teen mom tellS all
BOOK EXCERPT
Katrina Robinson
War for Your Dreams
ENTER THE MATRIX
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FOREWARD BY
BESTSELLING AUTHOR: DR. NIDO QUBEIN, PRESIDENT,
HIGHPOINT, UNIVERSITY
EXCERPT
The MATRIX is a metaphor for choice.
Two worlds. Two pills. One choice.
A choice to live in the shadow of the past, or in the realm of the unseen where dreams and capabilities lie. A choice between
TRUTH and LIES.
Which will you choose?
“Sometimes finding yourself feels like looking in the trash can.”
Katrina Robinson
Grow Up
War
Living was a little different now. We were in the county where more family resources were available. There was more subsidized housing, cleaner public transportation, and better schools. At one point, the rent at our subsidy was $1 per month. It was also a different landscape. There was space, trees, grass, and a lot less noise. I grew to like it. The yellow buses took me and my sisters to school everyday. My mother finally got a car too. She enrolled in college and got a degree. My sisters were growing up and got to take full advantage of county living. Grandma being right across the street secured us even more. She lived in her house for 30 years. It was paid for. She wouldn’t be moving any time soon. I played lottery numbers often for her. The lottery clerk knew her handwriting on my number list. Those tickets earned grandma regular income; aside from day care. She was always hitting! And when she did, the whole family got blessed. Whatever the family needed, she gave. When I went to the store I’d say, “Grandma, I’m going to the store. Do you want something?” She’d say, “Yes, a Cadillac car, a diamond ring, and a man.” I’d reply, “I’ll see what I can do.” Too funny! Her house was where the whole family gathered for special occasions. She was the anchor of the family. (I miss her much.)
A
t
this point, I was doing well scholastically, participating in school
sports, and spent a lot of time with my friends. I grew close to two
in particular. We met at school and shared a lot laughs together.
Many secrets too. I looked so regular and healthy on the outside; but
internally I was bleeding. I had issues about being adopted. I
didn’t look like any person in my family and I was the darkest. It
was pointed out often. I also had abusive memories haunting me off
and on. Our single parent family was not equipped to get the
counseling and intervention I needed. Mom had no interest in doing
anything that would be to my long-term benefit. Besides, she had her
own ghosts to deal with. She
had come a long way, but it never changed her attitude toward me. For
some reason, my dark skin was offensive. One day she said,”Have you
really looked at your bottom lip?” My bottom lip was a little pink;
discolored from birth – like I had been smoking. I thought, “What’s
wrong with my bottom lip?” She said, “It looks like a monkey’s
butt!” I went and looked in the mirror. I just stared for a minute.
Then I went to the encyclopedia to see if I could find the picture
of a monkey’s butt. Couldn’t find one. Back to the mirror I
went. Something changed this time. I wondered how many people looked
at me and saw a monkey. Then, I looked at my dark skin and short
hair. UGLY! I was ugly. Every time I looked in the mirror, I didn’t
see my unblemished skin, my slanted eyes, or my nice shape. I just
saw ugly. An ugly dark skinned girl, living in a house with better
looking people.
I didn’t want to look much in the mirror anymore. My looks no
longer mattered. I was ugly, and I accepted it.
“Getting pregnant early is like postponing a worldwide expedition..indefinitely.”
Katrina Robinson
Teen Pregnancy
War
With my mother working, in college for the 2nd time, and playing catch up in her personal life, I was watching my sisters after school. I did a horrible job with the big sister thing. Boys had my attention now because they gave me attention. I was walking home from school with them, paging them, dating them. When I couldn’t get out of the house, I was on the phone with them. Trouble and hardship knocked on the door and I let them in.
