Through Thee Eyes Of An Owl

Yes, day 69, lovely number is it not? :P Anyways, in the past few days I have officially been kicked out of my mothers home for the last time. Been living in the car, sleeping in the library, hanging out at McDonalds(my job), and working.

I told my family, as I have already mentioned that I wasn’t going to return home even when my mom tells me that she’s willing to take me back. Which of course, she called to inform me that she wanted me back. That she ‘misses me’. Which of course just translates, I miss the free baby sitter.

And I didn’t answer her calls, or her text messages. I told my dad on Monday, that I got the apartment, even though I honestly didn’t just so that I could go into the house once more to collect the rest of my needed possessions and stuff them into my trunk.

Of course my siblings had to interfere, and they both came up to, tears brimming up their eyes, for the fear of never seeing me again. My brother came up to me and gave me his favorite stuffed teddy bear, that he got when he was in the hospital with his first asthma attack. I didn’t want to take it and I told him that he could keep it for himself. But I realized that that was the best he could manage, and he wanted to give me something that was special to him, so that I could remember him by.

Which, in all honesty bothers me.

It’s not like I could forget any of them. Anyone in my family for that matter. Not only for the pain and abuse that I put up with through them, but also for the foolish love I tried to feed them.

Any ways its been a few days now since I’ve talked to anyone in my immediate family. And its been about two weeks since I’ve talked to my grandparents, and my aunt along with her kids. I mean, if I really wanted to I could try and visit my grandparents… But I cant bear the thought of them hating me, or ignoring me.

I believe they are worried. I want to believe they care. I want myself for once to haunt their thoughts. But most of all I want to see everyone else in my family, just so that they know that I’m okay. But I wont.

Not yet anyways.

I need them to worry. I need them to lose their sleep. To lose their beloved comfort. I need their guilt to choke them. So the next time that I do see them, they are overjoyed with the fact that I’m still alive and healthy (hopefully by then I will be, cause Im suffering froma severe cold right now… :/) And I can throw it in everyones face that they had absolutely NOTHING to do with it. And walk out.

Again.

You know, its through writing these posts that I see how my mind truly works. I see how moody I really am, how constantly my thoughts shift. How I am the victim, and yearn to play the villain.

But isn’t it fair how I feel? Is it wrong to have these feelings within me? Am I to blame for the darkness I hold? I was waiting for this apartment for so long. And I just about cried when I listened in to the voicemail on Wednesday saying that me and my dear friend qualified.

The only downside, because there always is one, is that we don’t have enough money to pay for it straight up. I have enough for the downpayment… But we totally forgot about the first months rent. So FUCK US, but that means that its going to be yet another week before we are able to go into our apartment.

Which means another week bouncing around couches, or sleeping in my car. But for now at least, Im staying at my roommate’s place.  I cant write anymore. Im horribly sick, Im coughing like mad, I cant work near food, so I don’t know how things are going to work this week.

“It has to get worse before it gets better”

Lord, If you can fucking hear me just once in this life Because I swear you’ve left me alone and to die under the devils wing for many years,

If for once my voice could reach you

If for once you could hear a broken prayer

If for once you could hear a shattered heart beat

Could you please give me strength to continue,

and Please give me a miracle that actually lasts?

So me and my friend turned in the applications for the apartment we want to get. Unfortunately the two places we were looking at already have applications sent in from last week. And it takes a week to find out if you got the apartment or not.

Meaning, next Monday we will find out if we got the apartment instead of the other applicants.

As horrible as it is, we are both wishing they don’t get it. Her and I are desperate to escape our homes. Escape the abuse, the anger, the fear. To find our own place in the world, and finally be safe and secure. I know that no matter what this task will not be easy. But it will the first step into a new beginning.

But what is really tickling me right now, is how amazing my mother is. I already told my siblings that I was going to be leaving soon enough, and that I will not return again, as I have done before. I admitted that I will not be kicked out, but that I, MYSELF, am finally moving out. Which, of course, breaks their hearts, and makes me feel guilty. But I have made my decision. Its time for me to move on.

But back on track. I was just talking to my father a few minutes ago, and he informed me that even though him and my mother haven’t been talking for the past few months, she told him that she was going to be moving out for good. That my mother was going to pack her bags, and move to her mothers home.

