The house that built me Pt. 1: The road that lead us to the woods

When I agreed to contribute to this blog, I instantly knew what one of the first things I would write about be... The story of my family, some of the struggles we've had to face, and ultimately, us building a house together. And not a run of the mill, framed house, think more along the lines of Little House on the Prairie. 

I've been through plenty of tough times in my short 26 years, but I feel these are the experiences that really shaped who I am as a person. I almost feel my posts would be better understood if I delved into some of the main reasons why I am the way that I am. Plus I've never written about any of this, so I figured "What the hell-- Let's see how this turns out"

One thing I've always done, is really pay attention to everything around me... I'm an observer. A people watcher. I've always paid close attention to the little details about people, and fully understood when something wasn't right, even though my loved ones would try to shelter me from it because I was so young. They tried to hide the holes in our family, the trials that we faced, the loved ones who were gone too soon or fighting for their lives...

They tried. But I was too observant for my own damn good.

And I worried..

I knew my big sister Summer was not very healthy, even though she is smart, beautiful, and vibrant. I would notice when she had to spend the day resting and that sometimes even hugging her would actually hurt her. I didn't know what lupus or fibromyalgia were. I didn't know what was wrong and why she felt so sick sometimes. I just knew something wasn't right.

And I worried..

My brother Trin, My Great Uncle Lewis holding me and my sister Summer, Britney & Jessica ❤

I knew that I had a sister who cancer took from us, even though we only had one picture of her hanging up and no one ever spoke of her. My fathers first born, Jennifer Marie Ferron, was diagnosed with leukemia at 5 years old, and she passed away when she was only 10.

Every time I saw her face, my heart would break a little. I've never told anyone this, but every now and then, late at night, I would tiptoe down the hallway, take her picture off the wall, and sneak back into my room with it. Sometimes I would cling to it and cry, sometimes I would just study it. Study her face, her smile.   Remark at how much my sister Britney looked like her.

My sister Jennifer Marie Ferron
July 31, 1978 - October 27, 1988

Back then I didn't understand why-- I was just incredibly sad. But now I think I was just mourning the loss of a sister that cancer took from me before I even recognized what "mourning" was. I was 1 month and 14 days old when she passed, and I always say that it's a blessing for me that she got to meet me before she became my angel.

My dad still has a heartbreaking look in his eyes when we discuss her--I don't think that's something that any parent ever gets over. I would notice his quiet times when he withdrew from us, around July (Jenny's birth month) and October (her D date).

Not because it affected how he loved us, he loved us just the same... It actually still amazes me, how loving he was to all of us, even though a part of his heart and soul was missing. I knew he withdrew because he was devastated. I don't think he wanted us to worry about him being sad... But I knew he was a little broken deep down.

And I worried...

I knew that my Mamas mom had ovarian cancer and my Dads mom had breast cancer, even though my family tried to make it so I had no idea.

Mamas Mama ❤

I knew that my Papa was actually eating himself into an early grave, (the multiple heart attacks kinda gave it away) though the adults around me tried to make it seem as though he was just a boisterous, jolly man. Like Santa with a guitar and a southern drawl, but minus the beard.Which actually is a pretty good description of my papa. But still... I knew something wasn't right with my grandparents.

And I worried..

My Papa and Me ❤

Just keep that in mind as you read any of my posts. I notice peoples patterns, their moods, their mannerisms and facial expressions.... Everything. I think it's one of the reasons why I have so much anxiety, and have since I was a small child. I could always read people and situations.  But when I got my first stomach ulcer in the 3rd grade, the doctors didn't think to test someone that young for anxiety issues....  Instead they thought it was a slew of different things. Lactose intolerance, acid levels, etc. Nothing they prescribed seem to have any effect...

Really, the simple truth is that I worry too much. My mind is always racing. I've always felt like the battles of the people I love were just as much my battle as they were theirs, because I love them. I'm empathetic to the millionth degree.... Whatever they were going through, I felt their pain, their sadness, their illnesses... I still to this day feel those things as if they are my own feelings, my own pain, my own struggle...

And I still worry...

Like I've said before, I grew up in Kentucky. When I was in kindergarten, we lived in Caneyville.. small town in Grayson County, KY. After Kindergarten, my dad got a great job with AK Steel, a huge steel mill/coke plant located in Ashland, Ky. along the Ohio River. So the family packed up and we moved to Ashland.

Ariel view of 2 of the furnaces at AK Steel
One is the "Amanda" furnace... Totes named after me...
Just kidding, but it is called the "Amanda" furnace.

Now, do not get me wrong... I loved Ashland. I was a child, I had a lot of other kids who lived on the same block, I was happy as as little clam. But even then, I knew when things weren't right... Like when there were some protests at the plant my dad where my dad worked. He was management. Therefore, he was the enemy. My family got death threats, my mama got stalked, someone tried to kidnap me, not once, but twice.... Enough to give anyone an ulcer really.... But those are stories for other posts.

