Why I no longer pick up the paint brush that brought me so much comfort.

I was living in my Grandma Dee’s home. Pregnant with my first child, already thrown out of the father of my child’s home, and a teenager. My Grandmother had just remarried. She was living in a huge home in Three Oaks. Her and her husband opened their doors for me and I had a large room and a decent life. I rarely left my room outside of the daily trips to the post office to buy stamps and mail letters to my son’s father. I wrote him constantly during that pregnancy. I stayed in my room. I didn’t eat as I was sick the entire time. I drank milk by the gallons but I bought my own as I had food stamps and wic way back then. I coped with my life with painting those days. I had mass amounts of paints I would even volunteer at the thrift store up town for credits there for painting and crafting supplies. It was just my passion. No one in my life wanted me to keep my baby. I mean NO ONE.  Abortion, adoption, whatever the opinion was it was absolutely not me parenting. I was on my own. I was fine with that though I had made my peace with it. I was in every parenting class known to man earning points and things I needed for my baby. Allen had it all!!!! So there is no way I had ever even considered another option for him. One day I came home to my grandma in my room. I hadn’t been gone long just walked to the post office a few blocks up and back. When I got to the top of the stairs I could see her in my trash can. She was fumbling with the garbage from my painting mess and I wasn’t sure why. Entering the room startled her and she was irate in an instant. She was screaming ” I caught you!”. I honestly had not a clue what the hell she was talking about.” I knew you didn’t want him. You aborted that baby. Right here in my house.” Her screams were ludicrous to me. Has she been drinking? My grandma didn’t drink but I truly just had no idea what on earth was going on in the moment. Before I knew it she had slapped me and I pushed her back she tumbled and we both ended up on the ground. Me with her clear hand print on my face. She then called 911! “My granddaughter has given herself an abortion with a coat hanger. I stopped her and she pushed me down. ” Oh my God at this point i realize she is bat shit and I should go. I get to the front door and the officer is already there. Her hand print still very clear across my face. She flies down the stairs to give her story first. I sit myself down on the porch trying to not stress through my high risk pregnancy.  I had been on bed rest the entire time. I couldn’t eat much and lived off milk and carnation breakfast drinks. The officer came to me next. He was holding the hanger. It was evidence. I was baffled. I had to go to the hospital and prove my story. I could have pressed charges as grandma admitted being angry at my actions and hitting me. I at the hospital was told the stress made it time to induce and was set to deliver the very baby I was said to have aborted the very next day. I moved back home to never have a relationship with my grandma again. I have seen her a few times but never had a bond at all since. I do my best to avoid her. I can’t move on from it no matter how hard I try. The hanger was simply covered in the red paint I had used it to stir and unclog one of my paints. The exam in my head created an issue that lead to my preterm delivery being needed. My son being vacuumed for 36 mins.  I threw all my paint supplies away that day and never touched a paint brush again. 

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1 comment on “Why I no longer pick up the paint brush that brought me so much comfort.

  1. Detroit's Video Blogger and Broadcast Media Professional

    Wow!!! This is so deep. I literally felt the story as I read it. I don’t even know what to say about your grandmother. It’s unfortunate that family would send you through such unnecessary and crazy stress. Then its bold because now you have a trauma associated with something that brought you peace😔 Thanks for sharing. Great story!

    Reply

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