I Don't Even Know

My overall story might not be about my self confidence or lack their of, but that's what it boils down to.
My parents were drug addicts, my dad was in prison on and off until I was 8 for drugs and theft I believe and maybe some other things. My mom was in jail for awhile while I was a baby. So I was mainly raised by my maternal grandparents even though it doesn't seem like it for some reason. When my mom got out of jail when I was 2 or so, first we continued living with my grandparents. Next we moved to a duplex when my mom got a steady job but that only lasted for so long and she quit her job after her friend convinced her they should get jobs together at some brewery. (A job my mom wasn't fit for) She didn't get the job and things went downhill. We lived my grandparents for awhile again and then we moved into a triplex near my grandparent's house. My mom found a new boyfriend, who happened to have an ex wife and 2 little girls living in the same triplex.
Anyways, my mom got pregnant with my brother, I didn't like Eric (the boyfriend), he left after awhile, and then my own dad got out of prison and we all went and lived with my grandparents again. I started kindergarten, got into ballet, my brother was born, things were going too good- we moved again. This time to what we called "The Chicken Shack". It was supposed to be a cow barn or something, I'm not sure exactly what it was supposed to be, but my parents' friend Vick rented it out. From what I remember, it was on the side of a hill out by the river down a muddy road and Vick's house was very close. It had one bedroom, a bathroom and a "living room" and kitchen in the same room with a wood stove for heat. What's crazy is that I loved the place! I guess I didn't see anything wrong with cockroaches running across my brothers head or some kind of wet residue running down all the walls, or sleeping on the couch every night. I thought it was cool that there was a rope swing and apple trees!
But it didn't matter if I liked it, we needed to move and this time it was to my maternal grandpa's house ( not the same one I lived with.) Sorry if that's confusing. So we moved into his house in the same state (Oregon) while he was living in CA.
Ignorance is definitley bliss. I was around 6 when we moved here. If I had been 14 then it would have been miserable because I would have known the terrible things my parents were doing. The awful things happening on around me that I had no control over. Instead, I played with my barbies and had the time of my life, I loved school. I saw my dad get arrested. No explanation to me as to why but I got over it. My half sister, her half sister, and their adopted aunt would always come over and play with us and take care of my little brother Calvin. But they were only children too. We would jump off the roof onto the trampoline. Ride our bikes all over town- no helmets. One day my sister and I were in my mom's room and my sister who was probably 9/10 noticed some pipes in a box in my mom's closet and said "That's bad." I still didn't suspect my mom of doing anything wrong and I just said "Oh your mom has those too!" which was true but I was only assuming it.
I had to get myself up for school every day- I would try not leave the house until my mom made some kind of response to me screaming "goodbye!" I never noticed the sores on her face.
I had no idea why she had me ride my brother to the baby sitters on my bike. What do you mean she couldn't pay the baby sitters? She was getting a job at the bar in a few days.
What made it worse is that I was sick more than I thought. I was always getting diarrhea and fevers and my mom would never take me to the doctor. My grandpa that my maternal grandma got married to when I was born had fallen down some stair a couple years earlier and broke his foot. Now their only option for work was to leave their beloved house in Oregon and move to WA to run my grandpa's mom's adult family home. They had a lot to deal with taking care of crazy old people but my grandma is a worry wart and knowing that my mom was on drugs and wasn't taking care of us was making her sick.
My mom got a new boyfriend- Aaron. My brother was 1 maybe 2. Well anyways he definitely wasn't potty trained yet. But Aaron didn't care how old he was. My brother didn't go to the bathroom in his potty chair so he deserved to be beaten until his innocent butt was black and blue. Literally. I would just go cry in my room, my mom probably did the same.
When my brother and I weren't at home with the child abuser, we were dropped off at my mom's crazy friend's house - Angie. She was supposed to be our babysitter. I hardly remember seeing her there. It was her bully daughter and her boyfrien's son that were really watching me. I don't even remember where brother was kept at their house.
At our own house all I remember screamo music constantly blasting, people in and out, my mom was always either locked in her bedroom or in the garage.one time my brother walked over to my aunt's house who lived next door and he just stood outside the front door. He couldn't talk but we knew what he was saying. This still didn't bring my mother back to reality.
One time while my cousin's supposed father was at our houseand tol me he was going to give me birthday spankens and then he pulled my pants down but was shocked when I wasn't wearing underwear and kind of pushed me away. I was I think turning 7 but I was ignorant enough to think there was nothing wrong with this. Would he have tried to touch me if my half sister's sister hadn't walked in? Anyways, she told someone tht he touched my butt. People were questioned, being the retard I am I denied everything. I could have at least told them what happened. This is the first time I've told the real story. Looking back I mustve embarrassed my sister but apparently many people thought that her mom had told her to say that he had touched me for some reason or another. I guess I've felt guilty about that but I keep denying it- telling myself that I've gotten over it.
But moving on.. I kept getting strep throat and needed my tonsils removed badly. I was missing lots of school and my principal even picked me up from my house to take me to school wheni missed the bus one time. He had come another time either before or after this and my brother had opened the door. My brother was 2 years old at the most, and the only thing he was wearing was a diaper. But my principal was very nice.
My grandparents had to take time of work and make sure I got in to get my tonsils taken out.
