Distracted

By Gloria E. Bell

I was going through a box one day which contained all the journals I've kept over the past 20 years or so. I decided to read through them. What was going on in my life back when? As I read through the pages, the memories began to flow, and I found myself reliving those experiences. I thought, if I had the chance to change anything during the course of those years, would I be here in this place?

Then I decided to combine all the journals into one, and have it published as a book.

While I've been somewhat reluctant about exposing my life to the world, I thought perhaps there's someone out there who's having, or have had some of the same experiences, and can identify with them. Perhaps the journey I take you on in this book may touch you in some way. If so, I can rest in knowing I've had something to leave behind, and my living has not been in vain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 15, 2008
• ISBN: 9781469101774

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Copyright © 2008 by Gloria E. Bell.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission

in writing from the copyright owner.

What you are about to read is true; however, some names have been changed to

protect their privacy.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

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Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the people who have been a part of my life in writing this book and those who encouraged and helped me in its preparation.

To my lifetime friends:

Gloria Ashford, whose support, words of encouragement, and never-give-up attitude from the beginning to the end of this book. All the way from grammar school to the present, more than fifty years later, no matter where I moved to, Gloria always found a way to find me.

Rene` Thomas, who designed the front cover, and my running buddy. Through thick and thin, disagreements and agreements, we always worked as a team in our many endeavors throughout forty years of friendship.

Geneva Arvinger, my lunch buddy, whose intellect and words of wisdom kept me focused on the joy of learning. Over the past thirty years, whenever I need those words of wisdom, I could always call my friend, Geneva.

Helen Mitchell-Carter, my friend and neighbor from high school. I am so grateful for her support and efforts who helped me put on the finishing touches of this book.

Gabriel, my friend and my former boss, who, twenty-four years ago to this day, has come to my rescue whenever I call no matter what the circumstances.

To my sisters and brothers Donald Bell, Phyllis Latham, Edith Lindsey, Ernest Bell, Jr., and Debra Brumfield.

PROLOGUE

Webster defines happiness as good fortune, prosperity, a state of well-being and contentment, joy, a pleasurable satisfaction, felicity, and aptness while others define it as a choice, a feeling of satisfaction, comfort, fulfillment, and inner peace. Though happiness is a choice, sadness is not. One does not choose to be sad. But when sadness comes for no apparent reason and one has difficulty thinking, concentrating, or making decisions, has a significant increase or decrease in appetite, and spend time sleeping, feeling dejected and hopeless, sometimes having suicidal tendencies, it is identified as depression. Depression is a psychoneurotic disorder marked especially by sadness. In recent years, it’s been given the name bipolar disorder.

It is ironic how depression affects one’s life. I call it cancer of the spirit. Just as cancer of the body erodes the inner organs, cancer of the spirit also erodes the spirit. With cancer of the body, one may go into remission. Thus, the same is true for cancer of the spirit. One day you’re up, alive, full of energy, and in love with the whole human race. People seem to be drawn to your positive attitude, and everything is right with the world. You feel a sense of respect from everyone and even quite prudent in your business affairs. Just as cancer of the body can flare up again and your body starts to deteriorate, cancer of the spirit can also flare up and your spirit starts to deteriorate. One day, the sky is the limit (literally) of what you can achieve and the next day, you go deeper than the lowest valley, into hell itself, unable to achieve the simplest tasks like getting out of bed, taking a walk, or talking to a loved one on the phone. The closest description I can give it is that if you think of the way you felt when your closest and dearest loved one has just died, it feels worse than that.

Often fatal, thousands have died of suicide due to depression. Some are successfully treated with chemotherapy and medications for cancer of the body, and some are successfully treated with psychotherapy and medications for cancer of the spirit.

Though so greatly misunderstood, people view cancer of the body differently than cancer of the spirit. When one suffers from cancer of the body, they are looked upon with sympathy. Everyone wants to help and have a sense of respect for you. But when one suffers from cancer of the spirit, they are shunned and treated with disrespect. However, human nature dictates that we do tend to shun that which we do not understand. Even when one suffers from cancer of the spirit, the benefits of medical insurance are limited. Cancer of the spirit is a humiliating disease that strips one of his/her dignity.

I was willing to leave this world without explanation. But I remembered my late pastor who once told me, You have a story to tell. Perhaps that story lies within the pages of the journals I’ve kept for more than twenty years. This is my story.

