Random Woods 10.28.2020

Hi! My name is Leslie Jones and these are stories of my bipolar life. I hope you will enjoy reading my work.

Shortly After Birth

The very, very first thought I had was, “Oh no, not here again!” I could see the white ceiling and light blue walls surrounding me. Then, the bars, those crib bars that I would look through for the next months of my life. I could see that the room was junky. A piano seemed to have been thrown next to my crib and a desk had been dropped over there in the corner. Looking back on it, the Sesame Street song lyrics, One of these things is not like the other, now resonates in my mind. This room was not meant for me or I was not meant for it, but either way, it was a temporary storage place, as if I was almost an afterthought and not planned for. I was the thing that was not like the other items in the room. And I was here, reincarnated back into this life with these people who were my family. And I wasn’t all that happy about it for some reason. I wasn’t sure why.

Meanwhile, my family was out and about in the house and outside of the house. Little did I know that I would inherit five parents. Not literally, of course. I actually had three half-sisters who had been adopted by my mom years after their mom was killed immediately upon impact of a fast and veering car that was under the direction of a drunk driver. My dad and their mom were on the way to a Christmas party when the accident occurred. My sisters’ mom died upon the impact of being thrown through the front car window. Our dad survived but had to have bone transplanted from his hip into his right arm with a rod in place to stabilize the injury so that the bone could grow properly.

As I grew, I quickly picked up on the vibe that I wasn’t supposed to be here, on this earth. The accident wasn’t supposed to happen. My sisters’ mother wasn’t supposed to die that way. My mom wasn’t supposed to have children. She had been married to my dad for 5 years. She was told by the doctor that she would never give birth to a baby. Yet, there I was, in 1968 born to a mother who was considered to be too old to have a baby at 40 years old. They squeezed me into the family. Thus was to be the background of my life for better and for worse.

Amazing Memories

While I had to squeeze into the structure of my family, there was always room for me outside and with my neighborhood friends!

In our yard, my dad had crafted what he called, “the green spot.” The green spot was a perfectly shaped oval of land in the middle of the woods about 50 yards outside our front door. It was covered with grass more perfect than the most perfect golf course. Lush green grass surrounded by trees that made noise as the wind blew through them. Cardinal flowers spotted around the outside of the green spot. Here we would play keep-away, tag, ride our big wheels and just about do anything you can think of in the summer. In the winter we would make snow angels and gather snow for snow cream with my mom. We would stand out and watch the sky as a storm approached and then run inside just before the storm hit and rain began. It was a most beautiful refuge from the world. I miss it to this day.

The only exception to this memory was the day that Kevin, the boy next door, told me there was a bomb in my bigwheel, and believing him, I rode my bigwheel out into the green spot and never touched it again fearing it would blow up. For the longest time I wondered why it did never blow up. That was the end of my bigwheel days.

My father was great at creating these worlds of play and dreaming up activities for me to do. I remember learning to fish in the yard beside our house. He gave me a fishing rod and taught me how to cast the line. I would cast it over and over into the grass and reel it back in. It was such a cool thing to do. I wonder if any other father in the world thought of doing that with their child and I kind of doubt so.

One day I was playing with our dog, Boy, a pointer and wonderful creature. We loved each other. I was on the swing set while Boy stood at my side. I swang higher and higher and higher. All of a sudden, I felt a sharp pain on my head.”Ouch!” I said to myself inside my head. Oh well, I thought and kept swinging higher and higher and higher. Then, another sharp pain, and another. I looked up and apparently I had swung too high and too close to a blue jay’s nest. That protective mother blue jay was warning me to stay away and was pecking at my head to back off. Of course I ran straight inside to my mom yelling all the way that I was getting attacked by a bird. Now it makes me laugh, but then, it was quite painful.

Then there was the day I was climbing a tree out in Melody’s yard. Melody was my friend from down the street. No one was home at the time at her house, so I just proceeded to climb up that tree. Next thing I knew I had fallen flat out on my back and literally gotten the wind knocked out of me. I truly thought, “This is it. I’m going to die,” because I couldn’t breathe. You can’t know what it feels like to get the wind knocked out of you unless it’s actually happened to you. I really thought I was a goner until moments later my lungs filled up with air and I took a deep breathe and knew I was going to be alright. I kind of slumped in defeat as I walked home, but I was fine.

Across the street was my friend Kathy. I spent the most time with her. She was a couple of years older than I, but we got along well and really enjoyed each others company. We spent the night together all the time and played in her basement where sometimes there was a warm fire burning. We played cards and spoons. I specifically remember playing dodgeball with Keith and Kevin. The outlines of the inbounds dodgeball area were formed by the cracks in Kathy’s driveway. I always won!

These are just some of the amazing memories of my childhood. They are quite normal, yet very unique to me and I treasure them.

The Accident

I remember being 6 or so and finding a picture of a woman in a casket in a drawer near our dial old-fashioned telephone. Who is this woman, I perplexed. Her death was the result of THE ACCIDENT.

Everyone has defining events in their lives. Events that shape them to the core of their being whether they realize it or not. Just ask Dr. Phil. But what about events that shape their lives before even being born? This is the story of how a car accident framed my life before I was even born. It starts with an alcoholic drunk driver who had been arrested before and would be arrested again for drunk driving. I don’t know this man, but I know he spent some time in jail for his offenses and he should have stayed there. He obviously wasn’t able to rehabilitate himself and must not have gotten the help he needed. Then of course, there are those individuals, probably like this man, who simply cannot be rehabilitated.

