Allen Beyond Bipolar: The Cayce Connors Journals

1. Auflage 2019
ISBN: 978-1-5439-7234-4
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet/DL/kein Kopierschutz

E-Book, Englisch, 230 Seiten

Medicated for bipolar disorder, Cayce Connors attempts to lead an honest and productive life. Unfortunately, she is an intense drama magnet that makes her life a hot mess. She has also failed miserably with love. Former Bank Executive turned Author, Cayce documents her life daily in journals. She shares the ups, downs and arounds of her crazy existence in Best-Selling novels. Will she ever escape the chaos in her life and change her lonely destiny?

Autoren/Hrsg.

Allen, Cari

Leseproben

CHAPTER ONE
This is a time in my life that was not written or recorded as it happened. I had to pull it from the depths of my memory eleven months afterward. The rest of me exists on the pages of my journals written every single day. Most people don’t want to journal because they don’t want to put their lives out there like that. I’m not sure what made me start writing as a child. But when you are 10 years old and writing makes you feel better, you do it. I did not put it together that positive self-talk is therapeutic. I was tested for IQ and scored 168 as a teen and 175 as an adult. But I did not enjoy school studies. I got excellent grades, but that was due to my photographic memory. I enjoyed sports and socializing. I was popular, Student Council President several years, on the cheerleading squad and lettered in every sport except track. I didn’t go to college at all. I began the Cayce Austin (Connors) Journals in 1971. It is 1979 in Tucson, Arizona and I have just ended the world’s shortest marriage. Well, not really, but it only lasted seven months. I was very angry that I was back at my parents’ house less than a year from when I got out of there. My Mom and I had, for a lack of better words, a Love-Hate relationship. From the time I was 13 until the time I moved out, I was a bad kid and she was pissed. Had there been such thing as emancipation back then, I would have attempted it. As it was, I graduated a year early from high school. I got married to get out of the house. My best friend, Selbie Speagle, and I were smoking cigs sitting on the edge of a bunker located on her community golf course. It was 1:30am and we were sharing a bottle of Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill. I’m really not sure why I still drank that shit. I puked Strawberry Hill so many times I couldn’t even count. Selbie could hold her liquor much better. I’ve never been good at drinking, though it never stopped me. We loved staying out all night. I would tell my Mom I was staying the night with Selbie and she’d tell her Mom she was staying with me and we would just stay out, drink and smoke. A couple of times, we wanted to go home and we couldn’t. We would have to wait until the sun came up. My black hair was cut short like my Daisy Dukes. We all wanted to look like Catherine Bach. The Dukes of Hazzard had just come out on TV several months earlier. I would have to grow my hair long again if I was going to look like Daisy Duke. I had an athletic build with small breasts, muscular legs and a really nice ass. I had the kind of body that could rock some short shorts. Selbie was a natural strawberry blonde and had the best smile in the world. She had really deep dimples and that always adds to a smile. She was full-figured and pretty. She was always self-conscious about her weight and it fluctuated like crazy from thin to heavy and back again. It’s kind of sad that we were so hung up on weight at such a young age. We were only 18. We were celebrating my return to town after living 500 miles away for seven months. Selbie had a portable transistor radio that was playing the hits on our favorite AM station. We sang the duets ‘Too much, Too little, Too late ‘. I was the Deniece Williams part ‘Yes it’s over, the chips are down’, she was the Johnny Mathis part ‘WOAH’. It made us laugh so hard, we cried. We were singing loud, too. We also sung ‘You’re The One That I Want’ from the movie ‘Grease’. There was no one in sight. We finished the bottle and buried it in the sand of the bunker. We got up and, of course, I was unsteady on my feet. Selbie had to help me walk. Then, true to form, I puked my guts out. I bet the people playing golf the next morning would not be pleased about the vomit that was on their golf green. I was feeling better after walking a bit. Her subdivision where she lived was upscale (obviously, the golf course and all) and had a median separating the lanes of opposing traffic. We stumbled down the street, laughing and staying in the median. There were no cars on the street at that hour. We were still singing when a white van rolled around the corner at the end of the street. As it approached us, it slowed down a bit and we could tell they wanted to talk to us. The driver looked like someone we knew, so we started walking towards it as it slowed. “Hey look,” I said, slurring my words