Which, let me tell you, My aunt had an abusive husband which she divorced about 12 years ago, and she’s been living with her parents again since. She lives on the second floor of my grandparents house. And now my mother wants to leave to live with them?

Really?

I highly doubt this is going to fly. But I told my dad that I found that really funny, and ironic. I admitted that I too plan on leaving and going to find my own place. And I knew the next words he was going to say before he uttered them.

“If your mother leaves, and you leave too, What will I do with the kids?”

Sometimes I wish my mother was as stupid as she is cruel. But unfortunately she can put two and two together. Obviously she realized that if I haven’t been home in the past couple of days, something’s going on. If I haven’t been cleaning as I usually do, or leaving without permission, or following the normal routine, that she is losing me.

I truly believe this is a lie, that she’s hoping I fall for. That I feel guilty enough for my siblings to stick around and miss this opportunity.

But I will NOT back down. Not THIS time.

I cannot lie and say that this isn’t hurting me. I do feel guilty. I will miss my home, no matter how much pain nor how much of my blood has been spilled there. I will even miss my neatly folded screams tucked away in the holes of the walls. I can hardly imagine what it will feel like to live in a dwelling where there will no longer be abuse. But I will be there soon enough.

I’ll miss my siblings. I’ll miss taking care of them. I’ll miss my dad. I’ll miss our laughs and jokes. I’ll miss being able to visit my grandparents when I’m down. I’ll miss seeing my cousins for a good time.

I’ll miss it all.

And Im ready to lose it all this time.

I grew up living home alone since I was 6. Learning how to cook for a family of 8 by the age of 9, being able to clean two whole households by myself by 10. I learned how to speak English by myself. Did my homework by myself. Baby sat my siblings since they were born, raise them since they were born.

I did all this without guidance.

My parents need to realize that their children are not INCAPABLE of greatness. That we can survive.

They need to realize that I will no longer be around to take care of everyone as I have always done.

I’ve been striving for 13 YEARS, T H I R T E E N    E N T I R E    Y E A R S! to be good enough, to win their love, to accomplish something that they would be proud of.

I am no longer sacrificing my life and my happiness for something that I cannot win.

That I haven’t seen or experienced in all those years.

I will never forget,

I will never stop loving them.

But I am done taking care of you all.

Even though half of you don’t know what’s going to come next, I hope you cherish this next week. Because this will be the last I will call this place a home.

And to my mother:

You always told me, many many times repeatedly, how much you despised me for a daughter. How much I disgusted you, shamed you, sickened you. You have kicked me out several times because you couldn’t stand looking at my face.

You have threatened to kill me on several occasions, and even coaxed me into taking my own life when I was 12. You hate to see me happy, and even murdered my dog when I was 11. I am a disappointment to you.

Well, I still want to try to make you happy and this is the last thing I’m doing for you.

When I leave, Consider me dead.

Tell the world that you only have ONE daughter and ONE son. You will no longer be sickened for looking at my face, for my face will no longer be there to look at. You can take down those pictures of me if it helps. I even allow you to entertain the thought that YOU DID kill me. You don’t have to worry about seeing me happy either. You’ll never know. I’ll never contact you, never call, never visit you.

I hope with this, I finally make you happy when I disappear.

I hope you can find happiness with my departure, I hope you’re less angry when you don’t have me around to bother or piss you off.

But even though I hope for your happiness, I want to be honest.

I also hope me leaving kills you. I hope your conscience eats away at your soul.

I hope you feel terrible for pushing me away. I hope the rest of the family grows enough BALLS to stand up to you, as I will be doing soon. I hope that through example they all push away from you, and escape. As I am already planning, already in the process. I hope you become alone.  I hope that they don’t forgive you. That they HATE you.

So that in the end…

All you can think about is ME.

The one person who would forgive you in a heartbeat, and take you back almost instantaneously.

The one person you killed for 13 years.

Your daughter.

Me.

