Victoria is my Name

I was born Victoria Lee Stewart in January
In a small retirement community a full week into the new year
Yet I was the New Years baby

I once asked my mother who I was named for
A queen perhaps, or a far away city?
"No" she said, "I just thought the name is beautiful- you are beautiful"

But she didn't call me that beautiful name, instead she called me Vickie
She spelled it in a different way then most
with the "ie" on the end instead of a "y"
Nobody ever got it right

It rhymed with all manner of unpleasant names
Which I suffered throughout elementary school

Vickie, Dickie, Sicky, lickie, Mickie, picky... icky

Finally I had the chance to re-brand myself
A move to a new state when I was nearly 12
Now I was Tori...
No longer gangly, and awkward, with buck teeth, and stick out ears
I was tan and tall and pretty and I was "The girl from California"

And Tori didn't rhyme with anything gross

The move was no good for a girl with no self-esteem however, instead it proved to be a disaster that set me on a path of self loathing and self destruction

Suddenly attractive to boys and with out compass or sanctuary
I became victim to the whim and desires of others
Mississippi holds no fond memories for me
I cringe at the thought of meeting someone who knew me then

Leaving Mississippi behind did not remove its shadow from my heart
The shadow cold and lonely followed me thru Arkansas, Okinawa, New York, Connecticut and back to Arkansas again and Wisconsin and Florida and Arkansas again, and again to Arkansas

The dark times were dismal with this shadow overhead, no light could penetrate. Anguished nights spent screaming into the dark,
Cicadas roar covered the sound with no purchase found in those days

Years passed until I finally made another move
To a new place inside myself.
I decided to grow into me
I know it sounds too simple but that was just what I did
I left behind the old shadow, the shame and solitude
I changed from the inside out, my food, my outlook
I nourished myself in ways that have nothing to do with my address

I am Victoria now and forever
I am beautiful and free

College Scholarship Essay 2015

It has taken me 45 years of living to finally figure out who I am. As a troubled teenager I had no dreams other than to leave my mother’s home. Teenage pregnancy and marriage at 17 achieved that goal. At that point all my own dreams had to take a back seat to motherhood, and surviving the situations brought on by my choices. Years of domestic abuse and self-abuse coupled with a car accident in 1995 have taken their toll on my body. Qualifying for disability in 2009 was the beginning of getting my life on track. Finally having a stable income and home allowed me the time I needed to get a handle on my health and my dreams.

As a mother of four girls and a boy with special needs, life has been especially difficult in my particular socio-economic status. As a thrice divorced mother, my choices have further complicated my situation. When I first attempted to return to school in 1999, colored with these choices and hampered by these circumstances I still did not know who I was as an individual. I majored in accounting because working in taxes was the first thing to which I had applied myself of any importance outside my family and I seemed to excel in my client relationships. Little did I know at the time that what I excelled in was not the love of numbers; but of helping people. During my time at Pulaski Technical College I excelled academically, and came to terms with myself as a writer for the first time.  My Professor; recognizing my talent, tried, unsuccessfully to get me to change my major to creative writing. But I was still going through so much abuse from my current husband at home, I felt that I needed to simply get training to make an income and that my personal dreams were not important. I didn’t have the time to waste on myself. I graduated with honors, Phi Theta Kappa but after graduation, my life finally spiraled completely out of control.

As my health deteriorated, and my family life nose-dived, I survived a complete mental breakdown and subsequent homelessness. I struggled to keep my children and lost half the battle. My dedication to God and my children were the only things I had to hang onto. When I went on Social Security and Section 8 my life finally began to level out and as the years progressed and my children grew I still followed their dreams, not mine. I spent a couple years as an autism advocate and was elected Vice President of the Arkansas chapter of the National Autism Association. My daughter became a singer-songwriter and as her co-songwriter and manager I finally began to dream dreams of my own. I discovered a talent for songwriting and music management and marketing that I had no idea about. When she left our partnership it devastated me to lose my daughter and best-friend but I found that the loss of the music was just as devastating. 

I have since written a book of poems based on my life as a survivor of domestic abuse, I have performed my poetry in front of audiences in Hot Springs with great success. I have also built a reputation in this town and a strong network of friends and colleagues as a music promoter, and I volunteer my time with several music festivals and galleries. I have been told that my help with website development, and social media marketing is unique and invaluable.  I want to continue to dream, to make my dreams come true and others as well. I plan to study the arts and add this to my prior business education to help other artists to realize their dreams. I envision one day opening an artist co-op here in Hot Springs to promote the arts and dreams among young and old alike.  The arts have opened up my world to possibilities I never imagined and I hope that many other people can be inspired as I have.

After 45 years I finally know who I am. I am a woman, a mother, a special needs-parent, an advocate, an activist, a dreamer, a poet, a song-writer, a social media coach, an artist and I am a survivor. 

Letter to my Little Self by Victoria Meyers (14 of 30)

Hey little girl,
I remember when you were sitting in your room at your flower table
Coloring with crayons while you sang Elvis, and Eagles and Shawn Cassidy songs
You believed you sounded just like the singers and you sang loud enough to drown them out

Hey little girl,
I remember when you used to spend hours choreographing dances and skits to go along with those same songs
When you would get the other kids to to join in and put on a show for your moms' party friends
I remember how you gave the party goers all tickets and directed them to come to come see the "show" at the designated time.
You had it all figured out and you put on three shows a night- so that no one had to miss out

Hey little girl,
Don't stop dreaming
Life will get hard, and so many, many years will go by that you will forget
You will even forget yourself and who you would have been - before - if they hadn't done all those things to you to knock you off your trajectory
So many years will go by that you will want to give up
In fact you will give up entirely three times before you get back on your path

Hey little girl,
Remember all those things that happen to you not only the good and happy things- but also the ugly nasty and a sad things too
Are the same things that will make you amazing
They will color you music and your poetry and your parenting and your love
With all the empathy that you need to touch the hearts of those who will listen

And little girl,
I'm telling you they will listen one day
And you will smile

Morning Glory by Victoria Meyers (2 of 30)

Late bloomer, that's what you can call me.

Sometime, a long time ago, my stem went dormant.

My development sitter of stopped.

For a very many years my only hope was to react to what was happening to me and try to protect myself from utter destruction.

Like a flower that opens for the sun but closes up again when you touch it.

It was a slow process, with many false starts.

That's why too many like me are labeled with ugly names behind our backs by those more fortunate.

Because they can't understand that what's tried to stop me didn't win but only slowed me down.

Under the weight of adversity my figurative muscles have torn but but they have repaired and re-knit to be stronger then ever.

So now the sun shines like a morning in the spring and my petals spread open to welcome it.

~Morning Glory by Victoria Meyers