Chapter 2

Being a kid made me think that life was great. I was optimistic about my own future and ready for whatever was next. I had supportive parental figures, my family, and when we get into the new house my cousins will be coming over every weekend! PARTAY!

My grandmother started foster care in the old house. Nothing wrong with that. Helping other kids with no family was perfectly admirable. These kids were in a lot of emotional pain. They came and went, she did all she could for them. Putting in time and effort teaching them everything they would want and need to learn, if they were willing, to have them be in a place where they would be able to go out into the world on their own and succeed. She told them they were worth a damn and loved them as fully as she could. She wanted to adopt so many of them. Eventually, we kept a few as they kept us. We ended up with three brothers, with the eldest brother's girlfriend, and one girl. My Me'me' (mem-may) from my grandmother's side had moved in with us, and my great-grandma on the other side had passed away. I loved her so much. Lots of things were happening.

We moved when I was 11, into the suburbs. I saw it as a new adventure, a new place new experience. There was a section of woods close by that I was eager to investigate. My brother, being techy, asked for a computer and I was given one just because she thought it would help me cope and pass the time, not playing favorites, everyone got one. I admit it, I was materially spoiled. But I didn't want this, I wanted human interaction.

And so the pain begins. Materials don't mean anything to me, people do. No one wanted to hang out anymore except for those weekends. No one would go with me to the woods now that everyone had laptops, and girlfriends, and school. My grandma started warning me about people in vans taking me away and making me a sex slave, so I wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone, not to mention she was pretty adept at striking fear into the hearts of many. I quickly became depressed, having no interaction with anyone anymore, no woods, no friends, no school. My mind didn't grow, it couldn't have, everything was taken away, nothing was new. While my mind stayed inexperienced, unable to grow, I had to watch everyone else's life unfold. Watch, as everyone else made friends, plans, got jobs, went to school, went to prom, grew their skills, had encouragement, and wasn't afraid of talking to anyone, made a life for themselves, and had something to look forward to. While I was stuck in my room. You have no idea (maybe) how depressing it is to watch people have no issues with freely doing anything, while you're not allowed to do anything, paralyzed that if you do you'll get yelled at. And when I say yelled at, I mean, 'follow you into your room, break the door just so I can scream in your face', type. I stopped talking, no one noticed. No one listened to me anyway, no one talked to me, and all I could say when they asked me if I was ok, was, "I'm fine". My heart was breaking. I knew exactly what I was missing out on.

I still looked forward to my cousins visiting every weekend, they were my only friends. Now that we lived closer to them, we would play all the games, every weekend. Tag, Monopoly, video games, Sorry, Trouble, dice, skip-bo, rummy, and others. The one I liked best was DDR (dance dance revolution for PS2), but I didn't get the dance pads and even if I had them I'd be too sad to dance. So I did it with the controller and became the best in the house. Sims, where I made so many different houses and to this day, happily. I have a record of 4 generations and 16 kids for one household. I'm proud of that. Those games became my new best friends, my only interaction as I watched my cousins grow up and move on. I wanted to go to school but it wasn't offered as a healthy option, it was threatened, it was the option to choose as a punishment for her getting upset with us. And it showed in the news that kids were killing themselves in that school. I didn't want to die. So I'd always say no.

I made the stupidest promise when I was 13 and my grandmother was crying or how her daughter ran away at 14 and that she was scared I would too. I should've. But a young bright hearted child like me promised I wouldn't move out till I was 21. That I'd take care of her and it'll be ok. I'm letting you know now, I fully kept my promise, aside from the year "she got sick of me".

The house we moved into was haunted by spirits. Apparently, I was the only one they tormented, I was the only one who could see them, at first. They always appeared black as night and seemed aggressive. Gave me nightmares, threw things at me, scared me shitless for years. I was a child. Twelve years old and I have these creatures at night, every night, crawling on the ceilings, under my bed, in the closet, and in the corners of the room, breathing on my neck. Black clouds, at first, that moved even with the light on. They laughed in the night, audibly, they knocked things over, they scratched me and bit me and stood there staring at me until I passed out from exhaustion. But instead of someone helping me or finding help, they called me dramatic. Begging for attention.

