Hi, and thanks so much for being patient with me while I put this site together. For those of you who don't know me, or know me very little, I hope this page clears up alot for you. I am Michelle, and for personal reasons I prefer not to talk about my location or my surname *grin*. But I will tell you all about me...who I am, how I got where I am today, my family, my friends, my kids and the love of my life, Clay. If you have browsed through my other pages you already what we all look like, but I will take this page to tell you a bit more. If I bore you, please let me know via e-mail =). This page is a brief synopsis of who I am..there is no way I can go into real explicit detail, but like I said , someday I will write the book, especially if I can help someone like me or my brother by doing it.
I was born in West Monroe, Louisiana in March of 1969. All of my grandparents lived in the same town, so I spent my early years surrounded mainly by my Dad's parents, since we lived in a trailer in their backyard. My Mamaw and Papaw Fulton were God-fearing, hard-working Christians, and I was raised devout Southern Baptist. They taught me well, instilled morals and high values in me. I hated it at times because if I messed up I had a VERY guilty conscience. As an adult, I am thankful for their love and guidance because it keeps me out of trouble and gives my life a simplicity that I have longed for since I was a child. My Papaw passed away in 1996, but I was grateful to God for blessing them both with long and happy lives, and 64 wonderful years of marriage. My Mamaw passed away in 2000, and to this day I have never met a finer woman, so full of love and God, and compassion. IF I end up being 1/10th as good as she was, I'll consider myself lucky.
My parents are a more difficult facet of my life, as are my Mother's parents. My mother was abusive, in many ways and forms, but I don't want to dwell there now as I will come to that later on. My father was a wonderful man, hard-working, strong, funny, intelligent, but he was human nonetheless, as I found out well into my twenties. My Mom's parents and I were close in my younger years, but as I grew older we grew apart and are pretty much estranged in alot of ways now. Again, I'll save that for later. I grew up in Bossier City, Louisiana, which is across the bridge from Shreveport. I was an only child until I was 7, and then my brother Jeffrey came into the picture. I adored and yet hated him at the same time... he got me into trouble so many times for things that I didn't do that I spent the first twleve years of his life trying to throttle him. We were not particularly close until he was about 15, and our newfound closeness was short-lived because he passed away two years later. I went to good schools and graduated with honors and scholarships, and began pursuing my dream of being a lawyer. However, love was in the air and I married my high school sweetheart in 1988, and eventually I put my dreams on hold to follow him around the world (he was in the Army) and raise our children, Jeremy and Alex. Our marriage fell apart in the early years but we held on for the kids until I knew deep down that we were beating a dead horse. Today we are divorced, but we work well together for the sake of our children. We are both happily remarried to wonderful people, and the boys are happy and fairly well-adjusted. But, I digress...
As a result of my Mom's abuse, I developed and eating disorder at the age of 14, maybe even sooner. I became a compulsive overeater. My weight yo-yoed for 10 years and then finally ballooned and stayed in the 300-360 pound range. My self-esteem and confidence took a serious beating, and things between my mother and I were very confrontational as I struggled to force her to see what she had done while she tried in vain to make amends. She was a very angry, bitter woman, and I understood why she did the things she did, but I was unwilling to make excuses for her once I came to realize how much damage she had done to me. I wanted her to face it and live with it. In ways I think she did, but I think she mostly lived in a state of denial, and once Jeffrey died she had the excuse she needed to never have to deal with it head-on again. I know that sounds harsh, and I really don't mean it to be... it is a factual statement about how things were at the time. My Dad was a wonderful man, but he was never home and when he was he was powerless to do much because Mom threatened to take us kids and disappear. I believe that my Mom and dad did the best they could with what lots they were dealt in this life. I love them very much, all of them, the good and the bad...all of who they were has made me what I am, and maybe that is why I am still alive today. There were other family members who knew what was going on and they also did nothing, but maybe they really couldn't. I have concluded that we all have to live with our conscience, and those who have done wrong know what they have or have not done, and I leave it at that. Life is too short to live in anger, and I have too much at stake to waste the energy that it takes to be angry =). Of course, at times that is easier said than done, but I strive every day for that forgiveness. My happiness depends on it.
