A mile in my shoes

Everyday I hear people tell me that they understand. Do we really understand? The fact of the matter is that no one understands until they are put in that kind of situation. This is why I am here. For this summer I am going to take you through one of the most hard times in my life, my high school years. But this isn't one of those "my life is so hard because I do sports and school" no. This is real life situations for me going through life being a truama survivor.

I am a senior in high school attending college at the same time. I currently have about the same amount of college credits as a sophmore in college. I have 7 brothers and sisters, two of them are step the rest are half. This will be the first and last time you ever hear me say that they are half or step. They're are family no matter what title society gives them and that is how I treat them like family.

I never had a normal up bringing. In kindergarten I was the only kid to have divorsed parents, of course at that time I was also living in an upper middle class home in a city with no ghetto. In fact people that still live there call their ghetto the city that is right next door to them, even that isn't a real ghetto. Sounds like a pretty good life doesn't? Oh, how life is diceiving. Even living with my dad and step-mom life was hard.

I was a little girl being torn apart between her parents. Constantly being used to put off the other parent or make the other one look bad. You could say that was my real beginning of a long fall. My mom had three children of her own, besides me, Clinton (my oldest brother), Dinky (it's just a nickname but one that has stuck for 15 years and my oldest younger sister), and Christian (he lives with his dad in Nevada last time I saw him was on his 5th birthday...he now just turn 13). I didn't see my brothers and sister very often and it torn me apart. I loved playing house and taking care of all of them. I made a promise to myself when I was younger to try and help them never go through what I went thorugh.

Around 9 or 10 I found out that my mom was a drug addict. 10 years ago I was revoked of the right to have any contact with my mom or anyone she was living with. This included my beloved brothers and sister, my grandma, and my great grandma (Granny). This is when I really fell into my depression, I felt I had nothing. I couldn't even really aprreciate my other brother and sister that my dad and step-mom had, my little angels Ashley and Daniel.

Between then and now things were very hard. My step-mom started to physically abuse me and verbally batter me. I had no self-esteem and often showed up with bruises on my arms and legs, but I blamed that on playing sports and rough housing with my friends. People ask me everyday "why didn't you say something?" You want to know why, she was the only mother I ever knew. She made me feel special and she believed in me when no one else did. You could call it brainwashing, I call it dysfunctional love, but nonetheless it was love. Something that I was thirsting for most of my life.

Life went on very slowly it seemed, but now that I look back it all seems like a blur. It felt like a lot like I was falling down the white rabbit's hole hoping for an end to come but ever got one. I made it through school and left all my kindergarten friends to go to a different middle school and that's where the realy story begins.

 But you get to hear that next time.