Beat Down But Still Standing

By Funcine Wingate

This book, Beat Down but Still Standing, is the remembered impressions of what it's like to start out thinking that something was wrong and never being able to place a finger on the culprit of what was happening to me. At a very young age, I noticed that other kids didn't like me; I was picked on, bullied, and talked about most of the time in my face, but my mind never allowed me to become upset, scared, or even angry. I was honestly trying to process how I got in these situations or what I did, knowing that I was not a troublemaker nor did I like witnessing trouble. My adolescent years were pretty much the same but with more intensity to some degree, shape, fashion, and/or form. It seems as though the bad memories outweigh the good memories by a long shot. To experience the unseen and to know that there is some force or something unexplainable attached to my life compelled me to question what, who, how, and why these things were taking place, which led me to a totally different world I never knew existed. Finding out after my breakdown in November of 2019 that some people will use different ways to manipulate and take advantage of others for their own gain or satisfaction, clout, or even monetary gain, I started to read and research about the world of mysticism.

As I receive clarity and receipts of my biography is filled with events that would make someone think that I couldn't possibly be serious. So even though the sequel to this will hopefully the last extension from being beat down in every way you could think. The next book will have a lighter feel of happy events.

I love y'all!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781639857319

Book preview

Beat Down but Still Standing

Funcine Wingate

Copyright © 2022 Funcine Wingate

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2022

ISBN 978-1-63985-730-2 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63985-731-9 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Questions

Tomboy Fitting In at School

Unseen Shit Situations

The Reconnection

Questions

My childhood memories are not a lot; I do recall questioning everything—why I was here, why I felt unwelcomed, why we had so many rules that went into some people’s favor but not others, why I could see different shapes in the clouds, why we went to school, why teachers liked some kids and neglected the not-so-fortunate kids and just place them in a corner, why I had to eat vegetables (which I enjoy now), why people were picky about who would be in their friend circle—I could continue but then we would never make it to the story.

My very first school was in Chicago. I was five; Mama was walking me to school finally after I attempted to stall things by asking for more waffles while I sat in front of the television being entertained by the Warner Bros. Cartoons (Porky Pig). As we arrived at the school, the feeling of things went sour, so many kids running around uncontrollably, in so many sizes. Where are their mama or daddy at, and why are they so wild? Anyway, my first day, I disliked all the shit—assigned seats, line leaders, smart versus the not so smart, taking naps—all of it was a no-go for me.

Another memory while in Chicago: we moved to an apartment with about five floors. We stayed on the third floor. I remember songs like Fly Like An Eagle, Pick Up the Pieces, Shining Star, Fame, Jive Talkin’, Get Down Tonight, Ecstasy, and a stream of others, but when it comes to music, I will recall those tunes in a minute. In our new building, we had a candy store on the first floor. I could take a quarter and get myself six cookies and the rest in penny candy, then in the evening Mommy would ask us if we wanted Burger King or barbecue. I liked both, so whatever we got I was cool. Why did we move to Chicago? Why my daddy didn’t come? Why my mama’s friend on the fifth floor walked around her apartment with nothing on but house shoes? Her name was Ms. Bernice. She had two teenagers, a boy and a girl, who didn’t think anything wrong of their mama walking around with no clothes. Mama would send us to her apartment to get a cigarette or two when she ran out of hers. I hated going up there! Shoot, her husband would be in his chair like his wife was not buck naked answering the door. Why is this lady naked?

Anyway, being in that neighborhood was okay until these creepy kids robbed us. Every Friday that I can remember, in the evening time, myself and two eldest sisters would walk just around the corner about less than half a block. These kids have obviously been watching us for a while because they came to the Burger King like they were going to buy food but followed us as they played friendly and talked to my sisters. All of a sudden, they snatched our bags of food and ran off. I started crying automatically. My oldest sister told me not to cry as we hurried back to tell Mama what happened. I kind of blacked out in memory, but from what I remember next, we had Burger King after all. I think my sisters were escorted around there to get us something to eat. But after that, I began to dislike that neighborhood. Why would people steal food and not be sad about whom they did it to? What made them think of something cruel like that, and who taught them to rob people?

Out of all the different events that took place, there are a few that really became like a mark of memory. The first was when we were waiting for what they called the L train and that damn thing was fast, so we were underground waiting for our train, and mama told us not to get to close to the edge where it was a tunnel or ditch where the train tracks were. From where we stood, it was probably a five- to six-foot drop down on the tracks. Mama was talking to a stranger that was also waiting, but in the spiritual sense, that person was being used to distract mama from watching us. As I was walking, I was slowly being drawn to the edge. Just as I turned around to head back to Mama, a draft pushed me. As I was falling backwards, Mama snatched me by my collar in mid-fall. Falling on the tracks below would have been…well, who knows because it didn’t happen, and those tracks were electrical, so to the touch would be shocking (no pun intended). How did I get to the very edge? What lured me to danger when I was told by mama not to go toward the edge?

The other most creeped out memory was when I experienced my first out-of-body experience with my humbler. The definition of humbler can be explained in the Bible scripture, And if a man entice a maid that is not be trothed, and lie with her, he shall surely endow her to be his wife (Exodus 22:16 KJV), precepted by Deuteronomy 22:28, 29, which reads, If a man finds a damsel that is a virgin, which is not be trothed, and lay hold on her, and lie with her, and they be found. Then the man that lay with her shall give unto the damsel’s father fifty shekels of silver and she shall be his wife; because he hath humbled her, he may not put her away all his days.

Now, of course, it’s possible that there were other virgins he’d experienced, but in my opinion, I was loyal for some reason, but we’ll get into this further in another chapter. So continuing with my first out-of-body experience, we had a disagreement, that I will not reveal unless he wants to reveal, so he was really upset with me and was telling me to leave. As I attempted to try and work it out, his decision was a set one and that was for me to leave. It hurt my feelings so bad, before I knew I was about twelve to fifteen paces away from the lower set of stairs a ways down the street where my body was. I’d realized that my spirit side of me was standing on the porch right next to him. As he scolded me with name calling, I was there in my spirit, crying, wondering why he would not look at me, because he was looking where my physical body stood. I turned to look at what he was gazing at with disgust. Damn, I was there yet here with him. As fast as I could blink, my spirit was back in my body. I cried so badly that day, and could not put a finger on why this was so hurtful. What really took place? And even when he was mean to me, why did I feel attached to him? So this, too, is for another chapter.

I can recall a few other memories, basically remembering us back in Kansas City, Missouri. For the most part of my early childhood, I seem to have a blackout period from six to ten years of age. Why the blackout, and was something else connected to this time of my life? Now this time period started to pick up and memories, whether good or bad, began to stick with me. Our first location back at our hometown was a house on Jackson Street, which I thought was pretty cool, because my favorite singer had Jackson as his last name, as in Michael Jackson, one of the best entertainers I knew at that time. Of course, others were good, but Michael Jackson was a full package all in one—handsome, a dancer, singer, and had money. So living on Jackson Street was like the beginning of a time full of obstacles—my mother was getting help from the system that was created to separate families, while Daddy