So today this is the page that I painted. Took me approximately 20 minutes to do. It is about the number 11. The number 11 is significant to me because when I was 11 months old, on Halloween night, my father dropped me off at my grandmother's house to live.
I was born in Florida, in a small community hospital, in November 1964, to a crazy woman. Not just your run-of-the-mill crazy woman--you know--the kind that talks to themselves, and answers, etc. I was born to someone that was technically, totally bat-shit crazy. I know..it's not nice to talk about your "mother" that way--but, honestly..I have met the lady once, and spoken to her twice..so, we are going to forget the mother thing, and just go on with my story.
So..By the time I was 11 months old, I had divorced parents, and each had remarried, and divorced again!! I never knew either of these supposed "step-parents", but have been told that neither of them were very kind to me. I had already had a broken arm, and was very underweight when finally brought to my grandparents. My "mother" decided one day, that she wanted to go to California, and decided that a baby was not in her plans...SO..she called my father (who was 2 hours away, in another city), and she put me in my crib, and she left. Plain and simple. My father supposedly borrowed a work truck from his employer, and drove like crazy to go get me. On that night, I went from being a neglected, most likely abused baby, to a completely different life.....
I journaled this morning about the beginning. Back to my roots..back where it started...stay tuned.. Have a glorious day!!