My Life In Full

This story is gonna be long, and I'm starting from the beginning. It started right when I was born. My mom had been caught with marijuana in her system when I was born and I got taken away from her for a year. I lived with a woman named Peggy, and she wanted to adopt me, but my mom said no and took me back. It all goes downhill from here, so read on if you like. As I got older, my mom got worse. She fought with my dad all the time right in front of me and my sisters. Finally, when I was about 6, my dad left us because he couldn't handle my mom anymore. I didn't blame him, she's nuts. After he left, my mom was so angry all the time and she never had anything good to say to me and I was her beating post. My sisters were angels though, they could do no wrong. She'd make me sleep in the basement that had no heat, I couldn't have a blanket or pillow and I was on the cold floor. She would feed me tabasco sauce and dawn dish washing soap when she thought I didn't deserve dinner. Every night after I was done reading a little chapter book to my mom because I had a speech impairment, she made me put my nose to the wall until it was time for me to go to bed. I was required to get up at 5:30 every morning with my mom to get ready and sit on the stairs until my sisters were ready to go to daycare. At night, if I didn't read good enough for her, she would make me sit up straight in bed and put my head up, then have my arms out for what seemed like hours. She'd push me down the stairs when she didn't want me upstairs, or she would slap me til my face bled. One night before I went to see my dad, she was packing my bag, and she kicked me in the knee. All night I couldn't sleep because it hurt so much. When I went to my dads, I was limping so he took me to the doctor and saw the bruises on my knee. They were like a dark blackish purple mixed with green, and my knee was slightly broken. My dad called DHS because he was tired of seeing me come to his house with bruises on my arms, legs, neck, and back. My sisters and I were taken to my grandparents, and we lived there for about 9 months with visits to my mom every Thursday, which I dreaded. When my sisters and I were taken back to my mom, she and her new boyfriend decided that we were moving away from the family. So we moved to a farm about 90 miles away from everyone, and my grandparents had animals that they gave my mom to take care of, but she made me and my sisters do it instead. In the winter, she'd make me go out by myself and shovel the driveway by myself, and if you've ever lived on a farm, you'd know that the driveways are fairly long. And when fall came around, I was required to rake all the leaves. And during the summer, I mowed the pasture and the lawn. If she didn't like the way I did something, I was to repeat it until she was satisfied, which was hardly ever. Almost all my life, I've been living to please my mom, to show her that I'm not the piece of **** daughter she thinks I am. I studied for my classed constantly, I did all my homework, I got A's on my tests, I had a 4.0, yet I was still called stupid. I wasn't good enough for her. Around the time I became a freshman, I began trying even harder to please her. I did chores when I wasn't asked to, I dressed the way she wanted me to, I got my hair cut the way she wanted me to, I was still getting good grades, and I told her every day that I loved her. She never responded to that. Never once has she told me she loves me. But even though I did all those things for her, and not once did she ever say, "Good job, Desiree." Around the end of my freshman year, it got worse. I was constantly in pain, everywhere and I cried every night when I got home from practice. When summer started, I was ready to collapse. I was exhausted from all of the effort I put into pleasing her and making her happy. Her new boyfriend didn't make anything better because he was almost exactly like her, except more sarcastic. Then, towards the end of the summer, when I was ready to give up, she kicked me out. I was finally free.
desireefolsom desireefolsom
18-21, F
1 Response Mar 20, 2013

Des, I had a childhood similar to yours along with a horrible rape. The physical pain becomes tolerable but the mental pain tends to stick with us. Us ladies tend to keep that pain inside and carry it with us everywhere we go. You're young and have plenty of time to make a good life for yourself. You'll find a way to let go of the awful pain you're still holding. I determined early on that I would NOT be like my "parental units". I'm now 42, educated, have a loving husband (don't settle for just anybody to marry. Pick wisely), two sons and a career and great dog. ;) Hang in there- Be smart about your life decisions- And be true to yourself!