Now, this is where things get complicated. Let's go back to the beginning....
He basically lied to me. He told me he was living with his best friend and his best friend's sister. What he didn't tell me? He used to date the sister and only became friends with her brother after he moved from Chicago to Florida to be with her. After a few weeks of living with her, he knew he wasn't happy and tried to break up with her, a few times- but she didn't take him seriously and always forced herself back on him within a few days. When he met me on Valentines Day- he broke up with her. Yes, on Valentines Day. But again, she didn't take him seriously and tried to get back with him. He would ignore her but I'm sure more went on than I know. By the time I found most of this out, we were already pregnant. I struggled with a lot of it. Should I break up with him for something he did when we weren't even serious???
That was all before THE ACCIDENT. And remember, I said it changed everything.
He got in the accident with HER. Do you have any idea how hard that was on ME? Yeah, ok they got in an accident and almost died. I walked into the Intensive Care Unit and asked for his room, the nurse smiled up at me and said, "Sure I think he's with his girlfriend." My eyes narrowed and I shook my head, "I'M his girlfriend." She was in his room. She and I had only met one time- a few weeks before I moved out of the house right down the street from his, I walked to his apartment not knowing she really even existed remember? I thought she was just the sister. I couldn't understand why she was so angry with me... then I began seeing text messages in his phone from her and I asked him what was going on. I think he told me she liked him but he wasn't into her. I shoved her out of my mind until they got in the accident together and then I knew they had probably been dating.
I gave him a choice. Them or Me. He chose me- not even so much that we were 'so' in love, but they were all so angry with him for getting into the accident. The ex girlfriend's (who we'll call A) dad and brother's mom were furious. (He has been driving B's car when he crashed, drunk.... on his way home from getting more beer and cigarette's for the party- as he was the only one over 21 at the time.) The Parents accused him of trying to kill their daughter and threatened to kill him. Thankfully there were on vacation at the time, or they might have done it. They're nuts.
So he moved in with my mom. I bought him a new wardrobe- he lost everything when they 'kicked him out'. But he still talked to both A and B. And I'll admit, I was furious he spoke to that girl. We had countless fights over her. I could not understand why he couldn't just leave her alone! There was nothing sexual between them, I knew that! He saw her as a friend, but I knew she still had feelings for him. It bothered me so much, but there was nothing I could do.
When we found out we were pregnant.... I was so confused. A & I had found a common ground weeks before- I had told my boyfriend that if he was going to talk to her, so was I. He was pissed but really had no choice. The day he was arrested for an unknown warrant (from the accident) she was the only one to help me get him out. While at her house trying to scrounge bail money to get him out of jail, $180 was stolen out of my backpack. It was B- my boyfriend's so called BEST FRIEND, remember?
A was one of the first people to find out we were expecting. We had lost our apartment when he lost his job... and we didn't know what to do. I ended up moving in with friends and he.... crashed in her living room. I know what you're thinking- are you crazy? Yeah, I probably was. I trusted him- which I probably shouldn't have. But to this day I will say I do not think ANYTHING happened between them after The Accident. It was over after that. She may not have wanted it to be, but it was.
I hate talking bad about her- she has been such a good friend to me. That may not make sense to some, but she was one of the few there for me during my pregnancy. She did more for me through my pregnancy than my boyfriend did. She brought me food- whatever I wanted- bought outfits and took me to Doctor appointments. My boyfriend was unemployed through most of the pregnancy so she felt responsible for me. I don't know why, but I was so thankful for her. If not for her and my mom, I may not have made it through.
We had a complicated relationship. A lot of jealousy between us, and it took a long time for that to die off. She is still one of my closest friends even though we love across the country. We talk pretty much every day. I'm so thankful for her friendship. I understand why my boyfriend couldn't just let that go- although they rarely speak now.
So do I think they messed around a few times before The Accident after I moved, absolutely. Do I forgive him? It's taken time, but yes. Do I trust him NOW? With everything I have. Things were so different then. We had just started dating-- he had known that family for years and felt like they had done so much for him... he was brainwashed, I swear. A is the only normal one out of the entire family, not quite sure how that happened but I'll explain more in Chapter Five.
You may be reading this thinking, "Wow this girl's an idiot." I was. I really was. But, the day I moved from Florida to Chicago to separate myself from all the bullshit in Chapter Five & that man followed me I PUT IT ALL BEHIND ME. The past is the past. We started completely new when we moved and it was the best damn thing we've ever done. It hasn't always been easy, but it's sure as hell been worth it.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
My "Brother" - My Best Friend
When I lived with my dad in High School, I met one of my brother's friends & he just so happened to be involved in Theater like I was. We would ride the Early bus together & usually stay late for clubs and ride the Late bus home together. I had a little bit of a crush on him... I don't think I knew what FRIENDSHIP felt like. I "liked" any guy I was friends with pretty much.
We began to really talk. I confided in him more than anyone else in High School. I never told him the whole truth, and still to this day haven't told him most of what I've written on this blog. He would probably bring my father back to life so he could kill him himself. And he talked to me. He told me things he has probably never told anyone else.
He lived with his aunt because his mother is mentally retarded and couldn't care for him anymore. We both felt abandoned. In a way, we held onto each other.
When he started driving, he would give me rides to and from school. After about a yr my "crush" on his faded and he became more like a brother. We are close. We will always be close.
I'm not sure if he will ever forgive me for moving away. I didn't even tell him I was leaving, I just left. He was so angry with me. Then when I got pregnant I thought he was going to drive down to drag me home.
He tells me to move home every single day. If only it were that easy...
He started dating a girl about 2 yrs ago. I hated her. I didn't trust her. Not because I was jealous- she wasn't good enough for him. But I bit my tongue, and supported his decisions. I'll never forget the day I got that phone call.
'I'm going to be a Daddy.'
My heart broke. This wasn't the plan for him. He was supposed to do better than me. He was supposed to succeed for both of us. But they were happy, they were going to get married. Until he got the text message...
'I'm moving back in with my parents.'
No explanation. She just wanted to move home. He let her. He stood back and let her leave- what choice did he have? It took her 10 days to actually move out. She barely spoke to him the remainder of her pregnancy and his son doesn't have his last name. He is not allowed to take his son out of her home, and has to go there each day to visit with him.
This man works at a DAYCARE. He has his own apartment. We even threw him a baby shower to make sure he had what needed to take care of his son.
He wants her back. He's never gotten over her. And they will try again- for the baby's sake. And she will leave and break his heart all over again. And there's nothing I can do but support his decisions....
My husband read a text conversation between us last night and is freaking out. He thinks we are having an affair.
I'm homesick. I'm lonely. I love my life in Chicago, I really do. I love my job and our new house. But... I'm not really HAPPY here. I'm sorry but I'm not. I wonder if I will be truly happy ANYWHERE?
I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss having more than just my in laws around when I need help. I miss stopping by Nana's for dinner, Holidays with MY side of the family, friends around all the time. I miss being HOME.
We can't go there. I know that. It would never work. But, doesn't mean I can't wish right? So why is he upset that I WISH I could go home? How can be mad about the way I FEEL?
So because we discussed we miss each other we must be sleeping together? That doesn't make any sense.
I HATE MEN.
We began to really talk. I confided in him more than anyone else in High School. I never told him the whole truth, and still to this day haven't told him most of what I've written on this blog. He would probably bring my father back to life so he could kill him himself. And he talked to me. He told me things he has probably never told anyone else.
He lived with his aunt because his mother is mentally retarded and couldn't care for him anymore. We both felt abandoned. In a way, we held onto each other.
When he started driving, he would give me rides to and from school. After about a yr my "crush" on his faded and he became more like a brother. We are close. We will always be close.
I'm not sure if he will ever forgive me for moving away. I didn't even tell him I was leaving, I just left. He was so angry with me. Then when I got pregnant I thought he was going to drive down to drag me home.
He tells me to move home every single day. If only it were that easy...
He started dating a girl about 2 yrs ago. I hated her. I didn't trust her. Not because I was jealous- she wasn't good enough for him. But I bit my tongue, and supported his decisions. I'll never forget the day I got that phone call.
'I'm going to be a Daddy.'
My heart broke. This wasn't the plan for him. He was supposed to do better than me. He was supposed to succeed for both of us. But they were happy, they were going to get married. Until he got the text message...
'I'm moving back in with my parents.'
No explanation. She just wanted to move home. He let her. He stood back and let her leave- what choice did he have? It took her 10 days to actually move out. She barely spoke to him the remainder of her pregnancy and his son doesn't have his last name. He is not allowed to take his son out of her home, and has to go there each day to visit with him.
This man works at a DAYCARE. He has his own apartment. We even threw him a baby shower to make sure he had what needed to take care of his son.
He wants her back. He's never gotten over her. And they will try again- for the baby's sake. And she will leave and break his heart all over again. And there's nothing I can do but support his decisions....
My husband read a text conversation between us last night and is freaking out. He thinks we are having an affair.
I'm homesick. I'm lonely. I love my life in Chicago, I really do. I love my job and our new house. But... I'm not really HAPPY here. I'm sorry but I'm not. I wonder if I will be truly happy ANYWHERE?
I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss having more than just my in laws around when I need help. I miss stopping by Nana's for dinner, Holidays with MY side of the family, friends around all the time. I miss being HOME.
We can't go there. I know that. It would never work. But, doesn't mean I can't wish right? So why is he upset that I WISH I could go home? How can be mad about the way I FEEL?
