O.M.G.: “Oh My God”

By Virgie Lindsey

This book is about the life of Virgie Lindsey. It will have you wondering, expecting, playing the guessing game, crying, and laughing; it will have you feeling bewildered, encouraged, saddened, overwhelmed, and glad that it has an unexpected ending.

It is an autobiography with well-known celebrities she was befriended by. She went through the deaths of her children. Her wonderful fifteen-year-old son was kidnapped and killed in a car accident under strange circumstances that were hidden from her until the truth was revealed.

Three years later, during an incarceration, her beautiful, loving daughter was murdered, along with a close family friend, in a cold case first believed to be road rage. This incident shocked, hurt, dismayed, haunted, and rocked her total being as she sat at the funeral in denial until she saw her daughter’s tattoo on her hand.

This incarceration caused her to have mental health challenges. She most definitely should be a woman in a corner, mumbling everything except anything that made sense. This autobiography will have you saying “Oh my god!” out loud to yourself while reading. It will leave you in amazement as to how she made it this far without losing her mind. Most of all, it will enlighten the world on the subject of the dark places people have been through in life.

Faith in life will allow you to be an achiever through adversity in its most elevated form, and that life can be great after all, no matter what. She would like the world to know that the loss of your child, or children, will never go away, but joy will reenter your life so that you will be able to move forward and be whatever or whoever you dream of being.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jul 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781546200970

Virgie Lindsey

Published author, writer, singer, philanthropist, event planner, and personal assistant. Virgie Lindsey was born in Casa Grande, Arizona and raised in Phoenix, Arizona. In addition to her published book Grateful Gifts Beyond Descriptions Volume I book of poems, she is a proud parent, grandparent, and great grandparent. For the last fifteen years she has hosted annual back to school, Easter, and Christmas drives for motherless children. She has worked with the Phoenix Sun, Arizona Cardinals, the Phoenix Mercury, and Arizona Helping hands, Fox 10 News and Arizona Republic newspaper to help children Moms who are deceased, incarcerated, or on drugs. Her vision is to continue to help bridge the gap when it comes to helping grand parents on fixed incomes raising children unexpectedly during those times of year which could become a financial crisis to them.

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© 2017 VIrgie Lindsey. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/31/2017

ISBN: 978-1-5462-0098-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-0097-0 (e)

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.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1   The Final Straw and Hope

Chapter 2   My Life

Chapter 3   Housed

Chapter 4   The House Fire

Chapter 5   Growing Pains

Chapter 6   Married at 16

Chapter 7   Introducing Las Vegas

Chapter 8   Professional Boxing Baby

Chapter 9   My Friends

Chapter 10   The Fight

Chapter 11   Why Me?

Chapter 12   The Epidemic

Chapter 13   My Grandmother

Chapter 14   Rejection

Chapter 15   California

Chapter 16   Palgued by Death

Chapter 17   Prison

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I acknowledge God for never leaving me, or forsaking me on this incredible journey. I thank Him for strengthening me when I was at my lowest in life. I thank Him for recovering me from a life of severe tragedies. I will honor God for the rest of my life.

To my parents for raising me to know God, and being the great examples you were to my siblings, and me. Forgive me for my failures, and I ask your continued blessings upon the road of dreams, and goals. You have always been there as my angels in the flesh on earth, and I thank you. To my siblings, it is you who gave me strength to become the person I am today. To my children, I love each of you, and God is restoring us more and more each day., I thank you for the forgiveness that lies in your hearts.

To my past of hurting others, and imprisonment, goodbye forever, I am renewed, refreshed, and ready to give back to children, and broken communities. To my friends, thank you so much. I am ever grateful to you. Without you there would be no way I could carry on. Again, thank you!

DEDICATIONS

I dedicate this book to my loving family. I love you. Some of you have incredible lives that have enabled me to become a visionary. I also dedicate this book to those children who lost their parents violently,; May God heal your precious hearts. I dedicate this book to Fox 10 News in the Valley of the Sun. Thank you so much for always being there for me. Special thanks to anchorwoman Linda Williams.

