Silent Pain

THIS BLOG IS MEANT TO BE LIKE A DIARY, HOWEVER, IT DOESN'T MAKE MUCH SENSE, IF YOU START READING THE NEWEST POST.  THEREFORE, I RECOMMEND STARTING FROM THE OLDEST POST AND FOLLOWING ALONG TOWARD THE NEWEST POST.  I THINK YOU"LL FIND IT QUITE INTERESTING, AND MORE INTERESTING THINGS TO COME IN MY LIFE OF "SILENT PAIN"!
 
I had a friend that worked with me at Dairy Queen.  Her name was Cathy, too. She was older than I was, married with two small children.  She once worked at a florist, so together, she and I made all of the floral items.  Yes, with silk flowers. My colors were to be red and white. Among sending invitations, ordering the cake, choosing a gown, planning the music, and the reception, we somehow pulled it off, just in time for that August 23,1986 date, which is also my parents' wedding anniversary.  I thought it turned out beautifully. My in-laws did go and even did their part with the rehearsal dinner!  I'm sure that was the first time they had been in a Baptist Church. We had almost two-hundred guests in attendance!

We did receive some bad news the day before the wedding. My Great-Grandmother had passed away. She is the one who had been married for seventy-five years. My Great-Grandpa had already gone to be with Jesus. "Baugh", as we called her, is also the one who had made me the satin and lace-covered Brides' Bible, which I proudly carried it with my bouquet. We had to halt everything, and have a family discussion.  Should we continue with the wedding?  Everybody agreed that  Baugh would most definitely want us to continue our celebration of love and joy with a wedding ceremony. It was difficult, but we kept remembering the fact that she was only thirteen when she married, and she and Grand-Dad made it through all of those years together.  We had my cousin Dudley, to officiate the wedding.  He was the pastor of a Baptist Church in Oklahoma.  The most important song for us, that was sung during the ceremony, was "Nobody Loves Me Like You Do".  That was and still is, our song. The reception was just as beautiful. 

Timmy and I never went to any prom.  We were already engaged, and needed to save our money. We paid for approximately seventy-five percent of the entire wedding, including the girls' dresses and the mens' tuxedos. Our parents didn't have a lot of money, and I had always wanted a church wedding.  We had little money left for a honeymoon, which was alright. We had planned to drive three hours to Oklahoma City and stay there for a few days. However, when "Baugh" passed away, I wanted to get back for her funeral.  We decided to stay one night in Lawton, Oklahoma, which was only forty-five minutes away.  Therefore, we really never had a honeymoon. On our tenth and fifteenth wedding anniversary, we went back to that same hotel, staying overnight in the exact same room, where we had spent our wedding night. We laugh about being hungry after the wedding on our wedding night, so we stopped on the highway, went inside, and ate at McDonald's!
We made it back to see my beloved Great-Grandma laid to rest, beside her husband, to whom she was married for more than seventy-five years of her life. All I could think was how she was now reunited with my Great-Grandfather.  That brought me joy that masked the pain of losing her.

Me, Timmy, my parents, and my three brothers (Don, Tim, & Terry)   August 23,1986

Silent pain

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Silent Pan

 

I'm not saying I don't love my in-laws.  I do.  Without them, there would be no Timmy.  Without their decision to move to my hometown, Timmy and I would have never found our "soul mates" in one another.

There have been times throughout the years when they, especially Kay, have been good to me. I believe we have agreed not to discuss religion or Politics.  If we can manage to do that, we seem to get along alright.  They're still an odd couple though.  I can't, for the life of me, understand how they raised a son, who is so totally opposite from them, but I'm glad they did!

Referring back to our wedding engagement, Timmy had a steady job at Coke, and I had just finished high school and was working a lot of hours at the local Dairy Queen (which is now a mexican restaurant).  I was seventeen, and he was nineteen. We were so in love.  My curfew was STILL ten o'clock! Timmy was allowed to come inside after ten, but I had to be home and in the house by ten.

We had already decided to purchase a mobile home, place it on the one acre that my parents gave me.  Out in the country, one had to also dig a water well, place a pump on it (which was electrical), and build a insulated pump house for it.  We found a older model, one-owner mobile home, that looked quite nice on the inside.  We bought it, using the bank for a loan, and purchased it. By early June 1986, all was ready to go, water well and all.  Timmy moved in. I was never allowed to be inside the house alone with Timmy.  Some days I would go, just to clean the house, while Timmy was at work.  My oldest brother, wife, and four children lived in a double-wide mobile home in the acre right next to us.  On the other side of his family, lived my middle brother, who was married to Timmy's sister (and still is).  He initially placed a mobile home on his acre, and then built a home later on.  At the time, they had one little girl. On the other side of us, was just pasture or farming land.  It actually belonged to my youngest brother, but he was always working out-of-state for the IRS.  It has been impossible for he and his family to live here. He is currently a district manager in Kansas.

My mother never talked to me about female subjects.  She never talked to me about shaving my legs, starting my period, or SEX.  I remember being approximately eleven years old, and praying that God would somehow give me the courage to tell my Mama. Whenever I was twelve, I started my first period. My first period came and went, and I never told her.  I know this sounds grotesque, but during that first period, I used washcloths, instead of pads, and then threw them away, deep inside the garbage can, so no one would find them. She was already post-menopausal by this time.

Great! I couldn't get the courage up to tell her that I had started my first period.  How will I tell her, whenever the second one starts?  I suppose it was a few weeks later, and when she came to awaken me for school, I was having horrible pelvic/abdominal pain.  She told me to go to the bathroom and wipe with toilet paper, and see if there is any blood on the toilet paper or my on my underwear.  She told me that I may be trying to start my first period. I went into the bathroom and did what I was instructed. There was some blood on the tissue paper.  From outside the bathroom door, she simply said, "well?".  I simply replied, "yes".  That's all I had to say.  God was listening to that repetitive prayer after all!
Mama went to the store, and purchased the necessary products.

As far as shaving my legs, I was in the 6th grade, and all the girls were shaving thier legs.  We use to talk about it in gym class. One day I used my Daddy's can of shaving creme and his razor, and learning by mistakes, I began shaving my legs from then on.  I was always afraid to ask my Mama anything, even something as simple as "When can I start shaving my legs?"

