If I don't keep up w/ the life journal, I'll start forgetting where I left off. It's Easter yall. I'll have pics to come but right now I'm home from M's aunt's, in my pjs and relaxing while the kids play at the neighbor's house. This is one reason I'm never moving. We have the girls across the street and we also have my new babysitter, Lauren, two houses down, hello- how awesome is that! Aston Drive might as well be paved w/ gold. I don't even have my windows open and I can hear the girls squealing and laughing. We have a great Easter, I promise pics to come.
The pic above is me, seventh grade w/ my bff at the time, Melissa. We were joined at the hips. I would say she was my first real best friend, as real as can be at age 12-14. After living in Hurst for about a year, my mom moved us again to Euless (which is where I met Melissa). We lived there for 2+ years. Oddly I do not really recall any boyfriends living there, maybe the occasional overnighter. I have either blocked something out or I'm getting old. We lived in an all bills paid apt. It wasn't bad, somewhat nice even. She was doing her best. She went to school part time at TCJC and cleaned houses on the side. For the most part, her life was under control. She wasn't abusing alcohol except for the occasional relasp. I lived up at the AA meetings w/ her. Sometimes I went to the Alateen meetings they held. Due to continued fighting w/ her, she had me in counseling and seeing a psychiatrist- who was a big wierdo, asked me if I ever saw pink elephants. Like when dude? At the circus? Maybe. In my living room, NO. This moron put me on prozac. My mom not knowing any better figured mental illness was contagious and that I couldn't just be a product of my environment, I had to be depressed. Well, bad idea, the prozac. Did you know that if you put a person, well, even moreso, a child on an antidepressant who does not need it, that they will be unable to feel ANY emotion. Thus begins a year of hell personally for me. The whole dating boys and not feeling anything but numbness, bad idea. I didn't care about myself or them or my mother or my father or anyone. I let myself be taken advantage of and abused. I let my first boyfriend beat me up, on more than one occasion. I shoplifted more than once. I got caught and taken to Hurst Police station. Any time I did it, I was w/ the wrong crowd, and didn't want to be the only one not doing it. On prozac I could not factor in the consequences of anything. Nothing happened at police station. My mom came and got me. I thought she'd beat my arse but she didn't. Finally, I heard her tell her new boyfriend Ken, who was staying w/ us, "we gotta get Candice out of Euless, this place is bad news, this isn't her, lets go look for houses in Ft Worth" I was in pain. I had never mended from the divorce, the alcoholism, my mother's painful mental illness that wasn't going away. I was broken. I wanted her undivided love and attention and I felt I got leftovers. One day she asked what was on my arm and I said nothing. I had scraped it up w/ a kitchen utensil. It sounds whacky but if you knew how badly I wanted to be seen.......then you'd see my frustration........the straight A's weren't working, raising my sister for her wasn't working, doing chores and keeping our home tidy w/o being told wasn't working. I wanted NO ONE, just my mom. I used to lie in bed fuming anger from my head when she'd leave us home alone most of the night. It might have not been to drink but it was something besides being w/ us. I acted out. I don't know if this was typical or not, but if you have ever been in pain and no one noticed, and you were too young to know how to handle those kind of emotions, you'd see any acting out is a direct result of that kind of neglect. It is like I loved her so much that I hated her, and myself for loving her that much. I mean what do you do w/ a mom who is in pain too, who maybe doesn't have the love to give away to others. She loved us, of course, but she was never a whole person, always pieces and bits chipping off.
Well, by the time I started 8th grade, after 2 years in Euless, we were living w/ mom and her boyfriend in Fort Worth. I was going to a school w/ all my old FT W friends and my mom was right - it was a good move And we never pursued keeping me on medication. She saw what a difference a new location made. By this time she was in TCU nursing school, I didn't mind her boyfriend, I was being well provided for, fighting less w/ my mom, and starting to enjoy being a teen. I went to football games w/ the girls. I met Katy, my still current very very good friend! and life was good. (for a while)The years between 13 and 15 end up being the worst ever. I'm not sure I should even put them down. Maybe I just give it a paragraph or two and not fully go in to everything. It's horrible and I've spent every year since healing from that time period (aside from mother's death when I was 19). What I do like to point out is that the years leading up to the 13-15 weren't SO bad. Some of it is pretty typical of any child from a broken home. It's like come to find out, those were the good years, really.
I'll give it a week or so before I write about what happens next. After that, I get to start writing about the good times, starting at age 15, when I got adopted by my sweet aunt and uncle in Arlington, how piece by piece they helped put me back together. I want to get to the good stuff, like the inside of a twinkie. Then the evenier yummier stuff, college, marriage, my babies and bring it all to current times. My kids will have this journal to read one day. They will see how cool it is to be an overcomer. When you believe something, you see it. We have the ability and potential to be such great beings. I never EVER wanted to be a lost cause. Everyday I am happy to just be alive. I come from a dark place but I am so full of light and happiness. Judging from my smile, I don't think anyone would believe my 'stories' ha!
Closing now........chores are calling.......
