Petals

Marti Eicholz

Description

When Mary Turner entered the world, she was already her parents' least-favorite child. Filled with ambition but always seeming to be lacking some crucial skill, Mary left home immediately after graduating high school and set her sights on the endless horizon before her. Mary had had a difficult childhood; when she was young, her grandparents had died in a tragic accident that left the entire family–especially her father, Kenneth–shrouded in a heavy grief. Once on her own, Mary kept her eyes fixed on the future, and soon that future came to include a man named Adam.

Though Adam and Mary had a difficult relationship, they eloped in Las Vegas and returned home a (mostly) happily married couple; it wasn't much later that they became first-time parents. After Scotty was born, however, Mary began exhibiting concerning symptoms. She struggled to bond with her child and experienced increasingly volatile emotional swings. Soon after, Mary was diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

Mary struggled to cope with her mental illness, and as the years passed, she began turning to drugs and alcohol to soothe her aching mind. She began neglecting, and eventually abusing, Scotty, and the family quickly started to deteriorate. Eventually deciding that Adam and Scotty would be better off without her, Mary packed up her car and ran away to Las Vegas, where she made the bulk of her money by moving illegal drugs. Her time there was a thrilling and dangerous whirlwind, but Mary knew it had to come to an end eventually. Next, she landed in Sedona, Arizona, where she led a quiet, peaceful life, nothing like the one she'd left behind in Vegas.

Still, Mary knew she would need to return home and reconnect with the family she'd abandoned. Instead of finding Adam, Mary found Luke, an old friend and fellow addict. Once reunited with Luke, Mary quickly fell in love with him and agreed to help him smuggle drugs out of the country. She was caught at the Dublin airport, however, and sent to prison, where she learned she was pregnant with Luke's child. Her child was taken from her to live with her father.

Petals also offers a deeply poignant and introspective look into the many facets of mental illness, substance abuse and recovery, death, heartbreak, joy, and forgiveness. It is through its diverse cast of characters that the reader is allowed a look into the minds and senses of all those touched by Mary's journey. Best suited for readers who enjoy fast-paced action combined with a deeply emotional and introspective narrative, Petals is a multi-generational story of everyday humans who must learn to cut their own paths amid the wild, yet heartbreakingly beautiful, garden that is life.

Sujets

• Vie de famille
• Parentalité et Éducation des Enfants
• Mental Health
• Sociologie, société et politique
• Psychology

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 14 janvier 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456634292
• Langue: English

Extrait

Petals
Unfurling a Life with Mental Illness
 
 
 
A Novel
 

 
Marti Eicholz
Copyright 2020 Marti Eicholz,
All rights reserved.
 
 
Published by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
 
ISBN: 978-1-4566-3430-8 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-4566-3432-2 (hardcover)
 
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
To all the courageous individuals who shared their real-life dramas we are grateful. Your lives matter.
The facts and stories learned along with the author’s imagination shaped this fictional narrative.
This is a human experience story intended to educate and entertain.
Table of Contents 
Introduction
Death Hovers
A New Start
Adjustments
Stricken
Stepping Out
Life Changing
On the Knoll
Not All is Perfect
Bright and Shiny
The Choice
That Special Place
Nightmare or Poetry
Back Again
Restoration
Collapse
Time
Free
Perfect Timing
Healing
Epilogue
 
