My Life and My Struggles

By Faith Divine

Alcohol and other dysfunctions mocks the memories of what true love should be, and replaces it with a sense of false hope. It even tries to destroy destiny in a generation. But for some, it pushes them into success and motivates others to strive, even the more toward destiny. I often wondered, if what I saw, observed and felt in my parents life, as well as through other people was a prime example of why I experienced and allowed so many things that caused the things to happen in my own? There were many times in my life I had been so wounded and hurt, but I still had love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503564299

Faith Divine

Born in Denmark, South Carolina, and raised in Bridgeton, New Jersey. A mother of three children and grandmother of eleven. The Lord called her to the ministry at an early age and has since dealt in the fields as a pastor, having ministered to drug dealers, drug users, alcoholics and prostitutes, only to name a few. She has dealt in the Domestic Violence field, and have spoken at College, State and Federal Prisons, churches and programs concerning domestic violence. Her heart is to help troubled juveniles and hurting women. Not only does she live by the Word of God, but lives by example.

Book preview

Chapter One

Today is the beginning of a new life for me. I will start this off with me remembering things in my life, starting with my childhood. My mother and father gave birth to me in Denmark, South Carolina. I am one of twelve children; my parents having eight girls and four boys. I was in the middle of the girls; whereas, four older sisters and three younger. I was also told that I was the smallest of all of my siblings and the only girl that looked like my mother. When I was born, my mother gave me the one name. But later, found out that the woman whom helped deliver me had given me another name. I didn’t know the name change until I was seventeen years of age and was getting my Driver’s License. During this time I needed my Birth Certificate, and the original name I was given wasn’t on my Birth Certificate, nor was it recognized. So the only option I had was to keep the new name and since I liked that name, I kept it.

I don’t remember everything, but I first can recall when I was about 4 years old. I was playing with my siblings while my mother and father were working in the cotton fields next to the white house we were living in. Playing, running around the house, or chasing each other I, remember a pitchfork standing up by the side of the house. Coming back around again, the pitchfork was lying down. I remember going around the house, but somehow I must of tripped and fell on the pitchfork. One of the prongs of the fork ended up in my ankle. Someone got my brother from the fields with my parents and I remember sitting on his lap while my injury was being observed.

The man my parents were working for had a very common name and he had a red pickup truck. He was asked and he allowed my brother to take me to the doctor in his truck. The next thing I remember as a child was coming to New Jersey on the train at the age of 5 years old. My dad had gone before us to find us a place and I, my mother, and older siblings and younger sister then followed. Upon arriving in New Jersey, we ended up in a little town called Newport, New Jersey. Several neighbors were around us and again I remember my parents working for an older Caucasian man. Working in the fields then was nothing and didn’t think anything of it at the time. They worked picking string beans, lima beans, strawberries, tomatoes, cutting onions, cucumbers, and blueberries. While growing up, this seems to have been our way of living.

Growing older, I remember it came to a point in my life that I had to start working in the fields at a young age. I use to love working and knew that if I didn’t, that would mean that I didn’t have any school clothes or help out with the food to feed us. While working in the fields, we would be in the fields by 5 in the morning and would not get done until about 5pm. For lunch, we would eat bologna and cheese sandwiches with coca cola sodas. Sometimes we would have longhorn cheese and vanilla cookies, and soda. Those years were years of experience of growing into my adolescent years, learning how to work and take care of a family.

While there, I remember being in elementary school and we went on a field trip one day to see a famous recording artist. My teacher’s name I remembered so well because she was so kind, and I always pictured her as a very friendly teacher that understood her students and always having a smile. The kids there were friendly and we got a long with each other. Some of the games we played were tag, hop-scotch, dodge ball, jacks, kick ball, only to name some. But then, although monies were tight, we still were able to go on trips and didn’t have to pay anything. And if we did, it was so little that everybody could afford to go. Even, then, we took lunch from home and had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches most of the time and cold milk.