Day 60

So Friday, I decide to sneak out of my mothers house and go watch a movie with my friend like planned. I mean, I should have been able to go no problem. But apparently the house was a ‘mess’. Even though I cleaned everything the night before. But since I didn’t clean it again, it’s a mess, because a particle of dust landed on every square inch of furniture. So she yells at me at 530 in the flipping morning when I have work at 730. I mean, I cleaned the house the best I could, the best I always do, (which since I did it, its never enough. ) I took a shower that night, and laid my clothes out on the chair so I could get out of bed at 7 and go to work right away.

But no.

She had to wake me up, when she knows I cant sleep.

Of course, I was in an awful mood when I went to work. But when I’m either really really exhausted from lack of sleep, or really really mad, I am the best worker ever. Because when I get so exhausted, I seem to hit a point where I pass extreme exhaustion, and eventually enter a state of a mental high. And when Im really upset, I just move fast of course.

My managers were so surprised that while they were taking someones order, and before the customer even paid, I was already handing them their food and drinks. None of my coworkers stood a chance.

But anyways, I sneak out Friday night. I avoid her all Saturday morning. Then I get called in to work Saturday night, and work the next Sunday morning (which was fine, more hours means more money and less time at home).

Sunday afternoon, Of course I leave to go see a friend. Stay out until late. Monday morning disappear again to visit my friend once more and spend the whole day with her. This morning sneak out yet again.

And through it all, I know my mothers PISSED. But she hasn’t really confronted me about it at all.

But what bothers me the most about everything, is that I know I’m so willing to forgive her for everything, no matter how horrible she’s been. Because no matter how much I claim to hate her, I really do love her. Well.. mostly anyways.

I suppose through practice I’ve come to hate myself.

But today, Day 60, Which means I have been on the “outside” for a whole two months now, I opened my eyes to a part of myself I’ve been blinded too.

I know Im scared, terrified really, of many things. I just realized that that fear has also caused me to deny myself happiness. I’m truly afraid to be happy. Because through my experiences, I’ve become accustomed to seeing the pessimistic point of view and all I can think about is the worst outcome of any situation.

For example, right now Im in the process of obtaining an apartment finally. With one of my best friends who knows me so well (which sometimes bothers me, but its nice having someone know just close to exactly whats in your mind without you having to open your mouth… even though she wants me to say it anywaysss) But still. I love her, and owe her greatly for everything shes done to keep me afloat.

But as I was saying, Im scared. Soon, when this all goes down, she will be all I have left. And I don’t mean that in a wrong, or mean way. Its just that, all my life ALL I have ever tried to do was be good enough. Good enough for my family, and especially for my mother. But once I walk out that door voluntarily and for good, I will destroy everything I’ve worked for. Every single step I walked over broken glass, and coals, will have been for naught.

I will only have myself, and my dearest roommate.

I trust her. I really do. I just don’t trust MYSELF.

I have issues, fears, problems. Yeah. Im terrified of being around people, because I don’t want to be a burden, nuisance, a problem…I don’t want to be hated.

Ive lived with it long enough from family, I cant stand to be hated by friends.

I want this apartment so bad. But at the same time, I want something to happen to keep me home.

Funny thing about everything, is that I feel that my mother is catching on to the fact that she’s beginning to lose some of her power over me. In the past 5 days I’ve left the house without informing my parents prior just about everyday, and for hours at a time. Sometimes the whole night, or day.

So what is she doing about it? Trying to guilt me. By crying and apologizing to me for how shes been.

And as much as it makes me mad at first, that she’s playing mind games on me. After focusing on it for so long, I start to fall for it anyways.

All that I have ever wanted was a family. And I am finally realizing that I will probably never have that with my bloodline. When I take this final step in disobeying my mother, in finally leaving her. My family will never forgive me. Not my father. Not my grandfather, my aunt. Not even my dearest grandmamma. Which kills me just to think about it. Just to know that soon, I wont be able to visit my grandparents home, to see my family, play, eat dinner, watch tv. Simple things.

No matter what, my mother IS their daughter. And shes first in their hearts.

I know Im last.

And no matter what. I still love them. No matter how much pain they put me through, no matter how much they’ve left me out to die, no matter how much I curse their names in my anger, They were all I ever really had. Broken family or not.

And Im getting ready to let it go.  It shall be the hardest thing in my life.