So because we discussed we miss each other we must be sleeping together? That doesn't make any sense.
I HATE MEN.
Friday, March 16, 2012
Chapter Four
When I was 15 my best friend and I got arrested for shop lifting. From that moment on my father had real reason to hate her other than the fact she was forcing me to grow up. She gave me make up, loaned me clothes and we talked to boys! *GASP!* So I wasn't allowed to talk to her- so I did it in secret, of course.
After I moved out I would see her when I could and we eventually made friends to go see my mom for the summer between Junior and Senior year. My mom bought our tickets and her parents said it was fine. The people I was living with were encouraging my relationship with my mom but cautious of my friend because of what my dad had told them. They told my grandmother my plans and she told my dad, who flipped out. He did everything he could to stop it and eventually succeeded in getting me kicked out from the house I was staying at.
I went to stay with my best friend as soon as school was out. I was happy! I was back where I belonged. But I knew my dad would never let me live there, I had no choice but move cross country with my mom. My best friend and I flew down together and she stayed for 3 weeks. Watching her leave was a mixture of emotions. My heart was breaking, not knowing when I would see her again and part of me wishing I could go with her. Another part of me was ready for a fresh start. Then another part of me was numb to the fact I had walked out on 3 years of hard work at my old school. I left without a word. I was going to start over at a brand new school for my SENIOR year of High School.
I found a new church within weeks of moving. It helped me make friends before starting school in the fall. But when I went to school, they told me the requirements were different between states and I would have to go 2 more years instead of 1 to finish with Honors like I had planned. WHAT! I was advised to withdraw and begin home schooling under the curriculum of my previous school- there went my Senior year. I hadn't been allowed to go to my Junior prom and now wouldn't go to any Senior prom, walk at graduation or do anything I had so looked forward to. I was heart broken. But I did what I had to do. I was going to graduate.
I did a semester of classes online. I made straight A's. Right before Thanksgiving, something went wrong with my mom's business and we lost our house. My mom's boyfriend had turned into an asshole a few weeks before- mainly out of jealousy that I had moved in? So I ended up renting a room at a random lady's house. I got a job serving at a local restaurant and continued working on my classes.
Right after New Years I was informed I could take the GED anytime and finish classes all together. WHAT? I wasn't getting my GED, I was getting a Diploma- RIGHT? No, wrong. I was taking GED Prep classes via the states virtual school. I quit classes immediately. No point in wasting any more of my time. I would just take the GED when I could...
I ended up meeting a guy at work. We really hit it off. This was my 1st boyfriend! The people I lived with had a 16 year old daughter- who was pregnant. And they were terrified of me getting pregnant in their house. WE WEREN'T EVEN HAVING SEX! They just made life very awkward. It became quite clear it was time for me to move out. After a huge blow out I moved in with a couple from church and stopped seeing my boyfriend. We still talked on the phone almost daily and saw each other maybe 4 times in 2 months. I knew he was probably cheating on me, but I didn't think we were going to last so I didn't really care.
He got into a car accident and spent 10 days in the hospital. Everything changed after that. We knew we wanted to be together. We knew he couldn't go back to the party house he was staying at and he couldn't stay with me! So my mom let him stay with her- I couldn't stay there because I was relying on the bus to get to work and there was no bus where my mom lived. So I would go over there on weekends. Our relationship got more serious with every passing day and we eventually started having sex. I got on the pill and figured I had nothing to worry about-- right??
After a few weeks we bought a car and got our own apartment. He got a job and life was going good. He was on probation for the car accident (DUI) and lost his license. That complicated things but we made it work. Then, he was fired from his job after they accused him of stealing. Since he was on probation he didn't fight it and just walked away. Right after he lost his job, I started feeling really sick and emotional- all the cliche` bullshit.
Actually, that's all bullshit. I had been taking pregnancy tests for weeks. I was paranoid my pill wouldn't work after my mom realized I was taking the same pill she was on when she got pregnant with me. It was one of these random pregnancy tests that unexpectedly produced 2 pink lines. I was in shock. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know this guy! We had been dating 8 months and I was PREGNANT!
I walked out of the bathroom, threw the test and him and walked out. I called my mom.
After I moved out I would see her when I could and we eventually made friends to go see my mom for the summer between Junior and Senior year. My mom bought our tickets and her parents said it was fine. The people I was living with were encouraging my relationship with my mom but cautious of my friend because of what my dad had told them. They told my grandmother my plans and she told my dad, who flipped out. He did everything he could to stop it and eventually succeeded in getting me kicked out from the house I was staying at.
I went to stay with my best friend as soon as school was out. I was happy! I was back where I belonged. But I knew my dad would never let me live there, I had no choice but move cross country with my mom. My best friend and I flew down together and she stayed for 3 weeks. Watching her leave was a mixture of emotions. My heart was breaking, not knowing when I would see her again and part of me wishing I could go with her. Another part of me was ready for a fresh start. Then another part of me was numb to the fact I had walked out on 3 years of hard work at my old school. I left without a word. I was going to start over at a brand new school for my SENIOR year of High School.
I found a new church within weeks of moving. It helped me make friends before starting school in the fall. But when I went to school, they told me the requirements were different between states and I would have to go 2 more years instead of 1 to finish with Honors like I had planned. WHAT! I was advised to withdraw and begin home schooling under the curriculum of my previous school- there went my Senior year. I hadn't been allowed to go to my Junior prom and now wouldn't go to any Senior prom, walk at graduation or do anything I had so looked forward to. I was heart broken. But I did what I had to do. I was going to graduate.
I did a semester of classes online. I made straight A's. Right before Thanksgiving, something went wrong with my mom's business and we lost our house. My mom's boyfriend had turned into an asshole a few weeks before- mainly out of jealousy that I had moved in? So I ended up renting a room at a random lady's house. I got a job serving at a local restaurant and continued working on my classes.
Right after New Years I was informed I could take the GED anytime and finish classes all together. WHAT? I wasn't getting my GED, I was getting a Diploma- RIGHT? No, wrong. I was taking GED Prep classes via the states virtual school. I quit classes immediately. No point in wasting any more of my time. I would just take the GED when I could...
I ended up meeting a guy at work. We really hit it off. This was my 1st boyfriend! The people I lived with had a 16 year old daughter- who was pregnant. And they were terrified of me getting pregnant in their house. WE WEREN'T EVEN HAVING SEX! They just made life very awkward. It became quite clear it was time for me to move out. After a huge blow out I moved in with a couple from church and stopped seeing my boyfriend. We still talked on the phone almost daily and saw each other maybe 4 times in 2 months. I knew he was probably cheating on me, but I didn't think we were going to last so I didn't really care.
He got into a car accident and spent 10 days in the hospital. Everything changed after that. We knew we wanted to be together. We knew he couldn't go back to the party house he was staying at and he couldn't stay with me! So my mom let him stay with her- I couldn't stay there because I was relying on the bus to get to work and there was no bus where my mom lived. So I would go over there on weekends. Our relationship got more serious with every passing day and we eventually started having sex. I got on the pill and figured I had nothing to worry about-- right??
After a few weeks we bought a car and got our own apartment. He got a job and life was going good. He was on probation for the car accident (DUI) and lost his license. That complicated things but we made it work. Then, he was fired from his job after they accused him of stealing. Since he was on probation he didn't fight it and just walked away. Right after he lost his job, I started feeling really sick and emotional- all the cliche` bullshit.
Actually, that's all bullshit. I had been taking pregnancy tests for weeks. I was paranoid my pill wouldn't work after my mom realized I was taking the same pill she was on when she got pregnant with me. It was one of these random pregnancy tests that unexpectedly produced 2 pink lines. I was in shock. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know this guy! We had been dating 8 months and I was PREGNANT!
I walked out of the bathroom, threw the test and him and walked out. I called my mom.
Mommy Dearest
My mom and I are close. We always have been. Our relationship is very emotional... we get very upset and tend it take it out on each other. But we talk. We have always just had deep long meaningful conversations that last for hours. I can remember on more than one occasion sitting up until 3-4am just talking to her (once I was about 9, again when I was 13 and several times as an adult). We just click. We are a lot alike... which is why we sometimes don't get along.
When we fight, we FIGHT. It used to get physical. From ages 7-14 I was just a brat. I was awful. I don't know how she put up with me. I really don't. (She couldn't- that's why she would send me to live with my dad.) Not that she was weak, she was exhausted! She would send me to my room, I would just jump out the window. She couldn't control me. I was so angry! And for what? WHY?? Because my mom had another baby. I guess I really was not ready to stop being the baby.
How fucking ridiculous is that? I probably ruined my mothers life because I was JEALOUS?? What the hell is wrong with me? My mom always says my little brother's dad is the man she should be with today. And I ruined that relationship. She'll never say so, she always says they were just at two different places in life blah blah blah- which is probably a little true but I know I caused a lot of stress in their relationship.
They met at a party, I think? They were friends first, for a looong time. Years. They would play basketball, tennis, go out together. But they were just friends. And honestly I don't think I ever really met him until my mom got pregnant with my little brother? Or I don't really remember him before that. He was a good guy. He was nice. But... he wasn't my dad. And I didn't like how he came in acting like he was the MAN OF THE HOUSE. I knew damn well he would be gone soon enough anyway so I wanted him gone now. I liked it just the 3 of us. And then....
