Damaged Goods
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Have you ever walked into the store, gone down to the can good aisle to purchase your corn or peas only to find some of the cans have been damaged? Some cans have dents in them. See, the truth of the matter is that we overlook those cans. We pick them up, assess the damage
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Damaged Goods - Donna M Barnes
DAMAGED
Goods
DONNA M. BARNES
Copyright © 2020 by Donna M. Barnes
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
Introduction
Life isn’t always as it seems.
…sometimes, it’s totally different.
As a child, I dreamed, and I dreamed big. I often dreamed of growing up and couldn’t wait until I did. Little did I know, being grown wasn’t for me.
One of my biggest dreams was to become a successful lawyer, able to afford all of the luxuries my heart desired, including hire a maid and staff to run my mansion, in Washington, D.C. My massive home would come equipped with pristine landscaping and greenery, in spite of the fact that I never developed an appreciation for the great outdoors. I wanted a round driveway with a black limousine parked in it. And since I didn’t want to drive it myself, I’d hire someone to do that for me, too.
Basically, if someone else could do what I didn’t feel like doing, I believed God wanted me to pay them to do it for me. That’s why he created them, right? In addition, I’d have five children and a husband to enjoy my riches. I was only seven-years-old but I knew exactly what I wanted, how I wanted my life to be and I was going to get it. I didn’t mind working to get what I desired, and certainly didn’t mind dreaming of success.
But what happens when you wake up and the dreams you had as a child still haven’t manifested? What happens when life doesn’t go as planned or the way you intended? I had no idea life doesn’t play out to our wants. At seven, I couldn’t recognize God’s plan or understand the concept of it. I consumed with my own plan. And as for those big dreams rocking me to sleep at night? Well things were about to be shaken up.
The Beginning
You weren’t planned, you were a mistake.
Believe it or not, more children have heard those words than you’d think. Often, parents say things without given thought to the psychological effects it can have on a child. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me," is the biggest lie ever told. Words hurt. We must guard our speech, because words can’t be taken back. We can apologize and attempt to right our wrongs, but we can’t undo the hurt our word cause.
How do I know all of this? Experience. I wasn’t part of the life my parents planned for themselves. According to them, I wasn’t even supposed to be exist. Do you know what it feels like to lose your identity before you’ve had the chance to develop one? When I was conceived, I wasn’t wanted. I entered this world a rejected child. Before my heart was fully developed, it was preparing to be broken.
Already having three children, my mother considered aborting me. Thinking of me wasn’t about what color she’d paint my nursery or who’d throw her a baby shower, things most expectant moms look forward to doing. The joy my mother should have felt about my conception was overruled by despair.
What am I going to do with a fourth child?
Obviously, she decided to keep me. Not only did she decide to keep me, but she took care of me. She fed me and made sure all my needs were met. What my mother didn’t know all those years ago, was the very child she had considered aborting, would be the child to make the biggest difference.
The unwanted child would grow up to break generational curses.
I wasn’t wanted, but I had a purpose. I wish I could say discovering my history was the biggest challenge of my life, but it was just the first of many obstacles I’d face. I was birthed into a dysfunctional family, which only added to the many other challenge’s life hurled at me.
I didn’t grow up with my father. Unlike my mother, who stuck it out and did the best she could to raise us, he took another path…one that didn’t include me or my siblings. His absence felt like another slap in the face. Another rejection and another heartbreak, from the two people who should have loved me the most. How many more heartbreaks could one take?
When will it end?
Even after all these years, I can’t hear the song, "Dance With my Father", without tears flooding my eyes, because I’ve never experienced that bond with my own. It would be a pleasure to dance with him, but an even greater pleasure just to meet him. To talk to him. All the things a daughter shouldn’t have to beg for.
Even though my mother birthed four children, I only grew up with one of them, my sister. One of my brothers was kidnapped by his father when he was three years old, devastating my mother. It was years later before I realized my mother was not the only person who had suffered through that loss; it impacted me and my siblings, too. My other brother lived in Louisiana. There were several summers when we’d fly back and forth from Washington D.C to Louisiana; however, those memories are a blur. The mind is an amazing thing. If you try hard enough, it will allow you to block out the bad moments. You try not to remember the pain or the hurt.
You just try to keep going.
I wish I could recall one good memory from my trips to Louisiana, but I can’t. When events have traumatized you, the past creeps out of nowhere and reopen the same wounds you felt years ago. Trips