Thursday, July 30, 2009

A Sort of Therapy: Part Four

I have been writing a lot but I feel the need for all of this to come out...

Anyway, MB told me that I needed to stay away from him and perhaps take the other girl's advice and call the police. I was afraid. I didn't want to. She reminded me of his past and having heard that he was bi-polar and would not take medicine for it. I thought he might possibly be schizophrenic.

So I drove back to my parents' place, shaking all the way. I was so tired. I felt like I was having an out of body experience or something. I didn't know what I would say to my parents. I got home and my mom was in the living room. She could tell something was wrong right away. I just started shaking and crying and was so scared. I told her the majority of it. She told me to stay away from him and that I should call the police. I just wanted to sleep.

I think I did sleep for awhile and then called some abuse hotline later that night. They basically told me to get a restraining order against him. Of course, I didn't, and then I figured that I should just stay away from him altogether. And I did for awhile.

People always want to know why abused people go back to their abusers. I don't know! I guess you hope for change, or that they'll see what they're doing and stop. Some people are afraid to leave. Some people are afraid to accept the truth.

So MA bought his own house eventually. Though our relationship was weird, to say the least, I still very much cared for him and just wanted him to be okay. I thought that I was the only one that sort of understood him (hahaha - yeah, right!). I would go to his house and hang out every now and again. He seemed somewhat ok. He had patched things up with one of the guys from that night and the guy was living there with him and renting a room during school. He was also hanging out with some guys from high school that he was good friends with from before.

Around this time I rented a small house by myself right in town for a few months in the summer. I wanted to be in town and it was pretty cheap. The guy that owned it was friends with MA's dad. So anyway, a girl from work (MP) asked me if I wanted to go to a frat party with her and her friends. I said yeah, they could all come over to my place and get ready and we'd go. If they wanted to stay at my house that night, they could. The other two girls were going to go back to their dorms, and MP was going to spend the night at my place, we decided. Well, MA had asked me what I was doing that night, and I told him I had plans to go to a party with MP and her friends. While we were all getting ready at my place, MA and his friend (MC - a guy we had gone to high school with) came over. They would not leave. MA told me that they wanted to go too. I was mad. I told him that he wasn't invited. So he told me he'd just follow me. So they came with us in the end. I tried to distance myself from MA at the party. One frat guy had been talking to me (very briefly - I can't even remember about what). MA got extremely pissed. He ordered me outside and was yelling at me, then said he was going back inside to "fix" that guy. Of course, he ruined the whole thing - we hadn't even been there for an hour. We all got in the car and MA came running out from behind the frat house saying that he just messed that guy up. We left and took MA and MC back to MA's place. MP had this shocked look on her face the whole time. I was so mad. I can't even remember what I said to MA when we got back to his place, but I started walking back to the car after they got out. MA flew into a rage, ran back at me, pushed me up against the car and was screaming in my face. MC tried to pull him off of me but MA just kept coming back. MP was screaming at him too and got me into the car. I was so upset. We were afraid all night that MA would come to my house, but he didn't. MC later told me over the phone that he never saw MA act like that unless he was around me.

So MP went to work and told everyone how bad things were between MA and me. I had told them some things, but I don't think they knew how bad things really got until then. Some of them all got together and wrote me a letter telling me that I had to get away from him before I ended up dead.

I think after that I distanced myself from him. I moved out of the little house and back in with my parents. I didn't speak to him for awhile. Then one day MB called me to tell me that MA had been in a fight and had nearly died. Apparently, the friend that was living with him got into a fight with MA over something really ridiculous, like keeping the kitchen clean or something. MA grabbed a gun and threatened his friend with it. The friend grabbed an axe and stuck it into MA's head. The friend called 911 and got the hell out of there. MA had lost a lot of blood and was taken to the hospital. It was said that he would not make it through the night. His last rites were read to him. But he pulled through. She thought I might want to know that.

So you'd think with something that horrific it would be life changing. I thought he might finally "wake up" and settle down. I went to seem him. I was really scared at first. By this time he was at home again. The axe missed his brain by a hair, I guess. He had a nasty looking mark with stitches going up near the center of his head, just starting below the hair line. His eyes were swollen and black and blue. His whole face was puffy. I didn't know what to say. He said, "I asked for you at the hospital." I told him that I didn't know and was sorry I was not there. I asked him about the incident but he didn't have much to say other than if he saw his old friend again he'd kill him. So much for change.

He did seem to mellow out a little bit then. It wasn't for long though. During the mellow time he had the audacity to ask me to have a baby with him! I was mortified. I could not think of anything more stupid that I could get myself into. I told him how unstable our relationship was just a ridiculous idea. We did not last much longer after that. Then he eventually threatened the remaining friends he had with a gun...they all ditched him and that was really the last I knew of him. He would call me here and there to see how things were going. He always tried to get me to come back. But I had finally come to my senses.

In the meantime, I had changed jobs. My next post will be all about that.

A Sort of Therapy: Part Three

The transition from junior high to senior high went smoothly. I had two groups of friends - the more "defiant" ones (MB was a part of this) and the goody two shoes (Boo was a part of this). I wasn't exactly defiant. The worst thing I ever did at that point (and it was stupid) was have a drawing put on my wrist. There was a guy in school who was drawing marijuana plants on everyone in pen, and I was asked if I wanted one. Ha! I got one. It was the last day of school. I even remember what I was wearing - a tank top. No sleeves. I got home and my mom saw it and freaked. I told her I'd wash it off, that it was no big deal, but I got grounded for it anyway. Haha! I think it's kinda funny now...they never really discussed drugs with me, and when they saw that they didn't ask me if I was smoking it or anything. There just was no discussion. There never was. If I tried to explain or talk, then I was "talking back". I would just get into more trouble. That I could never learn. I always tried to defend myself. My brother, S, would just keep quiet and let it blow over.