Sex was a subject which we never discussed. The only vaguely discussed sex with me one time.  Timmy and I were four months away from becoming husband and wife.  She came in my room, and said something like this "I know you and Timmy love each other very much, as long as you two have been dating, it's hard  to just kiss and hold hands.  A boy has special needs, too. So if you two ever decide you can't wait any longer, come to me and Daddy, so you can married first".   That was the extent my conversation with my Mama regarding sex!

In June we went to my parents, asking if we could get married sooner than October 17th.  My Daddy said he'd have to think about it.  Afterall, months earlier, when Timmy had asked for my hand in marriage, Timmy told us the wedding would be on October 17th. A couple of days went by, and my Daddy still didn't give us a reply, so I did something I never dreamed I would do.  I went to my Mama, reminded her of our conversation, our only conversation about sex. I told her that we couldn't wait until October. I also told her that we'd like to marry on their anniversary, which would be August 23, 1986.  After talking to my Daddy, he finally agreed. I think, privately, he didn't want to let go of his little girl...ever. He has often said that walking me down the aisle and giving my hand to someone else, was the saddest day of his life. He's had many sad days, too.  Now I had sixty-three days to plan our wedding. There was really no good reason to wait until October.  Timmy had the house all ready to go.  He had a good job, and I was making a fair income as Assistant Manager at Dairy Queen.  I had no plans to attend college.  I just wanted to marry Timmy.

Our very first house.  We made it into a home.

Silent Pan

I've already mentioned the fact that Timmy's parents didn't like me. Well, his mother really didn't like me after a tragic incident!   It was a Saturday, and Timmy and I were in his bedroom studying. He was still a senior in high school, and we had Algebra class together  The add-ons to his parents' house was constructed so the laundry room was on the other side of his bedroom, and in the laundry room was the back door, which lead  to the back yard.

Well, they had a Dachshund, named Duke. There are more photos of that dog than there are of anything else.  That dog was their baby.  He was spoiled rotten.  On this particular day, as Timmy and I worked on our homework, Duke came running through the bedroom, to the back door. Since I was closest to the door, I asked Timmy, "Do you want me to let him out?"  He said, "Yes".  They had a fenced in back yard, so we thought nothing of letting Duke outside. After all, that's where he spent a lot of his time.  It wasn't five minutes later, when we heard tires squeal in the street in front of their house.  Timmy's parents were working on a project in the back yard.  They needed to leave the gate open, so they could go in and out and into the garage.  We didn't know this.  We didn't know not to open the gate!   Duke had been hit by a car. He was still alive, but hurt badly.  Timmy carried him inside, while his mother called the veterinarian's office.  Although it was a Saturday, she agreed to meet us and Duke, at her office. The entire time, his mother was cursing and yelling.  I remember her asking, "Who let the G-d Damn dog out?"  I could only reply, "I did ".  When we got to the vet's office, Timmy laid Duke on the table, turned, and began cry.  He loved that dog, too.  He also felt responsible for letting Duke outside.  Later that day, Duke died.  You'd have though Kay's own mother had passed away! However, I later felt their pain.

I know how it feels to lose a pet. Since then I had a cat (I'm a HUGE cat lover!).  Her name was "Sylvia".  We got her when she was a kitten, she was indoor only. She died of throat cancer, when she was seventeen. Just like with Duke, it was one of the saddest days of my life.  Since we lived in the country, we were allowed to take her body home from the vet, and bury her.  We knew her time was almost up, so we had a wooden box all ready.  It was engraved with her name.  Timmy had dug a deep, large hole ahead of time. Because she always laid on my pillow, wrapped around my head, I laid that pillow inside of the box, and then laid Sylvia's lifeless body onto to the pillow. I even kissed her, just before Timmy nailed on that wooden box top. We made a grave with a Small picket fence, and white rock covering the ground where she lay.  We even had a headstone, engraved with her name and dates, and her picture. I know people thought we were crazy, but she was part of our family, just as Duke was part of their family....and I'm the one who is actually responsible for his demise.   

Above is a photo of my "Sylvie Girl".  She was already getting ill .

Silent Pain

There was one big problem standing in the way of our relationship. Timmy's parents were Catholic. They raised both of the children in the Catholic faith. As I've mentioned, I was raised in a strict Ssouthern Baptist home.  I had never even been inside any church that wasn't Baptist. If you'll recall, Timmy's older sister married my older brother, and she had joined the Baptist church. This had already set the stage for Timmy's parents, especially his mother.  She had already lost her daughter to the Baptist denomination.  Now her son was engaged to "the other" Baptist.

When Timmy and I began dating, I continually invited him to my church and youth activities at my church.  (He wasn't even attending the Catholic church with his parents).  He would always tell me "no".  He knew his parents would get upset.  Finally, before we were engaged, he began going with me to my church.  His mother was furious!  His parents never even knew about the night he accepted Christ into his heart or the Sunday that he was baptized, and officially joined my Southern Baptist Church.

His mother didn't like me from the beginning. She believed that the wife should follow her husband's beliefs.
There are some things that I agree with, that Catholics practice. I wasn't anti-Catholic, but I wasn't about to join the Catholic faith, although we worship the same God.  We just do it differently.

Timmy's parents have never quite fit in here in Burkburnett,Texas.  They were raised in Illinois. He was in the military and retired Civil Service, and I doubt they've ever voted for a Republican politician.

This is something I can't quite understand. If Catholics are so against abortion, why do they repeatedly vote for politicians who are pro-choice? Just a question that I often ponder.

If there's anybody in this world who needs to be taking an anti-depressant, it's Kay, Timmy's Mother.  She is constantly complaining about something.  When we have to see his parents, we're always wondering, "How will Mom be today?"  Occasionally, she acts just fine.  One just doesn't know what to expect while in her company.   Timmy's Dad, Jimmy, has caused his son much heartache through out the years.  More about that later. He is sixty-seven years old, but thinks he's still a teenager.  He has survived throat cancer twice. He and Kay bought a Ford Mustang awhile back, but they had to trade it in, because they couldn't get in and out of it without having much difficulty.  Then he's purchased and traded several motorcycles over the past few years. They are just odd people. They've done or said so many wierd things, I couldn't attempt to list them all.

Silent Pain

After our first kiss, Timmy and I never spent one day without seeing one another.  I became very ill with mono, and was hospitalized for five days. He drove his parents' car, a Ford LTD, every evening, to see me at the hospital. There's no way his old truck would have made the thirty minute drive and back.  My biggest fear was him seeing me look so bad. I couldn't do my hair or make-up, and I just looked sick.  That didn't seem to bother him.  Every time he got ready to go home, he'd give me a kiss. To this day, I don't know how I got mono. Timmy never indicated any symptoms, and God knows he and I had kissed an awful lot lately.

