What You Cannot See - A Real Life Novella

By R.E. Peron De Jesus

   This book is a creative non-fiction book composed of multiple conversations that actually occurred to tell one story. The story is inspired by and based on the true events of one woman's life. This book contains mature subjects discussed in detail to try to help bring awareness to mental illness, sexual abuse, physical abuse, emotional abuse, psychological abuse, neglect, abandonment, social anxiety, self-hatred, racism, colorism, sexism, discrimination, oppression, etc., and the severity of the consequences of these illnesses and actions, since such acts do not seem to be taken seriously within our society.  The effect of extreme false occult-like religions is expressed in this woman's life as well. All the names of the individuals in this story have been changed or have not been used to avoid any privacy concerns. 

     The story tells of how one woman tries to navigate and understand her life amid extreme circumstances during her childhood. As an adult, somehow, she not only survives but thrives. She seems to be normal.  No one can see what she has experienced.  No one can see who she is. Only a few can actually see her. Everyone has their own false perception of her. She blends into society somehow. She has been diagnosed with depression, anxiety disorder, panic attacks, traumatic stress disorder, and attention deficit disorder. She only ever tells her story to those who seem to have no hope, have the desire to be helped, need to learn how to fight, or they need proof that they can overcome regardless of who they are; until now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: De Jesus Publising L.L.C.
• Release date: Nov 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215697832

Book preview

This book is dedicated to all the parentless people of the world.

Chapter 1

I walk into a room with a group of teenagers. At first glance, they seem to be normal teenagers in a room set up like a boardroom with twelve seats, a large table, and a projection screen. The group is talking amongst themselves, ignoring those who come in. A room with dim lighting and an air of sadness unlike any other room with a group of young people. They have been told someone is coming from a finance company to answer any questions they may have about managing the bank account they will need to open. The group comprises twelve children getting ready to age out of being under the care of a nonprofit shelter that helps abandoned or parentless teens. Mrs. Mc. Neal walks into the room behind me and begins to shout, 

Good day, everyone; this is Ms. D.; she has been working for a long time in the finance industry. She's here, as a volunteer, to help you learn about banking, credit, and managing your money. Feel free to ask her any questions and make sure you are listening. Let's all be considerate of her time.

As Mrs. McNeal leaves the room. I noticed an extra chair behind another small desk in the room. I pulled up the extra chair toward the table with the group to sit amongst them. As I sit down at the table with the children, I place my laptop on the desk and listen to them as they attempt to ignore me while I start my computer and place my bag on the floor. Some discuss their plans for when they get out and their hopes for their future. 

Some have no idea or plan as to what may happen. Others are trying to deter the most optimistic of the group, explaining how horrible things are out in the world and how evil people are. Since they are not eager to start listening. I began to speak out loud, 

"Yesterday, tears rolled down her eyes as she read a message from a man, she thought cared for her, requesting for her never to contact him again. She began to breathe rapidly and reached for her medication in hopes of preventing another panic attack. She falls to the floor, reaches out, and asks, why? She is alone again. 

"Even though she had broken off the relationship with him because he was not treating her well. He was her friend for many years before he became someone else to her. He knew who she was; he claimed to care for her despite her tumultuous past. He promised to love her and never resent her. But her heart is broken. Her soul has shattered into an infinite number of pieces. 

"She wonders how many more times she will be rejected, neglected, unloved, or not cared for other than by herself and God. She feels as if she is cursed. It was her forty-fifth birthday, another year with no one to give her a gift or show any form of acknowledgment of her existence. 

"She asked God what was wrong with her. She asked God if he forgot to make her husband; he promised that someone would love and care for her. She has tried so hard to be everything he said she should be, providing tremendous support and much more. However, through the years, she has been too pretty, too ugly, too skinny, too fat, too white, too black, too smart, too American, too foreign, too communicative, then too uncommunicative, too poor, now too rich. Just the most popular comments run through her mind.

"He said you make more money than me; you’re more successful than me, all things he knew. She never mentioned finances; she only asked for his share. She cooks, cleans, and performs in all the rooms of the house. Nothing she does is ever enough. She asked God how she could continue without ever being loved in this life. Am I always going to be alone? She knows she is here for a reason. She knows she is only here because of God's grace. 

"She doesn't know what God wants from her or what she has done to be so unloved. She begs God to take her pain away. She is tired of being strong. She is tired of caring for everyone, and no one ever cares back. Everyone who knows her sees her as an influential independent person who has been able to overcome, but no one sees her. She is exhausted from life. 

She has never taken a real vacation to go somewhere new just to do nothing. She has never had anyone to help her heal. No one ever gives back. She feels a warmth come over her. She remembers who she is. She remembers she is responsible for her children and gets up off the floor as she wipes her tears away.

Everyone in the room had become quiet; they were staring at me. I looked up and said,

Are you ready now?  

Are you all right, Ms. D.? asked one young lady. 

