The Place She Used To Hide Out

The Place She Used To Hide Out

There used to be a time when her bedroom was the the place where she used to hide out.  It was her sanctuary, her reading nook, her place to regroup and to escape all of the bullshit that life had thrown her way throughout the day, the week, the month.  She knew that no matter how hard work was that day, when she got home; she could count on going upstairs, kicking off her heels, shedding her bra, putting on her most comfortable muumuu and closing the door to her inner sanctum.

There used to be a time when she could enter her room on a Friday night, and not leave it for the whole weekend.  She had an attached bathroom, so there was no need for her to leave.  She could order food to be delivered, or have someone just bring her a plate from downstairs.  That was a benefit of having older children.  Sometimes, her room would even be the place where her children chose to hide out.  And she didn’t mind that.  Her children seemed to love the peace that the room brought them just as much as she did.  She could be laying in bed, and one or both of them would come in, light an incense and just curl up on the bed with her.  Content to wrap an arm around her leg, or rest the head on her arm.  Or they would meet her at the door after she got home from work, with mischievous smiles on their faces, holding a giant Walmart bag of junk food...letting her know it was going to be “Girls night in Mummy’s bed”.   And they would all curl up in their pajamas, eating their favorite ice cream out of the cartons, watching trash tv and eating ridiculous amounts of candy until they all fell asleep still laughing. 

After the tragedy, the bed became the place she hid out for different reasons.  She didn’t want to face the world.  Couldn’t face them.  She hid out in her room, hoping to disappear forever.  But her friends wouldn’t allow her to do that.  Tiffany and Tee would sit quietly by the side of her bed, watching over her.  Nobody spoke the words, but they didn’t have to.  They wanted to make sure that she didn’t hurt herself.  She said no words.  Just rocked herself in between fits of crying.  Eventually, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months.  Tiffany and Tee turned into Michelle and Mani.  Michelle became the Mother she had so needed her own to be in her life.   She dedicated herself to being a daughter and a sister.  And then…..tragedy.

And after tragedy, heartache, anger, hurt, confusion.  And then a new life.  And suddenly, the place she used to hang out became a place for new life.  There was no way to hide out anymore.  There was this beautiful new life that needed her and smiled when she was tired and ready to give up.  And then there were two new lives.  And the place that she used to hide out was no longer her place anymore.  Now the two new lives had taken over the place.  Now there were some nights, she would actually get up and go to sleep in the living room, just to have a few moments of quiet time to herself.

And then the final straw.  She was finally happy again.  Living in a brand new place.  Loving the new space that she could call her place to hide out.  And then she was attacked.  In that space.  Violated in the space that she needed to feel like she could go to be in her sanctuary.  And she was destroyed all over again.  But this time, it was temporary.  She worked through it, reclaimed her space, rearranged spaces and renamed it.  And now it is “The Place She Calls Her Sanctuary” and “A Place of Love”.

 

I Hope He Was Just Having A Bad Day

Okay,  long Lisa story of the week.  So, when I went through the trauma unit when I got to the ER this last hospitalization....this resident that was in the trauma room and working on me was pretty much a jerk.  

He was trying to get an iv going, and I was trying to let him know in between catching breaths that due to so many hospitalizations.. my veins are shot and you have to use an ultrasound or go in EXACTLY where the 1 definite vein is and the needle has to go in at a very specific angle.  It's literally the only spot they have been successful in for probably 2 years, and only I think 2 people have been able to hit the vein without an ultrasound.  The ER people always listen when I let them know and get an ultrasound off jump, because who wants the hassle?  Apparantly this resident did.  Because he was like..I don't need an ultrasound..and proceeded to go into my right arm and probe around in no less than 8 or 9 locations.  Not only that, but when he would fail, he would yank the needle out and just set up for another location.  He wasn't putting pressure on the injection site to stop the bleeding or anything.  By this point, I'm pretty much just laying there with tears silently flowing from the pain.

