Growth Hurts: A True Journey of Breaking the Chain and Filling the Void

By Amy Jones (Crandall)

Amy’s parents were both alcoholics. Her mother continued to drink and ultimately committed suicide. Her father became sober and became a multi-millionaire. Her father once said he became sober to “break the chain” in his family. Amy chose to follow her father’s path.

This true story is about

• Language: English
• Publisher: GoldTouch Press, LLC
• Release date: Aug 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733402866

Amy Jones (Crandall)

Amy is a Suicide Loss Survivor who went through deep depths of despair after her mother killed herself. She believed many unhealthy lessons from her childhood until she was able to shift those beliefs in her early adult life. She has since become a successful business owner, real estate investor, mother, and 2nd Degree Black belt in Taekwondo. She took adversity and used those skills to build a successful and balanced life.

Book preview

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Growth Hurts

A True Journey of Breaking the

Chain and Filling the Void

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Amy Jones (Crandall)

Copyright © 2019 by Amy Jones (Crandall).

Library of Congress Control Number:      2019911824

HARDBACK:     978-1-7334028-5-9

Paperback:    978-1-7334028-4-2

eBook:             978-1-7334028-6-6

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Ordering Information:

For orders and inquiries, please contact:

1-888-404-1388

www.goldtouchpress.com

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Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Foreward

I was three…

And I was six…

And I was seven…

And I was eight…

And I was nine…

And I was eleven…

And I was twelve…

And I was thirteen…

And I was fourteen…

And I was fifteen…

And I was sixteen…

And I was seventeen…

And I was eighteen…

And I was nineteen...

And I was twenty…

And I was twenty-one…

And I was twenty-four…

Epilogue

Foreward

While writing this book, my friend, Russ, asked me if I was staying true to the events or embellishing the facts to create a better read. I spent most of my life embellishing facts in order to get others to accept who I was. This book is written, to the best of my recollection, as true and accurate as possible. The events contained within are my perception of the experiences I have had in my life, the way I felt at the time, and the lessons I learned from my perception of those events.

My biggest fear in releasing this book is to hurt those who are mentioned on the pages within. Those who have taught me negative lessons in life. In order to stay true to the experiences, and my perception of those experiences, I had to include many stories that I would have liked to edit out. To the people who are contained within, I would just like to say thank you. Without all of you in my life I would have never become the person I am today.

For all, please understand that these are merely flashbacks and do not paint the entire picture of the people included. This is my side of the story, and they have not been given proper allowance to speak about their perceptions. Do not judge these people for they knew not what they did. As for the lessons they taught me, that was my interpretation, and they were only passing on what others taught them in the past.

My father once said that his goal was to break the chain. He changed himself and his life in order to be a better person and then did his best to pass on what he learned to me. He wanted to fix the dysfunctional line in our family. In that respect, I am doing my part to pass it on. I would like to help my father reach his goal by helping others break their chains.

The unfortunate thing is that the people who need this book the most will not read it. They will not buy it. Many won’t even know that it exists. If you have someone like that in your life, I encourage you to get this story into his or her hands. Perhaps together, we will be able to bring them hope, strength, and vision for a brighter tomorrow.

I used the principle of absolute honesty while writing this book. By that I mean I told the truth without withholding facts for protection. If I didn’t want to share a story I knew that was the one I had to write next. So if you ask, "Did that really happen?" The answer is, yes.

My goal is to help others realize: There is a way out! There is a better life. Achieving it is incredibly easy, and the most difficult thing most of us will ever do. In order to get beyond our past we have to accept that in many instances, we were wrong. Then we have to adopt a new method of thinking, believing, and perceiving.

For many years I have said that I couldn’t have gone through so much without a reason. My life had to have something huge waiting for me. There was no other reason for me to have seen and experienced so much at such a young age. Now, I know what my purpose is. I must share my misery, and relive the pain in order to show others how to get past their own. I had to be able to understand and empathize. I had to be proof of another way. And, I had to share that way…

I wish you the best of luck in finding that place within yourself that is still, that place where magic happens. It does exist and I will do my best to help you find it.

*Note – Names in this book have been changed to protect their confidentiality.

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So many times I cried myself to sleep, wondering how any God could allow a single soul to experience so much pain. How could a good God let me feel this way? How could a good God take away everything that meant anything to me, again, and again, and again? Would the pain ever stop? Maybe someday I would be able to have the strength to take my own life…until then, I could only look up to her because she did.

It wasn’t always that way. There was a time when life was good, when all I could do was smile. It was a time of pure optimism. I had the gift of vision, to see the world through magical eyes and find good in everything. For a while I recalled this innocence as being naïve. I could have called it anything I wanted to, but it still wouldn’t have stopped my longing for that time.

Where exactly is the innocence barrier shattered? When did I understand pain? Finances? Loss? When was it that I realized that a smile could no longer heal all wounds? When did my smiles turn to tears? When did the void take over?

