Author: Janice Young
For more than one-third of my life, I didn’t know who I was – even when I felt sure of myself. I had rebelled against my own expectations of who I am. I was a young helpless romantic, tenacious about what I wanted, but also a protector by nature. It was in the spring of 1977 when I decided to slow down and solidify my life by taking it more seriously. I wasn’t living up to my potential. I was involved in crime and drugs, but was finally tired of living a lie. I was ready to close the first half of my book about my past – to start a new chapter in a new direction. With thanks to a neighborhood priest, Frank Quinlivan, contacted a battered women’s shelter, the Siena House in Omaha, Nebraska, on my behalf. Sister Beth Daddio was the founder of the Siena House with the help of other nuns. My pass-time have been in writing poetry for the last twenty years. I write poetry about the things that matter to me. Although writing poetry is a passion, I realized that perhaps my book may help others to find the courage to change their direction, and still include my poetry. The more I wrote, the more I tried pulling back; especially having been self-destructive, and irresponsible. So, it was difficult to write this book. But if I could help others to understand how and why they found themselves gravitated into situations with adversity, they too can cleanse their thoughts; change their direction for a better life – helping them would be most gratifying for me.
I am at peace with myself. I love who I am; it’s been a long time coming. I am moved by faith. Even though I begin to change my thoughts and direction in my mid-twenties, it doesn’t mean I had totally lost all of my old behaviors. If I had, I would not have entertained the notion of giving any of the men I came to know, the time of day; especially since I had my doubts already. I had initially stayed away from anyone with Hollyhood behaviors or playboy intentions, knowing that would result into old baggage. Unfortunately, I did not realize that I had attracted a particular type of man; or that I was attractive to that certain type of man. Perhaps I just needed to use some type of excuse for my actions. Avoiding reality was part of me – not accepting what I already knew. That was my dysfunctional insight. My desires had always disrupted me and my children’s well-being.