My parents bought a lot of land in a different school district and moved there (across the road from my mom's parents). It was a different school district. I was very upset - I had finally made some great friends, was actually not loathing school, and now I was going to have to move with basically just a little over one more year of school left. While they moved, I stayed with a girl (AC) and her parents. They had money! There was my dingy little Ford Escort sitting in their driveway with their Lincolns and European sports car. They never complained and always welcomed me - I even had my own room to stay in. I never wanted to leave! They were right in town and I felt a sense of freedom I never had before. At this point, I was hanging out with AC and MB a lot. There were a few other people too, but they were my main best friends. I still talked with Boo a lot too, but I felt that sometimes I couldn't be honest with her. I didn't want her to criticize me. She didn't like a lot of the friends that I had, I don't think.

While in town, I spent a lot of time at my parents' friends' house too. I always referred to them as my aunt and uncle - Aunt S and Uncle B, though when I spoke to them directly I dropped the "Aunt" and "Uncle" formalities. I loved being there because I felt like I could be myself. Uncle B was really quiet. He had been friends with my dad since forever. They looked alike too. Aunt S was awesome - she liked the same music I liked. She had an open mind. I knew that if I told her something that she wouldn't repeat it or would respect my point of view. She always gave me a new way of looking at things too. I used to wish that they would adopt me! Haha!

After my parents were settled in, I moved in with my dad's mom (Grandma C) so I wouldn't have to go to a different school. Grandma C didn't live far from Aunt S and Uncle B. I didn't live there very long. My parents gave me a curfew that I followed, yet Grandma would lock me out of the house by 8 or 9 p.m. I would bang on the door and even yell at her bedroom window, but she would not let me in. I had to stay at Uncle B and Aunt S's a couple of times. Even when my dad asked her to give me a key, she would then lock the screen door. She just didn't like me being out. She thought I should stay at home with her all the time. Grandma C only watched certain channels (mostly PBS or the country station) and didn't say much to me. When my parents asked her why she kept locking me out of the house, she stopped speaking to me. Then my dad said that I was to pack my stuff - I was crying and didn't understand what I had done. I didn't want to go to a different school my senior year. I remember my mom coming into help me get my stuff and I was sobbing. She hugged me and said, "Don't worry, we'll work something out." I felt a little better then - I knew that I hadn't done something wrong, I guess. I think my dad was more mad at my Grandma C. She used to do that to him too, I guess.

By that time I had a boyfriend, MA,- my first serious one. He was different, to say the very least. MB warned me about him, but I didn't quite see what she was talking about just yet. She knew him a lot better than I did at first. He also did not live far from town and I loved the convenience of seeing him a lot. I will get to him in a little bit...

So anyway, I moved back in with my parents. They decided that I would drive to school. It would take me about 25 minutes to get to school without any hangups or anything. To help out with gas, I decided to get a job in a small town near them. At first my parents told me that they didn't want me to work if it was going to impact my grades. But I wanted to do it. So I applied at a pizza place and got the job one summer when I was 17. That too, was a life changing experience. The girls there were very pretty, popular (in their respective schools), and really were involved in living life to its fullest! I was still sort of shy. I entered the job with glasses and braces. I remember two of the girls telling me later that they thought I was a "total dork". Ha! Before too long I got to know them all pretty well and was invited to some of their parties. Any parties I had been to before was nothing like I was about to experience. I wasn't going to be very innocent too much longer! I started dyeing my hair, waxing my eyebrows, buying stylish clothes and wearing more makeup. I wore colored contacts that made my eyes very blue looking. I wouldn't be able to do much about the braces yet at that point. I also went tanning - I was so white and the girls convinced me to do it. I even started buying underwear from Victoria Secret online (we didn't have a nearby store). But the parties - there was always alcohol. I didn't like beer, to say the least. But I would try to drink as much as the rest of them. I got to know their guy friends, and developed a crush or two.

I still had my boyfriend, MA, though. He had also quickly evolved from a "bad" looking kid into this extremely handsome preppy guy. He did that on his own, but I think a part of him did it for me. He developed a lot of popular friends in the senior high. I still felt sort of intimidated, to say the very least. He was extremely sweet the first year that we were together, but he didn't like my work friends. He viewed anyone that didn't go to our school (a rich school) to be unworthy or something. He came from a broken home. He hadn't spoken to his mother or his little brother in years and refused to. He lived with his dad in a beautiful huge home out in the woods out of town. He did drink a lot and smoke a lot, and his dad supplied the money and the goods for him. It seemed like his dad was a little scared of him. I never really got that until later.

I did not spend a lot of time at home at this point. I was working, going to school when my senior year started again, and then I was hanging out with friends and going to parties on the weekends as much as possible. My parents didn't ask many questions. They had met my boyfriend and liked him at first. I was nervous - his family was so well-to-do and when he met my parents I was afraid he wouldn't want to be with me anymore! But he didn't say much then, so it was okay at that point. They didn't allow me to spend the night at his house (because it "didn't look good") but the rules had become a lot more flexible my senior year. After all, I was working all the time AND keeping good grades. My mom later told me that she didn't ask many questions because she "didn't want to know".

The option to quit work faded away. I was soon expected to buy everything - right down to toilet paper - for myself. They then started yelling at me about not offering to help pay the bills. That was stressful. I didn't make that much money, but I did get a lot of credit cards that I payed on. I was paying for my own medical bills too. I had gotten a kidney stone right before I started my job and was paying a hospital bill that my insurance didn't totally cover. It's not like I was out there blowing all of my money on clothes and such. But when I didn't offer to pay for a portion of the electric bill or something, my parents would get mad and start a fight about it. I was paying for my car insurance and gas bills at this time too.