CHAPTER I

THE FINAL STRAW AND HOPE

I sat in the cell thinking to myself I am so tired of this danged life, I went into my own world. I am tired of it all. This doesn’t make sense. I have seen enough to ruin a person’s total mental state. Not to be selfish, but others in this little cell have also been going through situations and troubles. Four inmates share a double bunk bed and a single bathroom. There is no respect.

We all had a job in prison and if you are late for work; you get a ticket. When other inmates were asleep, those awake were supposed to have respect by trying to be as silent as possible, but some would wake up and be noisy as hell running the water, slamming doors, hollering over your head, and using their blow dryers. It was when inmates were trying to find clothing and shoes in the metal drawers below the beds. The metal would make irritating noises and the inmates knew in advance, but did not pull their clothes out ahead of time. There was no respect displayed for others.

I began taking the lack of respect personally, and all of a sudden everything changed. People were getting mean and doing things to cause stress on purpose. I began to detest these things and so did other inmates. Many arguments occurred and my favorite roommate apparently got caught up as well. She was going through a lot of things and decided to disrespect me by buffing up against me. This was a hurting time in all of our lives. I could not believe that she, of all people, would turn out like this. It was overwhelming for me. I knew it was all about her at the time, but I believed that you’re not supposed to hurt your friends. It was a time more than ever, needed to support each other.

We sat in our cells depressed and oppressed. I became a loner most of the time and absolutely left others alone. I refused to hang out for the most part and I took college courses. I mixed with a limited few when I went to the cafeteria for my meals. Sometimes I played dominoes with inmates, while washing clothes in the laundry room. I walked on egg shells to keep the peace, until the day I was pushed to the limit. Inside an institutional environment, most officers don’t seem to care about what’s going on. Yes, it is many of our faults that we landed in prison, but many officers exaggerate their jobs.

No matter how many complaints you had; there was a chain of command that a person had to go through. I doubt the warden really cared about receiving any of the legitimate complaints. She knew that she had the upper hand, so it probably didn’t matter to her. Some of the officers were having affairs with inmates. Some inmates would flirt back with officers that they liked, although medical staff could do whatever they wanted to do when it was time for medical appointments. Not many of the staff cared to know when you were sick, mentally exhausted; hurting.

Watching a young girl sit in her prison bed and die was painful. She had been to medical so many time and they would always send her back. You had to put in what was called a medical kite to see the doctor; but this girl was always sent back to her cell. One day she was so sick and it laid on our hearts that she was going to die.

We were all very worried and prayed in church for her, but even with all the prayers in the world, it wasn’t going to help her after being medically neglected. They chose her death. One day when she was laying on her bed burning up with fever they finally decided to send her to the hospital. She never made it back. It scared us all. How could it possibly be legal to allow a sick young woman to die while incarcerated? She literally begged for the system to help her; to save her life. We prayed that illness would not befall us or that we would never die in prison.

We tried to hold it together the best we could. First of all, in prison peace is the first thing you try to maintain. One of the hardest things to do while locked up is to hold your peace.

It is hard, but the last thing that you want to do is lash out against one another, especially those that are hurting and those that try to hold every piece of anger they have ever felt, while remaining humble. There are people who never say much about their hurt; they never complain about the adversity they have faced. You just know that they have faced it. I never dreamed there would be a breaking point for me.

One day when I was in my room; I decided that this would be the final straw regarding an inmate’s daily disrespect. I decided to step up to the plate and ask, Why do you keep making noises every day while we are asleep? Some of us worked at night and I spoke to her in a gentle tone. I told her, No one ever does that to you when you’re sleep. She became very arrogant and things escalated.

She became very animated and aggressive, even though I didn’t think anything was wrong with the way I was speaking to her. She knew good and well she had made every noise that she could on the earth, day in and day out to disrupt the entire room. She had the nerve to taunt me, shouting at me saying, So what! I am a grown woman, don’t nobody tell me what to do. Get yourself together because you’re not going to do anything. What are you going to do?