But I’ll keep saying it, Life isn’t easy. Nothing I have ever had to do to survive has ever been easy.

I shouldn’t expect any different now.

Im going to have to make my own family. I’m going to need to fill this void with friends I can trust.

Dearest soon-to-be-Roommate,

                                                Soon enough you will be the only family I will have. And since I know you read this, I want to apologize in advance, because I know I will be a pain in the ass. I just pray that we have more ups than downs.  More smiles than frowns. More laughs than tears. More happiness than fears.

            Im scared, terrified. But I trust you with myself, with my future.

I hope we will both become stronger through this. Show our families and all that have doubted us that we CAN do what we set our minds to.

That we may be damaged, hurt and broken, but either way, we’re going to do this, were going to find a way to heal. We’re going to grow and live the lives we deserved but were denied.

We deserve to live a life of happiness, and without fear.

That we can just prove the whole damn fucking world wrong.

                                                            Love you. <3

Running on a few days of no sleep. The Medicine isn’t working. The nightmares are back..

Hallucinations?

My dearest friend thinks so.

Do I think so.

MEH.

If it is, lets get rid of it, please?

Anyways, as shitty as things can get for me, things are actually starting to look up.

With a new job, going to be starting full time soon, and a part time job, Ill soon enough be raking in some cash.

Of course, Ill have to restrain myself from impulsive shopping.

So hopefully with these two jobs (Mcdonalds Part Time, Chipotle Full Time)

Ill be able to afford an apartment soon enough. Thank god!

All I gotta worry about is roommates. One will definitely have to be investing in a car soon. :/ Im thinking somewhere in between for both of us, like villa park or something. But Hey, anywhere but here, right?

So what else? I’m starting to exercise a bit more, even though I get no sleep and have no energy as is, I figure that if I keep moving, I’ll be able to work myself into getting tired. Eventually my body is gonna give, yeah?

I mean, Im trying to keep thinking positive, and keep tracking progress, but every step I take up, Im taking another down. Its like a balance. I need the right side to rise, while the left side sinks, but every time I remove something from the right to place on the left, some ASSHOLE puts something else back on the right.

But Hey, lifes a game, and no one enjoys a game on “super easy” Right?

We like a little challenge, to motivate us. I just hope this difficulty doesn’t end up killing me too soon.

And you know, Ive been doing a whole lot of thinking. And its killing me. What if years of abuse has made me crazy. Like really? I mean, I look back at the discharge papers and I see they wrote Diagnosis: Severe Psychosis, Major Depressive Disorder.

Psychosis/psychotic depression: Arent really pretty things to have.

I don’t remember exhibiting any symptoms that would make me… look psychotic.

Out of touch with reality? I don’t know if that’s just the hospital diagnosing me with whatever sounds good to them, or if while I was there I really did lose it. Then again, I ended up at the hospital in the first place due to lack of sleep and I know I pretty much lost my mind.

Gah. I don’t know. I grew up always trying to do my best in school. ( I know it seem I switched topics but bear with me for a moment) Straight A’s when I was little. (not trying to brag). Strong GPA throughout highschool. Scholarships and grants for college. Took 2 AP tests and Aced them.

I. Am. Pretty.Smart.

But since this happened, I feel like Im dipping my toes into crazy, and I don’t really enjoy feeling that Part of my mind is just disappearing.

Its an awful feeling.

And you know, Im not a person to think of the future. I never have too much time to day dream, and when I do, I don’t allow it. I’ve lived without big hope, because I learned young and fast that doing so is a slow killer. I tried to resist hoping for happiness, for love, for a miracle that my mother would go back. But when it didn’t happen, and I’d hope for YEARS, I realized its time to change the idea. I just hope to be able to survive the day. And I do. So far. So that’s something.

I’ve never thought about future boyfriends, I hardly ever loved any that Ive had so far, but one. I don’t think about marriage, or children, or life after today for more than a month. Its too much for me to do because something that’s so constant in my mind is the thought of suicide.

Im just waiting for the next time the would becomes too much for me, that I end up doing something stupid. I don’t doubt myself. It’ll be the 4^th attempt. I mean, not that the previous 3 I was actually trying. Those were just accidents. But whose going to believe that?

