Disowned is not the end

Over forty years ago, Mom threatened to disown me if I joined the military. She said the only women who went into the military were tramps, whores, prostitutes, and basically fallen women. I wanted to be part of the family and the idea of being disowned was frightening to me. I feared being without family and so I backed off and decided against joining the military -- any military service. I didn't want to be a fallen woman.

I didn't realize that Mom was rigid and prejudiced and I didn't realize that she was playing me. I didn't realize that until after I had given up my dreams of being an Air Force pilot or joining the military -- any military branch. I didn't want to be disowned.

Forty years later, I have returned to Ohio (something I swore I would never do as long as Mom was alive -- she died six years ago) and my siblings have disowned me. They claim they disowned me because of my writing (about them). I have been back in Ohio for over a year and I have been unemployed during that time, counting on my job, which was a mistake since all my years of work have been for naught. The thing is that though I am still unemployed, I have gone to college and have decided to change my future for one that has a longer shelf life. My job, over thirty years of doing medical transcription, has been a bust. I could return to medical transcription if I wanted to continue being paid less than what I earned as a novice 33 years ago, but I have decided to pursue another career, one that will pay me better and help me survive and thrive in my senior years. I should have worked for the state as my siblings have done, but I wanted to make my own life. It didn't turn out well because I planned on a much different life. I have my social security income, which isn't much. I should have opted for a military career, told my mom to go pound sand, and become a fallen woman, with a career and a future, and become what she considered a fallen woman.

That was then and this is now. I am still disowned and I continue to write and I will write what comes to me and what I disgorge onto the virtual page (like here) or onto paper. I will continue to be what and who I have always been. I have even returned to art, picking up my drawing skills and improving on them, adding depth and climbing up the hilly path to the future. Life gives and life takes away and that is life. Since I'm still breathing and kicking, I will continue to forge ahead, get my college degree, pick up my art, and continue to write. I may one day write and sell more books, write speeches, and write about my life no matter who buys my books or not. I will continue to forge ahead on the path as it is laid out for me.

That may include politics. That may also include teaching. That may include whatever the heck I want to do and I will succeed -- with or without my family. I am adaptable, but I seem to have forgotten that -- until now. I will continue to adapt and forge ahead until the end -- when I'm 150 years old -- or older -- without the support of my family who has disowned me for speaking and writing my truth. As I said, I forgot but I remember that I am adaptable.

That is all. Disperse.