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Miriam L. Jacobs

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Member Since: Aug, 2007

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Petoskey Stones
by Lois Santalo

In the second and third generation of women who grew up in the house called Stormland, there is much dysfunction. Rebellious Della Eloise, or Weezy, the grandchild of yo..  
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The Little Heroine. The Struggle by Miriam L. Jacobs
By Miriam L. Jacobs
Sunday, September 23, 2007

Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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As she continued to drink, keeping self-defeating, negative self-pitying thoughts very much alive deep inside of her, she took a downward spiral..

 Although she was accepted into a most prestigious school in NYC, she wrongly decided to skip out on registration day. Rather than go to college to continue with her academic studies, she needed to leave home, get a job and start her own life.

"College?! No way! I want to work and earn my own living. What I need is to get my own apartment!" Poor choices would plage our heroine for much of her life.

After working a year in NYC just after high school in a meaningless clerking job for a large insurance company, at age nineteen, our desperate heroine began a long tour of duty in a civil service job which would last for twenty-one seemingly endless and agonizing years.

Her new co-workers became her new "best friends". All much older than she, the poor angel confided her deepest, darkest thoughts to these heartless, back-stabbing people.

Over and over again, her trust was broken.

Who could she trust? Who really were her friends? Why did they want to harm her? These questions seemed to never get the answers that silly girl sought. In fact, her choices in "friends" continued to prove poor.

Time after time, she was emotionally wounded, belittled, humiliated and antagonized by these older mean-spirited men and women who had nothing better to do than cheer up their own boring lives by wreaking havoc with her life.

"I'll show them!" she cried, night after night. "I just won't talk to any of them!!"

Well, needless to say, this left our dear star of the show, lacking for any support of any kind from anybody. So, her new best friend became Bud. Yes, Mr. Bud Weiser understood everything she was feeling and going through. Bud warmly wrapped his loving arms around her and drew her into his trusting web.

He had the power to make her feel good again, to feel joyous and pain free, albeit it short lived. Years later, the heroine would laugh in disbelief as she reminisced on her torrid relationship with Bud. Did she really consume so much of Bud? In fact, thirty-six Buds a day, sometimes was quite the norm!

Not quite six months after her dad's death, a man, a drinking man, nearly twice her age, staggered into her life. Within three months of their meeting, they married. She didn't know it then, but she was seeking solace in the arms of this virtual stranger, someone to replace her father! Alas, this would become a marriage from hell.. doomed from the very beginning. He beat her and threatened her with his large jagged hunting knife or his small handgun which he kept by his side of the bed they shared. He was taking away what little self-respect she did have.

It seemed that a dark cloud of sorrow hung over her morning, noon and night. It took more and more booze to console the angry, negative thoughts that consumed her. After her first divorce, she remarried two years later and gave birth to two beautiful baby girls. "Maybe children are what is missing from my life," she suspected.

The children were a mixed blessing. She loved her new baby dolls, dressing them up as twins, since they were born a mere thirteen months apart. If our heroine had it to do all over, she thinks having two babies in diapers and bottles concurrently is not such a good idea!

Things were tough now. Understatement? Her drug-addicted husband realized that babies did not fit into his lifestyle.

 Having a wife was definitely a mistake that he regretted. So, one night, after coming home from a twelve hour shift, she found that her husband had moved out and left her, with the babies, the bills, the car note, and a huge empty hole in her spirit.

What to do, what to do? Our sexy young superwoman decided to do what she did best. Confide in all the wrong people, drop her babies off in the care of her loving mother where she knew they would be safe, and drink, drink and drink while she indulged her every fantasy.

She spent enormous sums of money treating her drinking buddies on food, drinks and mall shopping sprees. After all, it seemed that they liked her more when she pleased them. And, it always made her happy to see others happy.

Irresponsible? That word never entered her mind.

Unmanageable? Not her life! She had it all together, just like her mom. She was now strong, powerful and self-confident, but, only when booze was running through her veins. By age twenty-seven, our drunken heroine mistakenly thought that she was living the life. Along with her older brother, life was fun.

She and her brother were the best of friends, like two peas in a pod, like white on rice, tighter than a fat lady’s girdle. Where he went, she went. When he faltered, she faltered. And, they were always there for each other.

Our falling star was about to drop into a black abyss when she came home one night to find that her twenty-eight year old brother, his wife and their three baby daughters were burned to death in a horrific house fire!

Her brother lay burned and swollen in the burn unit of Jacobi Hospital. He was nearly unrecognizable and surely in excruciating pain. This seemed like a nightmare from which she would never awaken. Monstrous, was the way she saw her brother, but she knew that he was still the sweet and loving big bro she knew and loved. She couldn't even touch him, hug him or make him know that she was with him.

Grotesque and disfigured, with doubt that her hero brother would survive, our saddened heroine got drunk night after night as she clung to hope of his continued existence.

“How can I go on? Why me? Why is this happening to me?” she moaned and wept as she spun totally out of control.

Thus, began fifteen more years of perfecting the role of victim


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