Neighborhood boys are the closest ones to get hooked up with. You can conveniently see them when you’re bored, broke, or lonely. They’re always nearby to sneak around with. The next thing is to start experimenting sexually. Along with that may come alcohol abuse, drug dealing or crime. Idle time can yield a lot of stuff. Costly decisions are easily made when you’re immature. One of those is unprotected sex. All of a sudden, pregnancy emerges. An unplanned one. Unplanned pregnancy had found me. After feeling sick for a few days, I decided to get a pregnancy test. I went to Planned Parenthood. I didn’t tell anyone, I wanted to go alone. It was a little scary but I had to know. The test was positive. My stride was much slower when I left the facility than when I went in. That kind of news will slow a anybody down. Man, oh Man. The bus trip from that building back home seemed like a lifetime. My mind was racing and my heart was beating fast. Of course I told my two best friends. They just looked at me, but they pledged their support. I felt like daaag…everybody is having sex, but I got caught. I had to tell the father. When he found out, he was not happy. Looking back, I guess that’s understandable since we were both high school students. Neither of us was mature at that point. But I never expected him to desert us. Being abandoned was the farthest thing from my mind. I really thought he would do the right thing after he got over the anger or when the baby was born. He never did. I never thought about how much pain I would be in if he disappeared. His family hurt me to my heart. Around my 2nd month of pregnancy, I saw his mother in the grocery store and she was so nasty to me. She was convinced I was on a mission to destroy her son’s life. (He obviously had played no part in me getting pregnant!) She almost ran me over in her Chevrolet another day. She stopped in the middle of the street, got out of her car, and started yelling and screaming. Of course she turned a deaf ear to anything I had to say. It was all about him not getting into trouble with the law. Her message very clear. Abort that baby! Maybe to her that was the best thing to do, but I was so overwhelmed I couldn’t decide what to do. Even abortions cost money and her son had completely cut me off. She took my phone number and vowed to help pay for the procedure. I never heard from her ever again. I started thinking more and more about having an abortion. At the time, I was working at McDonalds. I started saving money for a procedure. Good ole’ mom. Most women know when someone is pregnant. They know the signs. She saw how I was laying around all the time. Hiding in my room. Ducking her out. Women are not stupid! “Katrina, are you pregnant?” she asked. “No.” I knew I was lying and so did she. She was in my room one day and found the abortion money. She put a stop to that abortion nonsense. She did not support abortion in the least. I’m so glad someone stopped me from making a terrible mistake. The whole ordeal was scary and oh so painful, but I’m glad I went through it.
When delivery time came, I was at the hospital alone. The baby’s father didn’t come, his family didn’t come, and my sisters were too young to make it. My mom came when I went in for surgery. I was laying in the hospital bed and all of a sudden all the wall monitors started going off. My mother called the doctors in. They came rushing in, yelling at each other and moving fast. They adjusted and rolled my bed out of the room. I said, “What’s wrong, what’s wrong?” None of the doctors would answer me. I guess they figured I was just another kid pregnant before her time and I wouldn’t understand anyway. I started crying. I was scared to death. Is the baby dying? How much pain will I be in? My son was having fetal distress (difficulty breathing while inside the womb). They had to rush me in for a C-section. That meant a permanent scar and a long recovery. My mom had to stand outside the operating room because of sterilization. I looked around the room and I was surrounded by strangers. Nobody in there knew me, and I knew none of them. My body was exposed, I was in pain, and an emotional wreck. I just couldn’t stop crying. During birth, I was sick to my stomach. I probably vomited at least 5 times that day. Fear overtook me and I didn’t have a soul to lean on. The nurse who came to comfort me and hold my hand was no consolation to me. She was a stranger too. All I could do was lie on that table and recall the promises my boyfriend made. I had flashbacks of bad memories too. I was so glad when surgery was over. My son was finally born. I was wheeled back to my room afterward, but I lost a lot of blood. I couldn’t even stand up the next day without fainting. I almost killed the nurse that tried to break my fall. She fell too. I stayed in the hospital for a few days. My boyfriend never contacted me. I just gave up on his father and decided it’s me and the baby. He was so precious at birth. All babies are. Holding my son helped me forget about some of the pain. He was as the bible would say “a goodly child”. Strong, healthy, and cute as a button. His father missed out on that.