"They're having a baby! So it's never going to be just the 3 of us again. But ok... ok, if the baby's a girl everything would be fine! My mom can ditch this guy like she did both our dad's and we can find a nice guy with 3 boys and she can marry him- then we'd be like the Brady Bunch!"
No, I'm not kidding I really thought that. Well, it wasn't a girl. I was pissed! Like it was their fault or something. (I'm crazy. I have to be crazy.) And I made their lives a living hell. I was a brat! I threw tantrums, refused to do my home work or chores, disobeyed whenever I could. So my mom would send me to live with my dad. I would cry everytime I came to visit and beg to come home, promising her I would be good. So finally she would take me back and within months the same crap all over again. No wonder she had a nervous breakdown.
After my step-dad left the last thing she needed was another kid, but she took in my step-brother without question. We had been waiting for this day for years! We loved him and wanted him to be a part of our family so that we never had to deal with my dad and step-mother again. But the courts don't work that way. My father and step-mother were in and out of jail, DUI's every other month, constant disturbance calls to their home, a child removed for negligence and still nothing happened to them. My mom slipped up and got ONE DUI and was thrown in and out of jail for MONTHS over their 'technical errors' then no explanation or apology when they would just release her after days or weeks being locked up for NO reason.
That's why she didn't call. She only went to Texas for a week and then she spent 6 months on house arrest about an hour from my dad's house. Then she moved to Florida with a guy- wait for it.... she met online. And he was a really good guy- at first. He supported her while she started a business but when she started making money, he just stopped working.
This whole time I think she is in Texas. I have no way to even attempt of getting ahold of her. After I moved into my friend's house, I clearly heard the voice of God for the 1st time. While reading my Bible the words "CALL YOUR MOTHER" repeated in my head over and over. I hadn't really thought about her much- it made me sad, so I tried not to. I didn't even know how to find her! So I actually had my uncle (my mom's biological brother- she was adopted... yet another story for another day) and got my mom's birth mother's number. My mom had found her birth mother a few years before all this happened so I had a feeling if anyone knew where she was, it would be her mom.
She gave me a phone number. It took me a few weeks to build the courage to call. When I finally did a guy answered. I simply spoke my mother's name.
"Huh?"
"Is she there."
"I'm sorry she's aslee-"
I hung up. It took almost 2 weeks for me to try again. She answered on the 3rd ring. "Hello?"
"Mom?"
"Honey?"
"WHY DID YOU LEAVE?"
We talked for 4 hours and she explained her side: After being released from jail, my father's mother called and told her to leave. Basically threatened her. My mom was scared. She had been thrown in jail twice already for technical errors and lost paperwork. She didn't want to go back again- which she would anyway. She needed a place to serve her house arrest and she couldn't provide that so she felt the best thing for us was to go with our dad. She had hoped he had changed- he was supposedly sober at the time. She was wrong.
It's not her fault and I know that. But, that man almost ruined me. He still haunts me. I don't know if I'll ever get over what he did to me. I'm trying.
My mom was the ONLY person there for me when I found myself 19 & Pregnant. I didn't get a show though. I had to deal with reality: The father of my child may not want to be a part of our lives or worse he would not be a good enough father; I had no job, living in my mom's trailer. And the 2 of them did NOT get along. They would fake it on the weekends he would come stay while we weren't fighting. But then he and I would fight, and she would have to stand back and watch me cry and scream and threaten to leave him, but know I would be right back with him the next day having the exact same argument again. I cannot imagine how hard that must have been.
The hardest part of parenting is not only realizing, but accepting that not everyone loves your child as much as you do.
We fought my ENTIRE pregnancy. Pretty much weekly. And she was there. Through it all. In the hospital when they thought I was miscarrying time after time, going to the corner store for whatever craving I was having and even forcing me to eat when I couldn't stomach anything for days on end. She was there every step of the way. She would subtly warn me about how hard it was going to be to finally break away from him in the end.... and I can happily say that's one of the very few things she was wrong about.
I was one of the lucky ones. The father of my child did step up. And he's a great dad. My son is so blessed to have him as a role model. And, while he is not perfect... he's a good man and husband. He works hard to provide for us regardless of the situation and is always there to calm me when I'm freaking out. I don't know how he's put up with me for 5 years.
And they have a good relationship now. She likes him. She sees that he really has changed. She has always been good to him, even when she didn't like him. (At the beginning of our relationship he got in a car accident and spent 10 days in the hospital... she let him move in with her afterwards when he had nowhere else to go. She fed him, paid for his pain medicine and even bought him an electronic cigarette to help him quit smoking.) She once told him, "As long as you keep my daughter happy I will keep you happy." She sees that even after everything we are good for each other.
This is one of the hardest blogs I've had to write. I hate admitting I'm wrong. And I hope if anything if clear it's that I am admitting I was wrong. I was a spoiled little brat and the people around me do not deserve how I've treated them. I'm not proud of it- not even a little bit. I hate how I acted, I hate the child I was and even more I hate the woman I'm becoming.
Karma is exactly what they say she is. What goes around comes right back around. I made my mothers life hell so my father made my life hell.
When we fight, we FIGHT. It used to get physical. From ages 7-14 I was just a brat. I was awful. I don't know how she put up with me. I really don't. (She couldn't- that's why she would send me to live with my dad.) Not that she was weak, she was exhausted! She would send me to my room, I would just jump out the window. She couldn't control me. I was so angry! And for what? WHY?? Because my mom had another baby. I guess I really was not ready to stop being the baby.
How fucking ridiculous is that? I probably ruined my mothers life because I was JEALOUS?? What the hell is wrong with me? My mom always says my little brother's dad is the man she should be with today. And I ruined that relationship. She'll never say so, she always says they were just at two different places in life blah blah blah- which is probably a little true but I know I caused a lot of stress in their relationship.
They met at a party, I think? They were friends first, for a looong time. Years. They would play basketball, tennis, go out together. But they were just friends. And honestly I don't think I ever really met him until my mom got pregnant with my little brother? Or I don't really remember him before that. He was a good guy. He was nice. But... he wasn't my dad. And I didn't like how he came in acting like he was the MAN OF THE HOUSE. I knew damn well he would be gone soon enough anyway so I wanted him gone now. I liked it just the 3 of us. And then....
"They're having a baby! So it's never going to be just the 3 of us again. But ok... ok, if the baby's a girl everything would be fine! My mom can ditch this guy like she did both our dad's and we can find a nice guy with 3 boys and she can marry him- then we'd be like the Brady Bunch!"
No, I'm not kidding I really thought that. Well, it wasn't a girl. I was pissed! Like it was their fault or something. (I'm crazy. I have to be crazy.) And I made their lives a living hell. I was a brat! I threw tantrums, refused to do my home work or chores, disobeyed whenever I could. So my mom would send me to live with my dad. I would cry everytime I came to visit and beg to come home, promising her I would be good. So finally she would take me back and within months the same crap all over again. No wonder she had a nervous breakdown.
After my step-dad left the last thing she needed was another kid, but she took in my step-brother without question. We had been waiting for this day for years! We loved him and wanted him to be a part of our family so that we never had to deal with my dad and step-mother again. But the courts don't work that way. My father and step-mother were in and out of jail, DUI's every other month, constant disturbance calls to their home, a child removed for negligence and still nothing happened to them. My mom slipped up and got ONE DUI and was thrown in and out of jail for MONTHS over their 'technical errors' then no explanation or apology when they would just release her after days or weeks being locked up for NO reason.
That's why she didn't call. She only went to Texas for a week and then she spent 6 months on house arrest about an hour from my dad's house. Then she moved to Florida with a guy- wait for it.... she met online. And he was a really good guy- at first. He supported her while she started a business but when she started making money, he just stopped working.
This whole time I think she is in Texas. I have no way to even attempt of getting ahold of her. After I moved into my friend's house, I clearly heard the voice of God for the 1st time. While reading my Bible the words "CALL YOUR MOTHER" repeated in my head over and over. I hadn't really thought about her much- it made me sad, so I tried not to. I didn't even know how to find her! So I actually had my uncle (my mom's biological brother- she was adopted... yet another story for another day) and got my mom's birth mother's number. My mom had found her birth mother a few years before all this happened so I had a feeling if anyone knew where she was, it would be her mom.
She gave me a phone number. It took me a few weeks to build the courage to call. When I finally did a guy answered. I simply spoke my mother's name.
"Huh?"
"Is she there."
"I'm sorry she's aslee-"
I hung up. It took almost 2 weeks for me to try again. She answered on the 3rd ring. "Hello?"
"Mom?"
"Honey?"
"WHY DID YOU LEAVE?"
We talked for 4 hours and she explained her side: After being released from jail, my father's mother called and told her to leave. Basically threatened her. My mom was scared. She had been thrown in jail twice already for technical errors and lost paperwork. She didn't want to go back again- which she would anyway. She needed a place to serve her house arrest and she couldn't provide that so she felt the best thing for us was to go with our dad. She had hoped he had changed- he was supposedly sober at the time. She was wrong.
It's not her fault and I know that. But, that man almost ruined me. He still haunts me. I don't know if I'll ever get over what he did to me. I'm trying.
My mom was the ONLY person there for me when I found myself 19 & Pregnant. I didn't get a show though. I had to deal with reality: The father of my child may not want to be a part of our lives or worse he would not be a good enough father; I had no job, living in my mom's trailer. And the 2 of them did NOT get along. They would fake it on the weekends he would come stay while we weren't fighting. But then he and I would fight, and she would have to stand back and watch me cry and scream and threaten to leave him, but know I would be right back with him the next day having the exact same argument again. I cannot imagine how hard that must have been.
