “realism”; which is a heavy dose of the real life you actually live versus the one you dreamed that you would live, or where told you would live.(LOL)

It all boils down to being overwhelmed, and today I thought I’d take some time just for me. I decided to come to Starbucks and create an atmosphere to do a little writing, of course I didn’t achieve all that I desired to do. I rediscovered some long lost college buds doing what.....They were doing the same thing I was doing; we chatted each other up for a while; exchanged information, and I even joined Face book. 

 Altogether I think we were escaping 8 children, 2 husbands 1 wife, a boyfriend and a father. Even though I may not have accomplished  my entire writing goal, I did achieve my goal of getting some much needed me time, and for that I am both grateful and happy. I’m reclaiming myself one piece at a time…

My very first Chronicle 

Married a second time,living with 5 males.(circa summer of 2009)