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Notes: 4 / 1 month ago
Rebuild
CAUTION: It’s now 3am and I just wrote this and I haven’t reread it so I have no idea what things it may contain.
It’s weird. Ten months ago I remember being so absolutely terrified of both my mom and dad, that one night my entire body shook with fear which was the only experience I have ever had with that. I did not sleep more than thirty minutes at a time, and I did not stay awake for less than 30 minutes at a time. School was rough the next day. I spent every second of the day thinking about where I would go with the emergency week’s worth of clothes I brought to school that day because the thought of going back home scared me to no end. I took a nap at the school once the last bell rang, and waited for my ride to get me at 4pm.
I ran away and didn’t speak to my parents for a week.
The Sunday of that week, my dad walked into Uturn looking for me. I saw his face searching the crowd of teenagers for my face, and I ran away crying, but no one realized it because I covered it up by laughing too hard. I hid and told people that I didn’t want to talk to him and to not let him ever get near me. It didn’t work and he took me home to “talk about issues”. Going inside that car, then inside the apartment that I had dreaded coming back to, just about killed me inside. Nothing had made me nervous enough to feel my stomach twist and contort itself.
The meeting was over. I lied and told them I had to be back at Uturn right away because I couldn’t stand it. It wasn’t anything that was said, it was the way they were said. My parents have always had that tone of voice where they say something that doesn’t really make you mad, but it’s all said in a disappointed, bitter tone. I couldn’t take the glares, either. Agh.
A week later, I was still scared to come back to that little apartment, but I knew I had to go back there to take all of my shoes, jackets, and other belongings because I knew that I was going to be away from there for more than just a short time. So I did what I thought was the best way to get it: drive there after school, and give myself the 40 minute time frame before my mom got home from work, to take out as many items as possible. I left in 30 minutes because I didn’t want to risk being seen as I drove out the driveway, or even worse, inside the house.
The next week, I couldn’t take being away from my 4-year-old sister, so it took meone…two…three…four… five days to talk myself up and build up the courage to call up my mom and ask if I could come see the little girl. She said yes. I went there after basketball practice and it was the most awkward visit ever. I felt like I needed to stay because that’s where I had lived for half my life. But everything all seemed so foreign, I couldn’t tell why.
A few more weeks passed by and my parents decided to tell me that it would be best for me to not see Kezia, the little girl I helped raise ever since she was born. I cried like a baby.
Weeks turned into months, and I decided that if I wanted to see her, I should start consistently trying to build relationships with my parents. I started coming over more often, even though none of the visits lasted for more than three hours because I was still super anxious.
Enough time passed for me to be comfortable enough to spend the night there, but only if Sharon was there. I guess you could say I was still traumatized, or whatever word it is I’m supposed to use here. After several nights of being there with Sharon, I took my chances and I spent the night there all by myself. It sounds silly, but it really did take a lot out of me to make that decision.
And from then on, everything has been increasingly getting better. Not only do I not run away when I see my dad anymore, but I also have stayed there multiple nights on my own without feeling like such a disappointment. My parents gained my trust, and they allowed me to take Kezia on multiple dates so I could spend time with her. I’m not saying that everything is perfect now and nor would my parents ever be able to convince me to live with them permanently again, but I guess I just wanted to write about and find out how much progress my dysfunctional self has made. I’m glad that the relationships in my family are slowly rebuilding themselves, and I’m going to keep trying to build them up to be better than they ever were. In the meantime, it’s so easy to forget where I’ve been and what obstacles what I had to get through to get to the point we’re at now, but I can’t.
My past is what got me here to this point. And as they say, “If your relationships are good, your life is good.” I hope the two other foster children, who are now my brother and sister, have the same crazy twist of luck that I am currently having with the relationships with my parents. And I sure hope never forget where they came from, either.
Notes
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lavernee liked this
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failbetter- said:
You are an incredible woman, Karen Mawikere.
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xliviex said:
Karen I’m so proud of you!
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xliviex liked this
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ohitskarenn posted this
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