My Name is Matilda, the Tilly Rivers Story
By Tilly Rivers
Entry One
Special note to: Koren, who came up with the title.
Begin at the beginning
My name is Matilda.
When I was approached to write this book, I was not sure I wanted to. To expose your life to others is a hard thing to do, especially my life. Not because I have had it harder, or easier then anyone else, not because my life is better, worse or in between, but because it is---mine.
The story that the publisher wants is one of rags to riches, the Cinderella story, but that is not me. My story, my memories are a blend of great hurt, great passion, great struggles and great success. Is that rags to riches? Maybe, but I do not think so, and as this is my story- what I think counts. ~giggles!~
To write it, I would need to revisit places I do not want to go, abusive memories, and places of darkness, but I would also be revisiting many happy memories as well.
To write it I would need to be as honest as I can, as honest at least as my memory serves me, honesty is a value that I place great importance on, and it is weaved into the very fabric of who I am. To be honest means I may hurt others, as it is not just my life that will be in these pages, but the lives of others that helped shaped my days, some good, some not so. As we do not walk alone in this world now do we?
In the end, I have chosen to write this, for no other reason then it needs to be written. By doing so, I will be able, I hope, to find those last lingering answers, and destroy the last wisps of pain.
I would love to tell you that this will end in happily-ever-after, but I can’t make those claims. As the 'end' has not be written yet.
Instead I will write, as if no one was reading this, that it is just me and the keyboard, and what happens...happens.
To begin at the beginning...
I am Tilly. My birth name officially is Matilda, named after my parental grandmother. Tilly for short...
My family and a handful of friends call me Mickie. My full name? No, sorry I am not even repeating it here, let's just say it is old fashion and we shall leave it at that.
I was named after both my grandmothers, as the last child of nine, It was my mom who decided to give me both grandmothers names. *rolling eyes*, yeah you guessed it, I just LOVE that...
Why Mickie? Cause my uncle took one look at me and said that my name was way to big for a girl no bigger then a...that’s right-‘mickie’, a term used for a small bottle of booze. It just stuck!
To this day when ever I get together with my family or childhood friends they call me Mickie- Tilly seems to be just too hard to grasp. (I am smiling- my cute bratty smile, that I use to get away with anything as I write this.)
My other nick names? ‘Baby girl’ my parents called me this, but especially my Dad, and “mouse.’
I am the youngest of nine children in total, sadly before I was born, my parents lost three children. One girl and two boys.
I suppose when writing one’s life story, you should start with the early years, build up to the teens and later years, but me...being me...there will not be any rhyme or reason, nor logical sequence of events in this book, as I think it, ‘so shall it be written’. ~smiles~
With me, there is always a twist, hence the phrase “Tilly Twist.” It sounds like a tornado doesn't it? Or maybe a yummy candy. I twist everything! Another thing you will need to know about me as you are reading this is that I am a smart ass, and curse, so if language is an issue, you might not want to read anymore. My 'smart-assedness' (I made that word up- giggles)- will either make make you laugh out loud or groan...either way, be prepared to be making odd noises while reading this.
So, off we go down memory lane...
Okay maybe not.
Stalling I know but I am not ready to write any memories yet. Maybe you aren't ready to read any, especially if you are getting to know me, really KNOW me for the first time.
Who am I? Which me? The author, celebrity, model, poet, radio host, entrepreneur, photo enthusiast?
The Mom, the lover, the daughter, the sex symbol?
The friend, aunt, niece, woman, child?
Or just me...?
The lines blur, overlap and become one and none.
To be continued in Entry 2