It started with a happy family consisting of three daughters to my Dad and his first wife , three sisters to each other, one Christmas party, a drunk driver, and THE ACCIDENT. My Dad and his first wife were going to a Christmas party a week or so before Christmas. And don’t you know that that drunk driver slammed head on into my Dad and his wife head on. Because my sisters’ Mom was not wearing a seatbelt, she went straight through the windshield and died instantly. My Dad in his infinite wisdom, was wearing his seatbelt and survived the crash thank God, literally, and to my knowledge only had to have a steel rod put into his arm with some tissue grafted from his hip to help it heal. This event shaped my life COMPLETELY. In fact I would not have a life without this tragedy happening.

If he had not been wearing his seatbelt, his chance of survival would have been almost null. NOTE to self and YOU: always wear your seatbelt.

My sisters (half sisters) were about 2, 4, and 7 when this occurred. Imagine the pain and confusion that this drunk man wielding this huge car-shaped death machine caused to my family-to-be. That’s right. I would not exist without this tragedy. My Dad met my mom years later and after being told they could not have children and 5 years later, BOOM, here comes Althea. Yes, my Dad’s new wife, my mom, then brought me into this world.

Well what did my sisters think? I can just imaging. A bit of jealously mixed with some excitement is what I imagine. That is the number one most defining event of my life and I wasn’t even in existence. Have you ever thought about that? What came before you, good and bad, that shaped you so dramatically? What led to your existence (besides the obvious)? It took me a long time to figure out my place in this damaged family, and it left me wondering for years if there was room for me…. Maybe I had to make my own room, figure out who I was, push things aside for my existence. It wasn’t easy and this theme has repeated itself every moment of my being ever since I was born. How specifically has this affected me? More to come…

The Duality

I learned about the duality young in life, while again still in my crib. I was presented two visions — one of goodness and one of evil. Once you hear of this, you may think it a dream, yet I know it was not. It is too omnipresent in my mind still today. I even remember remembering the occurrence when I was 5. I know I was 5 because it was my fifth birthday party. Today, I live life in the middle of this duality, as we all do, perhaps more skewed toward one side or the other.

While in my crib, I looked up in front of me at the corner of my room where I sensed this bright light shining. I felt warmth, love, God. My vision was of Monarch butterflies as they covered trees in the forest,one atop another protecting each other. I felt complete compassion and acceptance, at a pre-verbal level of course. The peace and love is something I have only a few times again during my life so far. It was a miraculous vision, golden light everywhere. Warmth and love abounding.

Quite suddenly, a darkness settled in. A deep darkness that had depth and a coldness to it. The butterflies were gone. I looked out to the right side of my crib. My left side was against the wall, and noticed something coming out of this darkness. It’s features came at me slowly while I innocently tried to make out its form. As it drew nearer, I saw growling bared teeth, black hair, and red eyes with the body of a black wolf making a beeline to my soul. It continued to growl at me in a deeper and deeper resonating tone. This thing meant to destroy me, take my life. I bloody screamed a curdling noise, the loudest scream that a baby in a crib could make. I was literally horrified to the depth of my being. It was true fear. My mother heard my scream and came to my aid as fast as she ever had. When she opened the door, she turned the light on, and to my huge relief, the monster disappeared. I have never seen the duality since, but I have felt the peace and love of God at least twice again in my life.

As I mentioned previously, I experienced this duality in a pre-verbal sense. It has only been over the years that I realized the monarch butterflies represented God and that the monster represented something evil and destructive, the true name of which I do not know, nor will I speak. What I do know now is that the monster was what is called a Hell Hound. He had come to collect my soul. I get chills to this day when I think of this experience.

The Dog Under My Bed

My mom stayed home with me for about two weeks after she left the hospital with me. She then returned to work. A woman named Roberta took care of my for the next 2-3 months. Later my my mom would tell me that one day she returned home from work, found a big bruise on my temple and dirty diapers on the floor. She then quietly let Roberta “go” and that was that. “Are you kidding me?” I still think to this day. What about reporting her or filing a claim of child abuse or at least something to prevent that from happening to someone else’s child??? Regardless, I later learned that two of my sisters were home with me during this short stint of time. During a conversation many, many years later I learned that Roberta would just let me cry and cry alone all day. My sisters wanted to come into my discombobulated room and comfort me and play. Roberta would not allow that. She was a meanie, plain and simple. My sister called her Rubbertoes, and she haunted my dreams for many years, literally.

I need to mention, because it’s pertinent to my story, that Roberta was a black woman of very dark skin color. Over the years, she morphed into this small yappie dark-colored dog with even darker curly hair. She was to become a dog that lived under my bed. I was constantly anxious about this dog. I kind of thought she was real.

I dreamed many different dreams about her. Sometimes she was chasing me around my house trying to kill me. Other times, she would chase me around our couch, in my mind of course. In those dreams, my mom would be sitting beside me. When the dog appeared, my mom would say with a bit of excitement, “Look whose here!” I was terrified. Luckily, in my dreams, if I was on the couch or on my bed, in my dream, the dog couldn’t get to me. It was as if my whole family knew about this dog who was always out to get me, yet they just would never try and help me. I still am not sure if I thought they didn’t care or if they just didn’t understand the dynamics going on.

Because of these repetitive dreams, I was afraid to even leave my foot hanging off the edge of my bed lest the dog bite it off. This lasted until I was in my 30s and started taking anti-anxiety medication. Fortunately, today, I have conquered that dog.

More to come!