In August of 1984, we'd been dating for only five months, but our love was already so strong, we couldn't bare spending even one day without seeing one another. My parents went to Colorodo, camping like we had done for years.  With me only being fifteen and having a boyfriend, whom I was obviously crazy about, there was no way my parents were going to allow me to stay home, even with my older brother still at home.  It was absolutely terrible! We missed each other so much!  I actuall took change from my Mama's purse, just to call Timmy at the campgrounds where we stayed.  Mama never said anything, but I think she knew it.

Timmy and I knew we would get married someday.  It was just a known fact. There really wasn't some romantic proposal. We even went together to choose and purchase my bridal ring set. Twenty-five years later, we both wear the same rings. I never want anything more.

When I was sixteen, Timmy went to my parents' house, and asked my parents' for permission for us to get married. Timmy told them that we had set a date for October 17, which was eleven months away.  My parents agreed, after my Daddy gave him a long lecture.  I was working at Dairy Queen at the time.  Timmy had fortunately landed a job at Coca-Cola, delivering sodas.  He made "okay" money, but had full benefits.

I skipped my Junior year in high school, so we could get married. I had enough credits to do so.
I had a teacher, Mr.Lawson, who pleaded with me not to do this.  He wanted me to continue with high school, take Senior English, and become a English teacher.  He thought I was making a huge mistake. I was in love, engaged, and ready to get married, so I didn't listen to his advise. I don't regret not listening to him. However, I know he was just trying to give direction to one of his favorite students.

Just before my Senior year began, there was a terrible car accident. One of my best friend's sister, Terri Garner, was spending the night with our nearest neighbors, Kim Cozby.  They escaped through Kim's bedroom window, and met two boys in a car. (Sounds familiar, huh?). They drove for about 3/4 mile toward town (We lived on a dead-end road), and ran a stop sign.  Both of the girls, whom I knew well, perished in that awful accident. My friend Mike, who's sister was one of the two killed, called me in the middle of the night, as he frequently did.  He told me that Terri was dead.  With permission, I drove to Mike's house, where he lived with his grandparents.  We sat in Terri's room for hours, talking and crying. He already had her Senior ring. She was to be a Senior that following year.  Mike was wearing the ring on his little finger. When he was eight years-old, his father committed suicide, and soon after, Mike's mother was sent to a mental hospital out of state.  She had lived there for years. Mike  and his sister went to live with thier grandparents, who were Southern Baptist and very strict on the two children.  Mike had often told me that his siter was really all that he had.  A horrific accident took her away from, too!  I don't know where Mike is today.  I've only seen hm a couple of times, since we've been out of school. However, when I have seen him, he still has his sister's senior ring on his little finger.

I know it sounds "nerdy", but I was a member of the school choir during junior high and most of high school.  Since I could play the piano better than our instructor, she often asked me to play during practice. Wow!  Did I think I was special?  Most of the other students didn't even know that I could play piano. I met many good friends during Choir.  My closest choir buddy was Bobby Radke. I haven't seen him since high school and don't know where's living, what he's doing, etc.

I wasn't exactly an angel during my senior year of high school.  Timmy had graduated, and was working for Coke. Once they knew Ken had moved away,  I had Black guys all over me, even though I had a steady White" boyfriend, whom I was planning to marry.  During Social Studies class, Sam James, a major player on our football team and a Senior, dropped me a note, asking me to go out with him. Sam James!  Gosh!  I couldn't believe Sam James wanted to go out with little, nobody, unpopular me. I wrote back, and told him that I couldn't.

One of my Senior Photos 1984

Preston King was another senior. He was also Black and came from a fine, upstanding family.  His father was a minister.  Preston played drums in the band and was very popular.  I got to know him back when Ken was still here, and we were always friends.  However, my senior year was different. Somewhere, somehow Preston and I developed a "crush" on one another. We were always together at school.  he walked me to all of my classes and carried my books.  We never held hands, etc. I was already engaged!   I knew where Preston lived, so one day I stopped by (in my 1979 Mercury Zephyer). Preston came out.  We talked for a few minutes. I couldn't let anyone see my car at a King's house. We told each other "good-bye", and then HE KISSED ME! That was the only time that Preston and I kissed. We contined on at school, as if nothing had happened.   That very night, I broke down, and told Timmy what had happened!  He was going to leave (we were at my house), but I begged and pleated for him to stay. I just kept appologizing. This will become a pattern for the remainder of my life, and every time, Timmy stayed with me. To this day, I don't know why he did.

Silent Pain

                            September 5, 2011  6:26 PM

This is my Great-Grandma Kemp.  She liked to dip snuff out of the litlle cans.  She lived to be 100 years old.

Silent Pain

                                  

This is a photo of my Mama's Parents on thier 50th Wedding Anniversary

Silent Pain

September 5, 2011 5:32 PM

This is a photo of my Daddy's Parents

Silent Pain

Posted September 6, 2011  6:20 PM

This is a more recent photo of my parents.

Silent Pain

Silent Pain

Part 2

September12, 2011   6:12 P/M


When I was about eleven years old, my middle brother married.  His wife's parents and younger brother only lived about forty-five minutes from us.  My parents gave each of us four children one acre of land, if we would build a house or put a mobile home on it. In other words, if we would live on that piece of property. So my brother and his new wife (which is Timmy's sister) lived in a mobile home close by.  Her younger brother,Timmy, would come visit during the summertime.  I made an effort to go ask him to ride bikes with me, and he did.  He was fifteen years old.  I thought he was the cutest guy I had ever laid eyes on.  However, at the age of twelve, he only thought of me as a child.  Every time he came to visit his sister, I made a point to show up.  I invited him to ride bikes or just go for a walk.  He obliged. I even had a picture of him tacked onto my headboard on my bed.  I had asked his sister for one.  Little did I know, he would someday be my husband.  Brother and sister married brother and sister, and lived right next door to one another.  Our children and their children would be double cousins.