From Newport, we then moved to Cedarville, New Jersey. It was all country, seeing nothing but fields and woods for a distance. Houses were here and there as you travel many of the long dirt roads. To have roads paved at that time wasn’t too common. During that time as well we had outhouses. Going to the outhouse meant we had to have someone go with us because the outhouse would be at the beginning of a wooded area. At night if we had to go, we needed a flashlight. I remember one night I had to go and as I was trying to get up on the seat, my feet went inside of the seat, stepping in poop. Boy was that embarrassing. During this time, we had no toilet paper, so I had to wipe my feet off the best way I could.

Our toilet paper was leaves or newspaper. One thing about those times, we didn’t complain. We made out with what we had. There were many things I learned and experienced while living in the country. At times we would have to sleep four in a bed at a time. Some nights you were peed on and you had to deal with it. Siblings fighting, parents fighting and you better not act like you wanted to call a police. You would get whipped just for the thought. During the time of living in Cedarville my parents had hogs and chickens. They would kill the hogs and we had good eating. Hog maws, chitterlings, you name it we had it. Many days my dad and brother would kill the chickens by chopping their heads off with an ax. We would see the chickens running around the yard with no head.

When we did catch them, or they finally dropped, still moving, my dad or brother would dip them in scalding hot water. We then would have to pluck the feathers off of them. But to have stewed chicken for dinner, sometimes over rice and sometimes over grits were some of the best meals we had. Either way, it was good. Back then we didn’t gain weight because everything was natural and nothing had any preservatives in them. It was also doing this time that my brother that took me to the doctor when the pitch forth prong was in my leg, was the same older brother that use to do our hair. He would straighten it with the straightening comb or one would say the hot comb and braid it.

I remember as we were growing older that when he would get a girlfriend, and when they went to the movies, he would take me along. I was never sure if he did it on his own, or my parents made him take me. He would also go to the bar and take me with him. I remember that as short as I was, he would have to pick me up and put me on the bar stool. He never allowed me to drink beer or liquor, but I would have a soft drink. But those times also taught us to appreciate life. Be thankful for what I had. When we complained, it would usually be about sharing the same clothes.

There were times we had to wear the same outfit 3 to 4 times in the same week, and we would still have to share with each of our sisters. From Cedarville, we moved to a little town called Dividing Creek, New Jersey. This location we did have houses that were closer together, but we experienced being good neighbors and having good neighbors. Those were the days of learning how to trust your neighbor. Then, we could ask a neighbor for anything, and if they had it, they would give it to us or at least offer without complaining. I remember many days we would be in the field and sometimes in the road playing ball; whether it was kickball, softball or just playing catch. When night was beginning to fall, just before our last game, we would see white things that would disappear in front of us. Things like white dogs or some type of figure. That area seemed to have been very scary.

Down the road from where we lived we had to pass a small creek. And at night when we passed that creek, we would always feel eerie. At times at night, we would look out of the window and see car lights.But for some odd reason, the car would never drive by or come by our house. We often wondered what happened. But we still had to deal with it regardless. But there were times we couldn’t or wouldn’t speak on the things we would see. Many times while living in Dividing Creek I remember my dad getting this job where he was working construction work.

On Fridays he would get paid and would get drunk. But for some odd reason, every Friday night he would want to beat on my mom. I remember that I would always see him beating her and I would go to a corner of the room and cry. I would ask God to stop him from beating her. There were times my brother would try to interrupt, but my dad would turn on him. This continued on for years. Other siblings witnessed it too, but it would always seem that I would be the main one seeing this and hurting for my mother, but there was nothing I could do about it. My mother just wanted him to do what was right and pay the bills, like any normal family. But one thing I found out that when a person drinks, sometimes that person becomes a monster.

I found out that Alcohol poisons a person mind, having them think of things that do not exist and ways that is not happening. The alcohol usually drives a person into rages and into a person they normally would not be if they were sober. Alcohol can change an entire generation and family history of behaviors, attitudes and family plans. It changes the love of a family into misinterpreted behaviors; whereas, to the point where even family can’t explain. But that behavior and the poisoning misleads families into becoming dysfunctional. It mocks the memories of what true love should be, and replaces it with a sense of false hope. It even tries to destroy destiny in a generation. But for some, it pushes them into success and motivates others to strive, even the more toward destiny. I often wondered, if what I saw, observed and felt in my parents’ life, was a prime example of why I experienced and allowed so many things that caused to happen in my own? And since it’s a battle, it teaches the some to fight harder and stronger to reach their goals so they won’t become a product of becoming dysfunctional."