There were a couple of instances where I had someone in the same room as me, and things happened. So I know I wasn't going insane. In one instance, my cousin slept over, during the weekends of course, but one night she felt something grab her ankle with fingers twice as long as normal and pull her. towards the end of the bed, where it was colder than everywhere else. She described it as if she'd never seen anything like it but she described exactly what I've been seeing. After it pulled her ankle, it walked over to my side, she could see it this time. It wrapped my shoulders in some sort of invisible rope and tied me down to the bed and disappear. Then I woke up and turned the light on, which was in arm's reach, I didn't move yet. She explained what she saw and then we both agreed to go tell someone. She was already at the door when she realized I wasn't behind her. I was tied to the bed, unable to move. I immediately started crying in fear. She grabbed my arm and started pulling with all of her weight, and I still couldn't move. It felt like a long time, but in reality, it was probably 30-60 seconds before the ropes broke loose. We ran out of the room and told someone, and they acted like it was just a bad dream. We were both crying. They went into the room and turned on all the lights. "See? Nothing there.. Go back to bed." It took us about an hour with TV, and then we'd go back into the same room, to the same bed, to continue sleeping for the night. I felt so happy because finally, someone else had an experience, I wasn't being dramatic, I wasn't crying for attention, it was real. But she can go home the next day.. I have to live here. For nearly 10 years. Alone. In the dark.

My family has this skill... That no matter what happened yesterday, today it never happened. The day after that night was when it really sunk in. It doesn't matter how much I suffer in front of them they will never do anything about it. They won't help, they won't ask, they won't pay attention, they won't act, they don't care. I'm alone. And I'm far too depressed now to help myself. All I want to do is die. So many times I planned to just end it. But I couldn't... I had too much hope. Kept telling myself it'd get better, as soon as I'm out of here I'll be free to do whatever I want. Just wait. ... I think I waited too long.

The last thing I was taught, was about my period. And that was a "necessity". I went weeks without speaking. I'd never smile. I wasn't happy. I couldn't even fake it anymore. Every time I'd try to take care of myself I'd be laughed back into a deep depression. Trying make up, trying to find a bra that fits. I didn't even want to live anymore, why should I bother anyway? -throws self-care out the window-

My grandmother 'couldn't handle me anymore' and gave me a choice to go with my biological mother, who's been trying to get me to live with her for years, or-... I think it was foster care. I knew I wasn't the favorite, my brother was. I wanted to know my mom and give her a chance to help me. Give myself a chance to be helped. She had gotten married and he had two sons. She made me go to school with them. Which I loved and hated at the same time. Everyone at school acted the same as my family, so I didn't feel welcomed. Not that I expected nice people, but maybe a few freaks like me would've been nice. I didn't think it would change anything, it'd just keep me pinned where I am. But I got out of the house. We went to church three times a week. I had two jobs, neither I got for myself. I had a chance to interact with people. Though most of the time I was embarrassed of myself, my condition, being so far behind socially, inexperienced with daily life, and I felt like I couldn't talk to anyone because I'd just get laughed at. I was so socially inexperienced I couldn't muster talking to anyone about anything. One day my brother, his friend, and I was in a classroom alone, and I had back problems, I was overweight and I needed to alleviate some pain. I got on the floor to try and straighten, crack and maybe stretch my back because I was nearly in tears. My brother's friend came over and put a chair on my hair and sat on it and laughed at me. I was like a squirming bug to him, he was so fascinated. So my family still doesn't care no matter which side they're on and everyone else in the world is right there with them. My brother couldn't even be bothered to get HIS friend off of MY hair. Music was more important.

I was there almost one year, I wasn't allowed to stay home alone, I wasn't allowed to do anything without permission, just like my grandma's house. Three major events happened. One day I was having issues and was trying my best to speak up about them, while my mother was breaking down cardboard. Well, I didn't help. She told me to go over and help. While ignoring that demand I was trying to speak up but it got worse. So moments later I was pinned to a beam in the room by my stepdad for talking back at my mother and got punched in the stomach. I kicked his nads so hard he turned and walked away. Stormed out. Second time.. I can barely remember what the problem was but my mom was yelling at me about something stupid, I know how she gets. Leave her alone to calm down and then come back. I started going up the stairs but she grabbed my hair and pulled me down the stairs until I was on the floor. I just shrank into my mental bubble and stayed there and let her yell at me until she was satisfied. The third time was so stupid.. I came home with after-birth pads. What? I had a heavy flow, I was desperate. She laughed at me. So sick of being laughed at. I got immediately pissed off and headed for my room. My mother close behind kept telling me to stay, stop, don't ignore her.. I quickly went to my room and sat in front of the door. "Just leave me alone". She tried forcing the door open but I was stronger than her. So she got her husband. We fought against the door for a few seconds and then they must have pushed together. They pushed it so hard it pinned me against the wall behind the door and broke the door in two. Once they were in I tried the closet.. He got there first. I retreated again as I sat on some random shit taking another screaming. They took the doors.

Even if I had the opportunity to leave and be on my own, I was convinced I'd commit suicide if I did, and I became scared of that. Self-care in any shape became more of a burden and too much effort to do. So I didn't try anymore.

Guess it's back to grandma's. Because although it's mentally, emotionally, and spiritually abusive, at least it's not physical.