I have often wondered what John Keats might have become, had he lived longer than his 20-some odd years. He was so young, and lauded as a genius in his writing, and it is so. Yet, if he had lived, would he have become so much greater than he was? Would he have awestrucken us so largely that we would have considered him a demi-god of sorts? We practically do now. And there are many others like him, that had revealed greatness at such a young age, but were cut off early on.
All this perusal gave me an appetite for reading my past journals, and let me say: I have a LOT of journals, many I cannot even find. So I begin with the nearest one to time at present, then going backward, I'll try and explain what it was I was doing, and why it is -- if it is -- important to remember it now.
Let's start with August 13, 2010- Friday:
I was in the Walnut house, waiting for some man who called and said he wished to "see my house." You see, I was losing my house, and I was trying to sell it before the inevitable shame came upon me, that of the foreclosure sheriff kicking me out. That would NEVER happen, I would see to it. So here I was, so fortunate to have been here as a man came over to see the house (I'm being sarcastic).
I stood and watched him as he came up to me, asked my name, I smiled with glee in response, and what happens? He serves me. I was served papers; I'm being sued. I'm being sued by the very "coaches in Real Estate Tom the Ferry" who did not accept my 3-day right of refusal after I'd thought about it, and no longer wished to play with them, they sued me!! They had already "stolen" monies from my account, and I had to call them numerous times to tell them they must STOP! I faxed them the "right of refusal," but they said they never got it. Anyway, the .... suckers sued me! NEVER USE THEIR SERVICES! EVER!
It was all laughable a little later... like two years later... after my loss of home, bankruptcy, and having to figure out what I could do with the worst of credit, and nothing but school loans, hoping to get a decent job. But I think on it now, and it's not funny. In fact, when I think of having lost my home after 25 years, and having some ass serve me with paper from a very wealthy and large organization like Tom Ferry Real Estate Coaches, the best metaphor I could make of this is when a person who is dying of a terribly painful disease is mugged by a few strong and able-bodied kids, and kicks the hell out of this person, who is dying already and in terrible sufferance, THAT is what the Tom Ferry Organization did to me at that moment, and I died a little that day, I've died much more since... It was horrible, as if I was not going through enough already, that I had to get this slap in the face as well.
When I think back on this day, the pain of it all, I regret the outcome, because I know what brought it on in the first place. Ashamed to say, really. But they say, journals are for heart cleansing, and I'm not Catholic, so I can't go to a priest. Journaling is sort of like a prayer, only you want to share it, so you may possibly help someone else not do the same stupid things I do.
But I got myself into a hell of a mess since I was 17 years old. It starts with not listening to my true voice within. I was going to say not listening to my parents, but my parents did not know how to deal with a smart-aleck kid anyway. They did say a lot of good things, but they themselves did not know how to deal with their own lives, let alone, mine. Deep inside I should have listened to myself, then: Don't fool around with that boy you don't even know, getting pregnant is NOT the answer to running away from home. You have a job, your ill mother will be cared for by your older siblings, she'll cry yes, but if you leave this way, YOU'LL cry the rest of your life. Leave the misery behind, work your way up, and become a successful human being: don't be afraid.
I didn't do it. I didn't do any of it, except for getting pregnant and marryng a little boy, who was my age: both of us, 17 and crying about it, not knowing what to do now that we had a baby and a different life than we thought it should have been. So there it is, my first regret during adulthood. The only thing I do NOT regret about that whole situation was the beautiful daughter I gained in the whole mess, and then, the beautiful son I gained two years later, before I got divorced. My real regret in this all, was that I was not the stuff of courage, to have LEARNED how to be an adult and do all the things I wanted to do, within my circumstances. Oh well.... on to tomorrow...