LiTtLe AbOuT mE

 Recently found an essay from a hospital visit. I had to recap what put me in there. This was written when I was 17, a senior in high school... Here goes..

When I was 10 months old I was put into foster care. My older sister and I had been separated against our mother's wishes. But the judged claimed that because of parentification, my sister wouldn't grow up to live a normal life. She is now 19 years old and in college. When I was three years old my sister and I were adopted into separate families 30 minutes apart. When I was little I would have visits with her regularly. She was adopted into a religious, happy, caring family. I wasn't so lucky. Turns out my adoptive mom only wanted me because I wouldn't remember being adopted. I didn't figure out I was until middle school after asking the right questions.

I grew up living with my mom, dad, brother, and sister. They were both younger than me and biologically related to each other. My mom and I never really got along. To her I was like a puppet; I did what I was told and kept my mouth shut while she bad mouthed the few people she had in her life. My dad and I have gotten along for the past few years; starting when he realized the hell his wife was putting me through. Before that he would yell at me if she told him to and would always side with her in any and all situations. My brother is a year younger than me. For the most part we get along. I've had to call the cops on him, he's hit me, and has issues with anger and drugs. Actually, not too long ago my brother got into it with mom and ended up taking a hammer to a closet door that she wouldn't unlock for him. When the smoke settled she took him out and when they got back he had an ipod touch. This pissed me off. My younger sister is 4 years younger than me and for the most part we get along. She's always been the princess who can get away with anything and go anywhere with anyone she wanted. Neither of them ever being forced to do any chores. If I ever asked to go to a friend's house, I'd be yelled at for asking.

Mom and I never got along, as I mentioned earlier. I remember when I was 5 or 6 and learning to read. I was working on Dr. Seus's Hop On Pop. I had trouble pronouncing one of the stupid long words. I sat at the kitchen table being scolded to sound it out. But I lost interest and started watching all the daycare and foster kids play outside. After about a half hour mom got fed up and grabbed me by the hair, pulled me out of the chair throwing me against a wall and a counter. My mouth started bleeding so I looked up at her and told her. She sighed and dragged me to a bathroom to shove a wet washcloth in my mouth for a minute. After that, she sent me to bed even though it was the middle of the day. I napped and woke to her looking for clothes for my sister and I remember getting excited claiming my tooth was loose, not really connecting to what caused it. About a week later I went to a friends house and ended up telling my friend's mom about what happened. MISTAKE! She called mom when I wasn't around and confronted her. Mom convinced her it had been a bad dream. When I got home she scolded me and managed to convince me that it was a dream too. Though I've never able to even touch a Dr. Sues book again.

When I wasn't in school I had chores to do. I vacuumed the basement, cleaned the three gerbil cages, organized the basement, dusted the whole house, vacuumed my room and the family room, made all five beds, washed the dishes, dried the dishes, put dishes away, vacuumed and brushed the in-ground pool, raked, swept, cleaned up toys, and helped take care of kids (ages ranging from new born to seven years old; as many as 12 in the house at a time). However, I did forget to do some things on occasion. I remember one day mom verbally listed off chores and things to do and I forgot to bring a gallon of orange juice from the basement fridge. For two hours she made me follow her around the house, then outside as she hung clothes on the line. Finally I remembered and told her I would go get the juice. She told me she already did and sent me to my room.

Around middle school age, I was talking to my biological sister on the phone and I asked her about our biological parents. And she only knew what she remembered. She was two when we were removed, so I wasn't going to fully believe her, but it was nice to get some kind of something to explain it. I guess she heard fighting downstairs and saw I was awake in my crib. She grabbed me and climbed out on a ledge outside our bedroom window. A neighbor saw and called social services. After she explained what she remembered I heard a click and realized someone had been listening in on our conversation. Turns out mom had sent my brother to the phone in the basement to listen in. Mom came at me yelling and cussing. I ran with my sister still on the phone and locked myself in the bathroom and sat behind the door. Mom unlocked it and began squishing me between the door and the wall. I was screaming in pain and fear. Mom finally got in and grabbed the phone. She immediately hung up and told me that my sister was lying and she would tell me the truth when I was ready. After that I was only allowed to talk to my sister if mom was on the other line. I only talked to her maybe 2 times in the span of a couple years, until I got my cell phone.

Come 8th grade I was really starting to notice my depression. About halfway through the year I started cutting my arms. Initially it was to get attention from my parents. But the more I did it the more it felt like a release; a greater pain than the pain of my emotions. It felt so good. After a while my friends started to notice. They'd tell me it wasn't healthy and to stop. I started feeling guilty and overwhelmed so I would cut. When I finished I'd feel worse about cutting and cut more. It was an endless, vicious cycle. That same year my best friend passed away of cancer. I know she was technically mom's friend, but she was the only person I felt close to. And when she was gone, mom became more hostile.