Yes, I am fine, I said. One young man says,

Yes, yes you are, are you married? You're weird but fine.

Young man, I could be your mother,

No way, he responds. 

No, I am not married; that is why I am a Ms., I said with my sarcastic humor as I speak most often,  

I am eighteen, says the young man. 

Well, I am not looking for another son, I responded.

Everyone laughs as I say, 

I have children that are almost 30,

No way, he says again.  

That's not why I am her son; that was quite inappropriate.   

Is Ms. D. your real name? the same young lady asked.

No, it is not; I go by Ms. D. to not waste time; it makes it easier for people since everyone consistently, for some reason, cannot say my name. We do not have to waste time explaining or commenting on my name. I like to do my work anonymously as often as I can, as well. I do not like wasting time or energy on monotonous things, especially those with no value.

So, what were you talking about earlier? asked another young lady.

I was just telling a story about someone I know. Every time something terrible happens, it causes pain as if it were a great tragedy, like a knife slowly consistently slicing her open. But she always seems to find a way to keep going. She tries to help and love people no matter how badly she is treated. You should all know that no matter how bad your life is, someone else always has it worse than you.

Why are you here, Ms. D.? Someone else asks.

I am here to help you manage your money.

Everyone laughs; he shouts out again, 

What money? You do not know us; how can you tell us how bad our life is or is not? You do not know how we feel. You're some rich financial lady. We are a bunch of black and brown broke people from the street.

I am not one, one young man responds.  

Yes, but your trash they discarded like us, and you will still get a job if you want one. says the other young man.  

I am not black or brown either, shouted one young lady, 

Yes, you're lucky your only half. Her daddy was white; you are still Latin, the young man said.

Be quiet. Ms. D. has not started yelling at us like everyone else; she is talking to us. one young lady says.

Fuck this shit; we just have to sit here. We do not have to do not a damn thing. And there is no God. This is not a religious organization. the young man proceeded.

Watch your mouth, have some respect; you're being an ass. The young lady says,

Who are you talking to? The young man says. 

I smile as I shake my head.

It is all right; nothing will be said in this room that I have never heard before. I do not offend easily. I said to the group.

As I look over at everyone and then directly at the young man, I say, 

"An ass should not act like an ass if they do not want to be called an ass, so do not act like an ass, please. Do not let your lack of discernment allow you to be deceived. I have not been to the beach. It is not summer yet so you can really see me. There is no need for derogatory remarks toward anyone. There is no such thing as black and white in humans or whatever socioeconomic labels they try to place on us. People made this up; it is a man-made myth.

"All you must do is look around the room and see that it is true. There are too many shades of color in people all over the world to just have a few types of people. Some people are so pale they radiate like the brightest sun, and some are so dark they glycine like the most beautiful clear night sky. 

We come from different upbringings and have diverse cultural habits; we are all just human. I understand not believing in God. It is hard after the life you have lived. The hypocrisy of the people around you does not help. My great-grandmother used to say everyone believes they are religious because they do not walk on four legs; I get it.

What are you, Ms. D.? You look Middle Eastern and sound like you're from New York; I cannot tell. The same young lady said.

"I have heard that guess before. I think my father is from Pluto, but I am mostly human; I think. All my great-grandparents are from different cultures from different parts of the world. I pick up accents too. I am like a chameleon. I change pigmentation throughout the year. I can blend in with a lot of groups, especially when I change my hairstyle. 

The European invasion and African diaspora happened in the last five hundred years from Canada to Argentina in the Western hemisphere. The Nomads came over fifty thousand years ago. People were here even before then. Do you think you are just from one group of people? I know, History class does not seem to be paid attention to anymore or is not of much importance. People have been mixing for generations all over the world since the beginning. You are correct, though.

The room became so quiet the crickets did not make a sound. You could just hear the wind blowing slightly through the windows and the trees swaying outside.

"I am not here to sell you anything or make you believe anything. I am not like other grown-ups trying to sell you some pipe dream that they do not even consider themselves. I am not going to hand you anything. I do not get paid to be here. I am here because I want to help you see who you are. 

"I will not tell you that you can be whatever you want. I will not tell you to follow what you think your passion is. I will not tell you that the system is not set up against you to ensure that you will fail. I will not tell you that people have high expectations of you. You are correct if you believe what the patriarchy and society tell you about yourself. It does not matter what pigmentation of skin we are; everyone will not leave this Earth unscathed. 

Everyone's life looks better than yours, especially on the fake internet. The media makes you think there is no way to get ahead. And your government is full of it. There is no help for everyone. There are no resources for you. No one is coming to save you. You already know you are going to have to save yourself. There will be a lot more like you coming soon. One young man shouts, 

Ms. D. is crazy! I respond, 

Maybe; if I am, why would you want to test me?

The room is silent as everyone is looking back up at me.

"What if I told you something no one else has ever told you? Better, what if I prove it to you? All of you in