The hardest part of parenting is not only realizing, but accepting that not everyone loves your child as much as you do.
We fought my ENTIRE pregnancy. Pretty much weekly. And she was there. Through it all. In the hospital when they thought I was miscarrying time after time, going to the corner store for whatever craving I was having and even forcing me to eat when I couldn't stomach anything for days on end. She was there every step of the way. She would subtly warn me about how hard it was going to be to finally break away from him in the end.... and I can happily say that's one of the very few things she was wrong about.
I was one of the lucky ones. The father of my child did step up. And he's a great dad. My son is so blessed to have him as a role model. And, while he is not perfect... he's a good man and husband. He works hard to provide for us regardless of the situation and is always there to calm me when I'm freaking out. I don't know how he's put up with me for 5 years.
And they have a good relationship now. She likes him. She sees that he really has changed. She has always been good to him, even when she didn't like him. (At the beginning of our relationship he got in a car accident and spent 10 days in the hospital... she let him move in with her afterwards when he had nowhere else to go. She fed him, paid for his pain medicine and even bought him an electronic cigarette to help him quit smoking.) She once told him, "As long as you keep my daughter happy I will keep you happy." She sees that even after everything we are good for each other.
This is one of the hardest blogs I've had to write. I hate admitting I'm wrong. And I hope if anything if clear it's that I am admitting I was wrong. I was a spoiled little brat and the people around me do not deserve how I've treated them. I'm not proud of it- not even a little bit. I hate how I acted, I hate the child I was and even more I hate the woman I'm becoming.
Karma is exactly what they say she is. What goes around comes right back around. I made my mothers life hell so my father made my life hell.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Family Ties
My sister is about 3.5 yrs older than me. She was the perfect child. I looked up to her my entire life. Whatever she wanted to do, I wanted to do it too. She joined Girl Scouts- so did I. She got interested in marine biology, I decided my favorite animal was a dolphin. She took a photography class, I spent my allowance on disposable camera's. She was a Senior in High School when my mom had her nervous breakdown. She had just started dating her 1st boyfriend- who my mother did not approve of. But we were a close family. My mom always made sure to talk to us about everything! We were really open about a lot of things. There is very little I cannot talk to my mom about- and I love that! Being a single mom of 3 kids you have to approach everything openly and have trust within your home and we did. We were a team. When my sister started dating a guy that lied to her it was hard for my mom to sit back and watch it happen right in front of her. It's hard to see your children make their own mistakes... especially if they're mistakes you made too. Eventually, there was a falling out and my sister decided to move in with her boyfriend. Our lives were never the same. My sister hasn't spoken to my mother since May 2003. Even after I reconnected with her after 4 yrs, she refused to speak to her. It took my little brother some time but he eventually realized missing his mom was more important than being angry over something he didn't even understand. They see eachother a few times a yr now but my sister won't even thank her for gifts. My sister gave birth to her 1st child last year and hasn't let my mom even meet her yet! We were a very strong family.... how have we fallen so far apart?
My little brother is 7 yrs younger than me. He was born the day I started kindergarten. I was already furious with his existance simply because he was a boy- I wanted a girl. I didn't really like his dad and he didn't like me- we were both clear on that. Looking back, that's one thing I truly feel bad about. My little brother's dad is a good man.... I was awful to him. But at the time he wasn't really a good guy. He was an alcoholic druggie. He only came home when he ran out of money. But when he was home, he was sober. And when he was sober, he was a great guy. I have lots of fond memories of him- he made life fun. One time our electricity went out (I can't remember if we hadn't paid the bill or it was a storm) but instead of being angry, he pitched a tent in the living room and we 'camped out'. One of the best nights we had as a family. My little brother is just like his dad. He's a great kid! Ever since he was a little boy his dream has been to join the Army. His room was Camoflauged for several years, Army men scattered the floors of every room, he was always shooting and hiding from 'Charlie'. His favorite movie at the age of 5 was Saving Private Ryan. About a year ago, my little brother (now 16) was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. When he realized that meant he couldn't join the Army after graduation he was crushed. He still hasn't fully accepted it. He played baseball for over 10 yrs and he's really good at it. He's funny, smart and caring. That kid has a heart of gold. He wouldn't intentionally hurt you to save his life. I love him and truly wish we were closer. He and my sister have always been very close- she basically raised him. And after my mom split and I moved in with my dad I really didn't see them much... and I've lived out of state for the last 6 yrs.
My step-brother is 3 months older than me. He was my best friend growing up- he still is. I love him with all my heart. I would have never made it through those years without him by my side. He understands me inside & out. He can make me laugh without even saying a word. He is the one person who truly understands me. He knows me better than anyone and I would trust him with everything but my money. My step-brother is a drug addict. He was born into drugs- why are we even remotely surprised? He was caught trying to set his bed on fire when he was 6, stealing at 8, started smoking at 11, weed by 13 and from there I can only imagine. I was no part of this. He tried to get me to smoke weed with him a few times in High School but I only tried it maybe twice- and never got high. When he was kicked out of High School I knew it was only a matter of time before he was kicked out of the house. He got his GED pretty quickly and didn't have much trouble finding a job. He worked for several months and handed every check directly to his mother who 'deposited it in the bank for him'. Finally he demanded he have use over his checking account and surprisingly enough they gave in. Within days the several thousands of dollars he had saved were gone. "ON WHAT?" He didn't know. After a few days of nonstop fighting, he left. He snuck back to my bedroom window and apologized for leaving me there... but he had to get out. I understand, I wanted out too. But I felt stuck. He knew how hard my life would be with him gone. He was my only protection from my father. And he did everything he could to take the worst of it while he was there. Without him... I was my fathers only target.
My little brother is 7 yrs younger than me. He was born the day I started kindergarten. I was already furious with his existance simply because he was a boy- I wanted a girl. I didn't really like his dad and he didn't like me- we were both clear on that. Looking back, that's one thing I truly feel bad about. My little brother's dad is a good man.... I was awful to him. But at the time he wasn't really a good guy. He was an alcoholic druggie. He only came home when he ran out of money. But when he was home, he was sober. And when he was sober, he was a great guy. I have lots of fond memories of him- he made life fun. One time our electricity went out (I can't remember if we hadn't paid the bill or it was a storm) but instead of being angry, he pitched a tent in the living room and we 'camped out'. One of the best nights we had as a family. My little brother is just like his dad. He's a great kid! Ever since he was a little boy his dream has been to join the Army. His room was Camoflauged for several years, Army men scattered the floors of every room, he was always shooting and hiding from 'Charlie'. His favorite movie at the age of 5 was Saving Private Ryan. About a year ago, my little brother (now 16) was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. When he realized that meant he couldn't join the Army after graduation he was crushed. He still hasn't fully accepted it. He played baseball for over 10 yrs and he's really good at it. He's funny, smart and caring. That kid has a heart of gold. He wouldn't intentionally hurt you to save his life. I love him and truly wish we were closer. He and my sister have always been very close- she basically raised him. And after my mom split and I moved in with my dad I really didn't see them much... and I've lived out of state for the last 6 yrs.
My step-brother is 3 months older than me. He was my best friend growing up- he still is. I love him with all my heart. I would have never made it through those years without him by my side. He understands me inside & out. He can make me laugh without even saying a word. He is the one person who truly understands me. He knows me better than anyone and I would trust him with everything but my money. My step-brother is a drug addict. He was born into drugs- why are we even remotely surprised? He was caught trying to set his bed on fire when he was 6, stealing at 8, started smoking at 11, weed by 13 and from there I can only imagine. I was no part of this. He tried to get me to smoke weed with him a few times in High School but I only tried it maybe twice- and never got high. When he was kicked out of High School I knew it was only a matter of time before he was kicked out of the house. He got his GED pretty quickly and didn't have much trouble finding a job. He worked for several months and handed every check directly to his mother who 'deposited it in the bank for him'. Finally he demanded he have use over his checking account and surprisingly enough they gave in. Within days the several thousands of dollars he had saved were gone. "ON WHAT?" He didn't know. After a few days of nonstop fighting, he left. He snuck back to my bedroom window and apologized for leaving me there... but he had to get out. I understand, I wanted out too. But I felt stuck. He knew how hard my life would be with him gone. He was my only protection from my father. And he did everything he could to take the worst of it while he was there. Without him... I was my fathers only target.
A Child Called It
I read the book A Child Called It for a project in the 10th grade. My biggest mistake? Leaving it on my dresser for my dad to see.
He read it.
He LEARNED from it.
He said that the author of the book was nothing but a pansy. He was going to teach me not to be one. He made me take shots of liquid dish soap, tablespoons full of salt, snort sugar. He loved slamming my calves & shins with broom handles. I spent at least 4 weekends locked in the bathroom- twice with a bath tub full of bleach & ammonia... he timed me to see how long I would pass out and when I woke up my stomach hurt like hell. I'm not sure but I think he cracked one of my ribs because it didn't stop hurting for weeks.
My step-mom wasn't any better. She in an evil bitch and I despise her with every bone in my body. She egged him on. One of my first memories of her is her yanking me awake out of the top bunk by my hair on one of my weekend visits and beating me mercilessly with a fly swatter. (She swore I had been talking.)
