This is a memoir and it contains mild violence and angst with uncomfortable situations. If you are uncomfortable with family affairs of arguing and such, then I would advise you to not continue reading. My intention is not to make anyone feel uncomfortable, but this was a class assignment and I liked the way the piece turned out in the end. Nothing is dramatized for the purpose of writing something dramatic or full of angst. The point of this memoir was to show people who may have been through something that had a major impact on their lives as a child, that those incidents don't have to have a negative effect on you. You can take those hurtful experiences and turn them around into something better and therefore bettering yourself. I know that is what I did. Now that the serious tone is done with...hopefully you will enjoy or find comfort in similarities in this piece and please remember to review! Receiving alerts about a writing piece being favorited is always nice, but it is BETTER to know what you thought of it. Thanks!
People say that we are directly shaped by the events of our pasts; that we have no control over who we become or how we behave. That we make decisions based on the premises of someone else's thoughts and actions. I agree full-heartedly. Altercations and physical encounters are prominent in my past, striking fear into my soul. I grew up sheltered and shut out the world only allowing one person in my life to make me feel significant, my mother. On the contrary, my father and my step-mother are the figures that haunt my memories and had a great impact on who I am today. You may think that because of those horrible memories that I would still be that same sheltered, scared, little girl with no promise, but that is hardly the case. Those events made me want to become something worthy despite the belittlement he presented and to prove that I am better than he perceives me to be; to have the courage to push my limits and work hard for what I want. I am a strong, determined, and fierce young woman with the drive to be successful. I feel like I have become a better person and I am able to prove myself because of those disagreements. It might be difficult to face the demons of our pasts, but sometimes those demons will open new doors that were previously barred shut, allow us to make a valuable contribution to society, and be content with ourselves as a person.
The abuse started early, my childhood having been tainted by cruelty. I first needed stitches shortly after my first birthday. I was jumping on the couch when suddenly I fell off the couch and hit my forehead on the corner of the coffee table. My father, Scott, was in charge of watching me seeing as my mother, Suzanne, was at work at Bagel Smith and Scott worked overnight at the Hunterdon County Jail as a correctional officer. He was not paying attention to me and instead directed his attention to a phone call that probably had no importance. Despite being a "good sport" about the ordeal, it left me scarred. That moment became the first of many "accidents" in my life. Shortly thereafter my parents separated and so began visitations every other weekend.
Due to his work schedule, Scott slept the entire day away before he woke up late at night to head into work. Visitations had become a time that I spent with my grandmother and brother, Craig. Even though he and I have different fathers, he volunteered to go to Scott's for visitations because I was uncomfortable with going by myself. The neglect from Scott formed a hole in my chest and started the feelings of doubt and insignificance. So while I sat back and watched children from pre-school run to their father's open embrace, I was slowly hollowing out into nothing but a shell. I never had the chance to enjoy games of catch in the backyard with him either. I spent my time in the small bedroom with Craig playing Sega.
By the time I was six years old, my life had begun to take another turn. I was told by my grandmother to go wake Scott up because there was a woman at the door. I walked into his room and shook him awake. As I shook him, I noticed a pair of gold, hoop earrings on his nightstand. I found out that they were sleeping together because I knew the earrings were not my mother's earrings. My mother and Scott were still legally married at the time. Late in 1998, my mother and Scott divorced and not too long after that Scott proposed to the woman, Michelle. She became my step-mother. Craig did not like her. I could not blame him because I did not like her either. A few months after they moved in together, Craig decided to stop visiting Scott with me. What used to be semi-decent visitations had turned into horrible visitations. Scott and Michelle were always wrapped up in their own conversations and I would be left to my own devices. Scott still slept during the day and Michelle was typically running errands.
In April 2001, Scott and Michelle got married. I was only eight at the time and even then I wanted to object the wedding. I could not stand to see Scott get married to someone else. The time that was limited to begin with was then reduced to just about no time at all. A new woman entered his life and suddenly his daughter did not matter anymore. I spent the day secluded in my bedroom playing videogames or drawing and the occasional time that I would watch television downstairs I would hear them having sex. It was lonely most of the time and I used to run into my mom's arms the moment I got home.
In May 2004 I performed in a dance recital at Voorhees High School called The Wiz and it was a retake on the famous classic The Wizard of Oz. On Saturday night there was one show and the following Sunday there were two shows, a matinée and night show. By the end of the second show on Sunday I was beyond exhausted and just wanted to go home and sleep especially since I had to wake up early the next day for school. As I changed out of my final costume, Michelle started yelling at my mom. I was confused at first, but then became angry quickly. I did not like Michelle getting in my mother's face. I stepped in between them and told my mom that I wanted to go home right then. My mom grabbed my bag and threw it over her shoulder before she picked me up and left the room. When we got downstairs the rest of my family was there waiting to congratulate me on a job well-done. I said my thanks to Craig, my grandfather George, his girlfriend Rose, my aunt Liza, and my cousin Cody. Michelle's parents, brother, and his family were there as well. I never liked them at all so after I said my thanks, my mother carried me to the truck and we left.