It's hard to get everything chronologically correct when there were so many things going on and still half of them are left out -but around this time my father met a girl in some kind of rehab class because he's an idiot. Soon later my grandparents began trying to gain custody of me because they were tired of being worried about us. They came down to our house one time to pick us up for a 'visit' and my grandma described my brother as looking like someone who just got out of a concentration camp. My principal helped my grandparents in gaining our custody. When the whole custody thing first started I had to be questioned by a police officer who I was convinced was mean because dod my parents. But I learned that the police officer was actually nice and I from some of the his questions that I answered I noticed some things I hadn't before. Like maybe the pills my mom kept in the mint cans weren't from doctors. After this I went and stayed at my grandparents WA house (sort of). My brother and I freequently went to visit my dad and his gf at their apartment. She had 2 little girls and I believe she is the fakest person I have ever met. Sometimes she would try to be super nice to me when she wanted something, telling me I was her favorite even if I was neither of my grandmother's favorites. But then she would go and force my little brother to call her mommy. One day she said that from now on her nickname was oomi or something ridiculous that one of her daughters had picked out for her. After she announced this I went and asked her why. She said that because I did t want to call her mommy that everyone would just call her by her nickname instead to make me feel comfortable -__- I never called her mommy, but the oomi thing didn't last very long anyways. She couldnt manipulate me like that. A few times my dad, the evil gf, and the 2 girls would. One up to visit and Brandi (my dad's gf) would talk about how they were going to move up here and straighten their lives completely out and just start over. My grandparents bought a new car with more seats, they never moved up here, they tried to forge my grandma's signature a few times trying to get money or something and landed in jail for awhile after fleeing to Texas. My grandparents gained custody and we lived oh so happily in the basement of the adult family home. I got back in school and after a year I was accepted into the gifted program. 4th and and 5th grade were pretty fun at some times but at home I was miserable. My teacher gave loads of homework witty very little to no teaching. I self taught myself most of the stuff from the sulks computer. We had a book report every month on a different genre but oh no we couldn't have normal book
reports! They had to be plays or creating a puzzle from the story and writing a summary to go with it. Or creating a video out of the story or creating a wall mural from it. We had to write at least one poem every week and type it and then draw borders and a picture on each. But oh no! They couldn't be normal borders! They had to be borders made up of smaller pictures! And don't forget to outline each picture with a fine point black non permanent marker! And there was so much more.
The doctor and my grandma thought I was depressed and I probably was but I would never admit that. I'm not open with my feelings. I gained a lot of weight and I knew I was fat. But then I lost a whole bunch of weight and I was skinny. I still thought I was fat. I've gained weight since then and based on the pictures I've seen of myself and the rolls on my stomach I'm fat. And we still live in the same old basement. My mood has been fluctuating a lot lately. Within the same same day I'll be confident and happy and then I'll see myself in a mirror and see how ugly I am and I'll just lose all confidence. I'll be at home in a happy mood and all of a sudden I'll just feel like there's absolutely nothing worth doing and just want to sleep. I'll start crying because I stub my toe but I'll really be crying because I'm sad and fat and then all of a sudden I'll tell myself to shut up and that crying won't solve the problem and that I have to start eating healthier and lose a little weight and that's what will make me happy. But this positive attitude only lasts sibling before I just say screw this and take my grandpa up in his offer of going out for a burger. The worst is when I'm at the mall or a store and I'm happy just because I'm there but then I see my reflection in a window or mirror and I feel like I could cry. It's the worst feeling looking into a mirror and not liking what you see. At home I don't really have any full length mirrors so it's just really painful seeing how huge my thighs are when I go out in public. Also, this basement isn't very light so I neve seem to look as bad at home than in the mirrors of a store or school or public bathroom where there's fluorescent lighting. I'm jut very self conscience about my oily and pimply skin and serious back acne and the huge fdark brown pores on my cheeks and my giant forehead that I inherited from my mom. I'm even self conscience about the shape of my head. It seem like its very flat on top and angle upwards. The pictures of myself that I take on my phone of myself never look the same as real pictures of me. I'm just tired of not being able to be confident in anything about myself. I can't even invite my friends over because of this trashy basement. I don't feel comfortable telling anyone how ugly and fat I feel. They would just tell me I'm not anyways and that wouldn't help. When I was 4'8" and 125 pounds my grandma said I was the perfect size so how am I supposed to believe anything even my closest family members say. The only person that always tells the truth is my maternal grandpa that now lives in his old house in Oregon but we aren't very close.
I don't have very many friends and I just.. I don't know. I just hate not having any confidence and having these weird mood swings. On top of my school work and my looks that I'm constantly worried about, I worry about what my grandparents are going through. They hate this AFH business they're in and they don't want anything more than to move back to their house in Oregon. If they sell it we might be able to buy a house here in WA but then if something should happen to the business and the adult family home gets shut down- we would have nowhere to go. We are only renting the house we live in from my senile great grandmother who now hates us because of reasons. And I just worry abou every little thing imaginable. I'm almost as bad as my grandma O_o
I just can't deal with this. I need a break.. Or some confidence.. I don't know.
sorry it was so long, but untried to leave as much out as possible
Unicorn1039 Unicorn1039
18-21, F
1 Response May 9, 2012

Sorry for all the grammar and spelling errors, it's hard to type good on my phone :P