She also encouraged him to lock me on the balcony overnight just weeks before I told my therapist about what was really happening at home. He had held me by my ankle over the railing for a full minute, my nightgown slipping up over my head revealing my young body to the dead night, before tossing me to the balcony floor and laughing. I remember thanking God there was no snow that Christmas.
I remember one time when my dad was serving one of his several jail sentences, I was forced to go for the weekend. (They told my mom he was 'working'.) I had pneumonia and really did not want to go. Since I was sick she sent my step-brother to spend the night with a friend and confined me to the couch. Imagine my surprise when I woke up in the middle of the night to her returning from the bar with a guy- who was not my dad. He spent the next 2 nights until she took me to meet my mom. I never mentioned her affair to anyone but her son.
My father was a brilliant man. (Both he and my mother both!) I'm not sure my dad ever lost at Jeopardy or Chess. He could remember almost any fact he ever heard and had one hell of an ear for music. But he used his intelligence for the wrong reasons: How to NOT get caught. He hit me in places he knew would be hidden by my clothing- and if it wasn't? I had to change my outfit. He knew when to keep his voice down- he didn't parade around shrieking for the neighborhood to hear (unless it was a drunken argument with his wife, but not ever with me). My father used to say, "Don't worry about me when I'm being loud... get worried when I go quiet." That could not be more true. My biggest fear during those years was the silence before an attack.
He played mind games constantly. Try to convince me that everything was fine and then snap at the last second, trying to catch me off guard. The first couple of times I actually caught myself thinking maybe it was all ending... maybe I would have an actual dad after all. But he always snapped. So I stayed busy. I was rarely home. No one ever came to my house. I was dropped off down the street so that people wouldn't even know which house was mine. No one knew my phone number. I never had a boyfriend.
He read it.
He LEARNED from it.
He said that the author of the book was nothing but a pansy. He was going to teach me not to be one. He made me take shots of liquid dish soap, tablespoons full of salt, snort sugar. He loved slamming my calves & shins with broom handles. I spent at least 4 weekends locked in the bathroom- twice with a bath tub full of bleach & ammonia... he timed me to see how long I would pass out and when I woke up my stomach hurt like hell. I'm not sure but I think he cracked one of my ribs because it didn't stop hurting for weeks.
My step-mom wasn't any better. She in an evil bitch and I despise her with every bone in my body. She egged him on. One of my first memories of her is her yanking me awake out of the top bunk by my hair on one of my weekend visits and beating me mercilessly with a fly swatter. (She swore I had been talking.)
She also encouraged him to lock me on the balcony overnight just weeks before I told my therapist about what was really happening at home. He had held me by my ankle over the railing for a full minute, my nightgown slipping up over my head revealing my young body to the dead night, before tossing me to the balcony floor and laughing. I remember thanking God there was no snow that Christmas.
I remember one time when my dad was serving one of his several jail sentences, I was forced to go for the weekend. (They told my mom he was 'working'.) I had pneumonia and really did not want to go. Since I was sick she sent my step-brother to spend the night with a friend and confined me to the couch. Imagine my surprise when I woke up in the middle of the night to her returning from the bar with a guy- who was not my dad. He spent the next 2 nights until she took me to meet my mom. I never mentioned her affair to anyone but her son.
My father was a brilliant man. (Both he and my mother both!) I'm not sure my dad ever lost at Jeopardy or Chess. He could remember almost any fact he ever heard and had one hell of an ear for music. But he used his intelligence for the wrong reasons: How to NOT get caught. He hit me in places he knew would be hidden by my clothing- and if it wasn't? I had to change my outfit. He knew when to keep his voice down- he didn't parade around shrieking for the neighborhood to hear (unless it was a drunken argument with his wife, but not ever with me). My father used to say, "Don't worry about me when I'm being loud... get worried when I go quiet." That could not be more true. My biggest fear during those years was the silence before an attack.
He played mind games constantly. Try to convince me that everything was fine and then snap at the last second, trying to catch me off guard. The first couple of times I actually caught myself thinking maybe it was all ending... maybe I would have an actual dad after all. But he always snapped. So I stayed busy. I was rarely home. No one ever came to my house. I was dropped off down the street so that people wouldn't even know which house was mine. No one knew my phone number. I never had a boyfriend.
"I didn't take a class in college called PARENTING 101"
No, really? I hated when he said this to me. Now that I'm raising a hyperactive toddler, I do see where he was coming from. But let's have some common sense Buddy. While I understand no one tells you HOW to be a parent, you should know there are certain things you just don't do!
He did everything in his power to break me. And I hope he's happy to know he succeeded. I hate who I am. I cannot stand the woman I've become. I see my parents in everything I do and that disgusts me. I don't want to be like them. I want to prove them WRONG. But everyday I fail more & more. And... I don't know how to fix it.
Life with my father was impossible. I did nothing right. If I brought home a 95% on a test, he wanted to know why it wasn't 100%. He called me a freak for having no friends and a slut for never being home. I was forced into a wardrobe of his approval, hair & make up to his discretion. When I could finally talk him into taking me to get my hair cut, he picked the cut. The only make up I was allowed to wear came from what HE bought. Yeah, I was one fly teenage girl.
I have always been a little heavy. No, not 'obese'. I'm short. If I grew a couple inches it would even out but at 5'3 my 170lbs looks more like 200lbs. My father limited what I ate. I was on the grapefruit diet for almost 3 yrs- I fucking hate grape fruit. I was not given lunch money many weeks to 'save calories'. I was forced into many activities to 'whip my ass into shape' and soon began joining whatever I could to simply beat him to making me do it.
I hated myself. I still do. I hate my body. One of my fathers favorite 'games' was making me stand in front of the mirror and scream everything I disliked about myself at my reflection. For hours. It was during one of these sessions that he snuck up behind me and chopped my pony tail for mentioning I didn't like my hair.
"Better?"
How do you please a man that isn't happy with himself? You can't. My father was a miserable man. He would not rest until everyone around him was just as miserable. Now, yesars later I still battle with that misery... the insecurity... the self loathing. It's not even so much I hate ME. I see him in me and I hate HIM.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Chapter Three
We ended up losing our house. My sister and I threw together a garage sale and sold what we cold, donated what we couldn't. She moved in with her boyfriend, my step-brother & I stayed with friends to finish out the school year and my little brother moved in with his dad.
When my mom was released from jail she just kind of disappeared. I had heard she went to Texas but... we didn't know anyone in Texas.
The school year ended and we had no choice but to move back in with Dad. My best friend's dad tried to get custody of me. He even talked to my dad about it. But he wouldn't have it.
I was furious with my mother for leaving me with him. I felt like I was the only one she should have been responsible for! My sister was 18 and my brothers were going back to their dad's houses! We had talked about getting a little apartment just the 2 of us... I really did not want to switch schools.
Moving in with him the summer before my Freshman year of High School SUCKED! My step-brother and I were in the same grade, and he was back at his old school- with some kids I had gone to school with when I lived there. But I didn't really feel like I fit in. I missed my old friends.
I didn't start to enjoy any part of my new school until I got sucked into the Theater program. It became my 2nd home. My fellow Thespians became my family. I did every production my High School offered from the 2nd semester of 9th grade thru the end of 11th grade. Without Theater, I would not have made it through High School.
I always wore long sleeves. Always. I tried to explain it away as a fashion statement- I would wear scarves that matched and layer my clothing. It almost became a trend with my friends- everyone began doing it! People would take my scarf of the day in the hallway and pass it around and I would always get it back at the end of the day in last period Drama class.
It took a while for people to pick up on the fact the long sleeves were hiding evidence. Three of the greatest people I will ever know took it upon themselves to go talk to our Director about it. At the time, I was furious! HOW COULD THEY? My Director pulled me into her office and asked me to pull up my sleeves. When I refused she said she would have to make an anonymous tip to Child Protective Services if I didn't reassure her I was alright. I tried. I told her I was fine and there was nothing to worry about.
'I taught you how to act, do you really think you can fool me?'
I was called to the office the next afternoon for an interview with Child Protective Services. Thankfully she didn't make me pull up my sleeves and I lied through my teeth to get out of it. But they had already called my dad to 'check in'.
I spent that weekend locked in the bathroom.
Home life between 2004-2006 was unbearable. I did everything I could to stay out. I was in every play, club and committee possible. I volunteered at every event and went to every game. I got to school an hour early and was rarely home before dark. Weekends were spent with friends, activities or spent at Nana's. I was always on the Honor Roll and had perfect attendance- I'm not sure bleeding from my eye balls would have kept me home with my father.
At the beginning of my Junior year I also started going to church, mainly because it took up some more time. I went every Wednesday night and all day Sunday. I soon started spending weekends with the friend that invited me to church to begin with with- she was my ride to everything. Her parents quickly figured out there was something not right at home. They spent as much time as they could letting me know I was welcome and loved in their home. They will NEVER know how much I truly appreciated that- still to this day their love and support means so much to me.
My dad probably worked a total of 3 months the 2.5 yrs I lived with him in High School. I remember one evening getting home from a club meeting and he was clearly wasted, stumbling to make himself another drink. He beckoned me to help him and ended up ranting until he passed out about how he was supposed to start work that morning but got stuck in traffic and fired. He was pitiful.
