Gut Instinct

✍ Scribed by Mather, Linda

• Book ID: 107221339
• Publisher: Create space
• Year: 2012
• Tongue: English
• Weight: 120 KB
• Category: Fiction

✦ Synopsis

Prologue

“I knew I was an unwanted baby when I saw my bath toys were a toaster and a radio”
I’ve never forgotten that quote,
I’d read it in one of my mothers magazines, it was Joan Rivers and I had spent hours admiring her photograph believing that this was what I should look like, be like.
I was about thirteen at the time. She, Joan Rivers, had the same kind of mother as I had. I no longer felt so alone in the world, knowing there were others just like me.
One day I will be famous I had thought, and I will say things like that, let them know exactly what my mother was – a whore, a child abuser and a nonentity, at least she was now.
I’d had dreams, dreams that never came true, my life, and my waking hours had been one long nightmare and my sleep had been my respite where I could wish for happier times, when I could dream about blissful times, about becoming someone like Joan Rivers.
My dreams are what kept me sane, kept me from wanting to die, when I awoke from the dream I would want to sleep again to go back into the dream that helped me to escape my miserable life.
Being born is like a lottery, you don’t know which mother you are going to get. I was number 326 lining up waiting to be embedded in some woman’s womb; ironically 325 didn’t feel well on the day of my consummation so was made to sit out.
If he had been well then my life might have been so very different, I would have got a nice mother then. Instead I got ‘her’; instead I drew the short straw.
Did your child get the short straw?
Hey you! I’m talking to you!
Put the book down,
YES YOU!
Did your child get the short straw or was he lucky and won the lottery!
“We are not makers of history. We are made by history” – Martin Luther King Junior
This means that I have been made by my history, my life has made me who I am and also my mother, she has made me who I am today.
Or would I have been like this anyway, was it in my DNA, was it nature or nurture?
Perhaps you will be able to answer my question after reading my story, after living in my world even if just for the time it takes to read this book, or after stepping into the shoes that I was forced to wear either by my upbringing or by my DNA.
So please don’t judge me as you read my story as this could have been you, if you had drawn the short straw like I did.