It never entered my mind to beat the living daylight out of her, or anyone for that matter, but when I told her I would do something; she put her hands on me. That was the wrong thing for anyone to do to me. I couldn’t believe this girl just pushed me; she pulled that last straw I had. It was wheat straw, broom straw, and hay straw together.

It was like hell was trying to take me down and I needed to fight to stay away from the fiery furnace. I didn’t like the feeling that took over my mind and spirit. It was time to get feelings out in the open. There is only so much one person can take. It was an absolute insult for the inmate to put their greedy little fingers on me. It was a big violation and felt like someone just hit the atomic bomb. They pushed the wrong button and there was no commander to give the order. I understand why it is so important to handle others with diligence.

When others are hurting; avoid being rude or pushing people into a corner, because they will come out like a vicious cat. People can lose their minds when they others seem too busy for them, even those with million dollar empires. Many minds have been wasted due to neglect. You will find some wealthy people too busy to mentor, or assist others. This can lead to activating living time bombs.

Some of these people shoot up malls, schools, even kill their families, and turn the gun on themselves. You’ve saw it on the news, so what we need to do is not sit back and act as though it won’t happen to us, and take action in caring for the hurt, rejected, and neglected. Lack of love may trigger the behavior nobody wants to see. Symptoms were there, yet no one paid attention. Symptoms were there, anger towards others was there. Psychiatrists and even philanthropists were around but communication was difficult. Some used drugs, alcohol and experienced physical abuse, some were mental institute patients but refused to admit it, so without mental health medication the situation turned all bad. Some got the living day-lights beat out of them. Verbal abuse, physical abuse from people including doctors that were neglectgent just like mines were so neglectigent they left a catheter in my heart doing an angio cardiogram, it left thoughts of, why even try? I felt as though they tried to kill me, and I could have very easily have become an endangered species had it not been for my strong faith in Jesus, and restoration. How does three doctors leave a catherter embedded in your heart, a cardiologist doctor, and two students. I would now suffer Chronic Obstructive Pulmonarty Diesease, Asthma, and Bronchitis for the rest of my life. Hospitalized for ten days at a time fighting to breath for the rest of my life. No more excercises which I’ve grown very accustomed to. These doctors are walking here on earth healthy, and I have no retribution from the hospital, or the doctors. I suffer so much, and no lawyer in that state would allow me to hire them, because the doctors hid it under the road, left the catheter in my heart percisely for two years so the statue of limitation would run out. But the damages are done, and I should be a millionaire, matter of fact I should have died but my Lord and savior Jesus Christ kept me. No compensation for what that young doctor did, or what his students stood there and let him do. What if I had the mentality to go shoot up a hospitial, far from it, that thought never even crossed my mind. But this is just some examples of what kind of people the world is dealing with because someone else could care less.

The least expected people were often the ones that would help a stranger, or anyone in need, but now who is there to love, care about, or give them a hug? A call, a visit, an email, or text; would be enough support to let someone know that they are not alone. People seem so wrapped up in themselves, and those in need, just don’t know where to turn. They shut down and just give up.

To tell you the truth, with so many experiences that I have faced in the world, even with my siblings, family, children, teachers, and preachers, I began to feel that I could not depend on them. I honestly admit that the world we live in is selfish. It is sad when a person feels there is no name they know to call upon right here on the face of the earth. I sure wondered who I called on and trust me, I called on everyone imaginable, but only a few were half way there for me. For a while it was so complicated, I didn’t want to figure it out. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone. I was angry and filled with great rage.

It’s a period I would call, Hold your head down, and pray that it comes back up. I felt so rejected, set aside and didn’t have a true friend to engage into this conversation with. Instead of the wisdom and support that was supposed to be engaged through these popular entities that live here on earth; hurt, confusion, death, and its sting overtook me. I ended up in segregation, my mind had tolerated and held onto the surroundings as long as I could.

