When I followed KABA's link in the
hungry trains thread, I got the columns of one Kara Machado in my sidebar. I'm sure you would all love to hear about her exploits, which are described as:
Former award-winning journalist Kara Machado, who gave birth to her third son earlier this year, chronicles her battle against drugs, depression and evil colleagues in CLIFFVIEW PILOT's first-ever serialized report. I've summarized, with a few quotes to illustrate points. I'll save the commentary for you...
Part I: Down in a holeShe has her second son, finishes her BA, loses her job, and moves to live with her mom and brother.
Part II: Meeting Charles MansonShe has a fascination with meeting Charles Manson, and eventually succeeds, and then gets creeped out by him. It doesn't seem to fit in with the rest of the monologue.
Part III: I am what you make meShe meets a guy named John, and hooks up with him. He moves in. He cheats on her. She kicks him out. She sleeps with him again, while he was seeing another girl. She lost her job because she was showing up late and taking too long to complete assignments. She acquires a druggie BFF.
Part IV: Worse to worst: I'm raped, my boy is beaten upSomeone puts something in her drink, and she is raped. She takes the day off work...then goes to the bar and hooks up with someone.
Shaken, stunned, saddened, I cleaned myself up -- and went out.
Don’t ask me how, or why, but there I was, back in the bar, attached to yet another no-good shit-talker.
And as I headed home later on, the CHP pulled me over. Yes, I admitted, I had been drinking. But I was slurring my words, probably because of all the chemicals running through my brain.
I argued with him, all the way to a jail cell. He argued back -- bless his heart -- trying to get me to realize that I could have gotten in a heck of a lot more trouble, that he was actually cutting me a break with a DUI.
And y’know what? That cop probably saved me from what could have been the same fate as the night before.
I called my editor the next morning. I told him what happened, and got to stay home again.
I really tried to lay low and concentrate on work after that. I kept the partying to a minimum. I cut out the recreational drug use.
I still got fired.Her brother beats the crap out of her son. The brother ends up serving a few months in jail, but she says she's forgiven him because that's what God wants.
Part V: Idaho dreamin'She gets back together with John, who decides he wants to move to Idaho to be near his family. She decides she is going to join him. Before she leaves, she goes through more drama, such as the utility company shutting off the water. She takes a trip to Idaho and gets knocked up with her third son. She returns home, and prepares to move to Idaho. Meanwhile, her relationship with John deteriorates, and they have regular arguments over the phone.
At some point, I got this bright idea: I’d trade my car for a motor home. Then I could have a place of my own and not have to depend on John or his family. I drove the 45 miles north of town to make the exchange, and the clunker barely made it back.
When I tried to return the hunk of shit, the guy told me he’d put more into fixing it up than I did into the motor home. If I wanted my wheels back, he said, I’d have to fork over another couple hundred bucks.
Curses. Fucked again.Part VI: No place to live, with two boys already and another on the wayShe moves in with John at his grandmother's place, but they aren't getting along. She moves out.
Before I left, I confronted John, who said he would be more concerned about the baby than me if I left. He called my two boys brats. Then he had the nerve to suggest I simply hand the baby over to him and let him be a single parent.
I decided the best thing to do was leave and raise my baby on my own, while staying close enough for John to visit.Part VII: This close to death, saved by redemptionShe's completely broke. Lots of strangers help her. A woman buys her a meal at McDonald's after seeing her scrounging for coins in her purse.
Child support was on its way, but we barely had enough to buy the kids a meal when we reached Boise. It meant we had to spend the night in the car in the Walmart parking lot.
I called my aunt and asked for a few blankets. My uncle reluctantly agreed that we could stay with them before we even left California, but he gave me such shit over it that I told him to forget it.She gets child support, and finds a nicer hotel to stay in. She gets an apartment. She finds a private school she wants to take the children to, and the principal arranges something for them even though it is too late for scholarships. The unfurnished apartment is furnished with the help of church members and the school principal. They find a cheap TV and cable is included in the rent price. A cousin in California helps with the utility and food bills. John decides to get some education, but is constantly tempted to get involved with the women he meets there. He calls her and asks her to come pick him up so he won't be tempted, but instead she has to go to the hospital, because her pregnancy is going badly:
Physically, I was out of whack. I couldn’t breath right, my legs and ankles were so swollen and my uterus wasn’t snapping back into shape. Eventually, I ended up in the ER -- in tears, taking jagged breaths.
Before I could even sign in, a hospital employee scooped me into a wheelchair and got me onto a table. My pressure was spiking so high that blood spurted all over the place when the attendant tried to connect the IV.
I spent the next week in the Labor area, with a morphine drip. Had I waited any longer to go there, one of the attendants said, I probably would have died.
The nurses said they’d never seen a post-pregnancy like it. They later admitted they were scared for me. Turns out I had pneumonia and post-partum preeclampsia.While she's getting her health back she gets even more help. She decides not to return to journalism and decides to go for a realtor's license. When she misses a few classes and the teacher offers some encouraging words, she breaks down in front of the class and tells them her story, and is given much sympathy. She is trying to save money for her realtor's license, although she has already been helped out by having some agency pay for her fingerprinting and exam.
But she got some other help, too:
I know it’s cliché, but Facebook helped me out of my shell by reconnecting me with people I’d lost while drowning in my troubles. Once I found them again, it was like no time had passed. They are genuinely good people.
wink