My relationship with MA started to turn bad and abusive after the first year. He would flip out over the smallest things. He had successfully isolated me from a lot of my school friends. I felt like I was no one without him, and he had told me as much several times. I wasn't any good, but he was still with me. I didn't get that. I was sad, paranoid, and really stressed out. I hid it at first, then I started to share some things with the girls that I worked with and MB. MB told me that she had tried to tell me about him before but I wouldn't listen. She told me what she knew about his past history. Her mom was friends with his mom and then I knew why he hated MB so much - she knew too much. He was always telling me that she was "trash" or worse and that I should ditch her. I couldn't do that. She was the only one that I really trusted (I could tell her ANYTHING) and I knew would not lie to me. I started to think that MA was cheating on me. He denied most of it and told me that it was all in my head. There was one particular girl that was a year younger than us that seemed suspicious. He loved the attention from her and she openly snubbed me. It became this stupid battle my senior year...very immature. I tried to do as much as I could to make her life a little harder and she tried to do the same to me. I'm sure MA sat back and enjoyed it all.

To make a long story shorter, MA and I had an on again, off again relationship. We seemed to hate each other but couldn't stand to be without each other. I dated other guys but always stayed connected to MA. By this time, my parents had enough of MA and forbid me to see him anymore. I lied and still saw him. I think they knew better, but felt that as long as I was still dating other people, there was hope that I'd ditch him.

Funny thing: When I dated a lot and hung out with friends all the time, my parents would tell me that "this is not a damn hotel where you can come and go as you please". But when I stopped doing all that, they told me that I had to "get a life". Haha!

When I graduated high school, my parents pretty much let go of any restrictions I had. My dad said that I was 18 now and they had raised me the best they could. I could make my own mistakes now but I had to deal with the consequences. So with this new found freedom I lived it up! I probably went overboard with it at first. I partied with friends from high school and I partied with the people I worked with. I dated a lot of different guys. Some of them were a little more serious than others, but again, I'd always drift back to MA it seemed.

I did not go to college at the same time that most of my friends did. I continued to work and stayed in touch with friends from high school. I used to go to parties with my friends at work and then end up staying with friends from high school in their college apartments. I had a lot of fun, avoided trouble and had near misses with trouble! But I stayed away from "home" a lot. I was hardly ever there. I know that my mom had a break down during this point. I didn't know a lot about it because again, I wasn't really there.

Sometime during all of this, an incident occured with MA. A big, scary incident. One of the scariest and craziest moments of my entire life. MA had made new friends in college and one night he asked me to come party with them. They went to a house in town (not MA's) and we all drank and played cards. It was a lot of fun. MA got super drunk. He locked his keys in his truck. I had taken a seperate car and was not drunk, though I had drank a little. I didn't like beer so I had barely had any at all. MA was extremely agitated that he could not get into his truck. His friends and I tried to tell him that it didn't matter anyway - he shouldn't drive. I told him that I'd take him back to his dad's house if he would just let me and we'd get his keys (I figured that by the time we got there I could distract him and he'd pass right out). But he wasn't going to go with me. He contemplated smashing the window in his truck but then decided he'd walk the whole way home by walking up this one street which eventually took one out by the woods. He was then going to cut the whole way through the woods and somehow make it home. I was scared for his safety. Again, he was very drunk. It was very late at night and I didn't want him to get into trouble for underage drinking or anything else. I was afraid something might happen to him in the woods. So I followed him up the road trying to convince him to just let me give him a ride. We had gotten a good ways from the house (it was on another street by this point and way out of sight). MA got agitated with me for following him. He turned around and punched me right in the nose! I was lucky that I had tried to move and it was not a full blown contact. It made my nose bleed, but it could have been much worse. I panicked. I called his friend back at the house on my cell phone and told them they needed to come get him. I was crying a lot. They tried to get me to describe where we were, but they were not from town and it was hard trying to get them to the spot where we were. I kept walking after him (I don't know why). The guys hung up to come find us. MA turned around and tried to convince me that he didn't hit me. This was nothing new to me - he had many times flipped out and then told me that I imagined it or something else that made it my fault. So by this time we were up by my Aunt S and Uncle B's house. I thought of going there but it was so late and I didn't want to wake them up or freak them out. Right before their house and their neighbor's house was a telephone pole. Out of nowhere, I kid you not, this car comes plowing up the road and brushes my hip. I distinctly remember my hair being blown into my face. The car slammed right into the telephone pole. The guy in the car seemed momentarily knocked out. MA approached the car screaming at him, "You tried to kill my girlfriend! Get out of the fucking car! You just tried to kill my girlfriend!" I was in shock. The guy in the car seemed to come to. MA tried opening the door to get the guy out. The guy was trying to start his car. MA was still screaming and then tried to break the guy's window. Somehow the car started and the guy went down the road with his car falling apart and MA trying to chase him down. I was shaking so bad. People from across the road came out of their house and MA came back to get me. We walked over to the people and they were calling 911. MA was trying to convince them to leave us out of it, just to report that the guy had crashed and left. They saw me crying and shaking with blood on my nose and probably figured that this had happened from the accident. They told me to sit down and MA was pulling on my arm and yelling at me to come with him. He told the people that we'd both had too much to drink and didn't want to get into any trouble. Then we left. He made me run with him through back yards...I remember that much. It was so dark. I just kept saying "Oh my God, oh my God" over and over again. I felt like I was hyperventilating. So we made it out to a street and MA thought it was safe to move to the sidewalk again. We were headed back to our cars. One of his friends was still on the lookout for us and had ditched the rest of the crew that was searching for us in a car to see if he could find us in a different direction. He approached us and immediately pushed MA back. He started yelling, "Did you hit her?" Of course, there I am, a total wreck - I was just in shock from everything. MA wouldn't say anything. His friend looked at me and said, "Did he hit you?!" I said, "Yes..." and then started crying all over again. His friend punched MA in the face. MA didn't have much time to prepare for it, but MA probably had enough to drink that the punch didn't really seem to phase him at first. He was carrying a knife and pulled it out and swung at his friend. The friend turned around and began running (he was a bigger dude and MA was very athletic and in shape). MA chased him. I didn't know what to do. I felt like my legs were made of Jello. I yelled at MA to stop but they turned the corner and I couldn't see them any longer in the dark. I could hear his friend yelling. Then there was silence. So I found my way back to MA's friends' house, and saw five HUGE guys holding MA down in the front yard. MA was spewing nonsense things. Weird things. It was almost like he was possessed. He was talking about God and just really strange things. MA was not very tall or big (athletic and muscular, but still not anywhere near as big as the guys trying to hold him down). It was like he was full of superhuman strength. Some guy across the street yelled that he was going to call the cops if things didn't settle down. I went over to him and tried to calm him down but he was just going crazy. I pleaded with him. I said, "I need you right now, please, please, just pull it together and let's go..." One girl from the party screamed at him, "Can't you see what you've done to her, you bastard! Help her!" The guy he chased with a knife was unharmed. He told me that they were all going to go in and lock MA out of the house - if I wanted to stay I could. I just could not leave MA there like that. They let him go and ran into the house. He seemed rabid or something. He jumped up and ran after them but they beat him to the house. I was so scared. I was out there with him alone. He was beating on the door and screaming at them that he was going to kill them. The neighbor yelled that he was going to call the cops. MA looked up and yelled at me to get in my car. So we got in the car. He didn't say much. I drove him home. He was breathing very heavy and had this insane look on his face.

