I wonder sometimes why I really continue to be around my family. Though my upbringing is easy compared to other unfortunate people, I have gone through so many challenges with them. Here is my story…
My family was definitely considered middle class, both parents worked a lot. Though I have more memories of my Dad than I do of my Mom. Being the 2nd born of 3 (yep middle child!), I had a very classic middle child life. Often overlooked and ignored, or ganged up on by my sisters. I played by myself outside most of the time, imagining myself flying or climbing mountains. This led me to a very rebellious childhood, often getting in trouble at school for goofing off. Always trying to get attention! And it was usually negative.
I was an average student through middle and high school. Very much a tomboy type girl, always hanging with the boys and playing sports. I even wore t-shirts and baggy pants most of the time. Having been close with my Dad over my Mom, this made sense. Until I started puberty, and the boys stopped being friends.
My parents divorced when I was 13, and it was a terrible time. I, of course, didn’t understand what happened and loathed my mom, who made the decision. And very soon after got pregnant and remarried. We moved in quickly to my Stepdads house and life was unbearable there. He tried to make peace by using money and things, but was an avid drinker and got angry a lot, especially when I wouldn’t comply. Being a tomboy was not proper in his eyes and he thought us to be heathens. Even put us into an ettiquette class! LOL
So I was forced to wear dresses and skirts, in late middle school after switching to a new school. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I’d never worn dresses and it showed. I never really made any friends and I struggled to figure out who I was. I became slightly more comfortable in high school but still struggled socially, seeking attention anywhere. I ended up losing my virginity at 14, just craving some kind of connection with someone. I felt so alone and no one could or wanted to hear me.
My parents put me into talk therapy during these few years, I think I cried most of the time. It felt good to let the emotions go but nothing was solved and I still lacked any bit of confidence in myself. I was just lost. Girls treated me poorly at school, no real friends, and I was just a joke to boys. My home life was full of yelling and arguing, usually geared at me even if it wasn’t about me. One day, I was so down, I contemplated suicide. Sat right in the kitchen where I knew I’d be easily found, ready with a knife. I had learned others in school would cut them selves to cope. So I tried it.
But it didn’t stick, I didn’t like the pain. It was just more pain on top of pain to me. I knew in my heart I didn’t really want to be dead, and only wished to do it out of spite. “Maybe they would actually miss me then, and care.” I would think. Days/months passed after, no one knew what happened and still don’t.
On another occasion I decided to run away. Took my bicycle and rode until it got dark. Crying the entire ride, until I ended up at the gazebo in a local park. It had started to rain and I was cold. Knowing I have no where to go, I cried more. And then with my tail between my legs, I went back home.
What a feeling of defeat I had, I couldn’t kill myself, couldn’t even run away, and still felt terribly alone. I didn’t know what to do anymore, I had gotten to point of total numbness.
It all came to a peak one night when an argument broke out over dishes. The next morning, my step father had me pack my things and he drove me, threateningly, to the County Correctional Facility to drop me off. A scare tactic. After some tears, we went back home. Only one night later, another argument broke out with me as the center subject of disobedience, as always. That night, my Mom and my Stepdad argued for hours, yelling and spewing terrible words out about us, me. I could hear it through the paper thin walls. Then the argument came to halt, he had given her an ultimatum. He and the new baby, or us (my sister and I). My oldest sister had already been kicked out/moved to our grandparents for not being compliant.
I listened through the walls, balling my eyes out. I knew what was coming.
She chose them.
So with my already packed bag, my mom gathered my sister and I up at about 10 pm that night and drove us to our fathers, who lived a few towns over. We didn’t see much of him after the divorce, maybe once or twice a year. My sister was crying and I was in a silent shock, as we drove for what seemed like an eternity. My mom was silent, except when she was trying to get a hold of my dad on the phone. He didn’t answer any of the calls. This all within just a few years of living in that new house, with the new dad, and new baby. We were reminders of a troubled life and it ultimately got us rejected.
We sat outside his house until he showed up after work, he was a bartender. They scuffled words as we sat in the car terrified. And with a quick motion, our things were out and we were brought into the house. I don’t even know how I managed to sleep that night. My sister cried for hours, and blamed me for it all happening.
I was 15 and my sister was 13.
That summer we moved a lot. My father’s fiance at the time, decided to kick us all out of her house, about a month after we were dropped off there. Not really sure why to this day. We moved to my Dad’s friends houses for a few weeks, then a small cottage that smelled of mildew for a few weeks, and then finally settled at a nice house right before the school year. My Dad worked 3 jobs just to be able provide for us. We were all so angry and hurt.
I did feel a little better now that I wasn’t at that circus house. But I was heart broken nonetheless. We were toys being played with, pingponged back and forth by my mother, it became a game to her. Even when she decided to invite us back a year later, I refused. There was no way I was going to put myself through it all again.
My senior year was full of drugs and partying, sneaking out at all hours. Still searching for a feeling somewhere. And with my Dad gone, working most of the time, we had no reins. So I was always out, running from my own mind. My sister carried me a lot emotionally. I was a mess.
I graduated and started college, but that didn’t work out well. I had gotten my first boyfriend at 17 and was still partying and doing drugs. I failed out the first semester. I wasn’t sure what to do then, so my sister invited me to live with her in the city a few hours away. So I gave that a shot. I got a job after a few months, and eventually found an apartment. It felt so good to be on my own and succeeding, with a space that was mine. But I was still chasing a feeling though, I continued to struggle with partying, drugs and boys.
I lost my job after about a year, subsequently losing my apartment. I wasn’t sure what I was going to but I did know was that I didn’t want to go back home, back to the loneliness, rejection, and constant ridicule. While living in the city, I met a lot of free people, passing through. They were homeless, but happy, going from place to place, enjoying life.
So I decided to run again, with some other people. They were rainbow people and were headed to a gathering 6 states away. So I joined them on the journey…
