Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Special Treat – Serina Matteson

August 8, 2006

 Just In Case You Really Want To Know…Part 2

Serina Matteson

“Let’s see. What am I going to wear tonight to catch those young cute buck’s attention?” I thought intently. I rummaged through the closest and picked out one blue and one yellow matching tennis shoes. Next I found my Daisy Duke shorts that were made for 180 pound women. I had lost some weight and feeling all of 120 pounds when I looked at myself in the mirror. I found a turquoise wife better that made my 38D breast look larger than life. Of course I couldn’t wear a bra with it because the straps would show. “Damn! I look freaking good. I’m going to have to beat those boys off me. But I won’t.”

I sat down to put on my makeup. It had to look perfect. After applying brightly colored eye shadow I took green glitter and smeared it under my eyes and up into the hairline. Then I took eyelash glue and applied a red ruby, about the size of your pinky nail, right below the corner of my right eye. Right below the corner of my left eye I applied three tiny rhinestones. I took the stud out of my nose and put in a hoop that matched all eleven hoops that grew smaller in size as they progressed up my left ear. In my right ear I had four diamond studs. Around my neck I wore a leather collar. Back to the mirror I went to check out my image. “Oh my God! I am so freaking hot. When does the damn party start?”

The kids, ages 16 through 25, had started arriving but were all hanging outside. I cranked up the stereo with some AC/DC and Highway to Hell full blast. The trailer walls were shaking. Finally they began to trickle in.

“Is this were the party is at?” they would ask.

“Hell yeah!” I would scream with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Well, where’s the booze?” they would ask next.

“For a quick kiss I’ll tell you,” I would reply to the boys with a wicked smile while puffing my chest out in the air.

“For a dollar I’ll tell you,” is what I would say to the girls I didn’t know.

Just about all the boys were drunk by the time they arrived at the house and were more than happy to give momma a quick peck on the cheek. That was all I was asking for. At first anyway.

The gathering grew spirited and immense. I was loving every minute of it. I was so high on life I believed I was floating a few inches off the floor somehow. I looked around and all I could see was smiles and heads bouncing in unison to this music that seem to flow through every inch of my body. Charging me with electricity. And whenever I walked through the mass of moving flesh all eyes were on me. I was the goddess among them.

Finally I decided to take what I considered to be mine. I swayed up to one stunning chap. Brian, I believe was his name. I knocked his partner aside, grabbed him by the neck and shoved my hips into to his. We began a seductive dance as he rubbed his hands across my bare breast. Everyone stopped dancing and formed a circle around us, cheering us on. Except for my daughter, son, and the girl I had knocked away. They all ran outside. The dance continued on as we locked lips into a passionate kiss. Then I whispered in his ear, “How old are you?”

He responded, “18.”

I grabbed his hand and tugged him behind me to my bedroom. Thirty minutes later Brian came out a man.

All the guys were sitting and waiting and the girls or my kids were no where to be found. As we exited my room all the guys started clapping and cheering.

“Start up the music boys. The fun doesn’t have to end.” I said with a devilish grin.

The music glared on and I danced among them. Going from one to the other. Then things abruptly changed. I came across one guy who pushed me away. I was infuriated and insulted.

“What the hell is your problem? Are you gay?” I screamed at him.

“No. I just don’t find you attractive,” he screamed back.

About that time someone shut off the music to hear what was going down.

“Well then. Just get out of my house.” Then I pushed him on his ass.

He jumped up, pushed me back, and said, “I don’t have to go anywhere.”

That was when the most awful change came over me. If my head could have exploded from the anger inside, it would have. I jumped back up to my feet and prepared to let him have it.

“Just who the hell do you think you are? This is my house and when I say you go, you will go, you little smartass. If you don’t turn around by the count of three I will literally kick your ass and you will wish you had never pissed me off. One, two, three.”

The kid just stood there. He looked about 17. I shoved him down again. Then I kicked him in the ribs and then in the face. About that time people started grabbing my arms from behind and dragging me away. I still had some karate moves in me and wiggled out of their grip and then turned on them too. I started kicking them in the knees saying, “I dare you turn on me like this.”

The next second they were all running out the door like scared little rabbits. I thought, “Shit! I’m just getting ready to fight.” So out the door I went following them. Most of them were in their cars and out the driveway. I did manage to catch a few with their windows rolled down, grabbed them by the hair, and tried to drag them out. But they ended up pulling me down the driveway with them so I had to let go.

The kid that started it all still stood outside trying to explain to my children what was going on. I tore into him again. “You’re a brave little fool aren’t you?” I grabbed him by the hair and slung him up against a car. He punched me in the stomach. My kids broke us up.

