My Dream Was to be a Writer Like Louisa Mae Alcott

 

Name: Sally Ann Frederick, daughter of Leroy Frederick and Jean Linderman Born: 9 January 1954 in Brenham, Washington, Texas, USA 

Baptized: January 1954 in First United Methodist Church, 10730 Wiggins Street, Jacinto City, TX 77029 

Resided: 1709 Cheston Drive, Jacinto City, TX 77029 Note: I always had a journal or diary even as a little girl. I lived through my books and my dream world. Mother always encouraged me to read, and I loved writing, it helped me to cope with life and release my feelings. 

I lived through my "make believe" Barbie doll world. All I ever wanted to be was like my mother. I idolized her. I wanted to get married and have children and a home like she did. Mother wanted me to be a "lady" and be a "girlie girl", and that was just not me. I didn't like make up and having to be "prim and proper", or made up. I wanted to play like the boys did. I was a tom boy and I climbed trees and played with my little brother's cars and trucks, while he played with my dolls. 

I was that hippie girl that wanted natural things, and love and peace. I never lived in reality. My first marriage was chaotic and full of verbal, physical, and sexual abuse. So, I had a husband that treated me harshly and cheated and beat on me. He convinced me that it was my fault, and that if I had just shut up he would not have become the monster that he became, or that if I would just do as I was told to, he would not have hit me. I call it the "Blame Game". 

My self esteem was so low that I believed him. He told me that no one else would want me except to have sex with me. I loved him and wanted so desperately for our marriage to work out. But...after eleven years of chaos and fighting, I finally decided that I would rather die than live that way any longer. I divorced him, even though I still loved him. 

I was so confused! How could you love someone and hate someone at the same time? Mother told me that there was a fine line between love and hate. And...that the opposite of love was apathy. 

In 1986, my second husband was a wonderful provider, lover, and he loved me deeply. I loved him deeply, and I still do. I believe that "real love" is forever. He treated me like a queen. He was a gentleman and he had good manners. He made me feel loved, wanted, and needed. I was still drinking and we were drinking buddies. We met at a bar. At first it was wonderful, but both of our diseases were progressing. He was 17 years older than me, and very jealous. We had arguments over his jealousy. His drinking got worse, of course that is what happens to alcoholics. 

He finally lost his job because of his drinking. The company that he worked for gave him chance after chance and they tried covering up for him. He was a good employee. He was a good husband, when he was sober, but he told me that he could not promise me that he would "never" drink again. 

In 1987, I learned that I had Endometriosis and that I could not have any children. I was devastated. It was another of my dreams that were dashed. I had a husband that cheated and beat on me, and now I could not even have children like I had wanted to so desperately. I have had many children that I helped raise over the years. So, we were considering adoption. I always felt different, and I actually believed that I must be adopted. I did not look like anyone in my family, I must be adopted. My poor old grandmother told me where did I come from, you don't look like anyone. She did not mean to hurt me, and she never knew how much I took that to heart. It confirmed my feelings of being "different" and not fitting in. 

It helped me to understand why I thought that I was adopted. I was flat skinny and a tom boy. I liked to climb trees and play in the water. I was never a "girlie girl". In 1964, I was so convinced that I was adopted that I even waited until Mother went to the grocery store one day, I sneaked into her desk and tried to find my birth certificate to prove it! I found out that I am NOT adopted, but it helped me to empathize with the girls that I have sponsored over the years, that have been adopted. 

I lived in a dream world, in my world, everyone was sweet, kind, loving, giving, and not mean and hateful like some in the real world. I was a skinny, scrawny, flat chested tom boy. 

I never felt "Good Enough", or thought that I was special. I lived in "Someday" and my fantasy world. 

I thought "If Only" I were prettier, richer, sexier, or I was perfect then people would love me. 

I always never felt like I fit in anywhere. I was a rebel. I always compared myself to other women, and I always fell short in my mind. 

My best friend was Etta Louise Johnson, and we loved each other and looked out for each other. Her brother Garry was my first love in 1966. Platonic, of course. 

Their mother, Dorothy Johnson was like a mother to me. They lived across the street and her door was always open for us children. She was widowed and worked hard to support her five children on her own after her husband died in 1957. 

No matter how tired she was, she cooked for us and made treats when we had a slumber party, and even sat down and played cards or dominoes with us. Dorothy made me feel special. 

I am sure that I could go on and on and add more. I will add more as time permits. I know for years now, I have put off writing my book because I was not sure really how to do it. 

Life got in the way and I put it up on the shelf for later. I felt overwhelmed. I have decided that I need to separate each family line into a book.

I was insecure and I was not sure whether anyone would want to read it. I have spent years working on my family history and writing about everyone else but me. 

I think that it is time for me to write about what I know, me. I need to write my story. I am important too.