I got him to his dad's house and he went into the garage. His dad was not home. I can't remember if he went out of town on a business trip, but I remember his dad was not home. The garage was empty. It was attached to the house. Again, this house was out in the middle of the woods. The closest neighbor was not close at all. It was so dark. I got out of the car to make sure he could get in the house, I remember. He told me to come into the garage. I asked him to turn on the light. He didn't respond, but I could kind of make out his shadow in the corner. I started to panic. I yelled, "M-, turn on the light now!" He flipped on the light. He was holding a rifle. Just standing there, staring me down. I froze. I told him to put the gun down. He didn't say anything, but just kept staring at me. I said, "I just want to help you. Come on, you need to put the gun away." He told me to go in the house. I said, "Not until you put the gun away." I was incredibly afraid to turn my back on him. He put the gun down and held the door open. I told him to go in first but he would not move. So I went inside. I was trying to avoid any other confrontation. He came inside but didn't have the gun. I felt much better but was so tense. He didn't say a word but went upstairs. I thought he was going to his room. I waited. I didn't know what to do. I was really afraid for myself, but I was also afraid for him and his friends. I didn't want to leave without knowing what he was going to do next. I felt that at least I could warn his friends if he decided to do something stupid. So I went upstairs. His bedroom light was on, the door was closed. I said his name at the door, but he didn't say anything. I opened the door and went in. I didn't see him. He had his own bathroom connected to his room. I thought maybe he was in there. I sat down on the bed and waited. He came into the room from the main door and had a bottle of water in his hand. He threw it on me - my natural reaction was to recoil and jump back. I said, "Stop! What was that for?!" He gave me the weirdest look and said, "You shied away from holy water." I was shocked. I could not make sense of any of this. It seemed like a really bad dream. (MA had gotten "holy" water when he had made a trip to Italy the year before. He was very proud of his Catholic faith. I was not Catholic. He had made a big deal about this several times before.) I told him to stop acting this way and to lay down. He just stood there. I know it was a bold move, but I felt that I had nothing much to lose. I got up and took the bottle from his hand and set it on his headboard, then I tried to get him to lay down. He did. He was mumbling something about God and other things, but I thought he was going to pass out. I got up and turned the light off. I was still hesitant to leave, though I wanted to get the hell out of there. MA asked me to come over to him, he wanted to say something. I went over and he asked me to sit down. I did, and when I put my hand on the bed he grabbed my wrist tightly. I felt like my insides were going to explode, I was so tense. He had a light on his headboard and I reached up and turned it on. I'm glad I did. He had one of those big Rambo knives pointed right at me. I grabbed it - he did not fight me - and he let me go. I got up and sat in a chair opposite his bed. I held onto that knife and stared at him all the rest of the night. I did not sleep at all. He went to sleep quickly. I was so afraid to leave. Then in the morning, I thought after he had slept off the alcohol, he would be better. That wasn't so. He talked just as crazy as he did the night before but in an oddly calm way. He told me that he was going to go get his truck and his stuff. They would have to give him the stuff he left in the house. And then when they let him in, he'd kill them all. I said that I didn't think they'd let him in after last night. And he said then even if it took weeks, and he had to "apologize" to them, he would get close to them and then kill them. He was so crazy (and knowing his prior actions and reactions to things) that I believed him. I told him I had to leave to get ready for work and I'd talk to him later. He just laughed.

I was so freaked out. I called his friends and told them not to let him in, just to put his stuff outside on his truck. I told them everything he said. The one girl that was there that night worked for a battered women's shelter, and she thought that I should talk to someone there or file a police complaint. I then stopped at MB's apartment to tell her about it. I didn't know what to do...

I will write more on this later (I am exhausted!).

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

A Sort of Therapy: Part Two

Ok, so those are just the bad things that I remembered about my younger years! My parents were just doing what they thought was right with us. We were very well-mannered children. My parents taught us to be nice and not cause trouble. My mom used to read to us. She taught me how to write before I ever got to kindergarden. She would always pick me up something special when I was really sick. I remember she was going to the store one night and asked me if I wanted anything (I was about six or seven). I think she meant food wise - like popscicles or something that I would keep down. I said, "A Barbie doll!" And lo and behold, when she came back, there was my Barbie doll with her. My dad did baby me when I was sick too.

One weird thing about memories - I remember the strangest things. My mom used to get these debilitating migraines that were more like strokes in appearance. Needless to say, she'd be in bed for days, unable to take care of us or even herself. My dad would take over then. I remember him washing my hair at the sink. I loved that! He was very gentle and careful - my mom was more business and scrubbed my head. Ha! With my dad it was like getting a scalp massage. I remember my dad trying to scare us when we were watching scary movies (which was fun) and homemade nacho cheese dip that we could eat for supper!