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I was three…

Mom was crying. Eric was crying. I was crying. We were driving through the tunnels in California. I knew that it was over. We had said our last goodbyes to Daddy. There was no going back this time. I had just lost my father.

I felt abandoned. My dad had let us walk away. My stomach churned and my head ached from crying so hard. I bawled over a situation that I didn’t understand. My relationship with my father would never be the same. I learned that love wasn’t forever.

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And I was six…

The yelling. All I can remember is the yelling. Why won’t they stop fighting? I couldn’t even begin to figure out why they always fought. Then Mom came into my room and grabbed me in her arms, and we left. My grandma was pushing us against the brick wall on the way out. I remember that I had bruises on my legs from where they hit the wall. I never did figure out what that fight was about. All I knew was that we were homeless.

I don’t remember where my brother was. Maybe he had spent the night at a friend’s house. I had tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know where we were going to live this time. We could always count on my grandparents to save us. Now… now we had no one.

Mom was crying. Her eyes were red and the vein in her forehead was bulging. You could see the pain in her soul. I couldn’t make it better. Mommy, stop crying. Mommy, it will be okay Mommy. I’m here Mommy. She must not have trusted me because she still cried.

I felt powerless. Nothing I did could help Mom feel better. She always told me everything would be okay. She always told me that life was what you make of it. She wasn’t listening to her own advice. I learned that I had to pursue my own truths.

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To this day, I can still hear her saying, Don’t play around these oven racks kids. Mom always knew best. We listened to her and stayed away from those oven racks. They had cleaner on them.

Then we were running, and I fell. I fell onto the oven rack. I remember the scream. It was from my mouth. The burn…the pain. I cried out in horror. Mom came running and rushed me inside. She washed the cleaner off of me. I could only cry. The pain wouldn’t go away.

I felt agony. Mom told us not to play around the oven racks. I didn’t listen and I was hurt badly. If only I had listened…I learned the wisdom of others could save me pain.

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Mom was acting really weird. She told me and my brother, Eric, to get in the car. We got in the back seat. I didn’t feel safe. Something was wrong. I got out of the car. She got upset. We ran into the house and told her boyfriend that she was acting really weird.

Her boyfriend came outside and Mom drove off. He told us to hop in his truck and we started to follow her.

She was driving really fast down the highway. She turned off on a side road and drove through a barbed wire fence. We continued to follow. I was scared. I thought Mom was going to hurt herself.

She finally stopped just shy of a cliff. If she had kept going, she would not have survived the accident.

We took her home. Apparently, she had mono and the drugs she was taking caused her to act abnormally.

I felt nervous. I didn’t know why she was acting so differently. I learned to trust my gut even when it meant betraying authority.

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I was visiting Dad in California. I was with his girlfriend, Cindy. We were going to ride the bus somewhere. While we were sitting at the bus stop, she told me, Tell the bus driver that you are five if he asks.

Why? I’m not five, I told her.

I know you’re not five. But if you tell the bus driver you’re five then you don’t have to pay to get on the bus, she answered.

I felt agitated. I couldn’t argue with an adult. I learned that money was more important than honesty.

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And I was seven…

As I was walking home from school, two kids broke out into a fight. It was exciting and I stopped to watch. After the fight was finished I went home. We were living with my grandparents again. I walked through the front door and my brother and my grandma were home. She was furious. She asked me where I had been.

I told her that I had stopped and watched a fight. I told her where it was. She told me I was lying. She said that she saw me on the other side of the ditch walking in my red jacket. I begged her to believe me, but she wouldn’t. Her eyes saw what they saw. She told me to get the belt.

I ran upstairs to her bedroom in tears. I knew the beating that was about to commence. I grabbed the smallest belt that I could find and went back down the stairs as slowly as possible. I tried to think of any way possible to convince her that I was never on that side of the ditch. It wasn’t working.

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, she pulled my pants down and laid me over the steps. Then, she started hitting me with the belt. Don’t you lie to me, she screamed over and over furiously. All I could do was beg for mercy and scream back that I wasn’t lying.

Finally I gave in. I told her I was the other kid on the other side of the ditch and said I was sorry for lying to her. I had to lie to her in order to stop getting punished for lying.

I ran upstairs to put the belt away and quietly called Mom from the phone in my grandma’s bedroom. Mom was angry. She came home and they fought again. Something about how my grandma should never lay a hand on her children. I don’t remember much of anything else.

I felt angry. My grandma didn’t listen to me and I wasn’t lying to her. I learned that honesty would not protect me.

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The neighbor kids came over and wanted to know if I could play. I didn’t like them. They wouldn’t go away. My brother told me to go get the shotgun. I went upstairs and pulled the sixteen-gage out of the closet. I dragged the gun that was bigger than me down the stairs. My brother pulled it out of the case and they ran. They ran home and told their parents. The cops came. No, we didn’t do that, we kept saying over and over. Finally I gave in. I broke down and told the truth. My brother was mad at me. We were grounded for six months.

I felt powerful. My neighbors feared me. I learned that violence could solve problems.

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I was