Not the doctors that’s for sure. But hey, what can you do?

So anyways. I’ve been thinking about the future. And no, that isn’t necessarily a good thing.

All I can think about is, okay yeah. Im talking to a guy. I’ve talked to guys before that made me happy, and I cared for. But I mean, all I can think about now, is years later, what kind of man is going to be able to put up with me, if nothing really changes by then?

What kind of man is going to want me? A girl who will scream every other night in sheer terror from another nightmare that he cannot save me from, but can only desperately try to comfort me afterwards. The girl that will fear every mistake she makes fearing abuse. The girl that will hide, and will want to be alone randomly because she cant bear to be around people for long for fear of doing something wrong. The girl that cant say I love you too many times, because all she can think about is the pain associated with that word. The girl that wont be able to look into his eyes for long for fear. Fear. FeaR.

FUCKING FEAR.

What if this fear never goes away, you guys? What will I do?

Sigh. Guess I gotta try even harder with what I’ve got.

I get sick a lot, and sometimes I wish this was just another surgery I needed. Bop. Surgery, cut open some flesh, mess around in a body, seal it up, problem solved.

But no. I had to be traumatized, and brain damaged.

Something surgery cant fix, and medicine doesn’t work.

Time to hope for something bigger.

Time to hope for me to get better, and have the will to think stronger.

Time to love myself, because in the end, Ill only have myself, yeah?

So lets start, Shall I?

Dearest Tina.

              Honestly there isn’t a list I can come up with things that I like about you. But I’ll try to make a list, and continuously add things to it. But Ive come to realize that I do think you are pretty. Took a hell of a lot of people to tell me first, but Im starting to see how I like the shape of your eyes. Almond and wide. Though boring in nature, I do like how deep your brown eyes are. I like how hard of a worker you are. How you take on more than you can chew, and still do it with a smile, and without a sweat.

I think you really try to be a good person, even though you fuck it up sometimes.

Tina. I think you can try harder. Smile more. Laugh Louder.

And most important,

Live Lighter.

You put a lot of weight on yourself, that you shouldn’t have to.

Stop. Blaming. Yourself.

You cant change anyone but yourself, and only for yourself.

Stop trying to please someone who isn’t worth it.

Because I think you are worth it.

Your friends think your worth it.

Tina I think Im starting to like you a bit. 

What do I mean by ‘myself reasoning?’

This are going to be the posts that explain the little things that I do.

Of course a lot of the material may be covered through other posts, but this is straight up, describing why I am one way, why I do this, why im like that, etc.

Why Im deciding to make these posts? Simple.

Someone I’ve been messaging for a while had a question about some of my pictures. The ones that he’s seen, half of my face is covered by my hair (not really just my eyes, people exaggerate to much), and I typically don’t look at the camera when I take self shots.

So why do I do that? Is it just because that’s the style of my hair? Well, of course that’s one reason. But then one asks, why did you pick that hairstyle and how come you don’t change it?

I don’t like showing my face. There. That’s the reason. Now allow me to elaborate. I hate my face sometimes. Yeah, Its hard to go around minding my own business, because people like to tell me I look cute, or I look like a little kid, or I should smile more often, get the hair out of my face.

Im TRYING to hide my face. Im afraid to look at people into their eyes.

It intimidates me.

Ive been told for years, (by now you should guess who) that I have an ugly face, that im a despicable child. But okay, so ive been feed negative feedback and positive feedback about my face or how I look. So why doesn’t the positive have an impact.

I am afraid to find eyes out in the world that remind me of my mother.

My greatest fear is to find someone else who is like my mother. Who has the same impact on me as her.

What frightens me the most about eyes, is what ive seen happen to my mother.

Sometimes she can pretend to care, and seem to have changed for the better and became all loving. Of course it doesn’t happen to an extreme in one day. Shes smart, she slowly starts to ‘change’.

Of course I fall for it, I want to believe in it so badly. Theres nothing that can compare how strongly I feel about her. About how much I just wish things could go back to when I was six years old. Not that I remember much from being at such a young age. But the last memory I have a kind mother I treasure.

