I love the way people look at me. Especially when they judge me shortly after. Theres something about it that has me amazed. Maybe it’s the proof that you never know someone and that sometimes, outside colors lie.
I had the “wealthy” family as some would say. My parents were no longer together, but neither struggled. Oh, I wanted that shirt? It was mine. That purse? It was mine. A new pair of shoes that I knew I’d never wear? I got it. As a matter of fact, I had two bedrooms, a bedroom that was a walk in closet with one wall only for shoes, a half of another wall with a mirror, vanity, and filled with accessories. The rest was all clothes. Clothes with tags on it, never worn, never touched. It never hurt our “budget”. I had two cars, an Eclipse that I would go out and street race and a Honda Civic just for daily driving. Let me remind you, I was 13 years old… and had both cars by 17; and this was my life. The perfect things that everyone seen. My Honda Civic is actually how I got the nickname Barbie. The dash was hot pink and black and “Barbie” decals were on the windows. Everyone knew me. I was the beautiful sweetheart. I modeled for years and was a competitor dancer for hiphop and jazz. I played the piano for many years and sang for a few. If I spoke about it, everyone would see what I wanted ;the perfect life.
What they didn’t see was behind closed doors. My entire life was a struggle for me. I was the black sheep in the family of doctors, nurses, business owners, and lawyers. I never followed the foot steps that I was taught to. I ended up going my own way and let’s just say, my way sucks.
Parties were my life. 13 and my life was partying. Others did my school work for me because they knew I wasn’t going to. They couldn’t imagine to see me fail that bad. Hell, I got offered 100.00 per test that I passed. I did not care. Drugs, sex, parties, illegally racing, fighting… it was me. It was all me!
I had one friend. Taylor. The rest were just people, I guess you could say. She didn’t turn down the path I did, but she stayed at the turn that I made the left instead of the right. She stayed there for years, crying and yelling my name it was like. We would have plans and I’d never show up. I was busy doing lines. Not remembering about our sleep over date. Someone just blinked at me! I don’t have time to show up at my destination. I’m beating a face in. That was me, exactly. Pull up my record from before I was 18 and you will have yourself a chapter book. Tell me a judges name & I bet I seen him at least once. Ask me a question regarding the laws; I know all of that without going to law school… because well, I’m sure I did it.
People never seen this. It was all hidden. It was what I didn’t want others to know. I kept a distance and put on a front. Thinking about it; maybe thats why I was good at hiding the domestic abuse. It’s what I’ve done for years.
My dad was destroyed. He wanted the best for me so bad, but felt so helpless. I could see it in his eyes, every night (or the nights I came home). I honestly do not think he believed it. He seen it but didn’t believe that this was his baby.
My mom kicked me out and threw me to him, because she didn’t want to deal with me anymore. He was basically on his own with me. He wasn’t allowed to date either. He was my daddy and I wasn’t sharing. Eventually he ended up dating his now-wife, but… we did not get along for 10 years.
Due to so many fights, I left my home school. I wasn’t learning in the office or in ISS. I started cyber schooling. Do you think that help? Because it didn’t. I got kicked out of cyber school even for behavior. Like, that shouldn’t even be possible and I damn well made it so. It was discussed about sending me to a school with maybe 5 students my age, who were also little “tough asses”. Once we seen the school though, the option left. I was still a princess. That was for scum.
I went to another cyber school and eventually, everyone else did it. All of it. I was too stuck into the street life, my ways, etc. I was angry, very angry. That’s what caused me to even change paths. The hate. The negativity. The anger.
I wrote a note to my family. I even called my mother who I did not speak to. I was 16 at this time and wrote them a letter begging for help. I heard Taylor cry my name too many times. I wasn’t able to get jobs. I woke up and realized that I need help.
The next day, I got sent up state. I’ll never forget the face of my dad as he shut the door to leave me. That’s the first time I seen him cry, ever. My heart sank. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get sick or scream and cry for him. But he had to leave me. I was signed in and there was no getting out. After a week, dad even tried paying to get me out. I needed it though and still can say that it was an awesome but difficult choice. I needed the ruler slapped.