CHAPTER 1

1979

January 1: The sound of running water woke me up this morning. At first, I thought it was raining outside. Then I remembered; this is January, New Year’s Day. As I became fully awake, I realized the sound was coming from the dressing room. Dragging myself out of bed to follow the sound, I stepped into a puddle of water as I reached the threshold. I opened the closet door and stood in awe as I watched rainfall pouring down on all my clothes, from the sweaters that were folded on the top shelf to my shoes that were lined on the floor. Everything was drenched. I had just spent all day yesterday cleaning and organizing everything in preparation for the New Year. I quickly scooped up everything from the shelf and threw them into the bathtub and hung my suits and dresses on the shower curtain rod. I wondered how I could dry out my shoes. I threw all my nice clean throw rugs on the closet floor in hopes they would absorb most of the water. Then I sat on the side of the bed totally exhausted and cried as I waited for the water to stop pouring down. Finally, the water stopped after what seemed like hours. I could only muster enough strength to mop up the water, and I’ve spent the rest of the day here in bed. I knew my plans for the day were shot anyway. I had decided not to attend the annual New Year’s Eve gathering with my family last night. I thought I’d visit today instead. But that’s all over now. I haven’t anything to wear anyway. What a way to start the year.

January 2: I got out early enough to drop off my soiled clothes at the cleaners on my way to work in hopes that some of them could be saved. Too bad, my favorite navy-and-white crepe suit is ruined. (It was a dry clean only.) Then I stopped by a dress shop to buy a couple of outfits. I called the management office to find out what had happened, and they told me that a water pipe had burst in the apartment just above mine.

The weather is awful. It’s so cold outside. One of the coldest winters in a long time, and the snow—oh, the snow—just keeps on snowing, making it extremely difficult to get around.

The city is crippled—almost paralyzed. Cars are trapped by the snow in their parking spaces, nowhere to even put the snow even if it was shoveled. You can’t walk on the sidewalk, so you have to walk in the middle of the street. Traffic is creeping along; you certainly don’t have to worry about getting hit by a car.

I was so busy today that I had to work until 9:00 p.m. As long as I keep busy at work, I won’t have to think about how sad I am. I took a cab home. But I waited such a long time for it in the freezing cold. I didn’t think to wear any pants under my skirt, and whenever the wind blew my coat open, my legs felt like tiny swords were piercing through them. When I finally did get one, I had to share it with another woman who was going about ten miles in the opposite direction. But I didn’t care. I rode anyway just to get out of the cold.

After the cabdriver dropped the woman off, he told me that since I was his last rider for the evening, I didn’t have to pay. I thought that was very nice of him. I tried as best I could to have small talk conversation with him. But I just couldn’t. I was just too tired and sad. Then he discovered he was out of gas and had to drive to the garage to refuel and check in his meter. I stood waiting in that cold garage until about 11:00 p.m. I didn’t know what to do. I was so cold and so very tired.

I never saw that cabdriver again. He never came back. I felt I was about to start crying at any moment when another cab drove in. I asked him if he could take me home. I was trying to keep from crying. But it hurt my throat when I tried to talk. If I wasn’t so sad, perhaps I would be able to think rationally or maybe I wouldn’t have had to even go through this ordeal at all.

It’s now 1:00 a.m., and I’m just getting home. I’m crying inside, but not out loud. My only thought is how I would make it to work tomorrow. I hope I can get some sleep.

January 3: I wore a wig today. It was another rough one. But I managed to get through it and leave by 5:00 p.m.

Thank God, I got a ride with my sister, Debra. The traffic was awful, and she had to pick up her boyfriend, Louis, from work. We didn’t get home until 8:30 p.m., and I was glad she only lived about three blocks away from me. I would really feel bad if she had to go any farther, considering the weather and traffic. All in all, I believe I put on a good face, having fun enjoying her company as we did our sister thing during the course of the ride. I was praying it might make me feel better. Unfortunately, as soon as I stepped out of her car, my sadness overcame me.

I’m glad I was able to find something to wear to work tomorrow. All I want to do is go to bed right now. I don’t even want to eat or turn on the TV. I hope my bath will help me relax and get some rest.

January 4: I was late for work today. I overslept. I feel so tired all the time. I feel like I’m dragging 130 pounds of wet sand. I tried to get a cab, but the weather is just so bad it was about 9:30 a.m. before we even got to Fifty-ninth Street. I got into a terrible argument with the cabdriver and got out without paying him. I finally got to work at about 10:30 a.m.

I had to work late again tonight so I asked my neighbor and coworker if she would pick up my clothes from the cleaners for me. She is a very strange woman to me, and for some reason, I’m afraid of her and I don’t trust her. Nevertheless, she seems to like me, and I feel I should accept any friendship anyone has to offer me right now. When I got home, she told me that the cleaners was closed when she finally got home. I didn’t believe her. But there was nothing I could do about it. I’m sure I could find something appropriate to wear to work tomorrow.