a bit. “There’s someone else out at this late hour! Isn’t that Don? When did he get a van?” As we got up to the van, the driver, passenger and guys from the back jumped out of the vehicle. It all looked like it was in slow motion due to our alcohol consumption. The guys grabbed us, put rags over our noses and mouths, then, everything went dark. I woke to the sound of mumbling. I was really confused and couldn’t remember what I was doing. I became aware my wrists and ankles were bound and there was duct tape over my mouth. My vision was blurry and I couldn’t make out my surroundings. It was dark. My eyes adjusted to the dark and I was in some sort of big metal container with about twenty others bound like me. Maybe it was a storage container. I saw Selbie trying to scoot her way over to me. She was the one who was mumbling. Then we heard an engine turn over and the container started to vibrate. We were in a trailer attached to a semi-tractor was my guess. I blinked several times to see if I was having a nightmare. Selbie got to me and we leaned against each other. This was really bad. It was so hot in that trailer and we were sweating bullets. It smelled awful. There were a few boys, but mostly girls. I was guessing at the ages, but they looked to be anywhere from 11 to our age. We were all being held against our will. Like kidnapped for real. I obviously had no idea which direction we were headed, but something told me we were headed south. Hell, Tucson, Arizona is only 60 miles from Nogales, Mexico. It wasn’t too long before we stopped. I was waiting for something to happen, but it was just quiet. After what I guessed to be about 15 minutes, we heard people moving around outside. As they opened the back of the trailer, I got a look at the guys for the first time. There were three Hispanic guys and one white guy. They were pretty young, I’d guess them to be in their early 20’s. I usually liked the Latin guys, but I didn’t like these guys. I guess being kidnapped didn’t exactly endear me to them. At all. I vaguely remembered the white guy driving the van. One of the Hispanic guys was in charge. He didn’t do anything except give orders. Well, those three years of Spanish I took in high school didn’t help me much trying to understand what they were saying. But the guy in charge was yelling at the other three. The white guy got up into the trailer and cut the tape off our ankles two at a time. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he warned us. They took us two by two to get a drink of water and to pee or whatever in the desert. That would be embarrassing, but I knew I wouldn’t be peeing since I had to have sweat out every bit of liquid in my body. I was also a bit dehydrated because of our heavy drinking and my puking before being abducted. The guy ripped the tape off my mouth and told me to be quiet. I drank as much water as they would let me. Dying from dehydration was a vision creeping into my mind. I tried to get my captors to leave the tape off of my mouth and they threatened to hit me if I didn’t keep quiet. The duct tape went right back on my mouth. I really didn’t want to make them mad…they were packing steel and that would be dumb to upset them. When they reloaded us into the trailer, they taped our ankles again. I’ve seen enough movies to know not to try to get out of the tape. Duct tape was the best thing someone could use to bind a person. I didn’t want those ligature marks on my wrist and ankles. Panic set in because our parents were going to think me and Selbie just up and left. Oh, Lord. They won’t think we were abducted and they probably won’t even look for us. Plus, we WERE adults. I could tell Selbie was thinking the same thing. No one was coming for us. I had to make myself control the panic, but in doing so, it made me cry instead. We were screwed. I was afraid we could die in this trailer. “QUIT CRYING CAYCE,” I said to myself. I needed the water to stay IN my body. Talk about dehydration. We traveled for a while longer, I had no idea what time it was because I didn’t even know what time they took us. When we stopped, they opened the back of the trailer and cut the tape off our ankles again. The sun was rising and it was very bright compared to the darkness of the trailer. It made me squint and I covered my eyes with my hands bound together. Once my eyes got used to the brightness, I looked around. I had stopped crying, trying to be strong for the young kids. Plus, I was scared I might shrivel up and die. We were at a large stucco house with a tiled roof that looked to be in the middle of a cattle ranch, and other than cows, there was nothing else anywhere in sight. Judging from the length of the trip, we were deep into Mexico somewhere. The next thing I noticed were the other kids. I had only seen them in the dark. They looked so young. A couple of the girls had been crying off and on since we were taken. If only I could hug them and tell them it would be alright. I wish. The young men stood us in a line and the one in charge went...