HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART IV

Judge Sanchez was very intimidating. The man was tough and strict and not a favorite of many of the attorneys. Each month all the judges would rotate types of cases--domestic relations, and criminal and civil jury trials. The jury months, especially the criminal cases were the best times. (Know the judge tried at least one major case because a senior moment is only letting me remember the TV cameras present.) Confidentiality was imperative which at times was difficult especially when you see court files of couples you know who go to church and have filed for divorce, or a school acquaintance who is being charged with a crime.

Besides a secretary, I also was the jury clerk so had the opportunity to be in the courtroom numerous times. Civil was okay but there were some real snoozers. Tony nodded off in his chair many times, but what a pleasant guy to be around, except when he smoked those nasty cigars. There were no smoke-free environments so when Tony went into the courtroom, he would leave his lit cigar in the ashtray adjacent to my desk. I constantly moved it out of smell range and not always in the spot. The smell of cigarette smoke gives me terrible headaches but cigar smoke leaves me quite nauseous. Lest you forget, Tony’s eyesight was not to keen, so it did make for an amusing source of entertainment to watch Tony find it. John smoked a pipe and although not quite as bad as cigarettes or cigars, I still didn’t care for the smell, but when Tony would switch to a pipe, he used cherry tobacco. Must admit it smelled pretty good.

Might have already blogged about this, but I’ll always attribute my work ethic to Judge Sanchez. Always like to be busy and never did like to twiddle my thumbs so one day saved what the judge gave me that morning for the afternoon. Later that morning Judge Sanchez asked for the letter and, of course, it was not done. He ripped into me and since that time, I’ve always completed everything post haste. I’ll confess, the judge had me in tears quite a bit the first year but oh what a great job!

After my heel surgeries, felt so blessed and was so thankful to be walking and not a cripple that I took up running. Started out gradually at first and then consistently ran daily at least two miles, interspersed with three to four miles and at times pushed myself to five. Also decided to pick up the sport my family had begged me to play several years earlier. Became a tennis fanatic and took city lessons every summer with my brother being one of my instructors. Lessons were on weekdays in the early evening or Saturday mornings. Soon you could habitually find me on the court practicing serves for an hour in the early mornings. Watched every match on TV, and read Tennis and World Tennis magazines. Wanted to be the best I could possibly be (a perfectionist’s frame of mind).

Thoughts of food were constant. Every morsel thoroughly contemplated. Comparing sizes of apples, potatoes, or slices of bread to see which one was smaller or larger depending on what was eaten earlier in the day. It would go in cycles, once you eat something for either breakfast, lunch, or dinner, it had to become a daily ritual and would continue for quite some time until some change was made and a different cycle would begin. All meals were planned with utmost thought with dinner being the largest and the most well balanced. Any deviation from the menu plan whether it be an invite to go out, a party, or something else either being brought to work or home would produce tremendous anxiety. Each meal was planned and dependent on the other. Calories counted. And in order to eat, exercise had to be done. Constantly obsessed about the looks of my body, especially the stomach area and at each opportunity when passing a mirror, would lift the shirt and check on its shape. In my eyes, not flat enough, hence, was still too big but a warped perception to all others.

Losing the weight with the daily exercise grind gradually lead to the disruption of my female plumbing. Went to a doctor, tried some pills and had a catscan but no answers and nothing to be done except wait until the time came to bear a child. Functioned in the real world and nothing seemed out of the ordinary at least in terms of how others perceived me. Didn’t do much socializing in church or outside church but still kept up with tennis. Had a few friends but would seem to always sabotage at least one of those relationships for one reason or another. Had a few crushes on some of my brother’s friends at church but never thought any of them would be interested. There just was no joy in much of anything, but could lose myself in tennis and TV. The running did produce a euphoric feeling but didn’t last long enough.

After 2-½ years, quit working for the judge in order to attend a community college in Tyler, TX. In one of the tennis magazines read about a school tennis program that offered students an opportunity to manage a tennis club. The tennis coach was a member of the Church of Christ, the one our local minister had attended years earlier. The program also included practicing with the school’s tennis team and attending a few courses off campus. Although I didn’t have an automobile, the coach offered to get me there and back. Shared a dorm room with Donna and got acquainted with her two other friends and everything seemed fine. Of course, appearances are deceiving. Practiced with the team a few times and felt so inferior and not good enough not only to play but not good enough for the program as well. Felt guilty Coach Fred had to take me to class--just don’t like inconveniencing people because of my situations. Also, I was just plain homesick and decided I was not meant to be a manager in a tennis facility. Called my parents and with my brother they advised me to stay and switch majors to Police Science, something I had talked about and had wanted to become a cop since watching Mod Squad. Their pleas fell on deaf ears and Mom and Dad came and took me back home. What a huge disappointment I must be and felt like a total failure. (And I couldn’t go back to work for Judge Sanchez.)

(to be continued)