Socially Speaking My Journey

Socially Speaking My Journey

By Frances Gonzalez-Boyd

 

 

 

After giving it much thought and even writing my biography, I decided that if I just share what is on my mind, it would work out much easier. It all started with someone suggesting that I write and publish my testimony and then it became too long. So, I will simplify my story with these words. {{more}}I have not always been open minded, and able to share freely. As a matter of fact, I did not even know how to put stories together until I became more educated. I enjoyed writing poetry while I was a teenager. I never dreamed that I would someday be attending college to become a news reporter. The sky’s the limit as I continue to tell and encourage people; fulfill your dreams.I have to admit that my desire to learn, my strong will, and the grace of God are the reasons I am still on this earth. It was also the nurturing that my parents gave me and that sense of security and love that has allowed me to endure much throughout my life. I give God all the credit for the college education that I have. He gave me life and the strength to continue. I have not always had the answers to life and its questions, but there is no better father to answer them than God who breathed life into me. Life is a God given gift to all of us, a gift that was bought for a price. I seek him through storms for his simple answers, leadership, comfort, and strength. He is my rock and my salvation. I could have been killed in this world many times. I am not ready to go, for my purpose has not been fulfilled totally, and I hope that someday my unique story touches many hearts and lost souls. It is our choice to become the best we can be. I was lucky to have had two parents Heladio and Barbara Gonzalez, whom I am very proud of. Through them, God brought me into this world. One of the Ten Commandments is to respect and honor your parents. I not only was brought up to respect them, but I can still remember my “madrista” reminding me. It is important to speak your “idoma”. Speak your own language, which was Spanish and I was the only one in my family that took that seriously. I spoke my language to my parents. I miss that so much, and I miss my parents because they were there for me.Life was not always easy, and money was even at times scarce. Heart disease, like it does in so many Hispanic families, was inherited in my father’s side of the family. My padre was a disabled heart patient since I was four years old. He was a good man who had worked hard before his first heart stroke. My mother worked full time many years at the Abilene State School, and devoted her time to the family when she was not at work. She was a strong- willed and spiritual woman who cared and loved her family and put God first. My parents were not always perfect, and I did not always agree with them, but there was a time that I decided that it was because of them that I was where I was in life. My father the authority, the protector, the one who I remember, walked around our house every night making sure that all the fences were secure, and watched over us. It was my Dad’s old “53” Chevrolet pickup that he used to take us to the drive-in movies from my birth town of Hamlin to Anson. My older brother Albert and my older sister Gloria would not only get to ride in the bed of the truck, but we would sit in the pickup bed at the movies. My dad would take me to the hobby shop where he would buy his materials to make his planes that he would fly at Seabee Park. We had good times. There were many good childhood memories of my life.There are several aspects that have influenced the person that I am today like the talents that I have developed, the hobbies that I have participated in and the spiritual upbringing that emphasized learning about God. God the creator and father is the one I turn to these days when I am lonely. This loneliness that I feel is that of a mother who is without her children more days than she is with them. Thoughts of my mother, Barbara, who went to be with our Father in Heaven in April of 2006. My mother was very dear and close to me. Memories of how she helped me survive childhood asthma and pass my classes in elementary school because of the many days I was too sick to attend and faced the challenge of not falling behind. I inherited her talents and she taught me her skills. Everything I know, sewing, cooking, singing, writing, drawing, painting, church, praying and the list goes on, I learned from my mother. My mother was a people person who loved to talk. She raised nine children, some through difficult illnesses and helped me attain straight A’s because she taught me to persevere. The disease of alcoholism was passed on to me like a generational curse from my ancestors. It became the reason for the hell that had crept into my family over the years. It was the problem that had created even more problems and confusion for me while I was becoming the person I needed to be. Alcoholism was not there by invitation. It had been an intruder since my early childhood and an issue that I was too familiar with. It became the reason for many of my pains in life that I was to endure later, and because of my ignorance and lack of the subject matter, I became caught in what they call an unhealthy cycle. That cycle that made me a fix-it people person, a caretaker, a natural for piling up hurts caused by other people. The alcoholic syndrome caused me to start feeling out of place, and that later became a failure syndrome. It was the lie that Satan started to try to implant in me. I knew not how to bless myself. I loved because I learned to love and care. Then the question arose one day, what is love? In the era, of the Beatles, Bee Gees, Eagles, Carole King, and many other soft listening seventies songs I started looking for love in the wrong places. I met my first ex-husband in a bar at the fresh age of eighteen after persevering through and graduating from high school.Having been involved in youth activities at a charismatic church, I guess had not been enough. I became a victim of this world, and my naiveness fit in the category of being ignorant of society, and the destruction it can cause was nowhere in my brain.The familiarity of my alcoholic past, and the cycle of taking care of alcoholics that night at the club was to become my future fatal traumatic choice. I learned the hard way. Love is not controlling, abusive, by no means “slavery”, and is sure is not feeling lonely all the time when your better half is gone most of time. The love I had for education, and the so called “Godsend man” was really the alcoholic that I became submissive to. Little did I know that, it was wise to wait on God for that real God sent man, and not continue a life of pain and confusion. I later realized, I became a victim through my own wrong choices. I had a choice, yet I enjoyed caring for alcoholics. Real and vivid memories of my life as a teenager. It was my big brother, Albert, who I watched over like a mother late at night, and at the early age of ten. I would take him inside the house so that he would not get in trouble. The confusion started during my teenage years. I was talented, yet so confused, and soon I was to start experimenting myself with cigarettes, and alcohol. I did not like it, and it was just to fit in with others, or for the feeling, maybe the escape, like when my marriage finally ended. I hung on for all the wrong reasons, and maybe it was good. I was finally free, yet, alcohol was not the answer. I did not drink, until a neighbor invited me to go out and dance.Choices, again…they were there, yet I had not accepted Jesus as my savior yet…The word perseverance has stayed in my life, although, it did not have to be so hard.I remember the pains…when my sister …Gloria ran away at sixteen, and her and I were very close during my childhood years… and then my Senior year when I almost dropped out of school, and my mother called the school counselor to tell them that I was at home feeling bored..then I graduated bringing up my grades the last six weeks of school..I drove myself to my own graduation. Then there was another trauma and pain when I was threatened to get beat up if I did not break up with my boyfriend in middle school. She was a transfer student from another school who caused trouble. I knew nothing about self-defense, and sadly, I broke up with my boyfriend who was someone I even knew from church. I lied to him about my reasons. Today…I am here because of the grace of God…I have been through accidents that could have been deadly…and I even saved myself in a vehicle that could have been easily hit and rolled off the highway late one night after blacking out and having the car stall out on me. I simply was not ready to go…so I stepped out, and directed my own traffic, calling for help at the same time. My purpose is mainly to save others the trouble from going through so much “hell” in their life. Life can be easy. It is when we make bad choices, and even though we do not ask to be victims. I did not ask for much of what I endured.Overall…I am thankful..that every breath I take, and every step I take ,it is for my God.I am not perfect…but I continue to perfect that which God has given me. It is God who gives us life, and who can also take it away. I thank God…that no matter what Satan thinks he has taken from me, he cannot take my soul, because I am free, and I am God’s child.I live today one day at a time. I know that I still seek my only father even more, because he is the family, and my sisters and brothers in Christ, that I have come to lean on for the answers and the fellowship. I am free, and have been from alcohol for years. I am not an Al-Anon/Alateen, but a free child of Christ. God is my savior, and the reason why I live today.