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THIS story starts when my mother got sick.

My mother was diagnosed with Anaphylaxis Shock Syndrome (an extreme allergy, like how some people could die when they get stung by a bee-- They have Anaphylaxis Shock Syndrome).  I was 8 years old. It took awhile for them to properly diagnosed it--so unfortunately we had to watch her go into shock, and be close to death, multiple times before we figured out what was going on. Turns out she's EXTREMELY allergic to latex, cigarette smoke, certain perfumes, and a few other things. If she's exposed to them, her throat swells shut, she turns into one big hive and passes out, because she can't breathe.

I still remember the first time my mama went into shock like it was yesterday.

Her parents were visiting. The rest of the kids and I were upstairs in the main family room with my Papa and my dad, while my mama and her mama sat down stairs in our basement that had been refurbished into an entertainment room of sorts.  Just relaxing, talking, eating caramels and sipping on tea...

Out of nowhere we heard a blood curdling scream. We all ran downstairs to see my mom on the floor, not breathing and my grandma in a panic. They had been eating those little soft caramels with the cream on the inside, and we are guessing the people in the factory used latex gloves, because it sent her into shock. My dad was able to clear the caramel from her throat and get her breathing again, Thank God.

My Aunt Kimmy, Grandma, Aunt Rhonda, Aunt Anita, and My Mama ❤❤❤

That wasn't the first time I'd been faced with the cold hard fact that my mother was in fact, a human. 

Like I said in my bio, my mama has always had a bit of bad luck when it comes to health. One of my first memories is visiting my mama in the hospital. They had found precancerous cells in her uterus and ovaries, and since she already had a bunch of kids, they opted for a full hysterectomy. Even though her surgery went fine and she healed very nicely, that memory stuck with me.

For years I couldn't even spend the night away from my mama. I would have panic attacks. Even at a relatives house, I needed my mama there. Now that I look back on it, the experience of seeing her like that probably had something to do with it. I'm a worrier, remember? It was like I was terrified that something was going to happen to her and I wouldn't be there. But I digress...

She went into shock a few more times, and we knew we had to get her out of Ashland. With the steel mill and what not, the air was a bit too polluted for her sensitive system and she could hardly step outside some days. That put us on the road right back to Grayson County.

We decided to sell the house we were living in at the time (a couple hundred year old beautiful old Victorian style house), buy a 10 acre plot located in the middle of hundreds of acres of red cedar trees in Falls of Rough, KY (another very small town in Grayson County), and build our own house there. Get my mama out of the pollution and into the country where her system could breathe and clear itself out. 

Even though I knew we had to move I didn't want to. I had friends in Ashland. My big brother, who was 18 and could do as he pleased, was staying behind in Ashland. I mean, how could I ever have a playground wedding with my crush since the 1st grade if we moved away?!?! But still I knew it was happening, whether I liked it or not... Elementary school marriage be damned.

Grandma & Papa
My Mamas parents

Now, my mother is pretty proper in an old school, southern mama type of way. Just like her mama was. She was always nice, our home was open to anyone, and if she cursed at you, you must have done something BAD. Now my dad, on the other hand, could weave together a sentence of profanity that would make George Carlin proud. He is definitely where I get my sailor mouth from.  He was raised by a sailor/mechanic, what do you expect? But to this day, my mama rarely curses.

One day, I was laying on the couch in our basement/entertainment room, crying about moving... My mama came up and sat down beside me, lovingly stroking my hair as I bawled away.... She said "I know its hard baby, you don't want to leave your friends... Moving is a real pain in the ass...." Which made me giggle, Mama said "ASS!" How scandalous!!

Then she looked at me and said "You want to say it with me? Say it with me and maybe you'll feel better." I looked at her with a devilish grin and, feeling like the coolest 4th grader in the world, proclaimed "Mama, moving is a pain in the ass!" 

She held me tight and explained, "I know baby... But sometimes, most of the time, life isn't fair. And you are going to have to deal with pain in the ass situations your whole life. You just have to work hard, smile through it and hope for the best."

A conversation that will stick with me till I die.

And with that, it was "Goodbye big, beautiful Victorian style house!" and "Hello, big fucking plot of land!"

When we got to the spot where we were to build our new home, the grass/brush was up to your chest, the land was uneven. There was no driveway, just an opening in the trees, and we literally had to start from scratch. No electricity running in from the city. No shack for us to reside in while we worked on building this house.
Just grass and red cedar trees.

My parents were not joking when they said "This isn't going to be easy..."

And honestly, I was scared, but I could not have been more excited...

Me at 20 years old, visiting the house that built me. Standing in the field just looking at it. Even though I'm older here, this is exactly what it looked like when we first arrived. A place untouched by time... My happy place...

To be continued ❤