During our time living in Dividing Creek, I also had a nephew. He was about 9 years younger than me. I would often walk him to the mailbox down the road to get the mail. One particular day he was walking with me to the mailbox, the mailman was there. I didn’t know at the time, but when I was trying to get the mail, the mailman had backed up over him. I never forgot, the cops came questioning me and I was so afraid. I got blamed for the accident. I remember just crying and crying because I did felt that it was my fault. And of course, by him being with me, I was often blamed for the accident.

My nephew had lost a kidney due to the accident and it took me years to get over it because I felt that if I had not of taken him with me that day, that the accident would not have occurred. Guilt pounded me for years and although he was always my favorite, I felt the need that he needed me the more. I guess mainly because of the guilt. Continuing to grow up, we finally moved to a town called Bridgeton, New Jersey. I remembered when I was 11 years old that I was babysitting for my older sister. She started seeing this man. He became her boyfriend and the father of her children. Well, one night I was at their house babysitting and he molested me. Touching me inappropriately in places that wasn’t right. He told me that if I told anybody, he would kill my parents. (I kept that secret, hurting for years, but I was always afraid to tell). I always wanted to tell somebody, tell my mom or just hoping and praying that someone would find out about it.

I never heard anything about it, so I felt that no one else knew but me and him. I never liked him for that and every time I was around him I would feel very uncomfortable. I always had a fear of him trying to hurt me again. I wanted and was looking for somebody to protect me, but I never felt that I had anyone to protect me. I don’t know if that happened again, or just the fact I just blocked so much of the pain off until I just don’t remember. My question was how a grown man could want to hurt anybody. Out of all the people out there on the streets, why would someone want to hurt a child? I didn’t know all of what was right or wrong. I didn’t understand what life dealt a person. I was only a child wanting to help my sister so she would not have to worry about keep getting babysitters. Then the thought came to me, if that was the reason she had to keep getting babysitters?

I remember growing older, when I was about 15 or 16 years old when I began eating things what I now called normal things. I remember eating my first steak. Boy that was good. But having been raised on vegetables, hogs and chickens, and if you never had something, you can’t miss what you never had. During this time I remember one of our neighbors were an older woman whom we respected. She was everybody’s grandmother. I started visiting her next door and eventually started going to church with her.

I didn’t know who God was, but I remember that as I became older I started praying and reading my Bible. This church was located in Bridgeton and it was a small church. But the members there use to always pray. They would always call on Jesus. At times we had to go to the alter and kneel, calling Jeeesssuuuss, Jeeesssuuuss, Jeessuuss, on and on. They would be standing over us until something happened. Many times standing over us as they were calling on Jeeesssuuuss, spit would be flying all over us. One night during service, I was walking down the aisle and it felt like something hit me. I remember buckling down, not knowing what had occurred.

Prior to going to church with our neighbor, my youngest brother had joined the Marines. This was something my mother did not like and didn’t want him to go, but he went anyway. My brother was only 19 years old at the time. I remember my mother was always sad and hurting that he was in the service. He was her baby boy! Well, going back to that particular night in the service when I felt something hit me and I buckled down something had occurred. About a week later, I remember coming home from school and seeing the Marines van to my mother’s house. During this time I was in the Middle School in Bridgeton. And for some reason I knew that it was about my brother. I remember my mother telling us that she saw a helicopter crash on the news but didn’t think anything about it.

Come to find out, it was my brother that was in that crash. When I began asking questions of the time it occurred, it happened when I was in church that particular night. It was my brother’s death that I felt. I had to pray and ask God what it was that I felt. What it was, the minute he died, I felt it. I remember me writing him a letter and that letter was returned. I blamed myself for that accident. I felt that if I had not of written him that letter, he would still be alive today. I remember in that letter I was telling him about the things that were going on and the new dances that were out.

Although my brother was a couple years older than me, I loved him. We fought just like other siblings, but we still had to love one another. I remember I use to always have dreams about him. I dreamed that he would always be knocking on the door and I would always be the one to open the door for him. When I would open the door, he would stand there and look at me. Although the Marine Corp