Monday, January 2, 2012

My Problems with Alcohol: Growing up - Part two

A nice lady heard heard my whimpering in the middle of the night and lovingly invited me into her home.  For that short moment of being with her, I felt safe; it didn't matter that she was a complete stranger. There was so much kindness in her eyes and the way she spoke. She immediately called the police once she discovered my head injuries. Law enforcement arrived and they actually drove me back home to speak with my mother; I pleaded with them not to bring me back to her but the laws required that they attempt to "reconcile".

I had tried reporting her to child protective services before; little good that did me - it just got me in bigger trouble with my mother once she found out I was the reason they visited our home. Whip marks on my back, going to school; I hated changing clothes for PE. Having my hair chopped off out of anger, hair crooked and uneven with a thin rat tail in the back of my head, the day before picture day. The kids in school had a field day with me. I actually got in a fight and some boy pulled that rat tail out of my head during the fight - OUCH! The system failed to protect me. Their brilliant idea was to question me in front of my mother of whether or not I felt abused.  I didn't have courage to say yes with her sitting near me.

While I was in the back of the police car, I got as far down on the floor as I could to hide.  I was afraid she would see me and finish me off. Thankfully, the police thought she was not in any stable condition to be reasoned with and drove me away.  They took me to the hospital to literally have my head checked; I suffered a lot of trauma to my head.  I remember the look the doctor gave me. He was surprised I was still coherent. This was finally my ticket out of her care and into the system of foster care, juvenile detention and a group home - Disneyland compared to where I was.

I really was a good kid.  By good, I mean, I didn't do things that rebellious kids do.  Good grades, no drugs, no alcohol, no sex, respectful - nothing out of the ordinary.  I did get caught shop lifting because I was trying to win over some school friends of mine. That fear I carried kept me in check for the most part; I was always thinking about consequences.

One of the most humiliating things I experienced was having my legs and arms chained like some kind of an animal when I resided in juvenile detention.  Trips to and from court, I was cuffed.  My mother kindly reminded me how ridiculous I looked when she would see me in court.  She tried to convince the system that I was a defiant kid and so that prompted a series of psych evals. My wish was that the courts would just sever the relationship between my mother and I.   

I had enough.  I just wanted to be anywhere but home.

News came that my father was found! I was asked if I wanted to go live with him.  My parents divorced when I was really young - I haven't seen him since.  Actually, I do remember a time when he found me after my mother took me away. She made sure I did everything I could to break his heart. The time after that, when my father would try and send me gifts, I was forced to write him nasty letters and send the gifts back.  It killed me to do these things to him, because it wasn't how I felt.  I was Daddy's little girl, so I was told, despite his problems with my mother.  I figured living with him had to be better than this right? Or was it?


***These things I am saying about my mother is NOT the person she is now; she is completely different.  Hurting people, hurt people. There was definitely a lot of hurt and pain that she had heal from - that she is still healing from. ***

1 comment:

  1. This is fascinating reading. scary, humbling, angering, heart-wrenching, and important. i'm glad you're sharing and can't wait for the next update. God bless you sister and your courage for writing this out.

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