This time when I eventually got a cab, I had to share it with two other people. It appeared this driver was trying to cheat us. On all other shared-cab times, when each of us reached our destination, we would give our fare to the last person out, and that person would pay the total fare. But this driver wanted to start the meter over each time he let someone out, which made each of us pay an additional start-up cost. I was the last one out and was just too exhausted to put up yet another fight, so I went ahead and paid him. It cost me three times more than if I’d come straight from work.

January 5: I was hoping my attorney wouldn’t want me to work late again tonight, especially if he wanted me to come in tomorrow (Saturday). But I worked anyway until 9:30 p.m. I got a cab without having to wait too long this time, and the fare was straight. Thank God.

I ordered myself a pizza when I got home. That was about 10:00 p.m. It just got here, it’s now midnight, and of course, it’s cold. But I’m famished. So I’m eating it anyway no matter how cold it is or how late it is. Now, maybe I can finally get to sleep.

January 6: I got off from work early enough to get my clothes out of the cleaners. It’s my sister Edith’s birthday. I mailed her card yesterday and called her today. I hope I can get some rest tonight.

January 7: I thought my hot bath would help me to relax last night. But it didn’t. I tossed and turned all night long. I did wash my hair this morning. I thought it might look nice for work tomorrow.

I am so hungry. But I don’t have any more money, and there’s no food in the house. Payday won’t be for another eight days. I wish I hadn’t bought all those clothes last week and took a cab almost every day.

January 8: I worked late again tonight. I’m glad I got my clothes out of the cleaners so I wouldn’t have to worry about what I could wear tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll buy some groceries with my petty cash reimbursement.

January 9: I got the nerve today to tell my boss that I could not work late tonight, that I had made other plans. I received my petty cash from all my cab receipts from last week, thank God. I stopped by the store and bought myself a nice steak and baking potato. I watched TV for a while and prepared my things for tomorrow. I’m thinking that if I pour myself into my work, I won’t have to think about how sad I am. But it’s been extremely hard to get to sleep and be alert for the next day’s work. I’m growing even sadder and sinking deeper into some kind of darkness. I feel I’ve drifted into some strange place where there’s no light bright enough to find my way out.

January 10: I felt I looked fairly nice today. My appearance is very important to me right now. When I got home from work, I fried some chicken and made another nice dinner for myself. I talked on the phone for hours to family and friends I hadn’t talked to for quite some time. They all made me laugh. Maybe I’m starting to feel better. Maybe my sadness is passing. I certainly hope so. I just can’t seem to function and do my best when I feel sad like that. It has stayed around much too long this time.

January 11: I worked until 7:00 p.m. tonight and caught the train home. I knew I needed that petty cash for lunch money tomorrow. I still have a few more days to go before payday. Oh no, I’m going back down again. This is so ridiculous. I’m angry. I only had one good day. That’s not fair. Something is going to have to happen soon. I must do something to get myself back up again. Funny thing, I can’t quite put my finger on what triggers this sadness.

January 13: I feel so sad tonight I don’t even want to watch TV. This is so crazy. I’m so angry for feeling this way. I don’t want to be alone, but I want to be alone. Could I be sad because I’m alone? Maybe I’m just tired.

January 14: Debra and Louis was supposed to get married today. But they didn’t. The snow kept everyone from doing the things they wanted or going places they needed to go. This has been the worst winter I can remember—besides the ones when I graduated from grammar school in January 1963 and the other when I graduated from high school in January 1967. I think this one beats them both.

January 15: John’s grandmother died this morning. I cried. Our families have been friends since childhood. John and I dated throughout high school, and even though we had long broken up, our families remained close. I don’t know whether I was crying for John and his family or because it was just an excuse to finally break down and let it all out. A good boohoo. I had been holding those tears inside for such a long time. I cried and cried all day long.

I’m so worried that years and years will pass and I’ll be too old when the happiness finally comes. I’ll regret all these wasted years. I pray I can find some kind of joy before I get too old.

My boss seems to like me. Perhaps because I’m a good hard worker? I don’t know. If that were not the case, if he was not satisfied with my work, I’m quite sure he’d be rid of me in a heartbeat.

I must do something—anything. I must beat this sadness somehow. Maybe I should try working in church again. That’s a good start. Yes, I’ll try that. I keep saying I’m going to go back. But I never do. Or maybe I could try going back to school. Then there’s the grad CHAPTER of my college sorority. Staying busy from morning until night will keep my mind occupied. But then again, I’m already doing that, working twelve hours or more a day. Still in all, I’ve blown a lot of opportunities because of this sadness. I guess by now I’ve had all the chances I should get in a lifetime.