Jeffrey... I still remember the way he smelled after his baby baths...his rosy cheeks, his silly demeanor. Sometimes I can still hear his voice in my dreams. Jeffrey was my only brother and he was seven years younger than me. I was the little mama, because I took care of him and practically raised him because my mom was sick alot after he was born. He was a smart and funny kid, and he had more friends than you could get into our haouse with a shoehorn. But like me and Mom, he was plagued with depression and despair, and unfortunately was misdiagnosed as "just" a behavior problem. Jeffrey was very spoiled...he got everything he wanted, and at times I resented that I had to work so hard for what little I got, while they handed everything to Jeffrey on a silver platter. He was , honestly, Mom's favorite. I resented that even after he died, because even in death Mom loved him more than me. Had I known what was coming, I think I would have rather lived with the knowledge than to live without him in our lives. It was late 1993, and Jeffrey was a senior in high school...honor roll, football/baseball star, girlfriend, and tons of friends. His future was bright...he was going to be a lawyer also. He fell into a deep depression in December of 1993 and the mental health professionals that my parents took him to failed at their job miserably, and on January 10, 1994, he shot himself in the stomach in the living room of the house I grew up in. Hundreds of people crowded into the hospital day after day, hoping for a miracle to save him. I remember the second day we went into ICU and he was writing notes to my Mom, asking if he was going to die. Everyone was trying to cut up and keep it light, but it was hard to deny that he was in trouble by watching the machines. Seven days after he shot himself, Jeffrey passed away. It was January 17, 1994... one month and one day before his 18th birthday. With one bad choice, he went from being a future lawyer to being a statistic. His choice killed my family, literally. But he saved me...
I was up to 360 pounds and wheelchair bound. Jeffrey's death woke me up. I loved my kids and wanted to see them grow up...and I wanted to be able to just climb a flight of stairs without passing out from exhaustion. So, I opted to have my stomach stapled and part of my intestines by-passed. It was my last hope for recovery. So, far , the gamble worked and I am down to 130 pounds and a size 5. I have a diary page on here that i write in when I feel the urge...and you can read about my struggle with my eating disorder there if you are interested in learning more about that facet of my life. Right after my surgery, my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, and another nightmare began. Then a few months later my Dad was diagnosed with Renal Call Carcinoma...terminal kidney cancer. It was a roller coaster of ups and downs. For awhile we thought Mom was cured but then it came back in her brain, and after they operated on her head she was never the same. Slurred speech, shaky hands...I remember seeing her skull after the surgery and having to leave the room so she wouldn't see me cry. I saw the burns from the radiation and the sunken scars from the masectomy. My dad had a tube in his chest and long scars on his hip and chest where they had to get the cancer out that had spread to his lungs and bone. At the same time, I was still recovering from my eating disorder and trying to finish my BA in English at Kansas State, trying to balance my family, children, a bad marriage, and school. I finally broke down mentally and spent two years fighting my way back. There was no doctor, no drug that could save me... I had nobody but God, myself, and a newfound friend. I met Clay during this time, and he was a great friend... a source of understanding and strength like I had never known. We had come from similar backgrounds and had the same mental demons to fight, and he believed in me and never let me give up. He helped me find a reason to hang on when I felt like I had to let go, and after 2.5 years of struggling and hurting him at every twist and turn, his patience and tolerance were somewhat rewarded as I slowly made my way back. It was a tremendous fight, and a war I almost lost many times. In all honesty, I have little recollection of 1995- early 1997, and that is okay with me. Somtimes things are best left forgotten. Clay stuck by me as I continued to get better and worked to finish my degree and cheered me on as I got into Student government and discovered that I was actually pretty good at it... but I had one dream left to pursue... the one dream Jeffrey and I both had (and our parents hoped for), but that only one of us would live to experience...Law School. My LSAT score wasn't too hot because my Mom had gotten worse and my mind was distracted, but I applied to a few schools and crossed my fingers. My academics were good and my leadership skills were there, but I still wasn't sure. In late April of 1997, two weeks before final exams, I got a call from my Dad that I needed to come home. Mom was dying. The day I left for Louisiana I got a letter in the mail...it was my acceptance into Law School. I had gotten a shot at my dream. I tucked it into my suitcase and headed home to tell my folks. My parents were thrilled and excited about it, and that I was graduating in two weeks. They didn't know that my leaving like that had put graduation in jeopardy... it took alot of begging and pleading for me to get that piece of paper...I also had to sacrifice my 3.6 GPA and take a lower 3.4. But my family needed me.