Anyways. After shes tricked me into thinking shes changed, The part I hate the most is she will confront me. And look at me. And as I look into her eyes, with love and hope, Her eyes are blank for a few split moments, until they start to be consumed by some dark being.

Shivers down my spine? Hairs rising on my neck? UNDERSTATEMENTS.

I don’t know how to describe what I see change in her eyes, all I know is that it strikes such fear into me.

I don’t want to look at people into their eyes. And not for long. So I seem to be distant at times, bored, or lonely. Some people think I might be mad and just keeping it in. I wish I could help them know that its not them. Its me. My fear.

But of course they’ll never really know that huh? Cause Id have to tell them. But I wont.

I learned that if you tell someone one of your fears or problems. They want to help. Its natural. But once they’ve come to realize they cant help you (or you just don’t seem to help yourself), It becomes a strain.

No one likes to feel helpless, nor useless.

 I suppose Ive just become so ashamed of myself as a person, I don’t see myself as how I really am.

Im trying, my dear friends, to love myself as you love me.

I wish I had the courage to tell you all, just how afraid I am of all of you.

That I cant bear to be with all of you for long, because Im afraid.

But Im not courageous. Nope. 

With what you have done to Me

You grew weeds of Hate and Soul Eaters

I was so Young

And I ran out of your Death Forest as quickly as I could manage

But the Toxic Aroma of your Evil Flowers Poisoned my Air

I was Infected

I started to become Dark like You.

As my feet gave out I almost  admitted defeat

But I Crawled, my skin bearing the Cuts the Thorns placed unto Me

Treaded on, to the Edge of the Cliff

And there I stood

My skin going Grey

As I Died

My Blood surged with the Darkness 

Of Anger and Hate

Fire replaced my Soul

My Thoughts were becoming Twisted

And

       I

          Stepped

                        Over

                                 The

                                           C

                                              L

                                                  I

                                                     F

                                                        F

Your Vines tried to Catch me as I Fell

But I Plunged into the Waters

And There is Where I am.

Forever Drowning in an Ocean of Love

<3 Thanks for the push

So this is the post ( or the beginning of a few)

In which I will go over everything this new blog has missed out on.

Fun isn’t it? To once again shuffle back through all the memories I would rather not. But then again, the mind is a curious thing, and I tend to find myself thinking about them throughout the day anyways.

Kind of hard not to, once you think about it, when the source of the many problems and conflicts I’ve faced is still in my life.

What happened? Where do I Begin? Perhaps by introducing my family members?In the immediate family of course, or else id end up spending a whole week trying to get everyone down.

Brother: He’s 10 right now. Suffers from severe asthma and allergies to cats and dogs. Plays on a soccer team. Unfortunately for many years he was prohibited from taking his asthma medication, which almost killed him when he had a heart attack because he wasn’t taking it, that he cant play a position in soccer for long without running out of breathe.

Sister: Age 13 at this current time. Suffers from asthma and severe allergies to cats. She was prohibited her medication for a long time too, that now her allergies have spread to her face, arms, legs, and upper chest. She’s involved in volleyball, and drama club.

Father. Suffers from high blood pressure, and Lord knows what else. Buys his own medication since he was diagnosed. A pushover who runs away from confrontation to go drink.

Mother: Sick with many things, but the world may never know because she considers herself to be perfect. Clean freak, for lack of a better term. She has a strong need to be perfect, the cleanest house, the neatest appearance. Of course she refuses to go to the doctor because being diagnosed with a sickness would be an imperfection.

But because she wants to be perfect, of course she expects everyone in the family to be as well. But with all of us diagnosed with certain things, and have to take prescribed medication, what does she do?

Scare us out of taking it of course. Threaten the whole family to stop taking their medication, or resort to hiding it for fear of losing the financial aid she provides for them.

She takes care of a lot of people and for the longest time I wondered why this was so. Why would a person who hates human contact and only wishes to care for herself chose to have people depend on her? Simple. To instill so much fear in them that they carry out her bidding. That’s another thing she enjoys greatly: control.

Now before I continue to describe the attributes that go about to make my mother, let me say that she isn’t all cruel and hateful. She has shown that she is still human, and still possess a heart. She cares deeply for her mother, and will do everything she can to comfort her when she is sick. Which of course in this family, everyone is.