My freshman year I was raped by my brother's friend from church. I couldn't remember it. But the blood the next morning was a hint. Plus he called me to tell me that his protection broke. I was petrified. I didn't tell anyone until we started family counseling. I grew to trust one of the counselors and told her; she promised to keep it between us. The next time she visited she told me she had to tell my mom even though my dad already knew. I begged her not to. After that I refused to talk to her. After a few more weeks she told me she gave up and never came back. And because of that counselor my new nickname was whore. During that summer I was barely home. I would leave notes saying where I was going, and I'd leave. Mom and I weren't talking at that point, but I wanted to do the right thing and at least let her know where I would be. One day I met up with my boyfriend of the time at the library. Talked and played in the grass until he got a phone call from our friend. He told us that my niece called him saying I was missing and had been for 8 hours (when I had only been gone for 4). She threatened to call police so my boyfriend and I started walking back to my house. We stopped at the convenience store next door where his mom picked him up. I walked over and as I set foot on our yard my niece came out yelling and cussing about leaving and being a terrible person and irresponsible. Mom stood in the door and watched. After the yelling I lost it and went in the woods to attempt bleeding out. Dad found me and took me to my first therapy session that had apparently been scheduled that day. I lasted five minutes before she had me sent to the ER to tend to the gashes in my arms. I was sent to a hospital for the first time where I stayed for a week. During one of my family meetings mom said something that took me off guard and upset me deeper than I thought possible. She told the counselor, "I just want the old Nikki back". I couldn't believe she said it. She caused this. I am still me. I couldn't understand. 

Sophomore year my brother and I went on a bike ride. When we got back we put our bikes away and went out for a swim. I was standing at the edge of the deep-end when I heard her yell, "If you say one more thing I will go put holes in your bike tires!" She was talking to my brother. Then she turned and glared at me, so I smiled waved and said, "Hi, mommy!" as I jumped in the water. When I came back up from the water I heard her cussing and yelling and heading to the shed where our bikes were with a steak knife. I followed her trying to get her to stop. She picked up a shovel leaning on the shed and took a few steps towards me, so I took a few steps back, but continued to follow. My brother had caught up to us by this time (later telling me he wished she had hit me with the shovel so he would have had a reason to attack her). She continued cussing and at one point mentioned calling the cops so I retorted, "what are you going to tell them, a bunch of lies?" This pissed her off enough to run towards me with the steak knife held up; I booked it into the pool where I knew she wouldn't follow. She ended up letting air out of the tires. The following weekend, I got home from school where she told me that cops had shown up looking for me. Terrified I ran to my room and cut. Turns out a friend of mine called them looking for the number for social services to send a complaint about the previous weekend. The cops came back that evening and saw the damage I had done to my arms and convinced me to get in the ambulance. After a week in the hospital a detective shows up to investigate. I told him everything. He also talked to everyone else. When he left he deemed it was a normal relationship between mother and daughter. The case was dropped.

Junior year was the year of nicknames. One day I was helping my dad on the roof. We'd been removing shingles for a couple hours and he asked me to go make him some iced tea. As I finished mom came at me with "Daddy's little girl", "gotta go help daddy", and my personal favorite, "Daddy's pussy". I yelled back "stop harrassing me!" and she yelled back "NO!".

Later in the fall I was assaulted on the bus. A kid forced me to give him a blow job. Yes, there were other people there, no, I didn't scream. This kid had punched me in the face a few times before for playfully taking his hat. I had laughed it off thinking I deserve it. A friend of mine catches wind of the assault and tells a counselor who contacts the police and I am forced to court. Restaining order and all which is still ongoing. After that I had even more issues concentrating in class and my grades started slipping. This was hard on my because I took pride in my grades. I always got As and Bs with occasional Cs. My depression got so bad that I even started cutting in class. The teachers didn't even notice. I would have occasional meltdowns during lunch. I would feel them coming on and would run out of the room. At one point I was followed by my bestest friend. She convinced me to go with her to see my counselor. Little did she know I was planning to jump off the third story stairwell where she found me. From there I was picked up by my dad who brought me to the hospital. I went to one for a week then transferred here for a week. And when I leave I will be getting a fresh start with a foster family who happens to be a friend of mine from school. I look forward to using the coping skills I've learned here....

So many memories. I actually hadn't remembered all of them when I decided to read through it.. Longer than I expected and I can feel a spiral coming on.... Deep breaths....