Every two years we'd get a new bicycle for Christmas. We were still always surprised to find that bike by the Christmas tree. When we got older, those bikes became cars. We always had things to occupy us - stereos, toys, you name it. We did not go without. The only thing that my parents ever "skimped" on were clothes. I wore a lot of hand-me-downs and stuff that really wasn't for my age. I got made fun of in school for that! Brand names were also a thing that we had to buy ourselves once we were old enough to buy it.

As I got older, I became more defiant. My dad got hurt at work and retired early, and he was not used to being at home all the time with not much to do. To make matters worse, he had back surgery and the doctor put him on Prozac afterwards. The Prozac had a bad effect on him. At first we didn't know what was wrong. He became was a scary time. He was not himself. He would fly into raging fits. I hated being at home. I tried not to be as much as possible. Occasionally I would find myself yelling back at him after he spoke to my mom a certain way. My mom finally convinced him to see a doctor and they found out that the Prozac was having an adverse effect on him. Once he was off of it for awhile, he got better.

I had to grow up quickly. My parents were both ill, and there were always health problems. They were very strict. I wasn't allowed to go to the movies and never went until I was about 13 years old. I wasn't allowed to go to people's houses were there might be boys. I wasn't allowed to have a "boyfriend" when I was a young teenager. I didn't have friends over very often because my mom wanted a three day notice to scrub the house top to bottom (even though she scrubbed it top to bottom every day). We had moved by this point. My parents bought a brand new double wide that was beautiful - it did not look like a double wide at all. It had a deck out front with sliding glass doors and bay windows. My mom kept it looking like a show house. There were sweeper marks going one particular way in the light blue carpet that they had done the house in (they replaced the original). We had to make sure we didn't make too many footprints in the carpet (no lie!), or my mom would get upset. I remember her yelling at me because people were coming over and I had to walk on the area rug they had as not to make prints in the light blue carpet.

My dad and my mom both did not discuss sex or anything personal in front of us. When my mom got around to discussing "the facts of life" with me, we were alone and my mom was whispering to me about periods and whatnot! Ha! She was obviously very uncomfortable. My dad NEVER said anything to me about anything like that. Back then, I'd have been mortified if my mom would have ever mentioned anything about buying pads in front of him.

By the time I was allowed to drive, my parents both taught me but my dad ended up doing most of the teaching. My mom was too jumpy and made driving quite a challenge. One time they both rode in the car with me while I was learning and they both told me two different ways of doing things, then started arguing - at that point I pulled over and said I didn't care if I never drove again - I would never drive with them both in the car at the same time!

Even after they payed for me to go to Driver's Ed in the summer and I got my license, my mom wouldn't let me drive on my own. I had my brother's old car since I was 15. I would sit in it and occasionally they let me drive it going about 10 mph by myself just around the small trailer park (equipped with speed bumps) and back. Finally they decided that I would be good enough on my own. Their main reasons for getting me a car was so that I wouldn't have to ride with anyone else or ride with my teenage friends. I wasn't to drive any of my friends either.

My brother got away with a lot more than me. When I would bring this up, my mom would say, "Because he's a boy and you're a girl". However, I didn't do as much work as he did. My parents NEVER made me mow the lawn or expect me to get a job early on. I had to help clean the house now and again and do the dishes. That was pretty much it. My brother, S, did lots of outside work and got a job mowing lawns. He had to pay for the upkeep and gas on his car along with the insurance when he got one. I didn't at first. My parents took care of all that. My parents partly did that because I did really well in school. S didn't. We were definitely treated differently growing up.

I had a very small group of friends throughout elementary school and most of junior high. At least in the junior high I didn't get picked on as much. Every year someone thought I was "new". I was just very quiet. Then in ninth grade, I met a girl (MB) who got me to open up a little. We had a class together. One day I was walking to my locker and she yelled at me to wait up. MB said, "I don't want you to think I'm weird or anything, but you seem really nice. We should hang out sometime." I was quite taken aback by this. No one really took a great interest in me before! And now here is this girl, who seems like she has it all together, and she wants to hang out with me? Wow. If I had to classify her, which I really couldn't, she was a cross between a goth/skater/almost hippy. Hahaha! I started hanging out with her. She was very trustworthy. She brought up topics that I had often thought about but never could say easily. I came out of my shell a little, met more people, and felt like I finally belonged somewhere...

More on this later (motherhood calls)...

A Sort of Therapy: Part One

I have been trying to use this blog as a sort of therapy, I think. Writing has always helped me sort out my thoughts and express whatever I feel I need to, but I don't always fall back on it. EG thinks that I should write at least an hour a day! Ha! It seems like a lot but when I write passionately, time flies by. I guess it's not a ridiculous idea like I first thought. But that in no way means that I'm going to commit to that.

A little background on my mental history - I love how shady that sounds - I suffer from what has been diagnosed as "major depression". Many, many people suffer from this. I don't know what the majority of people think of it - either they think that it's not a big deal or that it's not taken seriously enough. I believe some of my problem is biological in nature and inherited, and my circumstances greatly affect this too.

Looking back, I'm sure I suffered from it long before I recognized that anything was "wrong". I was brought up to disguise my feelings - all I knew was really anger. Everything made me mad. That is how I guess I dealt with things. That seemed to be how my parents expressed their own emotions as well. We were not by any means a very lovey dovey family. I was the most affectionate of any of us, and my mom still doesn't know where I "got" that. Ha! Both she and my dad were raised in somewhat unaffectionate homes as well.