At the same time, I've got people on the other side of me, trying to get ivs going in my other arm.  They were also drawing blood.  Then the resident says to me that he is going to put an iv into my neck.  I start shaking and crying, because..NO.  So this mofo says...what's the problem?  I'm telling him, really BEGGING him, I have never had a needle in my neck, can you PLEASE just get the ultrasound, I swear..I'm telling you where the vein is that you will be able to use.   So then this man has the audacity to tell the nurse that he wants them to do a drug screen on me!!!  He thought I was high! He goes back to my arm..tries a few more times and then just walks out of the room.

The nurses start grumbling about him and one turns around and curses.  This mofo with all of his poking and probing the needle around in me and then just taking it out, with no pressure on it...apparantly..all those holes in my arm were just flowing blood and the side of the stretcher was soaked and there was a pool of blood on the floor, and he didn't say a word to them..he just left.  Nurses were pissed.

Oh yeah..they bought in an ultrasound a little later after I was stabilized, and got an iv in the EXACT spot I told them to in like 2 minutes.  But I've been complaining about how sore and hard and stiff my right forearm has been all week.  

I was in my room last night and Imani happened to walk in and looked and grabbed my arm and turned it this way and that way and was like..Oh my God!!! She started comparing it to my other arm and I'm like..yeah, I know, I have crazy bruises from the needles.  And she is like..No..you need to call your Dr.  Your arm has a bunch of lumps in it and it's real swollen.  And then she says

.gyattttdamn!!  I'm sitting here like what??! She says...you didn't see that big bruise?  I said, there's a lot of bruises.  She says..no...its like your elbow down almost to your wrist.   I hadn't even noticed it to be honest..I don't go looking at the back of my arms that often.

And that was my long story of the week

*taps the mic* Is This Thing On?

So one of my friends suggested that I write, and it reminded me that I actually do have this blog...I've just become lazy about updating it.  But I realize that writing really does bring me pleasure, and it helps me to clear a lot of sh.... junk out of my head space...so it wouldn't be such a bad idea to start back up.  Because lately...my head space has been a bit janky.

I guess I should do a sort of intro, even though I've had this blog for like ugh...10 years or so now (if you scroll back, you can read old posts) I know there may be some new readers who are new to me, new to my crazy life...and the crazy stories I tend to tell.

I'm Lisa...Lis...LiLi...all of the above.  52 years old.  I live in Boston.  Born and raised here, but I spent the years of 2008-2017 in South Carolina (mainly in Columbia) and also consider that home.  I moved back to Boston to be closer to my family and support system, as my health was getting worse (severe asthmatic, congestive heart failure and spinal stenosis)

I'm Mama to 3.. Aaron is 32.  Happily married to Laura.  Aaron was born with 2 types of malignant cancer and a syndrome called Epidermal Nevus Syndrome (where the body reproduces different types of cancer).  He also has Asperger's, which is on the Autism spectrum.  He was also born with some congenital birth defects.  His first years were basically one big hospital visit, between specialists, chemotherapy,  surgeries and emergency visits.  But he is doing awesomely now.

Next up is Aja Dawn.  Aja is forever 23.  Her life was taken at the age of 23 on June 13, 2014 in an act of Domestic Violence.  She was an amazing young woman, and I'll probably share a million stories about her.

The last of my biologicals is Imani.  She is 20.  We were told when was 2 that she would diagnosed as bipolar by the time she was 7.  Unfortunately, it presented so severely that by the time she was 5, we already had that diagnosis by one of the top children's psychiatry units in Mass.  She's had her ups and downs.  As I'm sure those who love someone living with bipolar disorder know, you have your good and bad days.