Prison could never be celebrated when you are serving time. It is not a girls’ or boys’ camp and most certainly not a sleep over, or a birthday party where you get up in the morning waiting for your parents to pick you up and go home. The truth of the matter is exactly this, at the end of the day you were serving time and so what ever happened while you were there; you dealt with it.

Sometimes it was not a pretty picture. In men’s prisons, some got staabed with shanks. It’s very sad. In prison it is tough when you have a death in your family. A great loss is experienced and inmates were sympathetic because they knew it could be their situation the next day. More often than not, officers were rude whether your mother, dad, sister, brother, or even your child died. The pain is heart wrenching, indescribable when you face this type of adversity.

Oh my God, especially if it’s your child.

Whether it is your first, middle, or last born; trust me, you will feel all the power of the questions roaming through your mind as if someone is playing a bad joke. You could end up cursing God because of the horrific news placed in your lap. The hurt is so deep.

Who could have possibly murdered my child? I wanted to escape from prison and hurt them in return. I felt like committing murder. Why did I have to go through the second death of a child and within three years apart? Not to mention three miscarriages; one where I made a terrible mistake and insisted that I see the baby after something called a DNC was performed. I saw all of the baby’s body parts; crushed up but I could still make out his little legs, toes, and hands. It was terrible and that is whay I never understood abortions. I felt like, from what I saw, that people were murdering a tiny life.

All I knew, was that my son Malachi, at the tender age of fifteen-years-old, was already dead due to a car accident and now my first born daughter, Loretta was murdered. Loretta was only twenty-three-years-old and was killed along with a family friend during a Road Rage incident. The detective on the case had no leads whatsoever. No one knew anything. The details were sketchy. I thought of my family and felt the pain they must have felt as well. Additional feelings of denial and shock were combined with hurt built with confusion.

I took the blame on myself for not being there for them and I was filled with pain and guilt. It was over powering to take and my brain did not immediately comprehend it right away.

After I finished beating the day-lights out of my roommate; everyone outside began yettling for the police and screaming, "She is going to kill her. You better come get her! Lock down, lock down!

They were locking the yard down, and it meant that everyone had to go to their rooms immediately. I could hear their black patent leather shoes against the concrete running towards our room. The close they got, the madder I got and the harder I would hit my roommate. When they entered the room, they grabbed me and put me in a choke hold. They body slammed me and the girl sat there looking stunned and bloody. She watched them drag me away. I was so upset when they threw me in segregation that I began to cry and then violently scream.

The screams turned into blackness. Beyond the screams, I could hear the officers yelling, Miss Lindsey, Miss Lindsey, Are you alright? Do you know where you are? I could only recognize the blackness, the darkness growing deeper and deeper. I could hear what seemed to be something flapping, like wings flapping hard up and down. Then they would clap. I could hear something like wind, and then the flapping and another loud clap of what sounded like wings clapping. I could hear swrds making loud clinging sounds as though someone, or something was in a battle, and the battle was all about me, and my sanity.

In my brain I felt incredible pain. It was the cry of insanity calling me by name. You have been marred, chosen to lose your mind. I could blatantly hear it calling me over and over again. The harder the cry was, the louder the wings flapped and swords clang. I think it must have been my assigned angels fighting the demons to keep them from what they had plotted in the boardroom of hell. I tried to pull myself together, but the screams kept coming through the tunnels of blackness. At some point I thought I saw the side of an angel’s wing.

For some reason, through blackness and cloudiness; I could hear the officers saying, Oh my God! One kneeled by me, and I heard her praying for me. Please God don’t let her lose her mind. God protect her from whatever she is going through. She just lost her child. I could actually hear that officer’s voice sweetly praying to God; maybe that officer had prayed my angels down to war on my behalf. All of a sudden, I felt a cold towel on my neck. It was like an icy sudden shock and I came into reality. I do not know if it was the towel that helped, or if the prayers from that officer gave me a break through moment in that small prison cell. I was taken away on a stretcher and I didn’t know where they were taking me. I thought they were taking me to a hospital but we were moving through a long hallway. I started screaming again, realizing the loss of my child. Not again, these are my children, mine, mine, mine, or were they? I began to fear where they were taking me.