Silent Pain

Posted September 13, 2011 5:26 PM 

         

I grew up in the country with three older brothers.  They are 6,12, and 16 years older than me. I remember having a gun at the age of ten.  I wanted one for Christmas. We lived approximately one mile from the Red River, dividing Texas and Oklahoma. We spent a lot of time at the Red River. We'd take our guns and shoot turtles.  We'd go swimming in the river, and we'd jump off of the train bridge into the river below. I never

had even seen a real swimming pool,until I was ten years old. Growing up with three older brothers, I was quite a "tom boy". Those were good times I remember in my childhood.

I was raised Southern Baptist in a very strict home.  I was two weeks old the first time I attended church. It was just a known fact that we went to church every Sunday morning and evening and every Wednesday. I was never allowed to wear shorts anywhere, and I was certainly never allowed to wear jeans or pants to church or church functions.  I accepted Christ as my Saviour when I was nine years old. I believe this is the most important decision I've ever made, even to this day. Today I know Christ is in my heart, and I know I will go to heaven when I die.  I have no doubt about this. I have never doubted this.

I had a very close friend named Sandy. Our families went to church together.  I met her when I was eleven years old.  She was a year older than me.  We were inseparable. I was her Matron of Honor, and she was my Maid of Honor at our weddings. She also sang at my wedding.  After she married, she moved approximately forty minutes away. I called her on the phone often, but she seldom called me. She once told me that her new husband was now her best friend. I was crushed, and have not forgotten those hurtful words.  Today we don't speak at all.  She divorced several years ago. What a "best friend"?  I felt abandoned by the closest friend I had ever had.

Silent Pain

Posted Thursday, September 6, 2011   10/1:02 PM


Before I began dating my future husband, I met another guy, Kenneth Raye Thomas.  I was almost fifteen years old, when we met at school.  I was a Freshman, and he was a Senior.  My middle brother, Tim was the Building Trades Class Teacher, and Ken was one of his students.  I'm still not quite sure how we got together.  I know I use to visit my brother in class sometimes.  Ken and I hit it off.  He asked me for my phone number, and I wrote it on one of his book covers.  He called me that same night, and we talked forever, probably until my parents told me to get off of the phone.

The one very important thing I should mentioned is that Ken was Black!  My family was basically raised prejudiced.  I never knew that Blacks were called anything but the "N" word.  What would my parents do to me, if they knew I was talking to a Black boy?  I didn't ask for it to happen.  I didn't pursue it.  It just happened.

One day he had stayed behind while the other students went out for a job.  Ken told me to come see him during lunch.  Nobody was there, except Ken and me. There was a couch in the office, where we sat and held hands.  Finally, he reach over and gave me a kiss.  He was never forceful or disrespectful, and never did anything I didn't want him to do.  I ran off to gym class, thinking I just kissed a Black guy!

Silent Pain

This was posted on September 6, 2011   2:13 PM This is a letter my Mama wrote to me,  when I was seeing Ken. Since it is difficult to read, I'll tell what she

had to say to me:

" Kathy, I am going to pull one of your stunts & write you a letter & try to pour out my heart to you.  You know that after having three boys, we were so proud so have you, & we have always been so proud of you. I would given up my life for you and so would your Daddy.  We would give you almost anything. But Kathy this Ne Colo, Black boy Has to go.  You have got to get Black off your mind.  You are losing friends and so are we, or at least our friends don't want to be around us, because they think they think we let you like Blacks. And I woundn't and don't blame them.  You know that your reputation isn't as good as it use to be.  I can't understand why you would even look at a Black boy, little lone one that has children (This was never proven. Ken dnied it).  Black people usely don't even know who there Daddy's are  They sleep with anyone & everyone even thier own kin & they are mean & lazy.  A few years ago a white girl from henryetta got involoved with a Negro Black boy & then she wanted to end it & he killed he , (shot her to death)_. Kathy please for your sake & everyone else's forget about the Blacks. I wish you would just forget about boy's for awhile. You have plenty of time. Kathy, your brothers will turn against you & so will all your relatives if you don't stop this. You might say you don't care. But there will be a time when you will care & It will be too late. You could ruin your life at a early age, & you have so much going for you. God has a good White boy for you somewhere when the time comes. Kathy I love you with all of my heart & you seem soon to care less about me & your Daddy. You have lied to us & you know that you have & thats something I never thought you'd do. You need to stay off the phone. It will get you into trouble. I just have  had you & this on my mind so I hope this note will help. You will be 15 years old in a few days. I hope it will be a happy time for you & I know that it will if you will forget all these Black boys's & stop telling me & your Daddy stories. I want to trust you again. I haven't told Daddy about you still trying to stay in touch with that Black boy. It would kill him, but I might just have to tell hem soon if it doesn't stop. You know that I don't like to keep things from him.

I love you,

Mama"

This letter displays just how ignorant my family/relatives were and still are.  My Mama couldn't even bring herself to say the word "Black", rather than Colored or the "N" word!  None of them ever considered the many things that White people are capable of doing.  I've kept that letter for all of these years, and I have no plans to part with it.

I did whatever I had to do to spend time with Ken.  On Friday nights, there was always a high school football game, of course.  For the out-of-town games, our church youth group would take a van to the game.

Instead of going to the game, Ken and I would arrange to meet, and go to his house.  Whenever the game was over, my friend Cyndi, would call me at Ken's house.  That was my cue for Ken to take me home.  Several times I would sneak out of the house, walk down that dark dusty road, where Ken would be waiting for me in his brother's car.
To this day, I don't know how or who, but somebody called my parents and told them what I had done.  I had never seen my Daddy so upset and disappointed.  I was his little girl, and he was always so proud of me. However, even that didn't matter. I would continue seeing Ken, at all cost. They grounded me from everything, which wasn't much.  I couldn't talk on the phone, except to talk to my friend Cyndi.  After all, she was our pastor's daughter.  Maybe she could talk some sense into me. She would call me, then we'd hang up, so I could call Ken. The whole time, my parents thought I was talking to Cyndi.
I still would leave the house some nights to meet him, once I knew my parents had gone to bed.
Sandy, my best friend, didn't want to have anything to do with me or Ken.  She didn't believe our relationship was Christian-like.
Let me say once and for all.  Ken and I NEVER had any kind of sexual relations.  We kissed, and that's about all.
During Christmas break, I got to go visit Cyndi for a couple of days.  Of course, I talked to Ken on the phone.  I missed seeing him so much.  Then he broke the news.  He told me he was leaving the next day to move to Texarkana, to live with his father. He told me that he was doing it for me, because he was causing me too many problems, and he only wanted what was best for me.  Up until this point, I had never felt such pain.  I cried and sobbed like a baby for hours.  Later that day, when I went home, I told my Mama that Ken was moving, and that she'd never have to worry about him again.  I pleaded with her to take me to see him, so I could tell him "good-bye".  She wouldn't hear of it.  I knew Ken would be here only one more night, so I again escaped from my home for the last time, and met him.  We sat on the couch in his living room the entire night, while I sobbed.  When he took me back home, sitting at the end of my drive-way, he told me one last thing.  He said "You'll always be my number one girl".
We were only together for three months, but words can't describe what I learned during those three months.  I learned that love is color-blind, and there is another name for Blacks, and it doesn't begin with an "N"!  I learned the first taste of love can, for some reason, cause turmoil and rejection from those who are suppose to love you the most. I learned you'll do anything to be with that person, even if it generates pain and sorrow.  I've never once regretted what I did, and the time that I spent with Ken.
I never saw Ken again, but I definitely won't forget him...ever!   I still remember his birthday every year.  It is on January 30th, and that was twenty-eight years ago.