The punk then laughed at me, “I’ve called the cops on you.”

“Fine. Anna and Daniel, if you know what is good for him and you, you better get him the hell out of here before the cops get here.”

I don’t know what they said to him but he left nonetheless.

Once inside the trailer I went crazy. I had no one to fight with so I took out my anger on the inanimate things around me. I punched about five wholes in the hall wall. Threw the telephone through the kitchen window. Then I did a Bruce Lee karate move and did a round kick through the other kitchen window. When I drew my leg back through I drug it on the broken glass and gashed my calf. Blood was gushing everywhere. I didn’t care though. I was just proud of my kick.

By this time the sheriff deputies had showed up, two older gentlemen, and all the kids at the party had gone. My two kids walked in with the deputies and I was sitting on the couch trying to look innocent. They called the ambulance when they saw my leg. Well I decided to go ape shit again. My cousin from across the road came over during the process to help detain me. The deputies had no interest in doing that. They found it all funny. My cousin it about 6’5 and 270, a previous football player, and when I tried my karate on him, he took my ass down. My face went straight into the gravel.

When the ambulance arrived they restrained me to the stretcher because I was still kicking and cussing. Both deputies were standing on each side of the ambulance laughing hardily. I looked up at one of them and said, “What are you laughing at fat ass?” He just laughed that much harder.

After receiving 18 stitches in the leg they did not want to let me go. They wouldn’t tell me anything either. I got restless and told them to bite my ass because I was walking home and out the door I went. I only live 2.2 miles away from the hospital. The only problem was I didn’t have any shoes and it was December 27, raining, and about 37 degrees outside. I made it across the road to the gas station before I gave up.

I don’t know how but my dad found out I was at that gas station and he came and picked me up. We didn’t talk all the way home. Once we got there momma and himself made a bee line for the trailer wanting to know what had been going on while they had been out shopping. Then they seen the wholes in the wall and the broken window and all hell broke loose again.

I let them have it. I don’t remember everything I said but it was to some degree about how they raised me and how they were being hypocrites because they had been alcoholics all their live. Yada, yada, yada. Well, that didn’t go over well as you can image. I wouldn’t stay out of their faces. I followed them outside, up to the house with my finger in their face the whole way. Then they called the city cops on me.

On the couch I sat again, trying to look innocent when the cops came in. Everything was going fine until they said Anna, my daughter, was going to spend the night at her mama’s. I said., “Hell no. Not over my dead body.”

“Well, Serina, are you going to hurt yourself if she goes up there?” the one cop asked me, sitting on the other side of the room.

I really had no intentions of hurting myself but I was still pissed of by the events of the evening and how they had transpired. I felt like everyone had ganged up on me. So being the smartass I had been being I belted out, “Hell yes!”

“You are under arrest.” he said from across the room.

The little cop beside me began to put the cuff around one of my wrist when I replied back, “You can kiss my ass.” And I withdrew my arm away from the officer trying to cuff me. WRONG THING TO DO. Before I knew it they both had me face down on the kitchen floor with the cuffs on me and I didn’t get to do not one Bruce Lee karate move. I figured I had been licked so I walked solemnly out to the car and sat quietly in the back seat. They had a killer stereo system and were playing some kick ass music. I just melted away into it.

At jail I was placed in the drunk tank. That’s the place were if you have to pee you get to squat over a drain. You also get to sleep on a hard cement floor with an army blanket to cover up with. That’s all. If you need something, no one comes. Ever.

The next day I was transported to the psych ward were I was committed by the court system for nine days. I had to go before a judge before he would let me come home.

This all occurred during a time when I was first diagnosed as Bipolar and they didn’t know the right medication to keep me stabilized. I also at this time had been off the meds for about three weeks because I was already feeling manic and wanted to party and drink.

Thankfully now they have found the magic potion for me. I still get manic but nowhere close to this level. The meds help control the episodes better even though they still can be detrimental. Since I’ve been bipolar I’ve been to jail four times. It is not something I’m proud of but it is a fact that has happened because of this disease and it happens to many.

In my next article I will talk about the devastation of coming down from a manic episode for me, cutting, and depression. Thanks to all for reading.

Serina Matteson

matteson4892@hotmail.com

My name is Serina Matteson. I live in Arab, Alabama which is where I have lived all my life. I am 39 years old and have two wonderful children. Daniel who is twenty and Anna who is 18. They are both in college now. My son is going to be an engineer and my daughter is going on a volleyball scholarship to be a teacher and coach. Right now I am an unemployed paralegal on disability because of my bipolar illness and an aspiring writer. My dreams are to publish a novel some day.