Miss Lindsey you’re going to be fine. I’m Dr. Johnson and we are going to take good care of you. Let’s get her in the room and give her a shot to calm her down. I could hear them in the back of my mind in a dim voice saying, Alright let’s hurry. Is she going to be okay? They were officers and I wasn’t familiar with their voices of concern. In a dim voice in the back of my mind the doctor said, She is going to be fine. We will take good care of her. I continued to be in my own world of blackness for what seemed to be an eternity.

How does anyone end up in this state? Screaming sounded like the only thing within reason. I started screaming again. This time a sharp pain hit me on my backside. They said, We’re giving you a shot of Demerol, Miss Lindsey. It will help you calm down. I began to fell drowsy, and then began to try to talk. I cold not distinguish what I was saying. All of a sudden I saw different parts of scary movies rolling through my mind and I was scared. I was trembling in every scene and I mumbled my way to sleep from the shot.

My dream was mixed up and I was in blackness; wandering through nothingness and every step grew darker. I could not see one foot in front of the other and I could not tell if there were walls on the sides. Then there were highways like green forest trees, a party, then darkness. It was scary black again.

I did not hear people and I kept walking. I was not looking to the left or to the right. The blackness was the most frightening and never ending. I awoke to the doctor saying, Do yuou know where you are? I looked around and it seemed so blurry. My surroundings were unclear.

Dr. Johnson said, Miss Lindsey, we are going to take care of you, just fine. I looked up and mumbled something, and fell back asleep.

Finally, I woke up feeling weird. I looked around and didn’t see anyone. I was freezing cold and realized that all of my clothes were gone. I was wearing a thin white paper gown. It felt as though I was inside a cooler that was about 35 degrees. My teeth were chattering and I was making blurring sounds. The blanket was paper too and I mumbled, Damned white paper blanket. I jumped up and looked around to realize that I was in some type of cell. I screamed, It’s cold in here. Let me out of here! Please let me out of here. My screams got louder. I’m going to freeze to death! I was yelling it over and over and I began to cry. I could see myself in the 2X2 mirrored window. Tears running down my face had dried in certain spots and I looked pale. I was so tired and my hair was sticking up all over the place as though currencies of a stun gun, or electricity had gone through me and exploded on contact.

As I caught a glimpse of the ugly image in the glass; I cried more. I looked terrible. My mind was screaming at me. You have just lost your first-born child. Your are a fool. You are stupid. What are you going to do? I started walking toward the bed with only the mattress on it, but then I turned my head to look back and a midget lady was standing there. This scared the hell out of me. She was at the door asking in a sweet voice, Miss Lindsey are you alright? She said, I know sweetie. I am here to help you. Don’t be afraid. I thought, Yeah right, look at this evil witch with a sweet voice. I thought I had died for a few minutes. I started crying then screaming asking, Where am I? The officer in her neat brown uniform and shiny patent leather shoes said, You are at the Flamingsdale mental health unit.

I started crying even louder. Can I please have a sheet and a blanket? The answer I got was, No Miss Lindsey. We have to wait until you see the doctor and we will see if we can give you a blanket. I said, A blanket is not going to hurt me. The officer said, People hang themselves with the sheets and blankets. She said it with a firm face and voice, so I came to the conclusion that I had to wait.

I never really understood the word, wait and at that moment it was freezing cold, but I had to deal with it. I ws so upset, that I began running in place and decided not to say anything because it would make matters worse. Later, Dr. Johnson came by and I caught a glimpse of him. He stood about 5 feet 9 inches with gray hair, a gray mustache and smooth skin. He looked about 65 years old. He seemed understanding and nice. "How are you feeling Miss Lindsey? I came by to check on you and I am pulling for