It’s been well over a month now, and the sadness is getting worse. All I can manage is to just go to work and come home and go to bed. I don’t want to talk to or see anyone. I don’t even know how to find help. I can’t tell anyone how I feel. I don’t know how. I don’t feel anyone cares enough to try to help me without hurting me or disappointing me. I don’t think they’ll understand. They’ll probably think I’m crazy. I wish I could wake up one morning and it will all be just a bad dream.

Oh dear Lord Jesus, please help me. Please make me feel happy inside.

February 1: Maybe if I go someplace, out of state, a different atmosphere might help me feel better.

February 2: I called my cousin Anthony and his wife, Vanessa, down in St. Louis, Missouri, and asked them if they’d like an out-of-town guest for the weekend. They were thrilled. I’m so glad. I really think that getting away might help lift my spirits.

February 8: Anthony and Vanessa met me at the airport and took me to a very nice restaurant for dinner after they got me settled into their guest room. They have a beautiful home. I just couldn’t understand why Vanessa would allow him to put a pool table in the middle of her living room floor. Overall, they seemed very much in love. I was amazed at how much she looked like Aunt Quindola. Anthony is a high school basketball coach and Vanessa, an English teacher.

On Saturday, we went on a tour of St. Louis. Then to a hockey game. It was ironic that the St. Louis Blues were playing against the Chicago Blackhawks. We were the only ones cheering for the Blackhawks. We won, yeah!

On Sunday, we went shopping at a huge outlet before heading back to the airport. I bought so much stuff I had to buy another suitcase to bring it all back home.

All in all, I had a great time and was so grateful for their warm and loving hospitality. I only hope that my sadness didn’t show. But it was sure good to get away.

February 24: Ten more minutes and it will be 2:00 a.m. Another night of waiting until I can fall asleep. So many unhappy thoughts rush through my head. I can’t think of anything pleasant. Tonight, like every other night, I have to wait a long, long time before I fall asleep—night after night.

Now, let’s see. Maybe if I try really hard I can think of something, anything that I should be happy about right now. Oh yeah—happy to be alive. That’s a laugh. Okay, on the serious side. I am happy because I have my family and good friends, a good job, and a nice apartment. I think if I got a real good boost or push, I think I can follow through with it and accomplish something. Maybe if I move, start fresh in a new apartment, a different environment. Then start some sort of project. Something that will hold my interest for a while—a hobby maybe. Now, let’s see. Oh, I can’t even think. Stop. Wait. Get a grip, Gloria. What about a social life? A relationship would surely flop. I can’t seriously think of having a relationship with a man in my life while I’m in this state of mind. What man would even look at me twice with these eyes? They’re so black. I look like a raccoon. No man would be interested in me anyway. Maybe I can join some sort of group or organization that can help me. Oh yeah, maybe I’ll join church again. Okay. Now, I’ve got something going here. Let’s see—social club, sorority, church, even moving and decorating a new apartment. There’s bound to be something good to come out of one of these projects.

Well, I don’t believe it. I’m getting sleepy. Now, maybe I’ll finally fall asleep.

March 8: My cousin Mary and I went to Las Vegas this past weekend. I’m going to try and go someplace at least once a month. Maybe I can at least try to forget how sad I feel for a while.

We really had a great time. We saw Diana Ross, Frank Sinatra, and Joan Rivers. The Follies Bergere were fantastic.

I’m back home now and quite exhausted. I hope I can make it to work tomorrow.

March 10: I didn’t feel any better this morning. I looked at my eyes in the mirror. They look awful. I can’t let anyone see me looking like this. They’ve never been this dark before. I really do look like a raccoon. How can I make them look happy? I don’t even feel up to pretending to be happy today. I know! I’ll wear some dark glasses and tell everyone that something happened to my eyes that made them sensitive to light and that I have to wear them indoors for a while as well as outdoors. That way I can hide them until I start to feel better.

May 1: I’ve gotten to the point that I haven’t felt much like writing. I’m walking around in some sort of dark tunnel. I went over to Daddy’s when I got off from work tonight. I enjoyed myself a little. I pretended to be happy. But then again, I wish I hadn’t pretended. I wanted so much to cry and have him hold me. I wanted so much to be able to tell him how sad I am. But I couldn’t. Couldn’t he see the pain I was in? Couldn’t he see how sad my eyes looked? I did feel some comfort just sitting there in the kitchen for a while making small talk.

May 4: I can’t bear it any longer. I called and made an appointment to see a psychiatrist today who was listed in our firm’s directory of physicians. I don’t know if he’s going to be able to