Silent Pain

Posted Thursday, September 6, 2011  2:13 PM


I was so sure that when I turned eighteen, that Ken I would be together again. However, it obviously wasn't meant to be. Once again, I felt abandoned, and my best friend Sandy had also abandoned and betrayed me.  I suppose she was just as prejudice as my family and relatives.

Earlier I mentioned Tim, my sister's-in-law brother, who visited often in the summertime. Only God could have a hand in this, just has He has many times through out out lives. Timmy and his parents moved to our little town.  His father was retired military, and couldn't find work in Oklahoma, where they lived. They moved here exactly nineteen days after Ken moved away. I knew I would be the only one that he knew in school, so I abruptly took advantage of the situation.  (Although I was by no means over Ken.)  I decided to call him Timmy, rather than Tim, because my brother's, who was married to his sister, name was Tim as well.

We were out of school for Christmas break, so I called Timmy one night.  I asked him if he'd like to meet me at school on our first day back.  I told him I'd show him his classes.  He agreed.  I couldn't believe this was happening.  I couldn't believe I actually called him on the phone.

On our first day back to school, we met, as discussed. I was so nervous, but I couldn't let him know that.  After all, he was more than two and a half years older than I was.  That was in January 1984.
For the next weeks, we talked at school and on the telephone.

Finally, while talking on the telephone,he asked me if I'd like to go driving around that upcoming Friday night, and maybe get a Coke.  I told him that I'd have to talk to my parents first.  After all, I had just barely turned fifteen years old.  After a couple of days of pondering the situation, I asked my Daddy again if I could go. He agreed.  I think he was just thrilled that Timmy was White! Unfoutunately, he and his parents were Catholic.  Catholics and Southern Baptist just don't mix.  That's been a huge problem from the beginning!

More about our first date later.  I will say, it wasn't our last date.

Silent Pain

I was actually on my first approved date, and it was Timmy, the boy I had  a crush on since I was 12.  He came to pick me up, met my parents (which they had already met before.), and away we went.  He drove a old 1959 Chevy truck, which looked like crap.  It had primer here and there, as though he was going to have it painted soon, but he never did.  The truck at a bench seat. I sat on the far side, next to the passenger's window.  For some reason, he kept asking me if I was cold.  I always replied " no, I'm fine".   Years later, he told me the reason, he kept asking me this, is because he wanted me to scoot across that bench seat to sit next to him. I didn't know!  I couldn't read his mind!  We drove around, crusin' the drag for three full hours.  We didn't stop for anything, not even the Coke that he had mentioned. We were back to my house by ten o'clock.  He came inside.  My parents went to bed.  Timmy stayed. We watched music videos on TV.  I guess you could say that I made the first move by placing my feet on his lap. Soon, my Daddy peeked through my bedroom door, and said "Isn't it passed your bedtime  Kathy". Oh my gosh!  How embarrassing!  Timmy left, without a good-bye kiss.  This was on March 2, 1984.

Timmy and I continued to see one another and talked a lot.  One night, I felt he deserved to know, I told him about Ken, and the fact that I still having feelings for him.  He told me that he already knew that I had recently had a relationship with some Black guy.  He already knew, because his sister was married to my brother, and word just gets around.  I couldn't believe he had asked me out, knowing all about my relationship with Ken.  His parents knew as well.

One week after our first date, on March 9, 1984, he just arrived at our house without notice.  I went to the door.  I let him inside the foyer.  My parents weren't home.  They had driven across the Red River to visit my Mama's brother and her wife.  They did this often.  I told Timmy that he couldn't stay, because my parents weren't home. Suddenly, he kissed me, then told me he'd see me later, and he left. Wow! I couldn't believe he had just kissed me.  Being alone at home, I ran around screaming and hollering, as if Ronnie Milsap had just been there!  I couldn't wait to call Cyndi and tell her!

On March 17th, I was very sick.  The doctors thought I had mono nucleosis.  I was lying in my bed, when Timmy called me on the telephone.  H asked me to go with him?  Back then, that was like going steady.  I reminded him that I still had feelings for Ken, too.  He seemed so understanding.  I agreed to "go out with him". I didn't know it then, but this was the beginning of the rest of our lives together.

This is the first photo we ever had taken together.  I was barely fifteen, and Timmy was seventeen

Silent Pain

Posted September 5, 2011 6:28 PM
This is my Daddy's Grandparents. He was a Southern Baptist Minister at a small church in Alvord,TX.  He was also a farmer.  She enjoyed hand-sewing and crocheting.  I suppose she made a quilt, hot pads, dolls, of something for everyone of her grandchildren, great and great-great grandchildren.  Just before she went to be with our Lord, she made me a satin and lace-covered Brides' Bible.  I attached it to my bouquet, as did my oldest daughter during her wedding. They lived in a nursing home during the last few years of thier lives. She was only thirteen years-old and he was twenty-one when they married.  The extraordinarily celebrated SEVENTY-FIVE years of marriage! He passed away the next year, and she passed away the day prior to our wedding on August 22, 1986.

Silent Pain

Posted Monday, September 5, 2011   4:49PM


If you've followed my blog, you'll remember that I was raised in a strict Southern Baptist home.  At age eleven, I competed in a Bible Drill. Contestants had to memorize numerous Bible verses as well as the books of the Bible. We had to be able to locate a certain scripture as quickly as possible, while a judge used a stop watch. I worked hard, studying for this competition (mostly because my parents were constantly questioning me about practice). I could say the books of the Bible forwards and backwards.  I eventually made my way all the way to the Texas State Championship.  I was the youngest child at the competition. I was in the sixth grade.