My Mother would never see me graduate. I had gone to turn in my financial aid paperwork for law school and my Dad called and told me to hurry home, so I did. It was Thursday, May 1. I got home at 3PM and sat at my Mom's bedside, holding her hand. She could no longer talk or communicate. I took turns with my aunt at her bedside, talking to her and telling her I loved her. I sat down next to her again and held her hand when her breathing changed. I held her hand, told her that Jeffrey was waiting for her in Heaven and that I would miss her, and she took her last breath. Someone handed me her rings and I went numb. Her funeral was beautiful and sad, and I wanted to stay and help Dad take care of things when it was over, but I had one professor who was a total ass about the whole thing and insisted that I come back and take her final, despite the dean of my college trying to get her to change her mind. So, back to school I went. I cried through the exam, and the next day through graduation. My Mom was dead, my Dad was getting worse and couldn't travel, and Clay didn't make it. I was miserable. One week later I left Kansas for the final time.
Clay and I took the kids and went to see my Dad as much as we could. Dad sent me frequent e-mails and started to tell me thing si would need to know "just in case." He seemed to be in good health and doctors had told him he would make it at least through Christmas. We talked every day by phone and relived good childhood memories. Then Dad called me crying on the 23rd of July, saying he couldn't walk anymore. He told me he didn't want to live if he could not walk. A few minutes later, he sang "Country Roads" to me one last time..we had sang it together for years after he learned to play the guitar. He told me that he loved me and was so proud of me. Then he told me not to worry, that he was okay. I had a wedding to go to and I told him how to reach me if he needed me. It was the last time I would ever hold a coherent conversation with him again. One week later, my aunt called and said he was dying. Again I went home. It was July 29, 1997. Law School started in 2 weeks. It was a nightmare... I had to take over his finances, hire and fire nurses, make sure my kids were okay up in Kansas with their dad... it was very hard on me. Clay was there, helping and holding my hand all the way through it. The doctors said it would be two or three days max, but come August 10 Dad was still hanging in there and I had to go home and start law school. As we drove away I told Clay that I was afraid that he would die if I left. I got home late and laid down to try and get some sleep. At 1:32 AM the phone rang...Dad was dead. At 8:30AM, I was sitting in school, trying not to scream.
Prologue...so far: I opted to take a leave of absence from school for a year in order to settle my family affairs and try to make some sense of losing my family. Neither have been totally achieved, but each day brings a new opportunity. Through it all, I am still here, still in recovery, although the last 10 years have been particularly difficult and full of ups and downs. I am divorced from my ex-husband now, as I said before and am trying to make sure that my kids have a normal and happy childhood. I graduated cum laude from law school in 2001 and am now a licensed attorney in the state of Texas. I have even dared to branch out on my own and start my own law firm. It is proving to be a challenging and very difficult task and my emotions yo-yo between confidence and fear and despair. Thank God for my church! Clay and I married in 2002 after 6 years of dating and we are enjoying our travels and adventures... but I still miss the family I lost all too soon in life. I can't help but wonder if they know how much I love and miss them. There are still questions that I wish I had answers to. It has been said that what does not kill us makes us stronger, and I'm still standing. I cannot say that the stress of the last 10 years has not taken a toll, but I believe that God intended for something positive to come out of this, so I trust in Him to show me what He wants me to do with the knowledge I have. It is only through my faith in God, which I will readily admit is not always as steadfast as it should be, that I can face this life without so many that I love.
I'm bored..let me out of here!
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