When I look back at my childhood, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself. When I was younger, I wasted all my precious time wondering why me? Instead of focusing on the moment I was in, I was thinking about escaping the present: I couldn’t wait to grow up; maybe it wouldn’t be so bad when I get older. I missed out on my childhood because of those thoughts. Now I’m a junior wishing I could be 2 again. I was wanting to start all over, and maybe then my life wouldn’t be so hard on me.

When I was growing up, I didn’t have the best biological father figure everyone else had. He was abusive in all the ways he could. He wasn’t like that in the beginning. He was so sweet and loving, but somehow, something changed him into the worst biological father figure imaginable. He treated my siblings and mother horribly; meanwhile, no one knew what all he had done to me. My mother told me the only thing she could remember was that when she was in the kitchen, she could hear muffling sounds coming from the living room, sounding as though he was suffocating me. At the time I was only a baby. When she heard it, she hollered at him. Not knowing what he would do, she said, “You better not be suffocating that baby.” He did not handle that very well. There is more to that story of what my biological father has done, but this isn’t about him.

Soon after my mom found out what all he had done to us, my mom called CPS. When the CPS came, we were at my grandma's house. At the time she was with a child melester, so when CPS came, we got taken away. I was around 1 or 2 years old. CPS put Sade and me into one foster home and Caytliyn and Kyle in a different home. Even though I went into foster care, my experience there was not the greatest. The first night I had a nightmare, waking up screaming. My sister Sade heard me from the top bunk and came down and started hugging me on the bed. The foster father came barging in through the door. When he saw her in my bed, he grabbed the paddle from the other room, and punished us, because we weren’t allowed to be in the same bed. The only thing we were allowed to eat was mac and cheese. Sometimes if we were lucky, we received a small piece of hot dog in it. I remember when we were taking photos for my mom, so she could have updates about what had been happening, we went to McDonald’s. It was only  for photos though; we were not allowed to eat there. It was to make it look like we had done fun activities, but we never did. For our birthdays, they invited a whole bunch of their family/friends kids over, whom we had no idea of who they were. We could only open our presents, but the other kids were allowed to take them home with them. We were not allowed to have cake or ice cream, only allowed to have mac and cheese. Their dog was very vicious, but they never got rid of him when he made us bleed. Their dog had chewed up all of my special items, which meant a lot to me. Those were the only things left of my mother at the time, which left me devastated.

A couple years later my mom got my siblings and me back; being back at home was still not the greatest for me. My siblings had constantly neglected me, and left me out when they hung out with each other. The arguments we had led to violence. Even though I wouldn’t get violent, I’d be the one getting in trouble since I was the youngest and was an “instigator.” All I wanted was to be included. Usually it’s the middle child that is forgotten, nope, it was me. Eventually, I created fake scenarios in my head to escape reality. I always questioned if I was real, or if the other people around me were real, and I was the only one who was. Before becoming friends with people, I created fake friends in my mind, because I had no one to talk to nor even hang out with. I did this on a daily basis because I was so alone. When I made friends, I had asked if they were real before I agreed to create any friendship with them.

 Being alone, and having no one, I tried to take my life. I didn’t feel like I had a purpose, felt as though no one ever wanted me. It was devastating looking back at my childhood realizing I was only 5 when I tried that; it crushes my heart. Recently this year on April 24th, I tried again; I have tried numerous times. A week before the attempt, I had gotten into a major argument with my mom, saying that; If I stay in this house any longer I will take my life. My mother did not believe me, so she told me to do it. A week later, I was in the hospital. I went and got help, but I still get those bad thoughts. It is hard to let those thoughts completely vanish from my mind. I still don’t see or know my purpose for being here. I’m still that little girl who was alone and abandoned. I’m still that little baby under my biological father figure, being suffocated. I’m still that little 5 year old, but I’m starting to realize what it means to take my life. I will always be my childhood self. There’s nothing I can do about it.

Over the years I have come so far. Since I had a rough home life, my grades weren’t the greatest. The people who I surrounded myself with hurt me and betray me. I always forgave them, because I saw the good in them. I never tried to judge people. I feel as though everyone should be given a chance. But sometimes, there are too many chances to count. That made me realize sometimes actions speak louder than words, which in fact those friends weren’t doing anything but saying words. I have let so many people stomp all over me. I thought it was okay, since my home life has always been like that. It’s not okay. I reached out. I told my story of how I survived a 1 year relationship of abuse. It was so hard to think what he was doing was wrong, and that’s how I figured out what manipulation, gaslighting, guilt trip, and narcissism meant. I became so strong. Now, I will never let anyone take advantage of me. I will use that trauma, that betrayal, backstabbing, to learn from that, and to know who is my friend and isn’t. Friends don’t hang out with people who hurt you. 

I have become a whole different person. If one friend messes up, they are done. Even if it's something small. That small thing is being added to a big pile of other things they have done, and with one more little mess up, that pile is tumbling over. That’s the last of it. I have come too far in my life to let anyone get another chance. I have forgiven too many times to count. And this time, I’m no longer giving any chances, no longer forgiving. 

It’s time to move on. I want to go to college to become a massage therapist and physical therapist, but how can I when I get horrible grades? Well I put a stop to my shenanigans, no more goofing around. I need to get up, wipe off the blood, and put back those shattered pieces. Now I’m getting the best grades of my life and found two colleges I really want to go to. I have a small group of friends, but a small group of friends is better than a big group of fake friends who don’t care about you. I have healed. I have been able to react to things better than I had a year or two ago. I’m better. But somewhere, in the back of my mind, part of me will forever be that traumatized little girl in a big wide world.

I’m a junior wishing I could be 2 again, start all over, and maybe then my life wouldn’t be so hard on me. I missed out on my childhood because of those thoughts. Thinking about; I couldn’t wait to grow up, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad when I get older. I wasted all my precious time wondering why me? When I look back at my childhood, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself. I’m still that little girl who was alone and abandoned. But there’s this lovely girl that’s inside my mind, my head. She’s brilliant, smart, healed, revived, better. That girl is me. Only the better version of me. I will do whatever it takes to keep that girl alive, to become her, and maybe even better.