And lastly...we have Thing 1 (Bryson- 3 y/o) and Thing 2 (Na'eem 2 y/o).  They are the grandsons that I am raising.  Both have some health challenges that keep me pretty busy.  Bryson was born prematurely with gastroschisis (his intestines were outside of his body) He spent approximately 6 weeks in the NICU, where he had surgery to insert the intestines.  But as a result of the birth defect, he has short bowel syndrome.  He is also non verbal autistic.  In the last 6 months, he has learned SOOO many words though!!  And he uses them. A LOT.  Na'eem is my lil Mr Personality.  He loves to entertain.  Severely asthmatic since about 6 months old, he has spent a lot of time in the hospital, but it doesnt slow him down at all.

Whoooo... that's a lot of reading huh??  Warning...I'm wordy asf.  Oh yeah, and I cuss.  I'll try to ease up on the cussing in the blog though.  But I definitely talk alot.  I just wanted to give ya'll a backstory into who I am as a person and where I'm coming from as a woman, as a writer and as a human being though.  Some entries may be wordy like this..some may be short n simple.  

I still have to write an intro about my "forever kids".  They are not mine by birth, but I claim em as mine and I love them like my own, so I talk about them a lot.  Anyway....deuces for now.....✊🏼✌🏼

After The Headlines (What Happens Next)

Surving the first week.

How, Why, NO and My Baby.  I think those were the only words that I managed to get out for the first week.  My life had totally collapsed.  My baby was gone.  A part of me died on June 13 at approximately 5:48am. 

I couldn't understand, I WOULDN'T comprehend, I couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that my child was no longer here.

My memory of the first week is hazy.  I was medicated for all of the first 2 months or so.  I mean nonstop...24 hours a day.  I thank Allah for that.  I don't know if I would have ever made it thru that time period otherwise.  But I will try to tell the story. 

Immediately after the Coroner arrived to my house.  One of my bosses and my friend/coworker showed up.  Apparently,  the police had tried to find me at work before trying my house.  When th coroner showed up, I yelled for my niece Kia to get Imani out of the house..to go for a drive.  I knew what I was about to hear, and I didnt want Imani to hear the details.  Kia and her friend rushed  Imani out of the house and drove away.

Thats when I get hazy.  I remember calling my close friend and crying into the phone that I needed her.  I remember my boss and coworker trying to console me, but I was past consolation.  The coroner left and my friends started the first cycle of phone calls.  The hardest calls in my life were to my son and mother.  I still dont remember if I called Aja's father or someone else did.  I don't remember much of anything after that. 

My closest friends began showing up at that point.  I know that within hours of my call, my mother, sister and niece were on the road to SC from Boston.  My son and daughter Michelle would be flying in the next day.  I was prescribed Ativan by the agency's Medical Director and someone picked it up, and I was kept on it around the clock.

I don't know when or how the media interview requests came in.  I just recall them coming starting on Saturday.  Or maybe it was Friday.  I don't recall speaking, but apparently I did.  In hindsight, looking at the interviews...I just appeared drugged.  I don't remember how the funeral arrangements were made.  Tiffany stepped in and helped coordinate all of that.  I do know that the funeral home, Leevy's were so incredibly kind and I am forever indebted.

It was at that point, that I learned about the GoFundMe account that had been eatablished by my close friends.  Again, I am forever indebted to the generosity and kindness of so many people.  There were also fundraisers being planned by friends among the karaoke community in Columbia and Club 555 management.

Unfortunately, I truly don't remember much of this time.  I know that my brother came down from Greenville, Imani's daddy came in from Boston and a friend of mine took it upon himself to have my car repaired and made drivable again.

What I do remember is crying.  And screaming, and vomiting, and beginning to have the suicidal and  self harming thoughts that would start to take over my life until I wound up being hospitalized in July.  Not many people know about that dark period, but Ive decided to bring it forth in the 3rd blog.

