White Trash Stories From The Deep South - Advice From My Favorite Aunt
I learned something long ago. Sometimes you have to accept what you come from with laughter if you want to be able to enjoy life without feeling any bitterness. That's why I finally accepted what I came from - white trash that loves to fight.
When I say that, I'm not knocking any of my family or judging them. I love them all. To me, it's just a fact. Just like if someone said they came from an Italian family. I just come from a white trash family.
One of the favorite figures in my family was my Aunt Shirl. If there was a textbook definition of white trash, she might have had her picture right next to it. However, she had a heart of gold, when she wasn't stirring shit by gossiping. When there was no gossip, she said up front: "I will make something up." It was better to give her something to talk about, or her imagination would run off and make up some of the craziest bullshit you could imagine.
Like the time she told people my mom killed my daddy. It had been established by everyone he had committed suicide. However, she told people my mom had killed him. Don't ask how my mom and her sister made up, but they did shortly before my aunt died.
My favorite memory and the best advice I ever got was from her also.
I had just left my first husband. I was 19 years old. Though we had only lasted nine months, he left me in debt and with nothing but the clothes on my back, a laptop, a guitar, and my dildo. By god, I took the fucking dildo with me. He could keep everything else INCLUDING my piano.
For whatever reason, I fell for the guy. It was a phase I was going through. It was just a costly one. When I came home, I had no clothes to go to job interviews, and I was going to have to get a job and soon because I had creditors threatening to take me to court. At 19, I believed I was going to jail, and let's face it, I'd never do well in jail. I'd be somebody's bitch the first day in.
Between my mom and aunt, they managed to get me some clothes to get me through some interviews and get a job. My aunt was on disability, but as far as I know, she helped me out when I needed it most. The only catch was I could never go back to the guy I had married before. At that point, there was no worry about that. However, she yelled that at me in the middle of a department store.
Regardless of knowing he was a piece of shit incapable of working, not doing drugs, and being faithful, I still had moments where I was so lonely and missed him. Don't ask. Again, it was a phase. One day, I was driving my aunt around in my mom's car. She was smoking a Marlboro Light. She had just got her mullet dressed up, and it didn't look so much like a mullet.
Out of nowhere, she started giving me relationship advice. After telling me all about a young guy that broke her heart, she gave me a piece of advice that I will forever be grateful for her for.
She asked me between puffs on her cigarette, "You know how to get over a man?"
I was driving her to my mom's house down a dirt road. I replied, "No clue. How do you?"
My aunt said it bluntly and plainly, "You go whorin'."
I about died laughing and almost ran the car into a deep ditch on the right side of the road.
Soon afterward, I realized my soon-to-be-ex would never straighten up and keep a job even though he professed his undying love for me. I decided to whore around. It may not work for others, but it did work for me. I moved on. I met my current husband two years later, and we've been together since.
My aunt died shortly after I met my now husband. Though she had been sober for several years from alcohol and only abused Xanax, one day she just got tired of it all and went back to drinking. Rather than work her way back in slowly, she dove into the deep end and went straight for the tequila. She also mixed in some crack. She didn't last very long afterward.
I miss her and think of her often. Some may think that telling a 19-year-old to whore around to get over her ex is irresponsible and terrible advice. However, to me, it was no different than telling me to just go and find something to occupy my mind to keep it off of my ex. Her way just happened to also involve a vagina. I know she only told me that because she loved me and cared about me.
I try to carry on a little bit of legacy by collecting strong perfumes that could peel paint off the wall and ceramic roosters. She loved roosters.
If you enjoyed this TRUE story, please upvote, resteem, or follow. :)
Image via Flickr by Rob "Berto" Bennett under Creative Commons 2.0.
That was a lovely read. Had the humour, had the emotions, and had the bitching. Peace be to aunty wherever she is. I just hope there is some tequila up/down there. Thanks to @abigail-dantes for leading me to this gem of a post.
Thank you so much for your comment. I've been very humbled and honored by the response I've received for this post.
I know my aunt is somewhere wiht her husband (she called him her "sexy devil" and having a cigarette and a Natural Light if not tequila. :)
That's one of the best stories I've read in a long time. So raw, so real. Your writing is captivating and entertaining - you are a good writer. Keep on writing - stories, books, whatever... it's all there for you. Thanks for sharing yourself with us.
Thank you so much! I don't think I'd ever be able to complete a book, but I definitely hope to continue to contribute to the Steemit community. It's been a wonderful community so far, and I'm impressed after only a week or so of being a part of the community.
Raw is the word that came to mind to me too, and that's definitely a good thing. Writing should be raw and emotional. That's what makes it powerful.
That's a superb, very well-written story. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. You have a gift or a skill or both.
As for being "white trash," I believe you can be proud of your origins. Everyone should be proud of where they come from. Diversity makes for a great society.
Keep writing, and Full Steem Ahead.
I believe my comment disappeared, so let's try again.
Thank you so so so so much for your wonderful comments and compliments. They mean a lot!
I believe if you can't be proud of your origin, you have to at least accept it because otherwise, you're always going to be in flux searching for something.
Yes, and searching for something external to give you an (internal) identity or meaning will ultimately prove futile.
So, be proud of who you are, and be proud of where you are from. If you cannot do that, then you will NOT be you.
I enjoyed that. :)
Loads of information. Thanks. Love it. @hollylee Followed
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I grew up sitting on my dad's lap while he played guitar and sang. My job was to hold his PBR. He let me sip it too. It wasn't a perfect childhood to say the least, but I do remember many good things about it like those times sitting on his knee sipping PBR.