Smile, When Your Heart Is Breaking

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One of my favorite parts of the Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon every year was when Jerry would sing, Smile. I could not find a video of Jerry singing it, but since it is Nat King Cole’s song it is only appropriate to share his tender version paired with a cute Charlie Chaplin video.

The reason for my sharing this is not to surpress the other emotions, but to help nurture the happiness that the adult Hope feels. I cannot discount the emotions that young Hope feels, but I want her to be happy too. I want us to be unified.

The memories that I have thought about today was about the some of the adventures that daily life brought with the me and my three sibilings.

Susie is five years older than me, and I believe her favorite thing was turning her eyelids up and chasing me. Scared me too death, until I learned the trick my self. Then someone at school told me if I did that and a fly flew in front of my eyes they would stay that way forever. I did not do it anymore. The school playground, the equlavent of Facebook, if you heard it there, it HAS to be true. Susie, also being older than me, was my protector. I remember once while waiting for the school bus this bully child threw a rock and it me in the head. Once we were on the bus, Susie punched him in his head. I thought that was pretty cool and kind of funny. I cannot remember if she in trouble or not, his kid had a metal plate in his head from crawling into an industrial fan as a baby. Something else that was funny about her was when she was learning to drive. The way our property is set up we have a long winding dirt drive, that passes by two large palmetto bushes, before reaching my Granny’s house, my current home. We would load up in the car and she would take us uptown. Our imaginary town. Who wants McDonalds? Who wants Burger King? Stopping at the palmetto bushes as drive thru windows. That set the precident of how we would all learn to drive, eventually making our way up to the mailbox on the highway.

The sister just above me is Rene. Just two years older, she is the one who had the honor and priveledge to teach me to drive. Either she did not tell me or I did not hear her tell me that coming off the main highway you were not supposed to turn going 35-45 mph into a drive way. Yeah, that was a scary moment. She has always been my body shield. Though as adults she is much smaller than I, if danger is around, for some reason before I realize it I have grabbed Rene and put her in front of me. Not always the smartest thing to do, especially when you are hiking in the mountains on a narrow trail, and a snake slithers infront of you on the trail. I still do not know how I put her in front of me. When I was in Kindergarden I wanted nothing more than to be with her in the third grade two doors down from mine, we have always been close. I have lived with Rene longer than anyone. We were roomates for a while in Utah and then again here in Georgia. As roommates and sisters we have seen the absolute best and absolute worst in each other. I do not know which this falls into. The time we both decided we would get into Pilates. We were pretty diligent, when we were not laughing our way through it. I do not know which made my abs hurt worse the Pilates or the laughing. There was another time, when we lived in Utah, someone broke into our appartment (we think it was the maintence man, who would use our phone because ther hand print on the wall) anyway, the toilet was stopped up with nastiness. What apartment does not have a plunger? Ours. Robyn drew the short straw. I drew the long one, I would go buy the plunger. Being crazy, and silly, I bought two. One sink plunger and one toilet. When I came in I told her that I went several places and the sink one was the only one I could find. Oh to have had a camera for the look on her face, with the, “Uh-uhm”. I then gave her the large plunger.

Then lastly, the baby boy, Jimmy. His nickname for the longest time was Pooter. He called toots, Pootiepoppers, and as most little boys are, he was facinated by them. We were walking in the drive way one day and he looked up at me as we saw a dead frog, now, I do not know what in his little mind linked a dead frog and a toot, but he said questioning, “Frog pootiepooper?”. He is five years younger than me, and was a fun toy. The one time I remember Daddy letting him ride with me on the lawn mower, we ran over Granny’s plum tree. It was not a little tree. One of the things we liked to do was kick fight. He would lay at one end of the couch, I would lay at the other and we would kick and kick and kick each other. Yes, one would usually end up getting hurt, but every day he would still ask, do you want to kick fight? I would usually say yes. He was crazy into Masters of the Universe. Occassionally I would play with him, but he let me know if I did the wrong voice or said the wrong name.

All four of us spent alot of time outside. We had swing sets, and mountains of sand piles, climbing trees, and Narnia. Good times. Good memories. Great family.

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About Hope

I am forty year old survivor and a five year old victim of sexual abuse. I live with severe depression and anxiety, and in 2013 was diagnosed with DID and PTSD. My journey is to reintegrate my alter and the adult me into a whole person, healthy person, and one that can empathize with others.

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