Sometimes the things we think we can handle given enough time are the things that no one should have to handle, and we don't realize how much damage they actually do to our hearts. There is a reason I fear having a family of my own. It's because if something should happen, I would never want anyone, let alone my own child, to feel what I have felt over the years. I'll start at the beginning. It was my sixth birthday when my parents divorced...
I wasn't told. It was on my birthday that I left the house, wanting to go across the street to play with my neighbor, Ben, only to find a large moving truck in the driveway with some of our furniture in it. At this I was very confused since we had only lived in this house for about a year, just long enough to finish the basement where my half brother, Matt, had his room. When I asked what was going on, I was ignored.
From then, I was told that I would be picked up on certain days by my grandfather on my Dads side so he could take me to the condo where my Dad was now living. I still was clueless as to why my parents were living in separate places.
The word divorce was introduced to me by a girl who started coming over periodically to my Dad's place with her mom. She told me it's when parents no longer love each other and they stop being married. Sydney told me a lot of things that should have been told to me by my parents. I didn't know that one day she would be my sister. Let's also say that, as I got to know her before her mother, Jen, and my dad got married, I kind of didn't want her to be my sister.
Often times, I think back on things that's happened with my Dad and I truly believe that he was not ready to be a Dad when I came along, let alone, a single one. He didn't have much patients with me and was quick to anger when things were... off. I remember clearly one day, we hadn't eaten lunch and Jen and Syd were coming over to have pizza for dinner. But when a six year old is hungry, she says something.
It was a mistake to tell my Father I was hungry. "You're hungry? What do you want me to do about it, huh?! Do you want to have warm pizza while everyone else has cold?!" My instant responce was to let tears slide down my face, however I held my voice in, knowing it would only make the situation worse. "You wanna cry? Go ahead and cry!" I sat on the couch and hugged my knees, hoping to hide myself while I wtched cartoons and waited. "Here, eat a few of these." My dad said as he thrust a bag of torilla chips at me.
I didn't want to eat anymore... But I had a few anyway to keep the beast at bay. I never told him I was hungry again... In fact, I started eating less... If he asked me if I was hungry, I never said 'yes', I always answered 'a little', because from then on, being hungry was a secret.
My mom moved houses. It was a nice place in a neighborhood that had plunty of other kids in it. Only problem? They were all boys. The last house on the street to the right of ours, a good friend of mine from lived. Zack and I were always getting into trouble together, both at school and at home. We had been in first grade together, though I was later held back while he continued on. I was a problem student.
I never told my parents full out what was going on at school. But maybe the school told them, I don't know, it would surprise me if Chatham schools actually gave a damn about their more unfortunate students. When kids are young, it's expected that girls will be friends with girls and boys with boys. Any diviation would leave you open to endless torment by threats of isolation because of cootie contamination. However, the girls didn't want anything to do with me.
My dad once said he always thought I was a pretty normal kid. The girls in my class obviously thought otherwise. I wasn't exact;y particualr to what they thought of me anyway, and I tried to find friendship in the boys, like I had at home. But being a girl quickly killed that. Instead, I was able to find friendship in two special needs students, Hannah and Chase. Whatever was making the others think I was weird obviously didn't bother them.
I was picked on horribly, by one student in particular, who seemed to have a problem with every little thing I did. I told the teacher every time, hoping and praying one day she would make him stop. Instead, I was told if I tattled on him one more time, I would be sent to the office. I told on him again, I was sent to the office.
From then on I had to meet with a counsler once or twice a week. This would continue until I graduated highschool.
My dad moved houses this time. But now, we weren't alone. Jen and Syd were moving in with us. Sydney would become a source of constant torment for many years to come. I had already began to see a certain difference in us, starting at the condo when dad told me to clean my room. I was putting things away like I knew I supposed to. She questioned why I didn't just shove everything in the closet and be done with it. It had never been a thought to me.
I got in a lot of trouble for that one. Sydney was always the sourse of some drama, acting out, stealing things, destroying my things. And by the time we moved in together, I knew I didn't this girl around me a lot. I didn't feel very accepted by my new step family either. Of course, Sydney being their family, I knew they weren't going to value me over her. However, I often wondered just how in the world Sydney's obvious evil could go over their heads like that. It wasn't until I was older that I realized it was nothing more than grand denial that caused them see her has an angel and brand me a liar when I spoke out against her.
Mom decided to go back to school. I was proud of her and I never said a word. Even when I started to feel lonley and missed my mom even when she was in the house, I didn't say anything. In an attempt to escape the world that had become my reality, I took up writing. At this point in my life, I was used to not eating as much, I had become an insomnic from never being able to feel comfortable in my beds after shifting houses every few days, I was a social outcast, and my parents were to busy to visit with me anyway. Writing was easy.
I didn't talk much at the dinner table when I was with my dad. There was no point. While the three of them would carry on a conversation I just listened and push my food around on my plate. I made a mistake one night. I tried to join the converstion. "But it's so funny!" Gushed Jen. She was making fun of the south park episode where Tom Cruise wouldn't come out of Stans closet.
Sydney joined her by mentioning her own favorite episode. This is where I went wrong. "What about the awesome-o episode? I think it's funny that Butters doesn't notice until..." I never finished my thought. It had gone dead quiet and Jen carefully picked at her food while Sydney sat there looking at her plate, her lips pressed into a line and an expression that clearly read 'why are you talking?' Two minutes later, the same conversation started back up again. This time, I kept my mouth shut.