At age eight. my parents also bought me a piano, and I began piano lessons.  My teacher was our church pianist.  I took lessons from her in her home every Thursday for nine years.  Then she moved away.  We found another teacher in town, and I only took lessons from her for three months, then she decided to retire!  It was only during those three months of her teaching, that I realized I really knew nothing about piano.  The teacher that I had for nine years simply didn't know how to teach. By this age, I realized I was only a beginner pianist.  Therefore, I chose to quit.  I felt I was too far behind to catch up.

The only reason my parents wanted me to take lessons is so I could someday play in church.  My Grandma played piano in church, but she could never read music.  She played "by ear".  Every single day when I got home, after getting off of the school bus and walking down that dusty road to out house, I was required to immediately put my school books down, and go straight to the piano and practice for one hour!  I couldn't get a snack or anything. Homework?  It had to wait until I finished my piano practice.  Gosh!  That hour seemed so long.  I had to learn how to play hymns. That's what my Daddy wanted.  When I strayed to any kind of secular music, he'd holler, "That;s not a in the Hymnal!". Occasionally, I would practice on a couple of Ronnie's songs, only to hear a voice from the other room saying, "That's not in the hymnal!.  I use to pretend that Ronnie's tour bus was driving down our dirt road.  He'd come in, have a seat, and I would play a recital for him.  Sometimes that's all that go me through that hour-long practice session.

Can I still play piano today?  Not the slightest.  I've forgotten how to read music, and I'm too old to want to try again.

I've mentioned my Southern Baptist background.  For years, the Baptist Doctrine was all I knew.  As I became an adult, I began to develop my own religious beliefs. I am no longer affiliated with the Southern Baptist, or any other denomination.  I believe that we are the body of Christ, and we can worship and praise Him anywhere...even at home. I, my husband, and all three of my children have accepted Christ as their personal Saviour, and have all been Baptised.  Maybe someday we'll locate a church that shares more of what I believe, and I doubt it will be a Southern Baptist.

What a Difference He's Made in My Life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Posted Sunday, September 4, 2011  4:07 PM

Now I MUST talk about the one person, aside from God, my wonderful husband of twenty-five years and my three beautiful children, that has made ALL of the difference in my life.

When I was eight years old, my brother's girlfriend came to our house, and brought some vinyl albums.  I sat with her, while we listened to the albums on our turntable.  One album that she put on was "Almost Like a Song" by Ronnie Milsap. It was recorded in 1977.  I listened to his mesmerizing music, as I stared at the album cover.  For those who don't know who Ronnie Milsap is, SHAME ON YOU!  He is a Country Music megastar, plays piano, & has a voice that is tranquilizing. He has forty number one hits!  He is blind, born blind.

While listening to him sing that day, I fell in love with his music.

For Christmas that year, the only thing I asked for was a Ronnie Milsap album.  My brother bought me one!  It was "Only One Love in My Life" from 1979.  I played that album continually on my little turntable, until I had memorized every word of every song.  I just had to find out more about this Milsap guy.  As I read the small print on the back of the album cover, I read the address to Ronnie's Fan Club. It cost $10 to join.  I babysat my nieces, nephews, and cousins to earn the money to join the fan club!  I still have all of the contents of the package that was sent to me.  Now I had learned a little more about Ronnie Milsap.  I was nine years old then.  When I was twelve years old, Ronnie was scheduled to come to Wichita Falls (only twenty-five minutes away) for a concert. How would I ever get the money and transportation to go, but I just had to go!  My older brother's wife purchased two tickets for me and her to go.  All I had to do is help my brother detail cars.  He had a auto body shop in my parents' garage, and he also detailed cars.  I even made enough money to have a red t-shirt made that read "Milsap's #1 Fan" and $3 for a poster, which was sold at the concert. (That poster went tacked up on my bedroom, wall as soon as I got home.)  I can't accurately describe the feeling that I felt, when Ronnie walked onto that stage. I tried to take pictures, but I was sobbing so, that I couldn't. I just couldn't believe I was in the same building with Ronnie!  It was March 28, 1982, and the most exciting of my night! Ricky Scaggs was his opening act.

I continued to follow Ronnie's music, buying his albums, and playing them repeatedly.  I memorized every word to every song.  I even had a cat who seemed to have one litter after another. I would name each kitten after something related to Ronnie.  I'd name them Joyce, his wife, or Todd, his son, or Smokey, because Ronnie grew up in the Smokey Mountains. Everything I did was somehow related to Ronnie.

I received regular updates from the fan club, along with posters and 8 X 10 publicity photos, which I immediately tacked onto my bedroom wall. I was updated on new albums to come, so I began saving my money from babysitting, so I could purchase all of Ronnie's albums. As always, I listened to each album, learning the lyrics to every song. There was, and still is, something about Ronnie's music, his voice, that had me obcessed with him and his music. My dream was to simply meet him just once, but I doubted that would ever happen.

I got a clock am/fm radio for Christmas when I was twelve. Every night I slept with it next to my pillow, set at our local Country radio station.  Strangely, it seems the only time I was awakened is when the DJ played a Ronnie song.

I was fortunate enough to attend several more concerts, but I was never allowed to attend the "meet and greet", because Ronnie's road manager, Phil Jones, was a jerk.  I didn't have any "pull" to get back stage to meet Ronnie. From the time of that first concert until I was 24, I had attended numerous shows, but still never got to meet Ronnie. I waited twelve years from my first show, before I finally got to meet Ronnie. That was only because the fan club had decided to issue a back stage pass to be used once per year. That night in Tulsa, OK was one of the biggest highlights of my life! However, we were rushed through like cattle, just long enough to take a picture and move on. It didn't matter.  I had waited since I was eight years old to just give Ronnie a hug.  On the five-hour drive back home, my husband had to pull the car over, because I was vomiting.  That's how pumped I was!  Crazy!  Actually finally meeting Ronnie had made me ill.

