Post by Fire Lily on Sept 8, 2009 21:50:56 GMT -6
If someone would have told me, when I was little that my parents would split up, I would have laughed in their face. “Impossible,” I would have exclaimed. No child ever wants to hear the word divorce. Of course, adults will try to make it sweeter than it is, by calling it a “separation” or a “break.” In reality it is what it is. A Divorce. There is no shining it, prodding it, or changing the facts.
Who knew, that what would seem like a perfect family, was just an illusion. Underneath the perfect skin, was an unhappy, always bickering, group of people. Everyday, it was like walking on egg shells, trying to avoid an outburst. One wrong step, and the day would be ruined. Hateful, derogatory, words would be pointed at a family member, causing an enormous amount of angst. Whoever came up with the phrase: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can’t hurt me,” honestly didn’t know what they were talking about. Words often hurt a person far more than being physically harmed.
My parents would argue a lot the last year they were together. Every time, I would run to my room and dive into a book. The pages would take me away from the turmoil for a split second. The fantasies of a good fiction book, would allow my imagination to run wild. Real situations were made clear, when I would read a non-fiction book. The only way I escaped from my living hell, was to pretend that I was one of the characters. All the while, having amazing adventures, and I would forget, even for only a moment.
The night my father, decided to leave my family was very hard. All I could do was stare blankly at the wall, while he packed his bags and said his good-byes. My perfect family was torn apart, in a single night. I couldn’t let my emotions flow. All I wanted to do was let the dam holding back my tears go. Instead, I stood up straight and watched the old, rusty, Chevy drive off into the distance taking with it my life as I knew it.
It didn’t take long for the small town of Mandan to find out about my family’s problems. It surprised me how people I had never talked to, or even met seemed to know more about the situation than I did. Because of my father’s immoral ambitions, my family was forced to be ridiculed and belittled constantly. Every day I would walk through the routine I called my life. I honestly don’t remember a lot of that time. I tried to put most of the awful memories in the back of my mind. Occasionally, they would bubble to the surface. The emotions I was feeling, I didn’t understand. Instead of letting them out, I would suffocate them.
I still battle the urge to look over my shoulder when I hear whispers. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about the situation, and it didn’t matter how horrible it made me feel. Laughter and glares filled my every waking moment. Even though my life was always being judged, I somehow managed to keep it all together. I never let the evil in people cause me to change who I was. Of course, I was saddened and sometimes angered, but I would keep telling myself it would get better. My grades were the one thing, that I would always put all my energy into. They served as a distraction, and I refused to allow my life to be ruined because of one man’s selfish decision.
I wanted to prove to everyone around me, that I could do anything I put my mind to. In no way was I broken, even though at times it felt as if my heart was torn and bleeding. I still bare the many scars from that fateful night, but everyday is a new day. I am slowly coming to terms with my life as it is, and beginning to heal. Fear and pain no longer causes me to stare blankly at a wall.
Who knew, that what would seem like a perfect family, was just an illusion. Underneath the perfect skin, was an unhappy, always bickering, group of people. Everyday, it was like walking on egg shells, trying to avoid an outburst. One wrong step, and the day would be ruined. Hateful, derogatory, words would be pointed at a family member, causing an enormous amount of angst. Whoever came up with the phrase: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can’t hurt me,” honestly didn’t know what they were talking about. Words often hurt a person far more than being physically harmed.
My parents would argue a lot the last year they were together. Every time, I would run to my room and dive into a book. The pages would take me away from the turmoil for a split second. The fantasies of a good fiction book, would allow my imagination to run wild. Real situations were made clear, when I would read a non-fiction book. The only way I escaped from my living hell, was to pretend that I was one of the characters. All the while, having amazing adventures, and I would forget, even for only a moment.
The night my father, decided to leave my family was very hard. All I could do was stare blankly at the wall, while he packed his bags and said his good-byes. My perfect family was torn apart, in a single night. I couldn’t let my emotions flow. All I wanted to do was let the dam holding back my tears go. Instead, I stood up straight and watched the old, rusty, Chevy drive off into the distance taking with it my life as I knew it.
It didn’t take long for the small town of Mandan to find out about my family’s problems. It surprised me how people I had never talked to, or even met seemed to know more about the situation than I did. Because of my father’s immoral ambitions, my family was forced to be ridiculed and belittled constantly. Every day I would walk through the routine I called my life. I honestly don’t remember a lot of that time. I tried to put most of the awful memories in the back of my mind. Occasionally, they would bubble to the surface. The emotions I was feeling, I didn’t understand. Instead of letting them out, I would suffocate them.
I still battle the urge to look over my shoulder when I hear whispers. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about the situation, and it didn’t matter how horrible it made me feel. Laughter and glares filled my every waking moment. Even though my life was always being judged, I somehow managed to keep it all together. I never let the evil in people cause me to change who I was. Of course, I was saddened and sometimes angered, but I would keep telling myself it would get better. My grades were the one thing, that I would always put all my energy into. They served as a distraction, and I refused to allow my life to be ruined because of one man’s selfish decision.
I wanted to prove to everyone around me, that I could do anything I put my mind to. In no way was I broken, even though at times it felt as if my heart was torn and bleeding. I still bare the many scars from that fateful night, but everyday is a new day. I am slowly coming to terms with my life as it is, and beginning to heal. Fear and pain no longer causes me to stare blankly at a wall.