Sydney didn't help my school situation at all. If anything, she made it worse. I was already being teased and losing who I thought were friends right and left. Two friends I remember very clearly how they left my life. Brooke was my friend since kindergraten, we had taken swimming lessons together and spent a lot of time in the summer together. However, middle school took my friend in an unhealthy direction.
I was humming a tune, and being teased because of it I might add, as I was leaving the lunchroom to get ready for my first class. Brooke was coming in as I was leaving and I stopped to talk for a moment. "Hey, have you ever thought of, you know, being popular." She asked, almost out of nowhere.
"No." I answered instantly. I didn't want to be popular. I was pretty happy with the few friends I had and I knew some of them would be looked down upon by my 'friends' if I were to become popular. Brookes face almost instantly darkened at my answer. She walked away and we were never the same.
The second friend was a little more painful. Charlotte lived a few doors down from my grandparents house, so it's safe to say we spent a lot of time together. She was a year younger than me in school and the first day of seventh grade I was excited because she was finally coming to the middle school. I saw her in the hall and went up to say high to her. She never made eye contact... I said hello... she blew me off and saunted down the hall with two girls I knew who were not the nicest people. From here, if she ever said anything about me, she was making fun of me. She no longer wanted anything to do with me.
Still being bullied, I never said anyhing to my parents. Mom was busy... and Dadwould tell me to suck it and follow up with a story about someone he went to school with who was bullied a lot worse. My middle school counsler wasn't very good. She often thought I was nothing more than a complainer or a trouble maker. I didn't talk much during group sessions. I knew better at this point.
Highschool. I was introduced to Wattpad by Maddie, a friend since third grade. I began to share my writing which had been my escape for years. Appearently, I wasn't half bad. Watching the reader meter go up everyday was a good confidence booster andI began to work on my technique so my readers wouldn't lose interest. Maddie became my go to when I was having problems writing. However I began to feel bad, because it only ever seemed like we were talking about our stories now.
I started datting. It became another mistake though. Lord knows, Sydney found some strange joy in seeing me suffer. I broke up with my boyfriend, whom I had only been with for a month, because he was extremely clingy and possesive. I told him in the morning at school and walked away on to my first class. Sydney ran up to as I was walking away. 'What did you just do to him?!" She demanded. No of your business bitch.
"I broke up with him." She called me something along the lines of smelly ginger snap and rushed over to him. He waited for me outside my gym class. But I didn't want to talk to him. He wouldn't leave me alone. And now, he had Sydney egging him on to keep after me. A month later and he hadn't let up. Cory offered to pretend to date me to see if that might convince him that it was truly over between us. It had the opposite effect.
"You started dating him almost as soon as we broke up!" he screamed at me one day. "Almost makes me think you dumpped me for him. Were you cheating on me?!" It continued like that. I was the center of his scorn because of what Cory had thought would help. However... when I tried to tell Cory he didn't need to pretend anymore, he said he had a long time ago and was genuinly interested in being with me now. We were together for one year.
Mom has decied to get married. I like Mark. He's definetly one of the better boyfriends she's had. We sold our house in anticipation of the up coming wedding and moving into our new house in Hillsboro. Mom wanted to keep her job in Springfield so she said it would be possible to just commute to school with her. It was close to the wedding date that I had my first panic attack at school.
The school called my parents. When I went home, Dad called me. He asked me if I was okay and seemed concerned about my health. When my mom got home, the first thing she asked me about was my grades. It didn't hep the feeling I had been having for some time... that my mom was leaving me. For nine years it had been me and her, eating simple meals on the couch watching tv, being more like roommates than mother and daughter. Now, someone was stepping in.
We moved in to the new house shortly after mom and Mark got married. It was really out in the country and we got chickens. It was a hard adjustment. Suddenly, someone had come into my life who genuinly wanted to be a parentel figure to me. But my first experiance with step families was so terrible, I had a hard time accepting him. Finally, one day we had a sit down.
I needed to understand that we were all a family now and that anything from mom, was also from Mark. He thought a lot about me and wanted me t know that he loved me and only wanted to get closer. However... I didn't know how to be a family. I didn't know anything about being a real family. To me, family was nothing. Family dinner was frozen pizza in front of the TV, talking about school and work. It was trying to keep my head low, so I wouldn't be the target of some mishap. It was trying to get someone to pay a smiggin of attention to me ad the good things I was trying to do. To me... family was a chore.
It became appearent to them that I needed help. We tried to change a few things around thehouse to make it feel more like it had when it was me and mom. I had a hard time accepting Mark. To this day I still mess up a little and keep him at arms length. But he's a good dad.
I hve never blamed anyone for how I have felt over the years. I always just chalked it up as life and moved along. The bad came with some good, and college brought me to a place I needed to be. Accepted. Cared for. Wanted. And I try everyday to fix the cuts in my heart. Slowly, one by one, someone comes along with a needle and a short piece of thread to put their stitch in. My dad has one in, my mom as one in, mark has one in, and every friend I have made has added theirs as well. One day, the scars will heal. But I will still cherrish the scars as a part of who I really am.