Around Halloween of 11th grade, my step-brother got expelled. He was trying to sell weed in school and got caught. But wait, there's more. HE WAS TRYING TO SELL FAKE WEED! And got caught because the kid he sold it to was mad he got ripped off! My parents made him get his GED and a job, which he did. But soon kicked him out for wanting too much independence.
After my brother left, life became... HELL. My father was unbelievable! He became a control freak. He would pick out my clothes before I left the house, constantly calling me a slut and warning me not to get pregnant. I did not own a pair of shorts or even a skirt. I RARELY wore short sleeves. I wore very light make up, unless during a show- which he let me know looked awful. He would come to my shows just to tell me how horrible they were. These were High School plays and he wasn't happy with the range of our lead male vocalist! He showed up drunk and embarrassed me every time.
Right before Thanksgiving of 11th grade, I reached my breaking point. That Sunday we had an awesome service at church. The power of God fell in a way I had never felt before... nor since. My friends mom pulled me aside to pray with me and I felt God speak to me. At one point, maybe even without realizing it, she prayed, "Lord I pray you protect this girl and stop whoever is hurting her... before it's too late." They could tell it was getting worse- and it was getting uncontrollable. It wasn't just fun and games anymore, my father was trying to hurt me.
The next day I went home after school. It was a very rare day that I did not have something going on, and after the long weekend I was hoping to take a nap. My dad was drunk. I knew it was going to be a long night from the second I walked in. But I heard my friends mothers voice in my head ".. before it's too late .." I made a promise to myself right then and there that man would never hit me again.
Soon he began to scream at me about something I couldn't even tell you if my life depended on it. Within seconds he was flying across the house at me. I jumped up and screamed, "NO MORE!" so fast it startled him back into his seat. By the time he realized what was happening I was out the back door and down the block. He tried yelling after me, but I would never return to that house again.
I ran across the busy street with no shoes or coat the week before Thanksgiving. Thankfully I had change from lunch in my pocket and I called my friend from church. She and her mom came to pick me up. I was terrified. I didn't know what to do. They reassured me I wouldn't have to go back to him, but I had heard that before. This time... they were right.
Somehow they convinced my dad to let me stay with them. At the end of the week, I think I had my 1st nervous breakdown. I cried and slept for 3 days straight. But when I woke up... the world was a bright new place. I could do whatever I wanted. I let the bruises heal and didn't wear long sleeves again for several years.
Honesty is the best policy
I want to be honest. For once without someone interrupting or judging me. Without censoring my version of the story because my audience can't handle it. This is the truth. Take it or leave it.
Therapy
I've done it.
[therapy]
A few times.
When I lived with my dad and was FORCED into talking to a woman I didn't want to talk to, I reacted as most children in my position: Mouth shut, Arms crossed, No eye contact. I knew better than to talk to her. If I said anything she wasn't sure of she would call my dad and he would make sure I paid the price for what I said. I sat silently in her office 2-4 times a week for almost 5 months.
The weekend before I became the world's biggest rat- as my father affectionately nicknamed me- was one of the worst of my life. While outside playing with my step-brother, I was hit in the back of the head with a 20lb cement block. It was an accident but we knew if we told the truth we would both be in more trouble than the giant hole oozing blood from my head. So we quickly came up with the only lie we could, knowing it would not work. But we swore to never tell.
My head bled for the next 2 days. Most parents would have rushed their child to the Emergency room for stitches but mine? Oh no. They sent me to Nana's the next day and she DEMANDED they take me to get it looked at. By that time it had been way more than the usual 12 hour rule they have for stitches.... so they shrugged and said to keep it clean. Why did the Dr not question the reasoning behind it taking 2 days to get me to a hospital?
That night, yet another famous fight took place. While holding my dad back, my step-mother threw a glass at him and missed completely. It shattered above our heads, showering us with glass. My step-brother spent the next 3 hours in our bedroom with a flashlight picking pieces of glass out of my hair with a pair of tweezers.
The next morning I got to school and my therapist plucked me out of the hallway and into her office.
"Are you okay?.... Do you want to talk about anything?.... Is there anything I can do for you?.... There's nothing you cannot tell me.... Oh, I wish you would just open up to me!"
I lost it.
"Open up to you? You want me to open up to you? Why? So you can call him and piss him off before I get there? They drink. They hit each other. The cops come. The cops leave. If the COPS can't make it stop what can YOU do? You think you're trying to help but you're not! SO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. There I opened up to you. Can I go now, please?"
She didn't say a word. She stood up, walked out of the room and didn't return until she was with my mother over an hour later. My mom was furious. I got to go to my classroom and say goodbye to my best friend at the time - I'll never forget that.
When I moved back in with my dad in High School, forced me into therapy again. He seemed to think I had been through a lot- ha! I wish he could see me now.
Our first session was a "Meet & Greet" with my family. My father drunkenly admitted he had a drinking problem.
Later that week at my first one on one session with the therapist, she asked how comfortable I would feel confronting my fathers drinking problem. I was terrified. I begged her not to. I told her it would not work- it never worked. But she didn't listen. She just could not understand the consequences of her actions.
The next afternoon when I got home from school my dad was PISSED. He announced before the door even shut behind me that I was grounded until further notice. When I asked why, he locked me in the bathroom for 2 days. When he let me out Sunday evening, he said we would not be returning to our family therapy session since I couldn't keep family business within the family.
We went to 2 sessions... and I found myself reliving memories I have fought very hard to bury. Many years and tears have gone into moving past that and I'm not sure I'm ready to say it out loud and see the look on someone's face when I repeat stories of my life. It's embarrassing. I don't care what anyone says.
[therapy]
A few times.
When I lived with my dad and was FORCED into talking to a woman I didn't want to talk to, I reacted as most children in my position: Mouth shut, Arms crossed, No eye contact. I knew better than to talk to her. If I said anything she wasn't sure of she would call my dad and he would make sure I paid the price for what I said. I sat silently in her office 2-4 times a week for almost 5 months.
The weekend before I became the world's biggest rat- as my father affectionately nicknamed me- was one of the worst of my life. While outside playing with my step-brother, I was hit in the back of the head with a 20lb cement block. It was an accident but we knew if we told the truth we would both be in more trouble than the giant hole oozing blood from my head. So we quickly came up with the only lie we could, knowing it would not work. But we swore to never tell.
"A tree limb fell out of the woods and hit me in the head!"
Yes, really.
My head bled for the next 2 days. Most parents would have rushed their child to the Emergency room for stitches but mine? Oh no. They sent me to Nana's the next day and she DEMANDED they take me to get it looked at. By that time it had been way more than the usual 12 hour rule they have for stitches.... so they shrugged and said to keep it clean. Why did the Dr not question the reasoning behind it taking 2 days to get me to a hospital?
That night, yet another famous fight took place. While holding my dad back, my step-mother threw a glass at him and missed completely. It shattered above our heads, showering us with glass. My step-brother spent the next 3 hours in our bedroom with a flashlight picking pieces of glass out of my hair with a pair of tweezers.
The next morning I got to school and my therapist plucked me out of the hallway and into her office.
"Are you okay?.... Do you want to talk about anything?.... Is there anything I can do for you?.... There's nothing you cannot tell me.... Oh, I wish you would just open up to me!"
I lost it.
"Open up to you? You want me to open up to you? Why? So you can call him and piss him off before I get there? They drink. They hit each other. The cops come. The cops leave. If the COPS can't make it stop what can YOU do? You think you're trying to help but you're not! SO JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. There I opened up to you. Can I go now, please?"
She didn't say a word. She stood up, walked out of the room and didn't return until she was with my mother over an hour later. My mom was furious. I got to go to my classroom and say goodbye to my best friend at the time - I'll never forget that.
When I moved back in with my dad in High School, forced me into therapy again. He seemed to think I had been through a lot- ha! I wish he could see me now.
Our first session was a "Meet & Greet" with my family. My father drunkenly admitted he had a drinking problem.
"Of course I drink! I'm an alcoholic. That's what we do."
The next afternoon when I got home from school my dad was PISSED. He announced before the door even shut behind me that I was grounded until further notice. When I asked why, he locked me in the bathroom for 2 days. When he let me out Sunday evening, he said we would not be returning to our family therapy session since I couldn't keep family business within the family.
"What happens in this house stays in this house."
The next time I went to Therapy was shortly after my husband and I got married. We had few fights that went a little too far and wanted to talk to someone about it. We need to learn to communicate. We are doing better, but we're still learning. We work on our relationship every single day.
Abuse is embarrassing.
And I'm just not ready. I'm hoping maybe this will help in a way therapy can't. A release without the pressure of a reaction. I know someone's reading this, I see the views.
I hope that someone can read this and understand or relate to where I'm coming from... Knowing someone has been there makes all the difference. Or not even necessarily sympathy (or empathy) just someone to maybe hear me out... someone to listen to my side, without judgement. Without someone butting in to contradict every other detail. This is MY story. Plus, I have no reason to lie. I'm an anonymous blogger with 10 views.
"You should start a blog."
"You should start a blog! About being a nanny and living in Chicago! Not that you have time... but still!"
Ha, she's right- I don't have much time but I think this might be something I should make time for. Life is crazy. Not just for working Mom's- for everyone! Days seem to fly by before I even realize they're gone.
I'm paranoid. I worry nonstop. About EVERYTHING. Constantly. I've always been this way- but the past 2 yrs have been hell. I've started getting panic attacks. My mind's racing all the time. I've started making lists- it's one of my few comforts. I worry about dying pretty much on a daily basis. I see anything as a threat- my brain immediately jumps to the worst possible scenario's.
