This is my story..... I have to take a deep breath before I allow myself to start typing. Maybe I'll start simple. My parents met each other in college. I wouldn't say they were in love but they ended up getting married in August of 82. Just a few months later, in December, I was brought into this world. I was instantly a daddy's girl. My dad was a Marine and after his discharge, he joined the guards, and he worked on the road in the family construction company. He wasn't home every day but when he came home I was glued to him. I am an only child of both of my parents and it shows by how close I am with my father. A few years after I was born they divorced, as things weren't great between them.
Now fast forward to the summer when I was 6. My cousin, who is 9 1/2 months younger than me, was having to go stay at his dad's house. His parents were divorced too. Anyways, he wanted me to stay with him because we were close. My mom said okay and went out with her boyfriend for the night. And that night my life was never the same. I went through 12 hours of hell and am only alive because of my cousin. I'm not going into details, as I don't feel like ripping that band-aid off to relive that pain and nightmare, but you can about imagine.
I remember when the cops finally got there I was so scared and crying. One of the officers was trying to get me to the ambulance and I was scream bloody murder. My aunt showed up, my cousins mom, and held me. The officer took his dark blue button up shirt off and put it around me. My aunt said she would take me to the hospital but wanted to find my mom. The cop followed us, I guess to make sure we went to the hospital. We found my mom and her boyfriend outside of a bar. I blacked out or my mind just won't let me remember if they got in the vehicle or what.
The next thing I remember is at the hospital both my grandfathers having to help hold me down and tears running down their face. The doctors were trying their best to be gentle but nothing seemed to be gentle. I remember the anger in my family's eyes and voices. I first thought I did something wrong and it took months for me to realize it wasn't my fault. They tried to send me to counseling but I hated the lady who wanted me to relive it, so I stopped going after a couple of sessions. When I finally met with my lawyer, she was nice and I opened up to her and told her everything. She made sure I was safe when in the office with her. I remember when the trial started I didn't have to be there as they recorded me and her talking. I didn't have to go to the trial, I think it was a mix of my age and the trauma they wanted to avoid it causing. They had my mother there to speak on my behalf. I have the court papers but have only skimmed threw them so I'm not sure if she had to go over everything that happened or just had to be there on my behalf. After that things seemed to go down for my mom; she drank more.
I guess I kinda skipped that from the divorce my mom got custody of me, as my dad thought it was for the best since he was on the road so much and felt I deserved to be with an at home parent more. Now don't get me wrong, my mom was a good mom. There were just a lot of memories of her drinking or what happened when she had been drinking. I remember the one time her and her boyfriend (at the time) had gotten into a fight over something and she ended up cutting herself after he left. The next day I cleaned the mess off of the floor boards and wall. It was never talked about again.
Sometimes I did feel like her drinking was more important than me. I never could talk with her about it because it would turn into a screaming match. A lot of the time I felt truly that she didn't love me or hated the fact I was alive. If she had a bad day and cleaning needed to be done she would yell at me and say things that hurt deeply. Still to this day I can't stand being called a princess or anything like that. And if I would cry she would make comments. I have always been on the plus size. She would tell me all the time about dieting and walking and say we were gonna do it together because she was on the plus size as well but it wouldn't last long and never did go walking. Still after all these years she makes comments about my size... even though she's gotten bigger. I still feel as if she doesn't want me as her daughter. There were times I could tell she loved me. When I had surgery she was there and wouldn't leave my side.
I never could wait to move away, so when I got the chance I moved to Nebraska. I was only there a year and had to come back due to messing up my ankle. It seemed to be going okay but there was always those moments she would pick on me or make comments to me.
I met my husband and things moved pretty quickly with him. We started dating on May 29th and by Middle of July were living together. I'm thankful for him. My mother didn't always like him because she kept saying he was taking me away from her. But that wasn't the case. He and I moved to his home town. We weren't happy being in that town. I couldn't find a job like I had in my hometown and he hated the town. The only good part was we were able to have his daughter 4 days a week, as we were in the same town as her.
We moved back to my hometown and lived in a crappy trailer but we were able to get good jobs were doing better for ourselves. We ended up buying a trailer to get out of the crappy one that we were renting. This one isn't anything special, but it's ours. My stepdaughter has her own room here; even if she doesn't use it, she still has it and I always to make sure to buy clothes in her size so there are always new clothes for her waiting.
We got married in 2012 and it hasn't always been a bed of roses but I wouldn't trade him for anyone. He completes me. We have our fair share of heartbreaks. The biggest being the miscarriage of our Angel. That happened on 2/14/16. We had being trying to conceive and when we stopped and weren't thinking about it we had a miracle happen. Even though it was taken away from us we still have hope of having one. Granted I have almost let go of that hope and have toyed around with the idea of letting go completely but neither of us are able altogether to let it go. But since the miscarriage it is harder to not think about getting pregnant. We have been together 12 years now and he understands I have anxiety and depression, but sometimes he doesn't know how to help or what to do to help. In all honesty sometimes there is nothing he can do but to just let me cry and throw my fit and throw things.
This blog is a start to express all of this and to follow my journey.
I know I have skipped a lot but didn't figure I had to go year by year. Just thought get the basics out there to better understand me might help. Things will start to fill in as time goes on.
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