Letting Go of Stress

By Gloria Shell Mitchell

In Letting Go of STRESS, twelve-year-old Davida Kincaid shares her views on abusive relationships experienced while in junior high school, especially domestic violence. She attempts to escape stressful country living, and return to the comfortable city life she enjoyed before the family breakdown that left her impoverished mother to fend for herself in the segregated south during the 1960s.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gloria Shell Mitchell
• Release date: Mar 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9780976101031

Gloria Shell Mitchell

Gloria Shell Mitchell , aka Davida Kincaid, tells her story of growing up in Columbia, South Carolina during the 1950s and 1960s. The Garbage Man’s Daughter Series begins when her daddy David, a garbageman, abandons his family and her unemployed mama moves to the country with many children. Davida struggles to adjust to the loss of both her daddy and city life amenities. She credits support from a teacher at every grade level, her beloved grandpa, and her faith in God as helping her to overcome the pain of divorce. Gloria, an educator, minister and radio host, urges readers to let go of the garbage they carry from childhood into adult relationships. A divorce coach, she teaches about Christian marriage and the Family, and facilitates divorce support groups. She raises awareness to family issues children face and provides encouragement to individuals whose lives have been impacted by divorce and separation. Books about Davida Kincaid The Garbage Man’s Daughter Series: Letting Go of Shame (Book 1) Letting Go of SECRETS (Book 2) Letting Go of STRESS (Book 3) Letting Go of SCARS (Book 4) My Knotty Decision Bliss and Blisters in Love & Marriage Desire After Divorce

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Letting Go of STRESS

A Memoir

The Garbage Man’s Daughter - Book 3

Gloria Shell Mitchell

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2014 Gloria Shell Mitchell

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-0-9761010-3-1

ISBN-10: 0-9761010-3-3

Library of Congress number: 2010939770

Smashwords License Notes:

The Garbage Man’s Daughter by Gloria Shell Mitchell is a work of creative non-fiction. The names have been changed to protect the identities of the innocent, or otherwise.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, Copyright © 1996. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Wheaton, Illinois 60189. All rights reserved.

Cover Design and Interior Layout © 2014 Laura Shinn

Presented by: EncourageMint Books

Gardena, CA

http://encouragemintbooks.com

[e-mail]

Dedication:

To

Hurting adults,

Hurting children

And

Fractured families

Special Thanks and Acknowledgements:

My mother, Minnie Pelzer Shell,

who did her best to fight off poverty;

My daddy, James Jasper Shell, from whom I

learned the struggles of a black man;

My memoir critique group, from the

Greater Los Angeles Writers Society;

My daughters, Richette and Joy,

precious gifts from God to me.

Kudos for

The Garbage Man’s Daughter series

I looked forward to reading The Garbage Man’s Daughter, Letting Go of Stress, the third in Gloria Shell Mitchell’s series on the story of Davida Kincaid. After enjoying the first two books about this African American young girl growing up as the fourth child in a family of eighteen children, I wanted to know more about how she would handle the ongoing challenges life presented her as she grew older. Once again the author’s skill in the use of the child’s voice immediately drew me into the mind of the preteen and her unique perspective on life’s events in a Southern family torn apart by divorce, abandonment, loss and poverty.

With God as her support, Davida confronts challenge head on and develops strategies and decisions for each dilemma based on her strong and growing Christian faith. Modeling her unique blend of innocence, resilience, perseverance, and wisdom, she stands firm in her commitment to learn from and not repeat the mistakes of others. In the process she discovers that the fantasies we pursue often don’t deliver all the benefits we imagine and that circumstances that once felt intolerable can have hidden blessings.

Davida Kincaid serves as a powerful role model for young adult readers on how to cope with the inevitable struggles we all have to face in one form or another. While specific circumstances may differ, the feelings expressed by Davida are universal and offer comfort to those who might think they are alone in their struggles. As said previously, I wish I could require The Garbage Man’s Daughter series for reading by all parents to remind them that the decisions they make have a powerful impact on innocent children who must deal with the consequences.

Kudos to Gloria Shell Mitchell for touching my heart and, I’m sure, the hearts of all her readers.

Joy S. Wassel, Ph.D., Professional Counselor

This is the story of one young 12 year old girl named Davida Kincaid whose experiences in life not only strengthened her conviction to succeed, find a place for herself to be noticed in this world and realize that where you live and your environment should not hinder your path or your road to success. Hear her voice, listen to her words, and understand her struggles, conflicts and her resolve to never let anything or anyone bring her down.