We moved from place to place; living with parents, family members, in a shelter, to living with a guy. I lost possessions with every move. It wasn’t a time to try and hold on to anything of sentimental value, and it hurt. We were unstable, and would be for the next few years. I remember living off food stamps, medical assistance, and cash assistance just like my mom did. I remember the low wage jobs, trying to get day care and trying to find a house all at the same time. I remember waking up some days and saying, “I’m so ashamed of myself. What am I going to do? What’s going to happen to us?”
My uncle saw me struggling and suggested applying for unemployment. Unemployment benefits? I had never heard of unemployment before. I caught the bus to the unemployment office, and signed up. There was quite a bit of money paid into my insurance. That money carried me for a little while. Renting a house was a first for me, but I had to find one. The townhouses I found were cheap and in the middle of nowhere. The buses ran once every 2 hours. It was the cheapest rental I could find. Tidewater Village, I’ll never forget that place. My first permanent home away from home. The rental office denied me, but would approve if I had a co-signer. Thank God for my dad. He co-signed so the kids and I could have a roof over our heads.
My second child was born right on schedule. No C-section this time. I had a healthy baby girl by regular birth. She wasn’t like her brother, she cried a lot. It didn’t bother me any. It’s something about motherhood that helps with all the pain and strain. When I left the hospital, I stayed with my mother for a few days to recuperate, then went back to my house. Anyone who came to visit that had a car got the royal treatment. I had one baby on my hip and one baby in the stroller riding the buses to get around. Can you imagine trying to go grocery shopping on the bus with a toddler and an infant in the strollers? Can you imagine the days it was raining? I didn’t have enough hands to carry the groceries, stroller, diaper bag, and pocket book. We did a lot of borrowing too. I can see how God kept me from getting hooked on drugs or alcohol. That’s all people did out there in those woods was get high, get drunk, and have sex. I still had a made up mind that I can do better. My father brought a few pieces of used furniture to start us off. My boyfriend re-appeared for a short time, bought a few things, and then disappeared again. This time, I was ready.
The unemployment job service helped me get a resume together and start applying for clerical jobs. I kept those resumes and applications going out despite deep depression, anxiety and hopelessness.
A community college contacted me for a job as a grant funded part-time secretary position. You talk about excited! That wasn’t the word! An interview for a real job – with real benefits. What was I going to wear? None of the money that came through my hands was spent on clothing acceptable for office work. One black dress hung in my closet that covered enough of my body to pass an interview. What would I say? A serious salvage of the memory went on. Attempting to recollect my work experience and communicate it effectively to others would be a challenge. Especially since my brain was so scrambled I could barely remember if I was coming or going. How would I get there? I laid out the connecting bus routes on paper. It took three buses just to get to the daycare. Then a 2-mile walk to the college campus.
6am came quickly the day of the interview. Actually it felt good to have a reason to dress up. A diaper bag packed with diapers and milk was on my shoulder. Princess was in my arm and baby J was at my knee. In the other hand a stroller, for when my shoulders and back would fail. On the bus off the bus, on the bus off the bus, on the bus off the bus, and then walk to the daycare. Then the 2-mile journey began. The college was two miles from day care and sat on a high hill. I walked from childcare up the hill. So much went through my mind. They won’t hire me. They’re going to look at me and know I’m struggling to make it. They’re going to laugh at me. Can I answer all the questions? I should just go home. But one thing stayed on my mind. If didn’t go to the interview, my fate would be sealed as a statistic. That was not an option. By the time of my arrival on the campus, I needed to rest just from the journey. The interview didn’t last long and surprisingly I got hired. I finally landed a job. Happiness is getting hired! A secretarial job was good money compared to an unemployment check. It was at a college with health benefits, retirement, pre-tax plans, and credit union options. Being gainfully employed changes your whole life. I found out my new employer even paid for college tuition. Wow! A second chance at a college education was more than I could imagine.