I did not find out until later that the reason Michelle had yelled at my mother was because she had asked Scott during intermission if he could gather everyone who came to see me in the same place because I was extremely tired and irritated. Apparently Michelle took it as my mom had told him that I was not allowed to see her family. I did not honestly care whether or not I saw them so long as I got to see my grandfather. Michelle's family was pushy and always yelled at me saying that I needed to call them by Uncle and Aunt, but I never saw them as family. They were not related to me as far as I was concerned. They were related to Scott by a piece of paper between him and Michelle. Her family had always made me feel invisible especially during "family" events when I sat in the corner by myself drawing as the adults conversed.
About a month later Michelle gave birth to my half-sister, Hadley. She was just another obstacle between Scott and I. Everyone focused their attention on her and forgot about me. It hurt to say the least and it was difficult to have sat back and watched idly as everyone fawned over Hadley. Seventeen days after Hadley was born, my grandfather passed away. I was torn apart by it and the one who was there when I was told was Michelle, not Scott, but Michelle and her parents. They told me to toughen up. I had never despised anyone so much as I had in that moment. I curled up on my bed away from them and bawled my eyes out. I was in so much pain and no one cared except for my mom. The moment I arrived home, she wrapped her arms around me and had let me cry until I fell asleep.
More fights occurred between that day and the next major argument. It was Thanksgiving and I had told Scott and Michelle that I was not going over for Christmas that I was staying home with my mom. Michelle started screaming at me, "You need to start making decisions for yourself. Your mother can't keep making your decisions for you. She has no right to do so. Your mother doesn't want you here and you just listen to her." The words went on and on about how my mom was a horrible mother and could not provide for me the way a mother should provide for their child. I stood up from the table after hearing Scott say, "Don't yell at Michelle like that." I remained in my bedroom for the rest of the night without any dinner. I never received an apology either from them. Part of me never expected an apology, but part of me always hoped that a miracle would happen and they would apologize.
Every single fight that occurred was left without an apology. I was always wrong and Michelle was always right. One day, it must have been around noon, I was sitting downstairs on the sofa watching television. Next thing I knew Scott barreled down the stairs and started ranting about how I needed to get upstairs and "spend quality family time" with him, Michelle, and Hadley. He even went as far as throwing the television towards me. Luckily it was plugged into the wall and that prevented it from actually hitting me. Reduced to tears, I demanded to be taken home. I packed my clothing and went home immediately.
The last major altercation that really affected me was in 2009 during the summer. Scott and Michelle decided to go to Branson, Missouri for vacation. I had the choice to go with them or not and I decided that I would go to see the attractions. Besides the fact that the trip there was horrendously obnoxious, the next day was not as great either. Hadley was being disobedient and not listening to anyone that told her "no." I made a simple comment about how I knew other children that would listen better than she did and Michelle blew a gasket.
"I'm sick of you saying that shit about your sister. She is only five years old, that's what they do. You have no right to be downgrading her." I stormed off from her parents' campsite and into our camper. I curled into a ball on my bunk and sent a text to my mom about how I wanted to go home. She called me as soon as she had received the text message and I spent the following three hours on the phone crying. A half an hour into those hours Michelle came into the camper and told Scott that dinner was ready. He left the camper and five minutes later he came back and told me that dinner was ready.
"I'm not hungry," I replied back, my voice still laced with tears.
"Why not?" I remained facing the wall and did not look at him.
"Why don't you go ask your wife." Needless to say Scott got angry and took the dog for a walk after stating that he was sick of this shit. He was tired of Michelle and me fighting all the time. I had never started any of the fights. Michelle was the one who instigated the fights by attacking me. He disappeared for six hours after that and did not come back until early morning. Scott leaving like that really struck a nerve. He was always choosing Michelle over me and it hurt. I was in his life long before she was and yet when he first laid eyes on her suddenly I did not matter anymore. I was nothing to him.
Sure he bought me materials that I had interest in, but he did nothing for me as he did out of obligations. I always felt as if I was an obligation to him; that I was never good enough to be called his daughter or of any relation to him. It was as if Scott was merely buying time until I left for college or finished school. There were fights just about every weekend I went to their house for visitations about one thing or another. I guess in some ways I was just like him; feeling as though I have obligations. I felt that I needed to continue visitations because of my sister. I did not want to just up and leave her alone and have her thinking that it was because of her. I could not do that to her and ruin what she might have become in the future. I could not do to her what Scott had done to me.
I could not allow myself to destroy someone else's perspective on life. Scott twisted my way of thinking and I thought that every person would purposely hurt me. I had trust issues that resulted in loneliness. I did not have many friends throughout school. In large crowds of people I would become anxious and start to panic. Someone was going to hurt me whether physically or mentally, it did not matter. I searched thoroughly for any flaw that I could find in someone and then instantly discard them. I would break ties between those that were close with me. Despite the anxiety and trust issues, there was always one person I could say I trusted more than myself, my mother.
She was there for me through all the hardships and supported me no matter what. She took my side during arguments and provided me with a backbone to say what I needed to say. While Scott's actions had a negative effect on me, my mom always had a positive one. The quarrels may have caused me to have trust issues and anxiety, but they also made me stronger. I learned to fight for what I wanted and not let other people bring me down. My mom made me feel beautiful and worthy of someone's attention; that I meant something important to someone. I never let the words of hate bring me down and I continuously fought my way through the mazes. I had become someone determined, strong, and beautiful and nothing Scott did could have taken that feat away from me.
"If I cannot be accepted for who I am then I' don't be accepted at all. I'd rather be enough for myself than be barely just enough for someone else." –Desiree J. N.