by Angel

The 10 Weirdest Things I Believed Growing Up

* NLQ Carnival Grandstand * No Responses »

Nov 052009

by Angel

1 - Only southern gospel music was acceptable for God.

2 - God teaches people different things at different places at different times. Therefore if someone wasn’t like us, we weren’t to judge them, just to pray that they would be more like us!

3 - God teaches girls all they need to know in making them fit mothers. So college is not needed.

4 - As a dutiful daughter, obedience meant doing what dad told us-even if we weren’t sure it was right.

5 - Even when dad is wrong, he’s right.

6 – Giving up and letting someone else win was being the adult in the situation. The weird thing was that usually the person I was giving in to was at least twice my age.

7 - Anyone who didn’t think like we did was bound for hell, and we could pray for them, but we couldn’t hang out with them because they wanted to tempt us into sin.

8 - Every person was born into the perfect family for them. Therefore, I was to be with my family at all times, because they were the only human beings good enough for me.

9 - My virginity was my most prized possession. I was taught this by the man who raped me of it in so many ways.

10 - Unconditional love meant for the person, not for their actions. Therefore, if you loved a person and they did something wrong, you tortured THEM for the action, and hated them to show that they behaved poorly.

Discuss this post on the NLQ Grandstand forums!

Invite others to the NLQ Carnival Days using the buttons below to share this post on Facebook, Twitter, and other social networking sites:

The Cop Who Hated Suicide Survivors

* NLQ Carnival Grandstand * No Responses »

Nov 052009

by Angel

“So whatever reasons you had, my opinion rests. I think people who want to die, and don’t, they’re a waste of space cause they can’t do us a lick of good.”

The cop stood in the doorway, looking down at me with disgust. I managed to glare at him through the haze of a deathly amount of Tylenol surging through my body. “Just leave me alone,” I muttered. “I can make that one less waste of space for you to be rude to.”

“Like heck I won’t!!!” He looked incensed. “I’m not about to leave you alone. I bet you have a blade in your pocket right now just waiting to be alone so you can kill yourself. My job, unfortunately, is to keep you alive, and I won’t slack off even if I don’t believe in what I’m supporting.”

I turned my head away from him. I didn’t want to talk, I couldn’t talk. The Tylenol PM was putting me to sleep, that was certain, but the drug that was being injected into my veins caused a searing pain throughout my system that made me feel anything but sleepy. My skin was a slight yellow color. I had caused part of my liver to shut down, they had told me. I was disappointed that only part of it had failed.

My First Chores

* NLQ Carnival Grandstand * No Responses »

Nov 042009

by Angel

washing_dishes

…being five years old, I was far too short to reach the sink. Dish duties became mine, and I eagerly pulled a chair up from the kitchen table and stood on it as I filled the sink. For the first half hour of my new job, I played, fascinated, with the sudsy water, eating handfuls of bubbles. Eventually, I began to wash the dishes. Being new at this task, I carefully scrubbed every inch of the cups and bowls, clearing all traces of food and then rinsing away the bubbles.

My excitement with my new chore was quickly lost, however. Dad began administering punishment for any and every dish that wasn’t as clean as he would like it. Dad was a very organized man, and every dish down to the last knife had it’s own spot in the drainer, on the towel, and in the cupboard. On occasion I would place a knife head-up in the silverware drawer instead of head down. Dad reacted swiftly, knocking the entire set of silverware onto the floor. I had to pick up every piece, wash it afresh, and place them-correctly, this time-in the bin.

This chore often took me several hours to complete. I was allowed no more than one chair at a time, so I had to follow a routine: Wash a few dishes in one sink, place them on the other side. Climb down, slide the chair over, climb back up and rinse. Climb down, slide chair again, scramble up and place dishes in assigned spot. Then slide chair back to first sink and repeat.

Within days, this task became a hated chore. My siblings would share my hatred as they grew old enough to wash dishes. The slower we washed, or should be become distracted and pause in our work, the more dad would stand, within inches of us, and become extremely agitated as he explained how we should be diligent and quick to obey.

Discuss this post on the NLQ Grandstand forums!

Invite others to the NLQ Carnival Days using the buttons below to share this post on Facebook, Twitter, and other social networking sites: