I was originally going to write about my grandmother… but my writing seems to have gotten me somewhere else… so I deleted some and I am just gonna start here….
When I was born, I was born in an army hospital in Ft. Lewis, Washington.
I am going to bypass little because I really don’t remember much until I was 9.
Fast forward to grade school. My mom’s dad, my other grandfather had died, I was nine. I tried to lean on my mother for support, guidance, something but I never got anything. Now that I am 25, I understand that he was her dad. But I was nine. I needed her. My grandmother stepped in and was there for me when I needed someone the most. I didn’t understand, and she helped me understand.
The summer before I was supposed to start 6th grade, my great-grandmother died (pap’s mom). My mother reached out. I didn’t want anything to do with her, obviously because of what happened last time. So I leaned on my grandmother and through her sadness she was there for me.
So I started 6th grade. Which began all of my problems with everything. Thats when girls become cruel. When hate and jealousy begin. That was the beginning of the end of my self-esteem. I am still to this day struggling to get that back.
So I was dealing with school, kids, my grandma just died, my father was angry with me, my mother was angry, my parent’s were going through a divorce. My father cheated on my mother. Left us as quick as he could, though he maintains that he came back the next day. Though he might’ve come back physically, he never came back to us emotionally or mentally. So who was I to turn to. There were women at my church that I had developed a special bond with. There was a teacher that I started to develop a special bond with.
So back to school. I had these two “best friends”. We’ll name them Breanna and Betsy. I wasn’t there best friend, which was fine. But I was closest to them so they were mine. To this day they don’t know the extent of which they hurt me. They wreaked havoc with my heart and my soul. They absolutely crushed me. They weren’t the only ones believe me. I was constantly picked on. I wasn’t to heavy but I was tall and curvy. I played softball and basketball. I wasn’t in the best shape but I wasn’t fat. Well because of my different body type EVERYONE ran with it.
I leaned on my adult friends at church. They were the only ones that basically carried me through the next 5 years. You know who you are, I THANK YOU for that.
Seventh grade. I met the greatest teacher I have ever known. She not only taught me about school but she taught me about life, and love and kindess. I remember being so angry when we got a student teacher. I, and probably I alone. Put her through HELL! Only because Mrs. P wasn’t teaching. Then we all got in trouble. She never singled me out though but I know that I did apologize. When I couldn’t “be seen” in the cafeteria probably because of one of my latest “offenses” with B & B or one of their subsequent followers, I would hide out in Mrs. P’s room. That lady was a lifesaver. She really made it better for me to get through the seventh grade. However my depression kept growing. Little did I know what that all was about. I read a little about depression but not enough to really understand it. Alas, let’s keep going.
I am gonna keep eighth grade short and simple. I met another wonderful teacher Miss C. Which I am sure by now she is married and has a lovely family. Anyways, things were still HELL at school. Constantly was harrassed constantly watching my back. In the beginning of the year, however I guess I wasn’t invisible enough, some jerk tripped me walking up the steps to the gym and I hit my head off the wall and blacked out for maybe 20 seconds if not more. Ended up with a concussion and sent home and went to my grandmother. Needless to say my grandfather wanted to rip him a new one, I’ll tell you that. Thats the first time I felt any type of love coming from my grandfather. Not that he didn’t love me, he just kept pretty much to himself.
Fast forwarding again. Everytime I turned around I was being harrassed. It really just sucked. Between home and school I felt trapped. Like the walls were closing in on me. My mother was emotional distant, like always. My dad was in and out of grandpap’s, between all this he had been diagnosed with lung cancer and been through surgery after surgery for a couple years. Everything was crumbling down around me. That’s when I decided I need a release. Since I had no control over my eating, I could control a knife. The week of my birthday, ignorant as I was, cut with the intent to die. Thinking back I have to chuckle because not only did I do it the wrong way but I barely broke the skin. Though to this day, you can still see the scar. I wanted my life to be over. I didn’t want to live anymore. I didn’t feel wanted wanted. By my parents, my family, my friends.. no one. Then something happened, less than a month later. I was at church and my friend E had a prayer request “please prayer for the P-family” and I turned my head and began to talk to E about what was going on and she told me. My heart sank as she told me the story. I couldn’t cry, but as soon as I got back to my house, my room it poured out of me. Why hadn’t I been told, or known? A friend of mine had hung himself with a dog collar (you know the chain ones that look through) from his garage. Apparently it was accidental, that he was pulling a joke on his parents for grounding him. He had asked to walk a friend home, and they told him no and he done it anyways. I was devastated. Knowing that I had “tried” to take my life earlier, knowing that if I had succeeded he would more than likely, almost 99.9% sure he would still be here. Knowing that he was loved by his family and friends, and he was happy. So much better off than I was. I tried to hide the way I felt in school. The amount of guilt that I had laid upon my heart was almost to much when I walked to school the next day. I never knew how much sadness could wash over a place. Classes were basically cancelled for the next few days, they brought in counselors, the whole 9. It was so emotional that I kept having to excuse myself to the bathroom to cry. I didn’t want to cry in front of anyone. I didn’t want anyone saying anything bad to me.
I finally broke down and told Mrs. P and Miss C how I felt. Not specifics but just the general depression. I did however tell another teacher I was close to everything, by the end of the week. All the guilt and pain and sorrow I was feeling. I told her not to tell my mom or anyone. She was compelled by law to do so. She told the counselor first and the counselor called my mom. My mom wanted to have Miss P fired for not telling/calling her first. I had to beg and plead for her not too while in tears and heartbreak. That wouldn’t be the first time this happened with the begging and pleading while going through something like this.
During the last few months I had told my mother I didn’t want to go to some quack psych so she sent me to my pastor. Which he did the best he could do for a 14 year old. He really did. I think it was the first time he had to deal with something like that.
We finally made it to summer and again I was playing softball. My outlet was finally here. And things started to look up. I had started gaining weight the previous year, so I thought this would help and things would be brand new for high school to begin. It was a whole new ball game. Nothing new, but a whole new set of people to make my life miserable. I had a few friends thankfully. But dammit, could I catch a break. It was like 8th grade all over again but with stronger words and more angst. I don’t and will never get just how people can be cruel.
Let me go back and say I am in no way an angel, I’ve made fun of my share of people.. but in all honesty it was in my head that if I did that I’d fit in and I know I was wrong.
9th grade was when my paranoia and migraines reared their nasty heads. I felt like I could trust NO one. I could lean on no one. I know I forfeited many of what could’ve been lasting friendships but I just couldn’t do it anymore. My heart still trying to mend itself. Little did I know that it would be broken again and never fully repaired for a long, long time. My grandfather was sick and didn’t have much time. I knew this. Everytime I went there and looked at how fragile he was. How a 5 foot 6 inch man could way nothing more than 90lbs was hard to take in. The look on my grandmothers face, she knew she was losing her best friend.
I started dating this guy we’ll call “Roger”. We met up at football games. We madeout, he smelled like freakin’ ashtray. I knew he wasn’t the type of guy I’d ever day, he was gross and dirty and 3 years old than me. Which at that age is like a lifetime. I was like well let’s get over this and I won’t call him and we’ll just leave it at that. He called begging me to still be his girlfriend. I am never the dumper so I said ok and was invited to his house. To what I was just hanging out and movies. What I got was a locked door and him jumping on me trying to grope me, trying to get my pants off as fast as possible while having my wrists pinned behind my head. I kept telling him no and I guess no wasn’t something he understood so I finally got the strength and brought my knee up and kicked him in the groin. Best decision ever. I unlocked the door and ran downstairs. When I got down there his parents were watching tv. He comes flying down stairs and pushes me into the kitchen and asks me to be quiet and not say anything to his parents. I told him I wanted to go home and he said “please for my parent’s sake stay for a little while longer, besides I’m their baby, it’s not like they’d listen to you anyways. They know what a slut you are, I told them.” Um what. I was just to scared. I was in a house I didn’t know, in winter and in an area I didn’t know. I agreed. He finally after an hour of agony I got to go home. I went straight to my room and cried. Thankfully no one was home. I cried myself to sleep. Cried all weekend. My parents just thought it was hormones. :shrug
I thought it was the end. I really did and he went and told everyone that I was a tease and slut. Something new and horrible for everyone to talk about. That was the beginning of my many skipped days of school. I missed 60 days in two years.
In April. Between Good friday and Easter Sunday, my grandfather died. We went in a day or two before to say our good byes and was told do not cry DO NOT CRY in front of your grandmother. So I went in kissed him on the top of the head and whispered love you to him and ran as fast as I could outta there and LOST it. Completely lost it. Two days later he died. The way I heard the story was that my grandmother leaned over kissed him and told him “it’s ok Vern, go” and within a minute his breathing slowed and halted and he was gone. The funeral was so sad. I remember my great-uncle was there, sitting alone. They had fought for awhile after their mom (my great-grandma died) I could see so much regret in his eyes and sadness.
My grandmother was almost comatose. She was absolutely devastated. Her best friend and husband, gone forever. Watching her broke an already broken heart.
My pastor did the eulogy. I was so angry at him, well not at him. That he was basically sending him off to God. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to me, if wasn’t fair to to the other grandchildren, it wasn’t fair to his children and it sure as HELL wasn’t fair for my grandmother. I’ll never forget that day and the utter sadness in that room. We all were allowed to give “something” to him. To put in the casket. I wrote him a letter. My brother got his favorite candy bar, I seen a stuffed teddy bear and my grandma kept his rings with him.
During this time my mom was meeting a few men off the internet and dating them. I remember her going to Connecticut for a week. Not even asking my brother or I if it was okay to go. She just said she was going and dad would be in and out while you go to school and you’ll spend the weekend with him. Thanks mom. Thankfully the man in Connecticut was a dick. LOL
The next man she met was G, who lived near Harrisburg. He came down here, I think the first time, to meet my mom and us and then the next time My mom and I went up to his place to meet his kids. They were like 4 and 6 at the time I think. It was interesting to say the least and I needed to get outta Washington. When my mom and I got back our lives seem to roll on. Then she piped up one day. I’m moving in with George. You can either move with me or stay here with your dad. ANOTHER FREAKIN’ BOMBSHELL. Can I get a breath. Seriously.
I begged my dad to let it just be him, me and Andrew and not his girlfriend and her daughter. He said no. So I left. I moved with my mom. For a new beginning. To figure things out. And believe me when I did figure a couple things that brings out another set of bombshells LOL
To be continued…
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