She cares for her daughter and son. She defends them when they were bullied. She cares. But the things that she cares for are very specific.

When I say I raised my sister and brother, the meaning behind that is that my mother refused to give my siblings the medicine they greatly needed, because she wanted them to appear perfect. The fault with that? When my sister was born she didn’t get enough oxygen to her brain, so she constantly needs to practice how to move her mouth to form words.

Being the oldest of my siblings, its granted that I will be the one with the most responsibility and have to keep an eye on them. But when I was in 7^th grade, I was kicked out of my home. Now of course when a teen is kicked out of their home, its automatic for one to think that they did something wrong and deserved to be put out on the streets. Drugs, misdemeanor, sleeping around, etc. But I did none of that. Can you trust me on my word?

If you cant that’s fine. I wont hold your thoughts against you. But the real reason?

I was sick.

Not very convincing, huh? Allow me to elaborate. At the age of 10 and 11 I had my first two surgeries. So lets reflect on what that means. A mother who spends hours to appear perfect, and desires the perfect family, suddenly has to pay a sum amount of money to have the oldest daughter receive a giant white cast on one leg after the other.

Now, that doesn’t seem to be perfect at all, does it? And do you know what happened after I had my surgeries? Every, single morning for those two years, I was yelled at for wasting money on a ‘stupid thing’. I mean, logical isn’t it? How wrong of me to waste money on a leg I was hoping to be able to walk on for the whole of my life. Greedy of me, and for that I apologize.

Anyways. Kicked out, It was my first time living on the streets. Not too bad, and I wasn’t there for long. My grandparents were kind and bold enough to take me in.

But the only contact I could have with my family a few towns over was through the home phone. But my mother decided she didn’t want me to talk to my siblings. So she cut it off, and bought cell phones for my father and for herself.

Two years passed. And I decided over the summer I was going to finally see my siblings. But lo- and behold that during my absence they became sicker. And what bothered me the most was that, fine my mother caused this she wont care, but for my father to turn away and act as if everything was normal?

My sister had become partially mute, because she forgot how to speak and form words. My brother could hardly walk to the bathroom across from his room, without having to stop and gasp for needed air.

So what did I do about this? Call the cops? DCFS? Tell a teacher?

No.

I decided that from then on, everyday I would FIND A WAY to make it to my mothers home, and take care of my siblings. I would work, anything, to buy their medication in substitution for my own. I will be the mother that we all needed. I would take my siblings under my wing, and give them the life I knew they deserve.

Pretty sappy story huh? Yeah, I know. Doesn’t sound like a real story. But hey, that’s your opinion, and I’m here to share what happened whether you believe me or not, that’s up to you.

But what happened after years of my sacrifice? Of cancelling time with friends, and other family, of missing out on school activities and clubs?

My sister can talk, hell she’s in drama club. AND VOLLEYBALL.

My brother? He can run and play for 30 minutes without having to take a break.

They have what they had once lost back. Thanks to me. I find them lucky, and to be honest I’m actually pretty jealous of them. Being able to have someone in this messed up family to be dependable.

Doesn’t make me a saint or perfect either. I sin.

You know, when your forced out onto the streets, where I have been several times, you find yourself being capable of doing things you never thought you could. Things that you could find yourself to be greatly ashamed about. But hey, one has to do what one has to do in order to survive.

Sigh. I have no desire to continue this for today.

But I leave with this message.

I don’t hate my mother. And despite all the things she’s put me through, I thank her. What could I possibly thank her for?

Mom.

What I could never tell you to your face, I shall spill here.

I thank you. Sincerely. No sarcasm, no joke, no hate. I write all of this without anger in my heart. But… 

You’ve made me the person I am today, and will continue to become.

The person who sacrifices all she owns for others.

That smiles despite the mental and physical pain I have and will endure.

The girl that doesn’t get angry easily, but laughs and is light spirited, kind hearted.

You’ve shaped me to be a good person, despite all the hate you’ve feed me.

You taught me how to be everything your not and not capable of feeling.

Good. Kind. Patient. Caring. Loving. Helpful. Selfless.

So thanks.