Since, I have seen Ronnie in concert more times than I count. I know I have thirty-two framed 8 X 10 photos of he and I together. I have a huge collection of Milsap memorabilia, including two autographed shirts which belonged  to Ronnie and four of his RIAA gold albums, not to mention his entire album/CD collection, and numerous other memorabilia. He and his wife send us a Christmas cards every year. I've saved them all, and have made two scrapbooks containing a variety of items pertaining to Ronnie. I even got a Ronnie tattoo on my upper right back.  I designed it myself. Of course, my parents were quite upset about it. It's the only tattoo I have, and the only one I'll ever have. No, I've never regretted it, and I don't think I ever will.

Over the years, Ronnie and I have incredibley become friends. It's like a dream come true. I get to see him at every show.  We are always Ronnie's "guest", and never have to buy tickets.We get the best seats possible. I have become friends with his band and crew, too. They are like family to me, and they always take care of me at the shows. Once at a show, just after their soundcheck, got up form my seat, and fainted.  The next thing I knew, Ronnie's band and crew, along with Paramedics, were surrounding me. Kerry, Ronnie's sound technician had ran to the bus to get me a Coke. Although it was one of the most embarrassing things I've ever experienced, they stayed right there with me, until I felt better.
I've spent a lot of time with his wonderful wife, Joyce. We've been allowed onto the tour bus several times, and almost nobody gets onto the bus!  Ronnie and I visit and share our deepest secrets.  Often, he has mentioned my name on stage, thanking me for my friendship and for being a  long-time fan.  I have seen him in concert in seven states.  He is a very kind, gentle, and humble man. Recently, we were talking with him and Joyce about taking a trip to Nashville.  They both immediately told us that we have to come by their house for a visit!  They gave us their cell phone and home telephone numbers, as well as Ronnie's email address.  I already had his email address and his cell phone number.  Unfortunately, we will have to wait awhile to make that trip, due to finances.  Ronnie and I have talked on the phone on occasion, and emailed each other as well.  I try to leave him alone, because he is a very private person.  That's why I feel so special, when he shares personal subjects with me.  He tells me "ya know this is very personal, and not many people know it, but I know I can trust you not to tell anybody.  After all, we are friends, and that's what friends do.  They can share their innermost secrets, trusting they will keep their conversations to themselves".  I have shared with him as well. The majority of my blogs, he already knows.  He agreed as well that anything either of us share with one another, stays with one another. I have kept my promise.

This is something that I despise discussing, but I must mention it as part of my therapy.  I often think of how I will react when Ronnie dies. He IS twenty-seven years older than I am. Although he is in reasonably good health, odds are he will pass on before I do.  Sometimes I truly wish that I would go first, because I don't know how I will deal with the tremendous pain when he dies.  My Psychologist (who encouraged me to start this blog) has even mentioned how I would react to Ronnie's demise. All I know is it will take a lot of counseling and a very long time to heal...if ever.

I could go on and on about Ronnie, but there's so much to tell.  Let me just say, "Ronnie and his music has helped me through many hard times, and I sincerely thank him for that". He is my inspiration.                            

Silent Pain

Posted Sunday, September 4, 2011  1:44 PM


This is a photo of my parents, my three older brothers, and me.  It was taken at my parents' 50th wedding anniversary.  I did all of the work, and my brothers chipped in a little cash to help with the expenses.  That's the worst part of being the only daughter, and my sisters'-in-law barely lifted a finger.  We had approximately 150 guests!


As I mentioned, I grew up in a very strict home.  That's just how it is when you're Southern Baptist.  However, I can't remember my Daddy ever laying a hand on me. I can't remember either of my parents telling me they loved me, although I know they did.  They weren't raised in affectionate homes, therefore they didn't show any affection in our home.  I never saw my parents even show one another affection.  Occasionally, when my Mama walked my Daddy to the door for work, I'd catch a glimpse of them  giving one another a "peck" kiss.

I remember when I was 15 years old.  I was in the hospital for several days, ill with mono nucleosus.  The nurses were attempting to start an IV.  I had never been hospitalized before, and I was already scared to death and very ill.  They must have taken turns trying to "stick" me ten different times.  They even looked at my feet for a "good" vein!  During this painful process, my Daddy called, and my Mama was talking to him on the phone.  I told her, "Tell Daddy I love him".  A moment passed, and she said, he said  to tell me that he loves you, too.  That was the first time that my Daddy ever told me that he loved me...and over the telephone through my Mama. My Mama didn't tell me though.  Years later, after the many trials I experienced, they both began to tell me they loved me, but only occasionally.

Being the youngest child and the only girl, my brothers thought I was spoiled.  I didn't feel spoiled. We purchased most of my wardrobe mostly at Kmart and from an older cousin, who had outgrown her clothes. Most of the other girls got their clothing from the mall. don't get me wrong. My clothing was always clean, pressed, and presentable.  In fact, when we go to church, my Mama took extra care in making me look pretty. Every Saturday, no questions asked, I bathed, shampooed my hair, and sat what seemed like for hours, while my Mama put rollers in my hair.  She then sat me underneath a old-fashioned hairdryer for what seemed like an eternity.  She'd get my Sunday School Book out, and have me study the lesson for the following day's class.

My brothers often talk about how Daddy use to whip them with his belt on a regular basis.  If they were altogether and one did something wrong or was making too much noise, they ALL got a "whippin'".  Perhaps that's one reason why my brothers thought I was spoiled.  I was never treated like that by my Daddy. My Daddy still denies their claims of such abuse.  Although, he does admit they do exaggerate the truth.

Sometimes I often think my brothers hated and despised me, especially the youngest one Terry.  He was six years older than I, and had always been the baby, until I came along.  He use to set me up to get into trouble, blaming me for things that he did and such.  Unfortunately, most of the time he succeeded.  As usual, then I'd get a "whippin'" by my Mama, usually with one of daddy's belts.  Terry never tried to get me into trouble when Daddy was home, because he knew, I wouldn't get that kind of punishment.  One thing I learned early on, is never try to run, get away, or put your hands across your butt when Mama was giving you a "whippin'"!  Boy, the repercussions would be dire!  I forgot to mention that she would have me pull my pants down, to really impress my bare skin with that belt.

It's strange how Terry seemed to actually "like" me, when I was approximately 14 or so.  He wasn't mean to me anymore.  It was around the time I was seeing Ken.  I think Terry actually understood, but wouldn't dare admit it. He began dating a full-blood Hispanic girl, whom he eventually married.  I didn't and still don't understand why my family was so accepting of her, yet my seeing a Black guy had completely devasted them.
Today, he lives in Kansas, and is a District Manager for the IRS. He has a wonderful family, a wife who doesn't have to work.  He is a ordained deacon , and they attend their Southern Baptist Church every Sunday.