I can’t express what that was like. My bed was maybe a 2 inch thick mat. I was watched as I showered to make sure I didn’t pull any slick shit. Everyone went outside for air and I was such a threat with my violence, that I had to stay back in my room and wait. I couldn’t even have a plastic fork let alone a plastic knife. I couldn’t even have a glass cup.
They took the strings out of my clothes and the jewelry out of every body part that I had pierced. The walls were cement bricks painted white and honestly, it was nicer than it sounds. It was basically a small hotel room, for 2. You just had nothing but the 2 mats and a bathroom that was in it. Most of the chicks weren’t criminals, but they were “ill”. I was labeled the criminal due to being their for offenses. I really can’t even count the assault charges I had on me. As everyone else got the therapy sessions, I got the “you are a criminal!” Sessions which got screamed in my face. They were right.
There was a blue padded room, which lord was that awful! You want to throw a punch? Cool. Do it in the padded room that you’re locked in by a cellar door. It’s all mats too, so don’t think they’re worried about you harming yourself… and they put you in stripped in case you pull any dumb shit with the arms of your shirt going around your neck lets say. So go ahead, flip out…but you’re doing it alone where nobody cares to tolerate it.
It was intense. I wanted to be a criminal, so I got treated as one. They didn’t care that I asked to go; they cared for me to get the help I needed and I seen that after so long. I won’t lie; at first I was even more angry… but I realized eventually. Our money wasn’t saving my ass this time.
Not long after I realized that the staff did care, I opened up to one of the late night shift guys. He was huge. Then again, all of them were. You would swear they were on stereoids.
He was awesome. I will never be able to thank him enough. I’d come out of my room at night when everyone was sleeping. He wasn’t suppose to allow it, but he did. Well, he would say to go back in my room but… it never happened. He use to say there was so much more to me than this and I wasn’t like the rest. He use to tell me that I didn’t belong living the lifestyle of hate. We would sit there and talk for hours as he did paper work. If he wasn’t on shift, I’d stay inside my room for days. He would come in and find me crying sitting on my bed, just sobbing. He never failed me. Not once.
We would talk about everything. Sports, movies, games… and my child hood and life. I told him all about my baby who passed away. I never opened up about that nor will I to this day. The pain of losing a child is not tolerable in my eyes. Days are easier, but… some days are hell. I lost my precious baby on mothers day. She would have been named Kahlea if she was with us today.
We discussed the death of my family members. We discussed losing friends due to drugs and violence. Always feeling alone and hurt. Feeling like I wasn’t good enough and feeling like my mom threw me out like trash. Being molested by one and raped by two. Thats another thing that I don’t discuss. The day that I trusted 2 guys that I knew to come over and they ended up stealing and raping me. I don’t even know if I will ever speak of their names. My family still to this day, is not aware of that morning. I’m okay with that though. Pretty sure they heard enough as I still can see the pain they hold when we discuss all those years. But we discussed everything.
I’ll never forget the chart he made and explained to me. I still use it to this day to sort out some emotions. It helps me realize that there is |always| a worse situation.
The day I got released to my father, he took me to mcdonalds. I cried. I walked in, cried, and walked out saying I could not handle that yet. Fucking McDonalds, I could not face. He told me he was going to walmart and I joined. I walked away from him and just walked through the store alone. Seeing everything was amazing. The 5.00 pillow meant everything to me. The shelves stocked and all the people walking by was incredible. To me, it was life. It wasn’t anything else but life. I felt blessed right then and took a deep breath. I knew I wasn’t going back to that life right then. We had the money so to us, that 5.00 pillow was nothing. That 1.00 McDouble was poor and gross. But now, it became beautiful and so much more. I cried because of appreciation and joy. I cried because I never seen it for years.
Since, I’m not that girl anymore. I care so much about everyone and people who even hurt me. They may be hurting themselves and I am nobody to judge. I love life. It’s a very beautiful thing to face daily. It may get hard, but that is what makes it worth it.
Smiling at a stranger can create such a positive vibe. I do it to pass the positivity in my day. Don’t smile back and I’ll probably roll my eyes once you’re behind me, but I am still happy I did it.
Life is beautiful.
Money doesn’t mean anything unless you’re at a register.
Everyone is a human. I’m an advocate to one.
Everyone has a story.
And I’m ready for mine to be heard.