Before I go any further with this - I want to make something very clear. I do not want to censor myself with this - if you "know" me and are directly involved in my life and don't like some of the things that I say, that is ok, but I don't want to hear about it. I am entitled to my feelings, just like you are, and this is MY blog. These are MY thoughts. I am not going to write things down to make you feel better about yourself. This is for ME. So if you are a family member, friend, whoever - and you feel what I write is shocking, scandolous, or wrong and want to go tell the rest of the family or whatever, go ahead, but it does not change anything. These are the things that I saw, what I recall, and it is not meant to hurt, embarrass, or anything else that you might find "wrong"; it is meant to help me. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Ok, with that said, when I was younger, I didn't perceive anything as wrong or different with my family. That's how it was, and that's how I was raised. My mom stayed at home with us for the most part, and my dad worked ALL the time. I didn't see him that often. When I did, we were to be quiet, because he was tired from working and needed peace and quiet. I didn't feel that he was that approachable, partly because of what my mom had warned us about (to be quiet and to leave him alone) and partly because he was never really that talkative or involved with us (to clarify for those that don't know me all too well - my brother is six years older than me. I was the "baby").

Up until I started school at age 5, I was only really exposed to family and some of the people that my dad worked with. I was with my mom all day and never went to a daycare. I never went to preschool. I didn't have a babysitter. The only time I was with someone else was when I stayed with my Grandma (my mom's mother) or with an aunt who had cousins that I played with. My parents both drank (my dad more so than my mom - she only seemed to be a social drinker) and my dad was a heavy smoker. I was ill a lot. I do believe a part of it was because of the smoking (I had multiple ear infections and had respiratory problems). My parents would have parties and invite their close friends over (usually people that my dad worked with). My dad would get pretty drunk and would pass out with a smile on his face. He was never a violent drunk. He always seemed his happiest then. He would dance with me and laugh at all my comments. He always seemed the most approachable when he was around his friends too. My mom would admittedly get annoyed at his drunken state.

We by no means had a lot of money. I know that we lived in a few rented homes but my dad bought us a trailer home to live in when I was about 4 years old. I remember the first time I saw was used and I remember seeing the living room first and there was a mattress laying against the wall because the owner was moving out. We lived in it in a small trailer park. My parents, were both very clean people. Our house always looked nice and our cars were always kept decent. My dad put a lot of money into various cars that we had. It was like a hobby to him. My mom was into Home Interior decorating and ordered from Avon all the time. We always had nice Christmases. My mom always wore really nice clothes (dress suits). She was always complimented on how nice she looked. But we never went on family vacations or outings. We did go out to eat a lot...every weekend I think.

When I started school, I was extremely shy. I had never really been around other kids other than my cousins. I became exposed to a variety of kids, races, different family dynamics. I met my best friend, who lived in a nice house about a mile down the road from where I lived (I will call her Boo). Her family was a lot like mine. Her parents worked all the time and were not overly affectionate people. She had a younger sister that was very close in age to her. I spent a lot of time with her at their house when I was allowed, I recall.

I think I led an otherwise "normal" childhood. My brother and I were not overly close, probably because of the age difference. He teased me a lot! My dad stopped drinking and smoking altogether when I was about eight years old, I think it was for mainly health reasons. He didn't hang out with his old friends as much but still worked as hard as ever. My mom tried to work the opposite shift as my dad for awhile, but it wasn't very long until she got hurt at work and couldn't work anymore.

My parents fought a lot about finances. I remember accusations being flung (I won't get into detail and I won't say who they came from and who they wear directed at). Sometimes they would try to involve me - they would ask me who said what and if the other one was wrong or did they say this or blah blah blah. If I picked my dad's "side", my mom wouldn't speak to me for awhile. If I picked my mom's side, I felt like I was pushing my dad (who I wasn't close to anyway but adored) even further away. My brother was old enough by this point to leave the house and go hang out with friends. He could escape. I couldn't. I do remember thinking that my mom started a lot of the fights and I hated that. I wished she would just not say anything. You could always tell if it was going to be one of those days. She would get angry over very little and before you knew it, it went from point A to point M in rapid succession, if you know what I mean. It just got all out of proportion. Even when my brother or I would get into trouble (and nothing serious, we were pretty good kids), my mom would get angry and then tell us to wait until Dad got home. She would steam and then make an even bigger deal about it to my Dad, and then he was tired from working all day and yelled at us...then my mom would add more fuel to the fire when things started to cool off just to get us into trouble all over again. Now I know that she suffered from depression too but never knew what was wrong with herself. She was a perfectionist in every sense of the word - and she would easily freak out over the littlest thing.

I think all of this made me really anxious. I was always a little on the tense side. Jumpy, I guess would be a better word. I did really well in school and life went on. Occasionally there would be my mom's threat to leave, I would panic and beg her not to go. She might leave for a drive or my dad might, but they always stayed together. It was an all too common cycle. I didn't know if this was normal or not, and there was no one to ask. I just hated the arguments...and I see now that I learned a lot of my behavior from these incidents.

Other things that I was raised to believe even though they may be wrong - as my parents were not really affectionate, and they had been raised by parents who were the same way, I was only allowed to do things until a certain age. Let me explain: it was no longer acceptable to call my parents "Mommy" or "Daddy" by the time I was a certain age. I'm not sure when this age was, but I'm thinking that it was by the time I entered the third grade. I had to call them "Mom" and "Dad". My dad used and mom used to have pet names for me, which promptly stopped around this time, save for a few of them. I wasn't supposed to hold my dad's hand any more, and I wasn't supposed to "hang" on them. That left residual effects on me, I suppose. When I hear someone call their dad "Daddy" and they are my age, or even a teenager, I feel disgusted, like it is all wrong. I felt the same way when I saw someone holding their teenage daughters hand. Maybe there are limits to things, and maybe there aren't - my view was clouded by parents that thought these things had "dirty" connotations to them and I guess I feel uncomfortable with that too - even though it is probably all in innocense.

This is getting so long! I will write more later...

