Appearing today on The Good Men Project is my second installment in a series of three pieces I have come to call my “Appalachian Tales.”
These three articles originated from a post I wrote titled, “Hickory. Dickory. Dock. Time to Write.” I was frustrated from working and living in a community where each day I would see addiction. Ten years ago, I made a choice to abuse prescription pills. Seeing the town I was born into become suffocated by drugs hurt, frustrated and made me long to turn off again. Some days, I don’t want to see what I see. I want to go back into a careless familiar sensation.
I’m observant. I’m hyper sensitive. The voice you are reading right now will never live up to the person you meet in real life. I can write with a strong certainty. But, the girl you have come to know as the “Misfit Mountain Mama” is shy, meek, quiet, and suffers from anxiety. Meeting new people has always been a struggle for me. I made one friend in my 7 years at college. Over the first 20 years of my life, I was called a “whore,” a “slut”, and told I would never amount to anything. I was blamed for the reason our family didn’t work. Anything that went wrong was placed upon my little girl shoulders, it was always my fault. I don’t know if I will ever be comfortable with the person I am.
It began with a post about wanting to become addicted again. I allowed those words to become something I truly hoped would bring forth change, those words became “An Appalachian Tale: Heroin Hurricane.”
Before releasing my Hurricane, I knew this would be a three part series. We are born, we live, and we die.
Today, you are reading the hardest story I’ve written. It is the story I never wanted to write. I’ve cried over these words. I want them to reach someone, somewhere.
TODAY is for the people who think they are forgotten.
TODAY is for the people who have been hurt.
TODAY is for the abused children seeking a fix, an escape.