Fran Lewis, Book Reviewer

I recommend this series, The Garbage Man’s Daughter to School Districts (junior high – high school). It’s easy reading for relaxation, it carries powerful life lessons, it is multicultural and gives a peek into our American history through the lives of many African Americans living in the rural south during the 1950s and 1960s. I was surprised to learn that some African Americans in the south still do not have indoor plumbing today.

This is a must read for all. You can’t put it down once you start reading, you’re looking for the next event. All of us can relate to this novel on some level, because we have all had some stressful situations in our lives at one time or another.

Rev. Dorcas McReynolds, MA, Life Credential Master Teacher

A touching story of abusive relationships from a child’s point of view.

Pastor Luida Johnson, Shabach Foursquare

CONTENTS

Prologue

STRESSED???

Chapter 1: Country Living

Chapter 2: Sick Institutions

Chapter 3: Some People Help, Some Don’t

Chapter 4: Traveling to Unfamiliar Territory

Chapter 5: Anxious Moments

Chapter 6: Confusing Communication

Chapter 7: The Real Deal

Chapter 8: Changes Bring Challenges

Chapter 9: Concealing Feelings

Chapter 10: Pulling Rank

Chapter 11: Something Old, Something New

Chapter 12: Getting Smarter

Chapter 13: Fabulous Fourteen

Chapter 14: New Surroundings, New People

Chapter 15: A Taste of The Big Apple

Chapter 16: DMV Drama

Chapter 17: The Right Words at the Right Time

Chapter 18: Wishes Do Come True

Questions For Self-Reflection

About the Author

Prologue

I AM TALL and skinny twelve-year-old Davida. It hasn’t been easy getting over losing my Daddy, David Kincaid. I keep thinking that if Daddy and Mama could see each other they’d fall in love all over again and my family could get back together. After all, Mama is still the pretty Blossom Cox he married years ago, with her soft voice, big booty, skinny legs and tiny waist.

How could two people who used to love each other separate and never speak again? How could my Daddy go away and never come to visit us? Doesn’t God put children in families that he wants to take care of them? I longed for answers.

I hate the hard life we have out in the country with Mama. After my older sisters Zenobia and Lynette married and had families of their own and Beverly went to live with Zenobia, I became the eldest child at home. Taking care of little children is hard work. I long to escape the country too, but without a baby.

Riding a big yellow bus to school every day is the most exciting thing that happens where we live outside Columbia, South Carolina. Grandma Cox crawls around in the yard every day and my brother Harry runs around with his friends while I help Mama take care of my little sisters.

One day I looked over my life—at where I was, and where I had been—and made a BIG decision.

STRESSED???

Remember, you are not alone. So, rest in the LORD and wait patiently on Him.

Enjoy every moment of today recognizing that each experience requires your best (not extra) effort.

Let go of your anxieties and let God fight against those annoying spirits that fight against you.

Accept the fact that change is constant. Life’s ever-increasing challenges demand action – not alarm.

eXpect aggravations and temptations. Their purpose is to steal your joy and destroy your peace.

Exercise your faith in God to perfect everything that concerns you. Ask and expect Him to show you His power to turn those unhealthy feelings into extra-ordinary blessings.

Having done all you know to do, just stand still and behold the salvation of the LORD!

— Gloria Shell Mitchell

Chapter 1:Country Living

ANOTHER SATURDAY MORNING and here I am walking down this long country road seeing nothing but trees and cow pastures and wishing for a ride.

Somebody once said that noises scare snakes away. I wasn’t sure if that was true, but just in case, I talked real loud to myself. The Carolina sun beamed through my straw hat, cooking my brain, as I thought about the ways life had changed after Daddy left us. I made sure not to step on any slick patches of tar on the hot pavement. Perspiration trickled down my back. I wiped my forehead, running my fingers through my straightened, but now shriveled up, bangs. My head felt like a wet hen in a stewpot while my legs and arms were roasting.

I hate living out in the boondocks! The country is for farmers and animals, not people like us who are used to living in the city and going grocery shopping at Piggly Wiggly. Here I go again to get money from daddy to buy food. Work! Work! Work! That’s all I ever do out here.

Back when I was nine, I didn’t understand why my oldest sister Zenobia just flat out refused to leave Marshall Village when we moved to the country. She blamed Mama for breaking up our family when she had a baby by Drunk Mr. Fred while Daddy was in the hospital. But now, after spending the last three years chopping down trees, splitting logs, and getting up early to make a stove fire to cook and keep warm, I know exactly why Zenobia didn’t come with us.

