I remember when I was little and living with my mom. I was the happiest person in the world. I was young, happy and imaginative.
Then, when I was 7 years old, my mom died, leaving me to go live with my dad. Things were great. I felt so comfortable with my dad; that is until I got older and he got married.
I started noticing changes in my dad's voice and the way he talked to me. It all changed. I thought it was me at first and blamed everything on me all the time. I learned slowly but surely that it wasn't me. It really was him.
I remember when I got to junior high school, and I met my best friend Aimee, she helped me through so much but we always got into so much trouble when we were together. It would be over silly stuff sometimes but more serious when we ran away. We were only gone for about 4 days, but it never once hit me to come beck and try to work things out. Eventually we did get caught and were'nt allowed to hang out anymore.
That summer, I moved in with my other friend, Tia, and at first my dad didn't want me to. He said I didn't deserve to live anywhere else. (That sort of sounds like a punishment in a way, but that's simply how he stated it.) I ended up living with her throghout the summer and then still lived with her throughout my junior year in high school.
I was so happy. Her mom treated me as if I were her own, and she is the reason I have the career choice I do today. Her mom did everything for me. She bought my school clothes, she fed me, gave me a bed to sleep on. I spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with them. I could not have been happier inside and out.
Then my dad called one day out of the blue and told me he wanted me to move back home. I tried so hard to fight it. We even took it as far as calling the police, but there was nothing we could do about anything. I moved back in with him, and my world changed. I found myself crying all the time. I would find myself mad over the smallest things and just throwing things when i did'nt know how to handle a problem. And, most of all, I always found myself being yelled at and put down.
It's one thing to get in a fight with a friend and get put down, but to hear the person who helped bring you in this world mutter the words "I hate you" was the worst feeling I've ever felt in my life. My dad would always say that "kids can't have stress" or "ya'll are too young to have problems" or "I can't wait 'til ya'll move out and don't come back." I remember nights that he kicked out my brother and and his child onto the streets at one in the morning with no where to go. I started to feel like no one could understand me.
My stepdad (who was my mom's husband before she died) wanted custody. By this time, I was senior in high school, and gosh, so ready to graduate and I was one month away form being 18. My dad said that he didn't care if I left so, of course, I had already packed my things and was ready to go when the 29th of November hit. Then my dad said he wouldn't sign me over to my stepdad, and the school had a rule that you have to stay with your legal guardian until you graduate.
That left me with one choice and that was to quit school. I had a gut feeling that I wouldn't regret it and felt more than confident when the head superintendent agreed with me on my decision. My dad tried so hard to get in my way, but I was fed up. I couldn't take anymore crying and the headaches and the not sleeping at nights for days and days. He put me through enough as is. I couldn't do it.
At the same time, the guy that I will always claim as my first love was through with me, and the thought about him leaving just made me sick to my stomach. Four years and now it was all down the drain. And I had my future planned out. My dad's goal was to ruin it.
As I am writing this, I am in school. I stumbled upon this Web site while I was browsing over life stories to see if could relate to any. I am in the process of quitting school in a few more days and I am going to get my GED. Then I will be attending junior college for two years and then transferring to Troy State for my business degree.
I would never in my life advise anyone to quit school. I look at my senior class every day and cry, but I've thought out my plan and I've calmed myself down and as one young lady said, seeing a counselor really does help. It does.
Anxiety can happen to anyone. I promise. I am your regular 17-year-old teen. I attend a regular high school. I am active in clubs and participate in activities. I worked hard for my position as a senior.
I want you guys to know that sometimes you have to give up one thing to get another, but don't look at it as your downfall. It's your life and nobody makes it but you!