I am pretty much always up and gone before my family wakes up. I try to set out their clothes for the day, get their breakfast and lunches prepared and leave a note wishing them a good day. If this isn't done, I worry extra all day long. In my mind I feel like if I do all of this and for some reason don't come home from work they will somehow be okay. I know that doesn't make any sense but it helps soothe my anxiety.
I am in my early 20's- there is NO reason I should be worrying so much about death. This isn't NORMAL- and remember I strive to be normal. And... I don't like feeling like this. I want to stop. But, regardless of what people say... I can't just STOP. It isn't that easy. If I could turn it off I WOULD.
I have no idea where this blog is heading- I may take it in a completely different direction and come back to delete all these personal posts... I don't want any of my friends or family to see this. They wouldn't understand. They are selfish, stubborn JERKS most of the time. They would twist all my words to be negative and hateful towards them... not taking my words for what they are: MY FEELINGS.
I need somewhere to put all of these feelings before I explode or completely break down. Life hasn't been fair to me. It isn't fair to anyone. But somehow I have got to MOVE on from the past and start my future. My son deserves that.
Chapter Two
I always knew my family was different than others. I cannot express enough how much I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted to have a 'normal' family- which I now know doesn't even exist.
My mother met a truck driver in 2000. He seemed like her answered prayer. He swooped in from out of nowhere and promised her the world- she believed him. After months of nonstop flowers, candy and flattery, a weekend in a Hotel every few weeks and unlimited promises he bought her a house and a car. Compared to the 1 bedroom hotel we had been living in for over 3 yrs, it seemed like our luck was changing.
My mom was fooled again. But she married this liar.
So we moved. Almost an hour away. To a new house, town & school. I tried to make new friends, but I just didn't fit in. I was from the city and this jerk bought a house in the middle of a corn field. And I HATED IT!
The kids in my class hated me. I was new to a school where in order to be popular your parents had to be a teacher in the school or own a farm. For Homecoming my school had 'Ride your tractor to school day' if that tells you anything. If you kicked the ball over the fence of the football field, you would fighting cows to get it back. I was so unhappy, I almost considered moving in with my dad- at least then I would have my step-brother (my only real friend).
Less than 3 months after buying the house my mom got a phone call from a woman looking for her husband. This woman's husband just so happened to be the same man my mother was married to. Coincidence?
Marrying a truck driver probably wasn't the smartest idea.
He denied it and swore she was just a crazy ex girlfriend. My mother believed him until my sister and I come home from school one day, noticing semi tracks in the snow. Upon entering the house, we instantly notice the kitchen table is gone. We keep walking and see that EVERYTHING is gone! Furniture, Appliances, Cabinets, Toilets/Sinks- EVERYTHING! We had been robbed!!!
We tried to call my mom at work but realize the phone & electricity are off. So we sat in a dark, cold old farm house until my mom showed up in a taxi several hours later.
We hadn't been robbed. My mother was getting a divorce and this was her husbands way of 'breaking the news'. In addition to wiping out our house, he had towed my mom's car and emptied our storage unit. He took everything.
We never got most of it back.
So there we were. A single mom with 3 kids by 3 different men, alone. Again.
My mom had friends who helped her get back on her feet. We got a house in a little town nearby so we wouldn't have to switch schools again. By this time I had made some friends and was no longer being picked on-- I actually liked it there. I met a few girls who ended up at my house virtually every weekend- these girls are still to this day my very best friends.
Around this time my step-mother had mentioned my step-brother being 'out of control'. Now, remember the life this kid lived. Can you blame him? My mother had been trying for custody since they had sent me home with her in the 4th grade. But there was really not much she could do. She offered to take him for a year. Looking back, that was a dumb move. She already had more on her plate than she could handle. Taking in a problem child should have been the least of her worries. But we loved my step-brother. My mom loved him like he was her own. And if we had been able to get him sooner we may have been able to save him. But by that time it was too late...
My mom basically lost it after that. She was alone for the 1st time in years. I noticed her drinking more than usual. She was barely ever home- which to a young teenage girl isn't a problem! Until she called me from jail.
She got a DUI. 2 weeks later, she was fired. Looking back, I should have been more concerned but I was a kid. Pretty oblivious to most of what was going on- taking advantage of the fact I had friends close by and my mom wasn't around to tell us what to do. We had 'parties' all summer. But really, we were good kids. We didn't drink. We didn't do drugs. We just thought we were hot shit because we were ALONE. My brother brought his friends and I brought mine. One of my best friends dated my brother and the other lost her virginity to her boyfriend on my step-brothers bed. Well, I was a good kid.
My mom knew that. She trusted she had raised my sister and I right- and she had. We did our home work, chores and babysat my little brother. I knew that my older sister was in charge- even though I hated it- and accepted the fact that my mom just wasn't around.
I didn't really talk to my dad at this point. My step-brother & I would go for certain holidays and weekends but other than that we didn't speak. My father never called me. When we did speak on the phone, it usually ended in an argument- which he never apologized for, EVER! Even as a child I had to be the mediator. If I didn't call a few weeks later after he had cooled off, we simply did not speak.
As a parent, I cannot imagine not talking to my child. Period. End of story.
My mother served weekends in jail, probation and community service for her DUI. She could NOT find a job- she was 'over qualified' for most jobs. Towards the end of the school year we all really began to notice an even bigger change in my mom. She really, really just... lost it. She was distant, rarely EVER home. And when she was, she was mean... or sleeping. I started to hate the woman she had become. We fought nonstop.
She got arrested, again. I still don't know the whole story- she says it was a mistake on their end, but I've heard it was for neglect or something... After we lost our internet, she began spending more and more of her time at the library talking in online chat rooms. She even brought some of the men she 'met' online to our home- where she had 2 young daughters and her small son in the house!
One day I came home and a random guy was asleep in the couch. I wasn't sure who he was or why he was there but I figured he was with my mom- even though her car wasn't in the drive way. He sat up when I walked in and soon seemed very interested in me. Following me around the house, talking to me, asking questions about me. I was very uncomfortable.
He didn't rape me. But I have a feeling he may have tried a lot harder had I not gotten out when I did. I didn't go home for a few days. And when I did I packed my things and informed my mother I was moving in with my best friend.
A few days later she was arrested again (another 'mistake' on their end, she said) and I didn't see her for almost 5 yrs.
I love my mom. I know she did the best she could... well, she thinks she did. I don't hold many things against her because she has tried really hard to fix what she messed up. She has helped me more than almost anyone in this world and I really don't know where I would be without her. But... I do wish certain things had been different. She certainly wasn't perfect but who is? I understand a lot more now that I'm a parent too. I can't imagine going through what she went through.... I hope I never have to.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Daddy's Little Girl
My father wanted a boy.
Well, according to my mother- my father wanted an abortion. He only let up when she refused by stating, "It better be a boy."
According to my father- my mother wanted an abortion, and he wouldn't let her. (Again, judging my from my own observations I find that hard to believe.)
When they found out I was a girl I believe my father tried to terminate the pregnancy himself. Obviously it didn't work or you wouldn't be reading this.
When I was a few months old I had pneumonia and my dad was in charge of giving me medicine while my mom was at work. Story goes, she got a panicked phone call from my dad screaming, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED SHE JUST TURNED BLUE." He had given me too much medicine and almost killed me. That was the last time my father had me alone as a baby.
I always wanted to be a Daddy's girl. I envied them. I wanted that father-daughter bond so badly. I heard this song when I was pregnant with my son and bawled my eyes out. I listened to it on repeat, crying until there were no tears left.
Every person is born with 2 people who should love them no matter what. I never felt that love from my father. I have ONE fond memory of my father.... I was living with him briefly in kindergarten and brought home a book from the library that he insisted I read to him.
He cried while I read it to him. I didn't understand why. Many years later as I read that same story to my own baby, I caught myself tearing up remembering this moment with my father and everything came full circle. I understand now.
I try my hardest to live my life with no regrets. I try to live and learn. But my father is one relationship I have a hard time moving past. I'm working on it and honestly hoping this helps in some way.... I can't talk to my family about this. They can't accept the man he was. I have to. I can't live in a fantasy land. Telling myself he was a good man does not help me sleep at night. But if it works for them then... I'm happy for them.
Well, according to my mother- my father wanted an abortion. He only let up when she refused by stating, "It better be a boy."
According to my father- my mother wanted an abortion, and he wouldn't let her. (Again, judging my from my own observations I find that hard to believe.)
When they found out I was a girl I believe my father tried to terminate the pregnancy himself. Obviously it didn't work or you wouldn't be reading this.
Daddy Daddy don't leave
I'll do anything to keep you
Right here with me
Can't you see how much I need you
(Frankie J - "Daddy's Little Girl")
I'll do anything to keep you
Right here with me
Can't you see how much I need you
(Frankie J - "Daddy's Little Girl")
I always wanted to be a Daddy's girl. I envied them. I wanted that father-daughter bond so badly. I heard this song when I was pregnant with my son and bawled my eyes out. I listened to it on repeat, crying until there were no tears left.
Every person is born with 2 people who should love them no matter what. I never felt that love from my father. I have ONE fond memory of my father.... I was living with him briefly in kindergarten and brought home a book from the library that he insisted I read to him.
I'll like you forever,
I'll love you for always.
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be.
