Chapter 2. Sometimes You Win
After those early days of realization after my parents split up, my life was supposed to move forward like normal. Start elementary school; figure out how to not make my mother blow up in anger, or dissolve in a fit of tears; learn how to communicate with my dad when he is now living with another woman and her daughter. You know, the usual things. I had started kindergarten while my parents were still together, I think. For such a vivid memory, many things in my early elementary days are blurry. I like to tell myself that I am blocking it out for my own good. Why would it be good to remember every day that you felt miserable, sad and lost? I became a reclusive kid, though I was told I was outgoing before. I also was a bit odd. I do not remember much about first grade, except being chosen to see the guidence counselor once a week or so, where I learned to make clay roses and play games. I spent a lot of time in the library alone.
During this year, I had to learn how to be a part-time step-daughter and step-sister. My mother railed against my father and my new step-mother. I heard about the "whore" all the time. I was just confused. She was nothing like my mother, polar opposite, really. Thin, petite, and pretty. My step-sister was, too. She was five years older than me. We tried to play together, but it just did not work out often. My brother always tried to fight with us. She was everything I was not: pretty, thin and popular. She went to school in a well-to-do school. We would visit and try to spend time with my dad, and he tried to get us together as often as we could. My mom sent us in dirty clothes, and at first, they would buy new clothes for us, but they stopped after a bit, as my step-mom figured out my mom was trying to get more money out of them. I ended up leaving nice clothes at their house so I could change when we came over. We never got to spend the night. One night there were terrible storms, with a tornado warning and everything. We did not get taken home on time because we were in the basement. My mother came out in the bad weather and ripped us out of the beds we were in to take us home. I remember being terrified we were going to be picked up by a tornado. She drove angry, peeling out and screeching the tires, making as much of a fuss as possible.
My grandfather was my champion. He took me to California to my step grandmother's family wedding, and to Disneyland. We had a wonderful time. I can still remember the smell of the air in San Diego, the palm trees swaying and being fascinated that cousins had an orange tree and banana tree in their yard. I had very long hair, and while there, my grandfather had it cut. My mother was furious, and it turned into a year long nightmare of new hair cuts.
Second grade was worse. I believe that my dad moved away to another city three hours away, and I no longer got to see him twice a week and every other weekend. I withdrew even more. I remember my second grade teacher, Mrs. Wing. She was compassionate and tried to draw me out of my shell. I did not have many friends, but those I did were dear to me. We were a little group of outcasts, picked on by the other kids. We were never given our turn on the swings. Do you remember how important it was to be able to take a turn on the swings?
One afternoon, I was feeling particularly forlorn, over what I'm not quite certain. I only remember hiding under a desk and crying. I refused to come out, more from mortification that other kids would see me, but also because I just did not care much anymore. My teacher coaxed me out, and I got to spend more time with the counselor. Then, the overwhelming cost of a divorce, my mom not being willing to work, and my father supporting two households, we were forced to move out of our house in a nice suburban neighborhood. We ended up moving to a much less affluent area. My grandmother bought a house and my mom agreed to pay her back somehow. The new house was pretty, an old brick tudor style with a swooping roof over the garage. But...it was an old house, and had old house problems. Our boulevard was full of aging folks, nicely kept yards and big trees, but it was located in a bad part of town. We would wake up to gang signs painted on the trees out front, booming music from suspicious cars, and scares over gang activity in the local park.
My new second grade teacher was a very refined black lady, who tried to make the transition easy for me. She was strict and did her best to control some unruly inner city kids. I was now at a very diverse elementary, with scarce resources. I moved there at the end of the year, right after spring break and my birthday. It was the first of many life events that occured on my birthday. On top of it all, my mother thought to cheer me up and took me to get a perm. I was mortified. I looked like a muddy Little Orphan Annie.
To make things a little worse, my dad and new Step-mom moved away to a suburb of Kansas City, so my visits with my dad became fewer and farther between. We had a scheduled Saturday morning phone call, and then letters occasionally. He travelled between the two cities and tried to visit when he could. But the loss of knowing he was nearby was very difficult for me. If you have seen the movie Lilo & Stitch, at the beginning where Lilo was so depressed and layed on her bed with her face in her pillow...I was like that. Often I cried for no known reason. I felt lost and abandoned.
In order to keep going, I used my smarts. I did not fit in well with some of the kids, and became a target for some of the mean kids. There were two or three kids who were in the same academic realm as myself, and we started competing with each other for the teachers' favor. I cannot say we were friends, mostly rivals. Then, through Girl Scouts, I made a couple of friends. I have never been one to be a social butterfly. I tend to make friends with a few, and feel close to even fewer. My mom tried to keep play dates with my friends from my other elementary school, and this worked out for about a year. Fortunately, I was a creative kid, I read a lot and loved to play with Barbies and dolls. I started getting recognition for these gifts.
Through loss, my talents began to shine. I was placed in the gifted program very early on, and had many opportunities to expand my knowledge even in grade school. I began to win awards for my art in drawing contests. I enjoyed my church involvement and became lost in books. I was probably the only ten year old reading books by LaVyrle Spencer (if you have not read them...steamy romance books). So did I have losses? Yes. But did I come out a winner? Yes.
