Life with my dad…
Being in a new town much smaller than what I used to, surrounded
by family that I hadn’t really known or seen except a few months for the past 2
years was a lot to handle at 13.
Life with my mom had always been smooth I was brought up the
right way and I knew better not to cuss or try anything stupid. My mom was strict
and we knew that if we EVER did anything to make her upset it might as well of
been the end of the world.
Life with my dad was totally opposite. We were both getting
to know each other and didn’t really know where to begin. We knew he was dad
and I was daughter and that’s about it. For the first 2 months I didn’t attend
school, my “step mom” was to concerned about continuing on with their own lives
that I was basically not even acknowledged.
During this time I stayed in my room which was in the middle
of the house… the house did not have ac so they had window units, unfortunately
my room had no windows which meant no ac for me. Staying in a room for 2 months
while a normal life continued on around me was something I’ll never forget. I
was trying to accept the fact that my life had forever changed I basically not
only lost my mother but my brother and sister too. During the day I would write
in a journal and play with the dog my stepmom had chained in the back yard and
at night I would wait until everyone went to bed to see if they had left me any
thing to eat. If I was lucky enough my dad saved at least something for me,
most the of the time my stepmom only cooked for my dad, my little half brother,
and her self. Afterwards she would throw all the leftovers to the dog and wash
the dishes. Sometimes I would have to wait until the next night to see if there
was anything left.... As I write this today I would have to say this was the
darkest time of my life.
After the 3rd month of not being enrolled in
school I finally had enough, I called up to the middle school which was only 2
blocks from our house and pretended to be my stepmom. I told them that I wanted
to send my stepdaughter up there to pick up the papers and then my husband
would come and enroll her. Luckily they let me pick up the papers, by the time
my dad got home I had all the papers filled out and ready to go. Heck I even
signed his signature!! All he had to do was take me up there and show his ID
and proof of residency. Lucky enough he finally got time off work to take me.
I had only completed 3 months of 8th grade before
my mom died, now it was May and school was about to be let out for summer. I
wasn’t surprised that while I was visiting my sister during the summer that a
paper had came in the mail saying I failed the 8th grade.
"When the world says, "Give up,"
Hope whispers, 'Try it one more time.' "
Hope whispers, 'Try it one more time.' "
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