Writing a few of my past j.o.b's has me reflecting on all my past work experiences.
I don't know if I've had more diverse jobs than I have Cars.
Cars? I've had my fair share..not because I'm picky, but because regardless of my work history, any car I'd touch, would break. Something would. At least for the first 6 years of my driving life.
My first car I hadn't even had it 2 weeks, the title not even back from the Secretary of State yet, when on my way home from a friday night college visit at the age of 19, on a highway,
(I-88) around 12:30am, my car started smoking and then that was the end of that.
My first car, my 1984 Chevrolet 2.5L 4cyl Celebrity had died before it ever even lost it's new ownership mileage virginity, died, of a blown head gasket.
$1000 for that car GONE in 2weeks. DAMN IT!
The streak of badcars spewed into my used car dealership days.
I'd be returning from the auto auction-the owners of the dealership a Greek father and son operation. "Takanis...!" driving one of the vehicles that I had bid on, that my pseudo dad had bought, and BAMO, shit would happen to it. Engine failure.
One car at one point on 355North past Bolingbrook, IL, the car started spraying fire from the back of the tailpipe.
Now, remember, this was back in the day of, PRIMECO, no WAIT!! before PRIMECO, those BIG ass gray calculator sized dashboard of numbers, green digits, ugly ass phones. SO, to call them was expensive-if you had a phone. I had a phone, however irresponsible I was with it, but I had a phone in my name. At this age, it was before I'd left the hospital, just after I graduated HS-a year later. I graduated in 1993. This happened the year after-in January. SuPERBOWL SUNDAY. I think I was 19-I'd been at the hospital for just over a year including the study class.
At the age of 19, I was kicked out of my parents home. Basically, and I've written about it before, I was dating a rather controlling, abusive, older man-I dated started dating him at the age of 18. He was 25. NO ONE could stand him. I thought of him as amazing. My mind still not old enough to comprehend, to understand the impact of this volitale relationship. To sit and analyze it-didn't do that. I lived on impulse back than. Thinking back, that was pretty crazy, but had I NOT lived like that, it wouldn't have prepared me for how to raise sons. What I DON'T want my sons to do. Had I had a daughter, (I do have dreams about that as of late, and it's been, well, when I'm dreaming, I feel SO empty inside, so painfully depressed, like I was really missing something important. But when I wake, I don't want any of that. I don't WANT another child. But I still hold onto my barbies, my cabbage Path kid, and his generic cousin, my baby beans that doesn't talk. I see my young tween cousin (that I've written about before) and niece and my heart just melts. I listen to the song on my playlist, Martina McBride, and I just sob. I've just been weepy.)
WHeW! I'm tired. I don't think I'll spell check this bad boy, too tired.
so, this man, was controlling, he was able to manipulate my mind. He had my mind controlled. He "made" me burn my childhood diaries because it had said who I had crushes on when I was in junior high. He made me throw them out. He said, "if you don't throw them in this dumpster now, I'll burn them." There we sat, in the now parking lot of a local town's train station, and I crying, stumbling outside of his gray Nissan Sentra automatic coupe throwing out my written memories that I had been writing in since I was in 3rd grade-GONE! I never got them back.
His ways of manipulation only made it worse for my family because I began doubting their word..it was a slippery slope from previous things nonrelative to this, but one more thing by their older daughter. When they have four other children to take care of and nurture..it's exhausting, I haven't experienced that (yet) and I can't imagine how they did that. My parents that is, raising us, and then having their oldest child, their daughter, begin to "act out."
This was just their max level. My ex began hitting me. First it was when he was drinking.
Then it was when we were arguing sober. Then it was because of my lack of sexual interest into him because naturally I was just broken. The twisted part was the only time I felt like "me" was when we were being intimate. After the hitting, I mean. Because he was SOOOOO Tender, and sooooooooooo sympathetic, it made my heart hurt. (One thing I've since learned not to be like after this experience) I felt like I had a place. Outside of my family (I've always been independent, I explored different types of friendships throughout highschool, in patterns. Not always easy for them, especially when I was hanging out with the "burn outs" as they were referred to back then. Probably now, too??
The problem was, everyone and their mother knew what was going on, but I'd deny it.
If I LOST him, I had alienated my friendships, my relationships with my parents was so toxic, I was so defiante. They'd had ENOUGH.
SO, one weekend, I lied, I was 19 and I lied to my parents. I had wanted to go with him to his company's holiday party down in the city. But I knew my parents would never let me spend the night. I didn't want to not go. I wanted to act "grown up." TO be around people that actually talk to me (come to find out it was strictly for that sick type of man that can only have girls that age because women his own age know better than to waste their time with this sick jag-off.
I lied. I told them I was going on a college visit with my former girl that was a friend (story another time, someday, maybe...) and her mom, but really I went with my boyfriend.
I got caught.
My parents found out. That was it. The lies, the denials, them seeing their daughter on a spiral staircase in toxic relationships, they'd had enough.
I was kicked out.
And that, was when, I moved into my ACS's home. My Aunt the one that I call sister, she's always meant so much to me.
Anyway, I really didn't touch on my past jobs, but I guess in a way I did touch on my past emotional works.
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Good evening to you all!