I learned something long ago. Sometimes you have to accept what you come from with laughter if you want to be able to enjoy life without feeling any bitterness. In today's political atmosphere, it's most needed as families are breaking apart over who they voted for. That's why I finally accepted what I came from - white trash Trump lovers that love to fight.
When I say that, I'm not knocking any of my family or judging them. I love them all. To me, it's just a fact. Just like if someone said they came from an Italian family. I just come from a white trash family. It is what it is.
One of the favorite figures in my family was my Aunt Shirl. If there was a textbook definition of white trash, she might have had her picture right next to it. However, she had a heart of gold, when she wasn't stirring shit by gossiping. When there was no gossip, she said up front: "I will make something up." It was better to give her something to talk about, or her imagination would run off and make up some of the craziest bullshit you could imagine.
She was in love with chickens and roosters. However, when her first husband got into a fight with her, she busted a beautiful rooster pitcher over his head. She was more angry that she had to replace the pitcher than anything else.
My favorite memory and the best advice I ever got from her helped me get over a very hard trial in my life. It was unconventional, but it got me there.
I just left my first husband. I was 19 years old. Though we had only lasted nine months, he left me in debt and with nothing but the clothes on my back, a laptop, a guitar, and my dildo. By god, I took the fucking dildo with me. He could keep everything else INCLUDING my piano. My dad had bought me that piano.
For whatever reason, I fell for the guy. It was a phase I was going through. I had no self-respect for myself, and I chose someone who had no respect for me either. It was a costly mistake. When I came home, I had no clothes to go to job interviews, and I was going to have to get a job and soon because I had creditors threatening to take me to court. At 19, I believed I was going to jail, and let's face it, I'd never do well in jail. I'd be somebody's bitch the first day in.
Between my mom and aunt, they managed to get me some clothes to get me through some interviews and get a job. My aunt was on disability, but as far as I know, she helped me out when I needed it most. The only catch was I could never go back to the guy I had married before. At that point, there was no worry about that. However, she yelled that at me in the middle of a department store. Everyone in JC Penney knew my business.
Regardless of knowing he was a piece of shit incapable of working, not doing drugs, and being faithful, I still had moments where I was so lonely and missed him. Don't ask. Again, it was a phase. One day, I was driving my aunt around in my mom's car. She was smoking a Marlboro Light. She had just got her mullet dressed up, and it didn't look so much like a mullet.
Out of nowhere, she started giving me relationship advice. After telling me all about a young guy that broke her heart, she gave me a piece of advice that I will forever be grateful for her for.
She asked me between puffs on her cigarette, "You know how to get over a man?"
I was driving her to my mom's house down a dirt road. I replied, "No clue. How do you?"
My aunt said it bluntly and plainly, "You go whorin'."
I about died laughing and almost ran the car into a ditch on the right side of the road.
And that's what I did. I whored around. It may not work for others, but it did work for me. I moved on. I met my current husband two years later, and we've been together since.
My aunt died shortly after I met my now husband. Though she had been sober for several years from alcohol and only abused Xanax, one day she just got tired of it all and went back to drinking. Rather than work her way back in slowly, she dove into the deep end and went straight for the tequila. She also mixed in some crack. She didn't last very long.
I miss her and think of her often. Some may think that telling a 19-year-old to whore around to get over her ex is irresponsible. However, to me, it was no different than telling me to just go and find something to occupy my mind to keep it off of my ex. Her way just happened to also involve my vagina. I know she only told me that because she loved me and cared about me.
I try to carry on a little bit of legacy by collecting strong perfumes that could peel paint (gardenia) off the wall and ceramic roosters. She loved roosters. I have a nice little collection going.
Image via Flickr by Rob "Berto" Bennett under Creative Commons 2.0.