My middle brother, Tim who is married to my husband's sister, lives out in the country, near my parents. He and his wife have two grown children.  When we were young, he'd take me shooting and didn't treat my like the "Royal Child.".  He really didn't live with us for very long.  He was twelve when I was born, and as soon as he was able, he was out of that house, renting a mobile home in town.  We really have nothing in common.  We keep up with each other, but we don't get together much. However, we both know that if either of needed the other for anything, we'd be there to help.

My oldest brother Don, was sixteen when I was born. He calls himself the "Black Sheep" of the family, and he's probably right. He's just been a "mess", since I can remember.  His first marriage ended in divorce, after they shared two children.  He remarried, and has actually remained married for many years now.  He lives in Apache, OK. He's done auto body work most of his adult life, and he's good at it.  However, he's just never been able to handle his finances.  Even at his age, he's still having to borrow money from Daddy and Mama.  It's odd how he and I are the closest.  We don't talk often, but we when we do, we can talk for hours, mostly about Classic Country Music. As with my other two brothers, Don would (and has been) there for me when I need him.                                                             

Silent Pain

Posted September 4,2011   1:44 PM


As I mentioned before, my Mama never worked outside the home. However, she did work.  We had a large vegetable garden, and we'd work for hours harvesting vegetables and preparing them to can.  She used a old-time pressure cooker and Mason and Ball glass jars. She can cook just about anything without a recipe. She began morraine pies when she was ten years old, even making the crust and filling, all from scratch.

My Mama was one tough woman.  She'd get a belt after me, whenever she felt I deserved it.

We lived about three miles from the small town of Burkburnett,TX. My Mama never went into town except to go to church and church functions. She did, however take me every Thursday for piano lessons. She'd drop me off for lessons, and then she'd go buy groceries for the week.  I practiced piano for nine years.

My Daddy was a hard-working man, with brown skin.  He built house foundations, digging ditches, getting ready for the concrete workers to pour what would soon be a house or a business.

Daddy worked in the blazing sun and the blistering cold.  He also owned forty acres.  Most of this land was used as pasture land to raise cattle. He used the remaining land, he used for wheat or hay. It wasn't unusual to rise up the middle of the night to help a pregnant cow, having difficulty delivering her calf.  When one lost a cow or a calf, they lost a good deal of money, and money is something of which we didn't have much.

My Daddy was a deacon, but due to his health, he is a inactive deacon. I should mention that I NEVER heard either of my parents say a curse word.  My Grandfather was also a deacon. His Father was a Baptist Minister. My Daddy was a very upstanding and well respected man in our extended family as well as our community.

When I was five years old, my oldest brother married.  He is sixteen years older than I. I was devastated. I was so upset, and I felt he had abandoned me. Ironically, I have a closest relationship with him today.

Now I am in Kindergarten, and I had my first boyfriend, Chirs Ganshert. I became ill with Chicken Pox, and I was out of school for two weeks.  When I returned, I learned that Chris had moved to Mississippi. I went to the restroom and cried, until the teacher had to drag me out. Abandoned again.




 

Silent Pain

9/6/11   2:13PM

 I have the gift of a great memory. I was almost three years old when my Grandmother passed away.  She died due to a massive heart attack. She & my Grandpa lived just down the road from us, so my Mama and I walked to their house often.  My Mama never worked outside of the home.  She had a tenth grade education.  I can remember several things about my Grandma.  One thing imparticular was us walking down that country road, picking wildflowers.  We then would come back to her house and press the flowers in a large book.  I don't recall if it was a dictionary or a large Bible. I don't know who got it whenever she passed away. They always grew a vegeatable garden, and the one thing they planted every year, without fail, was cherry tomatoes. I remember tromping through that garden every spring and summer, picking those tomatoes and eating them right off the vine. I would love to be able to go back pick and eat just one more of Grandma's and Grandpa's cherry tomatoes!

Grandpa had a recliner that was placed right where he could see outside their old screen door.  He dipped snuff, and had a spittoon on the floor right next to his recliner. He had been a farmer and cattleman all of his adult life.

I recall the day Grandma died. I remember two of my aunts sitting on the couch, one on each side of my Mama.  My Mama was crying, and they were consoling her.  I remember many people coming to our home, just to bring food. At the time, I didn't understand why people were bring us all of this food.

A few days later, I realized what really had happened, and that my Grandma had gone to be with Jesus.  I cried and sobbed at the thought of never seeing her again.  Our family seemed to never be the same.  My Grandpa remarried six months later...to my Grandma's Sunday School Teacher and good friend. He inherited a whole new family, when he remarried, and he seemed he had forgotten about all of his other grandchildren.  My Mama use to say, "If he met Kathy on the sidewalk, he wouldn't recognize her!". I felt as though I had not only lost my Grandma, but now my Grandpa as well. I felt hurt and abandoned, and I was only four years old by then.

Moving on to another terribly upsetting incident in my young life.  I was five years old.  My middle brother kept coon dogs in a pen.  He never let them out except to take them hunting.  One day I got off of the school bus, walked the dirt road to my home, and walked to the back yard, where I kept my pet white cottontail rabbit in a cage. All I saw was white fur scattered all over the yard and the cage tipped over. I knew my brother's dogs had got out and killed my rabbit. Their door to their pen was open.  I cried for days.  To this day, I don't like dogs, any dogs.  I love cats. In my oppion there is no such thing as a ugly cat or a mean cat. Any cat is better than a stupid dog.

Silent Pain

My three older brothers and me.  I was six months old.  Taken in 1969.

Posted 9/6/2111  6:07 PM PM

Silent Pain

September 3, 2011  1:08 PM

I have never blogged before.  In fact, I have had a difficult time just trying to develop a blog site. I am not really here to "blog", but to share my life's journey, thus far. This is more of a personal diary.  My Psychologist of many years recommended this as a tool for therapy.  I have suffered from many physical and mental illnesses. I am a nurse, but I am unable to work right now.  I don't know if I'll ever be able to return to work.  I was born on January 26, 1969, so I am forty-two years old. I've lived through many years of pain during those years. If you follow my blog, you will discover someone who's life has been filled with "Silent Pain" for most of my life. Yes, there are some good times, but for the most part, my life has been filled with much pain, turmoil, and suffering.