After The Headlines (What Happens Next)

After The Headlines
What Happens Next

As you see..I have decided to take this blog in a new direction.  It's been a LONG few months since I last blogged.  Literally and figuratively.  I have been to the pits of hell and and slowly, very very slowly climbing my way back out.  I've been asked by numerous people to write a book about my family's recent trauma, but at this point, I just truly am not ready.  But I am ready...after a breakdown, hospitalization, some damn good crazy pills, some more long term hospitalization and intensive therapy and most importantly...acknowledgement and acceptance of the incredible pain, overwhelming grief, consuming confusion and just abundance of feelings that have been exposed...to begin to blog again.  The short term goal is to blog in themes surrounding the events and what has happened in the following months.  Hence...After The Headlines.   The long term goal is to eventually take the blogs and incorporate all of them into a book.  Whether I will self publish via kindle or go through large scale remains to be seen.  Anywho...I'm talking as though all of my readers know exactly what I'm talking about and some of you may not (I say this like I'm world wide, lol)  But I have to think big, right?  But I'm going to give everyone a little background.

My name is Lisa Robinson.  I'm the extremely proud birth mother to Aaron who is 27, Aja Dawn, who is 23 and Imani Ny'Jhea who is 15.  I am also the extremely proud mother of choice to Michelle, who is 23.  Aaron Lives in Massachusetts and the girls and I live in Columbia, South Carolina.  I know a lot of people may proclaim it and it may be true for all of them; but I can say from everything within in me...my children are the air that I breath.  They are my soul.  My reason for life.  My best friends, My joy, my smile, my laughter, my everything is good in the world reason.  When I question my role in this world, all I have to do is look at one of them,and I know that in the large scope of life...THEY are my role in life.  It was to give them life.

Which is why, at approximately 11:00 on Friday morning, June 13, 2014...when the Coroner for the City of Columbia, South Carolina knocked on my door and informed me that my beautiful, vivacious, full of life and spirit and overflowing with love for everyone that she touched baby girl Aja Dawn Robinson was laying dead on an autopsy gurney at Palmetto Richland Hospital...that the life that I'd lived for 46 years died and evaporated on the spot and I knew the Lisa that everyone had known would never be the same.  I collapsed, and truly...could not tell you much of anything that happened for the next 2-3 weeks due to being sedated much of the time.  But in the next blog, I am going to delve into surviving the next week.  Media interviews, a very full house filled with an abundance of loving friends and family, and incredibly kind funeral home who went above and beyond to support us, and man....when I tell you about my girls.....my girls here in Columbia but also Da Panel.  That's what I call them.  I don't have to name them.  We're sort of a secret Society.  And we like it like that.  But they were my legitimate lifeboats.  They kept my heat above water when I was not able to do it for myself.  When I was unable to emotionally stand and open my eyes....they seemed to read my mind, organized a huge fundraiser that ultimately paid a huge chunk of Aja's funeral and most of our bills for a few months, they also designed a beautiful logo and tshirt that they sold to raise money for our family (and that I actually need a few more of)  And my ladies here..Tiffany, Tee, Honey, Wisdohm, Chandra, Tonya, Vikki, Marla...they continued to check on me daily, made sure the girls and I had food to eat, went and filled prescriptions out of their own pocket, organized fundraisers, Damn near dragged me out of  my self isolation and made me come out to fundraisers to show my face, just so I wouldn't be by myself.

And Tee and Tiffany...my sistas in spirit, I swear.  These women are just such  kindred spirits to me.  There were times where I literally could not BREATH..could not function, bathe, BREATH...I truly truly wanted to hold my breath until I died.  And every time I opened my eyes.  They both would be sitting there quietly on either side of me.  Just letting me know that I WAS NOT ALONE.  Do you understand what a POWERFUL gift that is to someone who is on the verge of suicide??  I never even told them.  Or thanked them.  I will have to make sure to tell them to read this blog.  Tiffany and Tee...the two of you single handedly SAVED my life at least 4-5 times in June.  If you had not been here, I would not be here today.  Thank You.  I Love You.