I could see a dim light at the end of a long tunnel. Then the real challenges began. Getting up everyday at 6am, riding all the buses and then walking to work. Then doing the same thing to get home, whether it rained, thundered, or snowed. Snow and ice bruised my feet as I carried the kids on and off the buses. It was hardest on the days when Princess and Baby J did not cooperate. They had days when they slowed me down crying, whining, or not wanting to get off the bus when it was time. I stayed skinny those years. I had plenty of daily exercise. I’d get blessed sometimes with a ride by one of my co-workers. The money I made part-time was just enough to replace the social service benefits that were cut. My budget was very strict. My clothes had holes in them, but I ironed them and wore them to work anyway. I went hungry during lunch most of the time, but the joy of having a job kept me going. It was HOPE for the future. Some days I would just cry. Wondering when would things get better? I cried and kept pushing. I was ashamed, but I kept pushing. Thinking about suicide, but I kept pushing. Some days it would rain on us so hard on the bus stop. God forbid there was a storm with high winds. Sometimes, I just stayed at daycare and made my journey later on in the evening. Often, I would forget it was the 1st day of the month and my bus pass would be expired. I didn’t know what day of the week it was most days. I would have to get off the bus and go buy a new bus pass. Some days we had to run for the bus. Other days the bus would leave us and we had to wait an hour for the next one. Every now and then, the bus didn’t even show up! And rarely, I’d treat myself to a hacker or taxi. I cried a lot during those days and nobody heard my cries but God.
I finally got a car and started gaining forward momentum. Someone told me about car auctions and I saved enough to show up and take a chance. Without any idea what I was doing, I bid on a two door hatchback 1989 Renault Alliance. Few people bid against me that day so it was mine! It cost $500. I shouted every day for a year. No more two mile walks, strollers, taxis, begging for rides, heavy grocery bags, and bus transfers. Life was getting better. I would definitely get my money’s worth even if the car just lasted for 3 months.
&
“Life is short, and sometimes blurry.”
Katrina Robinson
Social
War
While everything was getting better on the financial and career fronts, the social front, where all that inward pain originated was in turmoil. I didn’t understand my turmoil, but I knew I wanted to ease it. I found a few ways including shopping, dating and bar hopping. Financial freedom brought me to a place of real life exploration. I had my own house, automobile, and job. I had a little attitude too. I was about to learn some hard lessons about friendships, relationships, and my foolishness.
By this time, I was well into my 20’s. Lord have mercy. It was a ham! (I hope you know what that means). I was very blessed that my close friends and I were never on the drug scene; but I drank enough liquor to bury a whole herd of horses. I would get tore up at one of those “hole in the walls.” The drinks were the bomb. St. Ides, Crazy Horse, Rumn’ Coke, Long Island Ice Tea….I used to lift my drink up to God and say, “Thank you Jesus, for whoever made this liquor.” Then I would fall out laughing. Pitiful. Trying to escape from the struggle came easy between the liquor, night clubs, and boyfriends. When I was drunk, nothing mattered. One night I drank about six Long Island ice teas. Now you know! I remember I was with my girlfriends, then I flashed I was in the back of the car sick on the stomach, than I flashed being on the staircase. I woke up the next morning in bed wondering “How did I get home?” “Is my car outside?” “Oh Lord, did somebody steal my car?” I ran to the window despite my pounding headache and looked for my car. It was there. My girlfriend drove me home and parked the car. I don’t even know how she got home. That was the end of drunken nights for me.
For a while, I was at the night club 4 nights per week. Sometimes until 5am. My friends and I were so well known; when we showed up we were escorted past the crowd and into the club. All this while working and going to college. I never missed a beat. All of my obligations were met. When I was dancing on that club floor where nobody knew me, everything was alright. Dropping it like its hot had a way of making you feel sexy, desirable and in control all at the same time. Gambling became a big part of my life at this point too. I loved the lottery and Atlantic City. I would cuss the counter lady out if my lottery ticket numbers were printed wrong. Of course I rarely won, but it was the rush of chance taking. I also developed a violent streak. I busted a few people’s windows, flattened some tires, fought at the bar, and in the streets. My success became the target of great jealousy. It is always easier for individuals to try and destroy you than channel their energy into pursuing their own success.