Waiting to Be Normal

By Starla C.

This book is a brief synopsis about the abuse I suffered as a child, the disorders I obtained as a result of the abuse, the addictions I used to combat the feelings from the abuse, and the treatments I used to get through the trials I suffered to become whole again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524570323

Starla C.

Starla C. is forty-six years old. She was born in Oregon, but she lived in Montana her whole life. She is unmarried with ten cats and no children. Starla loves to write poetry and short stories. She also loves music and is very musically talented.

Book preview

Waiting to Be Normal

Starla C.

Copyright © 2017 by Starla C.

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5245-7033-0

                eBook           978-1-5245-7032-3

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 12/16/2016

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Preface

As a child sits alone in a cold dark corner of the world, she wonders, "What is life about?’ For this child has known nothing less than abuse and neglect throughout her short, weary life. To her life is just one dark corner of the world, cold and bleak. To others it is much different. The world that other people live in is entirely different from what this tiny child endures each day. She sees no light in her life, or her heart, only coldness from such an uncaring world in which she lives. The rest of the world lives in sunlight, warm, protected and happy. They are privileged in the fact that throughout their existing days they have the right to choose where, when and even how they are allowed to spend their days. But unknowing to the people who have this abundance of choice there sits a small child in her corner of the world hoping with her last ounce of strength that someone would hear her soft and almost silent cries in the night. She sits waiting, waiting, and waiting, for someone, anyone, to unlock the door to her desolate world and release her from her isolation. This girl is like so many others in the world, wishing and praying for hope, a hope that probably will never come.

Chapter 1

Waiting to be normal

Waiting watching the clouds roll by

Wondering if my time will come.

Hoping the panic will dissipate

Feeling inside so dark and glum.

Chewed by this and chewed by that

When will the madness end?

Thinking thoughtfully to myself

When will my life begin?

Starting life’s tasks so anew

Would need to be something so formal.

But the journey is so very long to take

I am just waiting to be normal

My name is Starla and I am number seven out of eight children. I was born by the ocean. My family was very dysfunctional. My mother and father fought an awful lot. They were just two people who probably should never have gotten married. The only good things that I can see to come of their relationship were that my biological father adopted my half siblings and my parents had my little sister and me. I was told by my siblings that life in our household was not that much fun and fights occurred often. Nobody’s fault really; they were two people who did not mesh. When I was two months old we moved. My youngest sister was born after we moved, two days before my first birthday and died two months later from complications of SIDS. It took a lot out of my parents and my entire family. When I was two they divorced.

My father moved far away and my mother stayed alone to raise six children on her own, as one of my siblings’ fathers took him away from my mother and she hasn’t seen him since. My older siblings have their lives to share, but this is a story about mine. It is not being written to evoke pity, play on the sympathies of people or blame anyone for the events that have happened in my life.

This story is just what it is, a story to tell people that a person can go through a lot of negative occurrences in their life, almost die from them, but miraculously come back to be triumphant when the day is done.

This is my story and mine alone.

When I was a child I always wondered what my purpose was on this planet. I spent countless hours looking up at the heavens wondering why was I here, why was I in the family I was in, why was I who I was, and why on just about any question a young child could come up with. I was never happy or content with anything I did. All I ever wanted in my life was out. I wanted out of the life that had been given me. I really thought that God had made a mistake in sending me here. I thought that I had been dropped off on this alien planet as a sort of joke. Someone was making a tall story, and I was it. I waited and waited for as long as I can remember just to be normal; whatever normal was. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew I didn’t have it and everyone else around me who was happy and content with their lives did.

I don’t have many memories before I was six, just a few. My first real memory was when I was five. It was recess, I was living in a small town and everyone in my kindergarten class had gone out to play and I was looking out the window watching them play and I just felt alone. No matter what I did, I always felt isolated and alone. The only time I felt happy I think was when I was with my dog. He was a mutt dog. He was given to the family when I was first born and he was very protective when it came to the children. I think I loved him more than anything at the time, because he loved me no matter what. There were no strings attached with his caring. Unconditional love was his only intention. He loved me and my siblings up until the day he died (when I was nine), but that is getting ahead of things.

A week after my sixth birthday I went into my first foster home. My mother couldn’t take care of