Introduction
The stroke of a pen annihilated all hopes and dreams.
Mary entered the prison system with a plethora of physical and emotional obstacles. The reality of being in prison was devastating. Her cell was barely six feet by four with a creaky bed, a springy mattress and only one thin blanket. Surrounded by four thick grey stone walls, no wide window with a flower box only a mean barred opening with metal bars, the isolation was total.
With zero stimulation, there was nothing to do but stare at the chipped paint from time passing, or gouged by other prisoners, anything to pass the time. Slowly she was going mad as she theorized absurd meanings from the wall’s blank stare. It was dark. It was unforgiving. It was lonely. Desolation was all-consuming. Feeling disoriented, Mary thought given enough time she could forget her name.
In the past when anxiety and fear grabbed her by the tongue and dried her mouth, she would remind herself I am a good person. I do good things. Everything will be all right. Mary saw sunshine on every leaf and a sunbeam in every petal. Her fingers tingled holding a flower petal and a flush rose to her cheek. The fragrance comforted her. Not now, there were no flowers. Where was she going to soak in the calm peace of nature.
She felt emotionally bankrupt. There was nothing to feel, nothing to say, nothing but the void that enveloped her mind in swirling blackness. Mary found as storms rose inside, the winds howled in her soul wrapping icy tentacles around her heart so tightly it almost stopped beating and the odors from rotting stems and petals suffocated. All the damage made her mind a wasteland and triggered her past. A past that promised rose buds unfurling beauty.
Mary’s anxiety and fear also came from that place and time.
Death Hovers
Passing the rose garden, Kenneth Turner, a junior in high school eyeballed the opening roses with radiant petals left to unfurl. He thought these roses remind me of a life unfolding and the petals represent the many layers that make this living being so intriguing. Beautiful on the outside, but their real beauty lies within. Memories fill my mind.
The task at hand is to rid myself of these crutches. Whoever invented crutches never used them. The sticks clunked along the hard-baked earth, and with each clunk they jolted him in the armpit. The cushioning under the arm was to soften and comfort, but no matter how Kenneth adjusted or folded the padding it still poked as a hard stick. By the time he reached the school bus, he was sore and irritable.
Kenneth Turner’s insides were in a chaos. Something was bothering him. Something was hurting him. He ached. It felt so wrong.
He boarded the bus. Kenneth’s mind drifted to the times he and his brother Mike walked in silence through this every kid’s dream town. It had no city planning. Every building was different, borrowing something from another era. It made the place as glorious as one of their mother’s beloved quilts every patch unique and eye-catching as the other.
They passed the greengrocer with his window full of apples and oranges, and the butcher with his bloody lumps of meat on display and naked chickens hanging up. There was a small bank and an electrical shop. The town was a maze of narrow winding streets. They loved to walk what they called a wonderland.
Mike would say, “Look up Kenny, the sky is all etched in blue.”
Kenneth always replied with, “Miki, the sky is the same color as your eyes. Also, notice the lawns are always freshly cut. Maybe we could get jobs mowing lawns.”
Mike making a stop to just stare, “I would love to work in these gardens overflowing with explosions of color.”
Now as Kenneth rode gazing out the bus window, he remembered times past. As the bus hit a pothole, it jerked to the side, jolting him back to the present.
The bus approached a narrow country road, curling over the hill. The houses on each side had acreage large enough to accommodate farm animals. The bus cruised by and down a twisting road as grassy forest green hills loomed.
This is the land he grew up on, an idyllic place. He felt protected and free here. His mind drifted to another time when he and Mike rode their bikes everywhere. They swung on rope swings and swam in pools and river streams. There was nothing to fear, so their mom set them loose out the back door each day and they raced through the woods, to some nearby friend’s farm where there was a game of football or Wiffle ball raging.
Kenneth remembered jumping from one hay bale to another hay bale, hiding in the barn and jumping out and seeing his brother leap in surprise with a laugh in his eyes, spreading to a smile. The two of them were never happier than with muddy boots and the wind tousling their hair. The hills were a safe place to play, to explore, to create stories and live their dreams to the fullest. They had chores, a perfect balance of feeling needed and freedom. Whether it was work or play, Kenneth and Mike bonded with family and friends, keeping relationships strong.
Their house was cozy warmed by age, and the kitchen had aromas flowing every day of the year. Mom loved to cook, but she, also, had other talents. She crafted beautiful wedding dresses for the brides in the area and she gave piano lessons to the younger set.
The bus came to a stop, Kenneth was home, but his mind and heart had not stopped remembering.
He struggled with his crutches stepping off the bus. He wondered how many more days or weeks until he would be free of these aids or has his dream of being a basketball player died?
Passing the orchard to the house, he felt the pain from the swelling and stiffness, and he smelled the aroma of the delicious apples waft through the air. At the foot of a nearby tree, squirrels scampered. He thought what a wonderful sight, so close to nature. He took a rest, nestling up to the tree, grabbing an apple that fell from the tree.
He took a bite, heard the crunch as the sweetness spread over his tongue in a contemplative mood. How circumstances changed lives.
That fatal car crash shattered our small town. It shattered my group of friends, my family and me. The accident occurred on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving of my junior year in high school.
It left one friend, Jack, injured and one dead, my brother, Miki. There were two cars, belonging to Jack and Simon driving from school up through town to the woods for a celebratory beer after winning our first basketball game of the season. Riding with Jack was Mike. On a stretch of road Jack lost control of his car, hit a telephone pole, and skidded a hundred feet into a tree. The crash drove the engine through the dashboard.
Shocked neighbors called police and ambulances.
The emergency rescue personnel used a hydraulic apparatus to pry the wreckage to free Jack and Mike inside.
Neighbors and witnesses dialed an orbit of calls to the victim’s families as they gathered the bodies and rushed them away. What was it like to hear those dreaded words, “There has been an accident…?”
We kids were like millions of teenagers lost in the oblivious haze of youth that nothing could ever touch us, especially not in our perfect happy place.
At the hospital that night, bright lights, and the stench of antiseptic flooded the waiting area. Me and my circle of friends sat all night stupefied and empty. We got good grades, played sports, would soon be off to a decent college. Now we are marked by tonight.
My thoughts centered only on the athletic kid, my brother, with the blond hair and blue eyes being gone. It seemed so surreal and impossible. I was alive, saved. Why? What is next for me? How can I go home again? All I can picture is the place where Miki and I thought our home was a castle where we were the Princes. Our mother and father were the King and Queen of their kingdom, gliding through the halls. With all the joy squeezed out, there was nothing left but grey and dull.
Contemplating the end-of-life was difficult. Miki loved, and we gave him love. He possessed a great gift, and he returned that gift to others. He read. He had millions of thoughts. He had not traveled or written, but he gave us love and we gave him love in return. That is important.
So, how can I give and receive more love? How can I perfect my gift and return it for the common good?
As the dark night sky deepened, he heard the caring call of his mother letting him know that dinner was ready.
Kenneth embarked on his senior year of high school. He spent time at the gym where he practiced winning. He went to the YMCA to escape his thoughts for a while and release some stress, even though the scent of sweat, sneakers, and hard work combined were constant reminders.
Now the family farm was for crops. The Turner family homestead rested on a gentle rise that sloped. The