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

A Little Sad

I checked the mail today and got a free Luvs diaper in the mail. It was a size 1 - it would have been for our lost baby. When you get pregnant, the doctor's office has you fill out a thing that they send in to different companies who then send you free stuff when the baby arrives. I knew it was for that baby because they sent a coupon with it that expires before the next baby will be born, and the new baby would be starting into size 1 diapers about now. Made me a little sad...we bought a onesie for Christmas for that baby and now we have this diaper. Sure, I could just let the new baby wear it...but it still makes me feel like I shouldn't. I don't know, I guess it's weird and not a big deal. I have nothing from that baby - I guess I feel like I should keep what little I had for it in memory of it. We'll see.

A Change

I decided to change the layout of my blog because I was tired of the old one. I changed my song list too - I only wanted songs on here that seemed directly related to my life or whatever...I don't think it was quite appropriate to have Trent Reznor yelling at my visitors telling them that he wanted to do something naughty to them in a very basic instintual way. Hahaha!

Karlee is quite strong. Yesterday she went into the kitchen and grabbed the new bag of cat food (it's 3.5 lbs) and brought it into the livingroom. She sat down with it and pointed to the cat on the front, and then said where it's nose, eyes, mouth, and ears were. She then proceeded to make kissing noises at it. She's so cute! Today she managed to drag a laundry basket with a heavy queen size comforter in it a few feet and lay down in it. Normally we try to keep her out of things like that but she is just too cute for me to say no! She's not hurting anything anyway.

Little baby girl is getting stronger too. Her kicks are more noticeable - pretty soon I think I'll start to see my belly jumping around. She is very low - it puts a lot of pressure on my pelvis and bladder. I have been trying to picture life with two small children (babies, really). Sometimes I can picture it and then other times I feel scared!

I am starting to get anxious to go back to work too. I miss having extra money and being out of the house. I am wondering if having a second baby will change my feelings. With Karlee I was extremely protective - no one, not even a daycare, could watch her like I could! I'm wondering if the second time around if I'll loosen up a bit.

I'm in need of another makeover. I need to call EG's niece sometime when we have a little bit of extra money (haha!) to do my hair. It is getting long and unruly.

The day is already halfways over and I haven't eaten yet. I'm starving! Time to go find something to eat...

Thursday, July 23, 2009


I made a memorial on for the baby that we lost last November. EG's niece had a baby right after our little baby would have arrived (it's due date was June 17, 2009) and she and her husband brought the kids over and the new baby so we could all visit. It was bittersweet. Made me realize how much I am really not over the loss of our second child.

One thing about having a missed miscarriage and then having the surgery to follow is that you have nothing to remember your baby by. There is nothing to see, nothing to hold. You don't even know the gender of the baby. Our baby had died two weeks before I had the surgery, so it had shrunken up quite a there wasn't even much that could be seen on the ultrasound (which is how I knew something was wrong). There was nothing for us to even bury...everything that they took out of me was indistinguishable by that point and they sent it away for testing.

To me, life starts at conception. We had our baby with us for 10 weeks - 8 weeks of those 10, it was alive. We had our hopes and dreams for that baby. We loved it from the second we found out that we were pregnant. However tiny, that baby was still a baby to us. It was our baby.

I created the memorial to remember this little individual that impacted my life so greatly. I don't have a place to visit, or a lock of hair to hold. There are no pictures...just a memory and a lot of grief and sorrow. I just wanted something - anything, instead of letting it all go like it never happened.

I am so happy about this baby that we are having now. Every baby is special to me. No baby can be replaced...

My mom wrote a little note on the memorial site for the baby. She called it "Angel". She also told me in an email that my baby is in heaven where no sadness will ever touch it's face. How I tear up over that! But she is right - someday I will get to meet my baby.

Monday, July 20, 2009

The Joys of Motherhood

I am exhausted! I feel like I'm physically falling apart! The past few nights have been terrible sleeping wise. My legs cramp up and even my shoulders hurt and I have to change positions frequently. Then I have to pee. Then I can't breathe (swollen nasal membranes - thank you pregnancy hormones!). By the time I'm supposed to be getting up I'm ready for bed! :)

On Mondays I like to clean because I don't have homework and I guess it has just become a ritual for me. So I got up, reluctantly, and took my first step - IMMEDIATE PAIN! Ugh. Looks like I can't escape sciatica this time either. With Karlee it was my left side. Today it was my right side. We shall see how this is going to go (hopefully it will go away!).

What else can I complain about? My morning sickness. Ha! Yeah, it seems to have picked up again and I can feel it through my medication. Blah. Would you believe that the other night I threw up? I thought those days were gone (thanks to my medicine). Oh well...

On a better note, I am looking very pregnant and I haven't gained any weight in the last month (which is good for me). I love feeling this little girl kick and move. I like to talk to her when she moves - I am happy that she is awake and can hear me. That is amazing to me! I am starting to feel the need to come up with a name so I can speak to her with her name instead of "Baby" or "Little girl". EG and I both like Nadya, but we haven't really decided on that yet (or I haven't- LOL). I want to avoid any names that end in the "e" sound - hence KarlEE, AshlEY, EG, and even the cat - KellY.

Karlee is doing really well. She almost has a full set of teeth. The ones that are coming in now are bothering her somewhat. Last night she was trying to say "duck". She has a rubber ducky that squirts water for her bath, and EG taught her "duck" pretty quickly. She has been working on saying "mouth". She picked up "Thank You" really well - we must just say it a lot and she picked up on that. It's funny though - sometimes she uses it inappropriately. If I tell her to get out of something, sometimes she'll say, "Thank You". Hahaha! She still has been throwing fits every now and again but I guess that's to be expected. She has started hitting things or grabbing things and I'm trying to teach her the word "mad" so she can maybe talk things out, but that's going to take awhile.

Well, I guess that's it for now...I just felt like writing a little!

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

It's Been Awhile!!