He cried while I read it to him. I didn't understand why. Many years later as I read that same story to my own baby, I caught myself tearing up remembering this moment with my father and everything came full circle. I understand now.
I try my hardest to live my life with no regrets. I try to live and learn. But my father is one relationship I have a hard time moving past. I'm working on it and honestly hoping this helps in some way.... I can't talk to my family about this. They can't accept the man he was. I have to. I can't live in a fantasy land. Telling myself he was a good man does not help me sleep at night. But if it works for them then... I'm happy for them.
Chapter One
My parents met at a bar. If that isn't foreshadowing I don't know what is. My mom couldn't understand why my dad didn't drink. After a few weeks, 2 black eyes, broken nose & fat lip she got it. She misread the story written between her own pink lines & stayed with him until he almost killed her.
Live & Learn
Long story short, he beat her on a daily basis for almost 2 yrs until she left him. And she only left because he put his hands on my older half-sister.
There are three sides to every story: His side, Her side & the TRUTH.
It's funny to hear my parents talk about each other. Everything is the other person's fault. ALWAYS. According to her, he was a lazy piece of shit who laid around all day & tried to kill her. According to him, she was a lazy piece of shit who laid around all day & accused him of trying to kill her. He claims he never touched her. I had my own experiences with my father that lead me to make my own assumptions.
My dad remarried less than a year after he & my mom split up. She had a little boy (my age) from a previous relationship... but didn't have custody. Why? Oh, she stole some checks & got caught & went to prison- pregnant. She gave birth in jail. He went to foster care.
My mom moved onto a series of men... one after another. My mother needs to be loved. She eventually got knocked up again. 3 kids by 3 different men in 10 years. I grew up with my mother having one last name, my older sister had her last name, I had mine, my little brother had his, a step brother with his, and my mom's guy of the week with his. Confused? You have no idea.
I love my mom. She did the best she could considering the hand she was dealt- different story, different day. But she could have made better choices....
My dad.... was an addict. Alcohol. Drugs. Attention. Whatever he could get his hands on. I stood by and watched him beat my step mother on a nightly basis, then wake up and make breakfast for her like nothing had happened. The cops visited my house 2-4 times a week and made nightly decisions as to whether or not the disagreement and intoxication mixture was too much for my brother & I or not. Sometimes they would both go to jail, sometimes one or the other, sometimes they called my grandparents to pick us up... sometimes they would just leave us there to deal with the damage they had caused by simply answering the disturbance call. Many nights if they were not arrested the 1st time, they would be called back to arrest them within an hour. I was between 3-11 yrs old.
One of the few memories I have of the apartment my father and stepmother lived in during those years is the small crack in top of my brother & I's bedroom door. When they would argue, whoever was sleeping on the top bunk would sneak up and peak out that crack. We would wait until they got physical then grab baseball bats, hockey sticks, whatever we could and run to split them up. Many times we were elbowed or hit in the process... and now I couldn't tell you why we didn't just let them kill each other. We should have.
I lived with my mom most of the time so I only had to deal with this on weekends, holidays and the short periods of time I was forced to live with them. But my brother had to put up with this all the time. I don't know how he did it. I was forced to live with them in Elementary school around the time my mother got pregnant with my little brother. They quickly realized something was off at school and forced me into therapy 2-3 times a week, which I refused to speak at. My father had threatened me numerous times about 'what happens in this house staying in this house'. I knew better than to talk.
I was a clever kid. I learned to lie pretty quick.
"Oh, I fell playing outside."
"I ran into a door!"
"Fell down the stairs again."
"My brother hit me."
My brother & I blamed most of it on each other & it was pushed off as sibling rivalry. But the therapist began to ask more questions than usual. January 26, after a night of nonstop fighting I went to school smelling like beer hardly able to keep my eyes open. My therapist pulled me into the office and demanded I tell her what was going on. I lost it.
She just sat there, not sure what to say. Finally she stood up and excused herself. An hour later my mother walked in the office, fuming in anger. She didn't say a word to me but I knew it was time to go. In the car she explained there was not enough evidence to remove my step brother from the home. My mom begged them to let her take him too, but they said it wasn't legal. My mother was my LEGAL guardian- she had custody of me. My step mother had custody of her son. They sent him home with a letter explaining I was released into the custody of my mother. My step brother had a very long weekend.
I didn't see my father again for almost a year. He threw me leaving in his face every few months for the next 12 years. I don't think he understood how much it hurt me. Or he just didn't care. There was very little he actually cared about. I always knew I was at the bottom of his list.
One of the few memories I have of the apartment my father and stepmother lived in during those years is the small crack in top of my brother & I's bedroom door. When they would argue, whoever was sleeping on the top bunk would sneak up and peak out that crack. We would wait until they got physical then grab baseball bats, hockey sticks, whatever we could and run to split them up. Many times we were elbowed or hit in the process... and now I couldn't tell you why we didn't just let them kill each other. We should have.
I lived with my mom most of the time so I only had to deal with this on weekends, holidays and the short periods of time I was forced to live with them. But my brother had to put up with this all the time. I don't know how he did it. I was forced to live with them in Elementary school around the time my mother got pregnant with my little brother. They quickly realized something was off at school and forced me into therapy 2-3 times a week, which I refused to speak at. My father had threatened me numerous times about 'what happens in this house staying in this house'. I knew better than to talk.
I was a clever kid. I learned to lie pretty quick.
"Oh, I fell playing outside."
"I ran into a door!"
"Fell down the stairs again."
"My brother hit me."
My brother & I blamed most of it on each other & it was pushed off as sibling rivalry. But the therapist began to ask more questions than usual. January 26, after a night of nonstop fighting I went to school smelling like beer hardly able to keep my eyes open. My therapist pulled me into the office and demanded I tell her what was going on. I lost it.
She just sat there, not sure what to say. Finally she stood up and excused herself. An hour later my mother walked in the office, fuming in anger. She didn't say a word to me but I knew it was time to go. In the car she explained there was not enough evidence to remove my step brother from the home. My mom begged them to let her take him too, but they said it wasn't legal. My mother was my LEGAL guardian- she had custody of me. My step mother had custody of her son. They sent him home with a letter explaining I was released into the custody of my mother. My step brother had a very long weekend.
I didn't see my father again for almost a year. He threw me leaving in his face every few months for the next 12 years. I don't think he understood how much it hurt me. Or he just didn't care. There was very little he actually cared about. I always knew I was at the bottom of his list.
It's their loss
The hardest part of parenting is not only realizing, but accepting that not everyone loves your child as much as you do.
I love my son. Does that even need to be stated? He is my everything. He is the ONE person on this earth I am honestly not sure if I could live without. So for the life of me I cannot understand why other people in his life don't feel the same. Of course, I understand that he is the most important to be but not to everyone. But I mean... how do these people who claim to 'love' him so much go days... weeks... months without even asking about him.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Most of our family lives out of state... and I really really DO understand that they have their own lives. My phone NEVER rings. If I don't call them, we don't talk. They are perfectly content with that.
The family we do have in town do not see him unless we are dropping him off. We only do that if we have to- usually just for work but the occasional hour at the gym or rare date night. I feel GUILTY. I don't feel like my son is spending time with his grandparents. I feel like I need a favor and they are helping me out. Family should NOT be like that.
Blood is thicker than w a t e r.
Whoever came up with that load of crap should be flogged with a wet noodle. Blood never has been, nor will be thicker than water- at least not in my case. It would be nice though. I always wanted a close family... that's why I fight so hard to keep my little one together. And I will do anything to keep it that way.
Testing, Testing 1...2...3
Not really sure how to start this or what I'm supposed to say in this virtual diary so here it goes... I'm a mommy. I'm a wife. I'm a daughter, granddaughter, sister, cousin and niece. I'm someone's best friend. My biggest fear? Not holding up to the roles above. I hate letting people down, especially those I care about. But why should I when they seem to have no problem doing the same to me? I feel forgotten. How can I play so many different roles in so many different people lives yet... my phone never rings?
Out of sight, Out of mind.
Tis the story of my life. I moved from my home state right before my 18th birthday. My family didn't agree with my decision, but I chose to do it anyway. I moved with a family member that had pretty much been disowned. It wasn't long until I saw they may have been right for not wanting me to go as I ended up pregnant by a man I barely knew, let alone wanted to spend the rest of my life with. My story wrote itself within those two pink lines...
I dropped out. I had a difficult pregnancy. I fought with my 'baby daddy'. We had our son. Got a house with some roommates. I started working at a daycare so I could take my son with me while he worked nights at a wing house to make ends meet. We did what we had to get by. Things I'm not proud of but we got by.
All this time, no family came to see us. They helped out before the baby was born- sent us a few packages, bought a car seat. We appreciated it... but I would have appreciated a 15 min nap much more. Our son was almost a year old before anyone came to meet him.
Shortly after that visit we decided to move 'home'.
["Decided" being the word we use in public for the house we were living in became over run with booze, drugs, fleas & fighting so I took my son and left.]
"Baby Daddy's" mother offered me a place to stay if I could get back 'home'. My mom bought the ticket and we left without the approval of my son's father. He didn't speak to us for a few weeks. But as our son's 1st birthday drew closer & closer he realized things had to change. His parents bought him a round trip ticket so he could see his sons 1st birthday. He never made the flight back.
Now, almost 3 years later... we're married, just moved into a 2 bedroom home and are trying for another baby. Crazy how things can change! But that's just a day in the life...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)