Ouch! A rock in the pavement poked right through my red tennis shoes and hurt the ball of my foot. It tingled for a minute, but I kept on walking and talking. "Nobody should have to walk this far to the bus stop. Animals ought to live in the woods, not people. It doesn’t even sound right that our next door neighbor lives a mile away."

I walked faster, checking the ground for lizards, snakes and daddy longlegs.

"It’s bad enough for people to have to sit on a stinky night pot to do number one and number two, but it’s even worse to have to use it after other people. What a mess! Don’t country people know about the commode? The only thing worse is using that stank outhouse down the path where flies and bees might sting my private parts when I sit over that big hole with my pants down.

Uncle Ezekiel must have been out of his mind when he built a house with no spigot. It’s too much trouble to have to go to the pump house and toss a bucket down in the well to draw water that never tastes right. And sometimes I see dirt swirling around in it before it settles at the bottom of the glass. Who wants to drink that stuff?

The thought of dirty water reminded me of the day Mama took me to the clinic to get vaccinated when I was six. I didn’t want to drink from a fountain labeled COLORED because I thought it was dirty water.

I could drink some of that Colored water right now, I thought, passing row after row of corn on one side of Cashmere Road and cows grazing in a pasture on the other. The air was filled with the strong smell of manure. What a good day to stretch out in a bathtub. My friends in Marshall Village wouldn’t believe it if I told them we have to heat water on a stove and stand up in a round tin tub to take a bath. People are supposed to move to a better house, not go backwards.

I shook my head. Not one car drove by.

Getting bitten by bedbugs out here seemed awful until mosquitoes started stinging the life out of me. They must bother me because I hate them. Mama was right when she said, Ev’rybody ain’t cut out for country livin. Yeah, she was talking about me. I’m leaving these woods the first chance I get. I just hope I don’t have to wait until I grow up and get married like my big sisters did.

The country is okay for farmers. They like riding tractors out in the wide-open fields in the hot sun. I say they deserve every dime they get for growing our food. But me, I don’t want anything growing around my house but grass. I’d rather get my food from the store like we used to when Mama went grocery shopping every Saturday.

I noticed some low weeds parting on the right side of the road and realized that I’d stopped making noise. My brain hollered SNAKE!

Run for your life, Davida! I shouted.

My legs started spinning. Snake or no snake, I didn’t bother to look back as I hightailed it down the road, screaming. My rubber soles pounded the pavement. Whatever crawled through those weeds would have to be quick to catch me. I ran until I reached the city bus line where I leaned against a stop sign to rest. My green shorts were wet between my legs. It looked like I’d peed on myself, but I knew I hadn’t. My red tank top was wet, too. I had plenty of time to spare after my three-mile run. With no water around, I swallowed spit to quench my thirst.

My mind raced back to the morning that I found a snake in our house.

I got up to make a fire and saw what I thought was a thick red and beige rope coiled in a chair next to my brother’s bed in the kitchen. I leaned over and reached for a piece of firewood beside the stove and saw a snake’s head. I was scared, but I didn’t dare scream and get bitten.

I backed across the room, banged on Mama’s bedroom door and yelled, SNAKE!

Don’t run to me! Mama said without opening the door. Go get Papa! I’m scared of snakes!

I dashed down the hill and got Grandpa Cox who rushed out of his house like he was Superman with two good legs. He killed that snake with two mighty whacks from his walking cane and limped away with it hanging over his cane like a long jump rope.

Grandpa’s dead now. I’m on my own. I sighed. He and Grandma Cox didn’t think about all the creepy crawly critters they would have around their house before they bought acres of land off Cashmere Road. Even though Mama said it’s Daddy’s fault we had to move, she must’ve forgotten we didn’t have a car when she chose the house next door to her parents.

I got on the bus and headed straight to the back seat. I sat staring out the window, thinking about the whole year Daddy stayed in the isolation ward at the Columbia Hospital. Every day I prayed for God to heal him and send him back home. He got over TB, but instead of coming home he went to stay with pop-eyed Miss Annie Mae and her four pop-eyed children. Maybe he left them too, or she put him out, because now he lives in one room by himself.

What was Mama supposed to do when Daddy forgot about his family? If he’d died, then I’d have no choice but to accept it. Nobody can escape death. But breaking up a family makes no sense. He knew Mama depended on him and he never even came back to tell us goodbye. I felt stupid for thinking Daddy had found us when a car pulled into the driveway one Friday night after we moved to the country. What a disappointment to see Drunk Mr. Fred, Mama’s boyfriend, get out of that car. Three whole years we’ve been in the country and Daddy still hasn’t come to visit us, but Mr. Fred shows up every Friday night.

I thought about the story Daddy once