Well, after forgetting my username and finally figuring out what it was, I could finally access my blog. I was thinking of writing an entirely new one but decided against it.

What is new? Well, EG and I are expecting a baby in November! :) Yay! We found out through an amniocentesis that this is another little girl, and we are very happy to report that she is healthy too. She is an active little girl! I love feeling her move and kick. I'm about 21 weeks along - the first half seemed to drag out (due to all the sickness I'd been feeling), but now that medication has me pretty much all straightened out, the time seems to be flying. We have not picked out a name for her yet. We had a name for a boy, of course, but EG is a female producer...we should have known better! :)

June 17th came and went - the due date for the baby that we lost. That day I had an OB appointment for this baby and got to hear the heartbeat. It was reassuring but a little sad at the same time. I have a hard time talking about that pregnancy...and it is very true that one baby doesn't replace another. They are each individuals to me and I still mourn the loss of my baby. I was a little sad that no one remembered the day. But I didn't bring it up.

Karlee is growing up so fast! She's almost 19 months old already. She does have a few words that we can understand and a whole phrase or two too! She says, "I love you" and "Good girl". I thought that she said, "I do it" but I'm not sure about that. She says, "Mama", "Dad", "Dada", "NumNas" (food), "No", "Yeah", "Toe", "Nose", "Eye", "Puppy", "Hi", "Bye", "SpongeBob", and "Pretties" (for things she's not supposed to touch). She tries to say other things (like her name and "kitty") but we're working on those. I was a little worried about her being behind in her speech but she does try and that's good enough for me for now.

I bought a new potty chair on ebay last week that arrived today. I don't expect Karlee to pick up on potty training right away, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to try anyway. She looked at it and seemed more interested in the papers that came with it. She also wanted to take the potty part out but then she threw a fit (it was naptime) and I had to put her in her bed before she could look at it any further.

I am still in school but my 4.0 is in danger! I am taking a math class (I hate math!) that is dragging me close to a B. Oh well. I guess I couldn't stay on top forever!

EG is working hard as usual. We got to visit my parents over the 4th of July weekend which was nice. I took him to Marion Center Speedway (I have not been there for at least ten years!) on the night of the 4th. I joked and told him I was making him a "redneck for a night". I was really worried that he wouldn't like it and would be bored. But we had a lot of fun and he said he'd like to go again sometime. We got there an hour late and had to sit near the bottom closest to the track, so we were covered in dirt! We rooted for people we didn't know based on the look of their car and the number. :) I got to see my Uncle Larry for awhile too - we sat beside him for a good part of the races.

That weekend we also visited the graves of some of my relatives. We visited my cousin Jr's grave first. I had not been to visit his grave yet. I was a little hesitant to do so. He is no longer with us due to suicide, and I had a lot of anger over it I guess. He died 6 days before Karlee was born. Everytime I thought of him I would get upset or feel angry, I guess. I just have a hard time coping with his passing. I am not sure what to think of it. My therapist has tried to work with me over him...I have a hard time accepting his death. I mean, a lot of it has to do with the suicide itself. It is a very personal thing - my views and thoughts on it. When he did it, how he did it, and where he did it all have to do with my feelings over it. I think he was sick, and I don't think he really knew what he was doing in some ways. In other ways I think: he was a hunter - he knew what damage he would be doing to himself, that there would be no chance, that his mom would find him, there was no note...ugh, it was just terrible. My brother and him were very similar in a lot of ways, and that affected me too. Also, it was so hard...there my aunt had just lost her son and was calling me to congratulate me on the birth of my daughter. I think that was just horrible - she should not have had to do this...but then I think of the guy that I remember as my cousin...and how we all miss him more than he'd ever realize. Anyway, I decided that it was time to go, so we bought a few little things to put out at his site (which was hard to find something I thought would be appropriate too). While I was there I just felt sorry for him...that he never found the help that he needed. I looked at all the things that people had put out at his grave and thought maybe we should have given him these things while he was still with us...there were so many mixed emotions. I took some pictures and turned to leave, which is when I became a little more emotional. I hate goodbyes. It was long overdue.

So then we went out to my aunt Donna's site. I'd been there once before. We placed a decoration there but I didn't feel like she was there. I remember her laughter and her happiness...she just seemed too full of spirit to be there in the ground. I know it sounds weird, but that is just how I felt. Like she had too much life to stop there. I teared up as I was leaving there too, but I didn't feel quite as sad as I used to when I thought of her.

Lastly, we went out to see my Grandpap's grave. He had finally gotten his headstone, which was nice. There still isn't any grass growing over his grave. I noticed that a lot of other people's headstones had the same type of decoration that we had bought for him, and I joked to him that now he was in the "in crowd". I think he would have thought that was funny. I felt pressed for time because my mom had come with us and was sitting with Karlee in the van. I wanted to just sit down there beside him for awhile. I did not want to leave him - I always feel like he is alone, and I don't know why but I don't want to leave. So when I had to walk away I kind of choked up. I think of him EVERY day, and I wonder if I'll ever forget his voice, or his smile, or anything about him. I hope not. I want him to be with me always. I am crying just at the thought of forgetting anything about him.

OH MY! ....

So anyway, we visited briefly with Grandma Fulmer, who was in the hospital, and Grandma Carley. It is hard-hitting when you have not seen someone in awhile and then you see all the changes in them once you do. My Grandma Carley is in her 90s, and it was hard to see her not getting around like she used to do. Then Grandma Fulmer - in and out of the hospital so much - yet she is still fighting. My mom tells me all of the things that she forgets, imagines, or says now and it makes me sad. I laugh at some of it, but if I didn't I would feel really bad. They are huge parts of my childhood that seem to be slipping away.

Well, my intentions for this post were not to make me sad but it seems that they have! Overall it has been a weird day with some things that I can't yet mention until things are cleared up or straightened out, but I thought writing would take some of the stress off from some of my other thoughts. Oh well...