Dad's Divorce

In mid-September, me and my dad's family took a trip to Seaside, for a week. My dad had already had it in his mind that he was going to divorce my stepmother, if she didn't take a 180 and begin to take an interest in sex. Only weeks before, my father filed for bankruptcy, destroying both his and my stepmother's credit. During the course of a week, my father degraded my stepmother; for being a mess maker (though he and the twins made plenty themselves), for her being needy and not wanting to go anywhere alone, and not being interested in him being naked in bed with her. He started going on Match.com during the week, looking and talking to singles, before he even served her the paperwork. My father says he values communication with me, so he started telling me about these women he was interested in. I felt like it was deju vu. When he divorced my mother, he went looking for sex. He had a sixteen year old girlfriend, when he was over twenty. I looked back on how quickly he replaced my mother, degrading her to his friends and anyone else who would listen, before he served the paperwork. He repeated this again and for the same reason, neither woman was interested in sex with him after kids. He tried to turn me against my stepmother, like he did for my mother, but this did not work. Though he turned her whole family against her, I still trust and love my stepmother more.

Freshman Year

At the beginning of high school, I was screwed over by the court. Despite my mother not completing the assigned treatments and classes, she was allowed to have me and my sister every other weekend, half of all breaks,  half of all holidays, and every other two weeks over the summer. My attitude changed dramatically over the course of the school year, from being a eager-to-please, ready-to-work to a passive aggressive, emotional teen. One of my teachers was gone during most of the year and when she returned, she immediately noticed how I had changed. My other teachers, when asked to think about how I was at the beginning of school to near the end, confirmed her thoughts. When I looked back, I cried. I felt like being forced by the court to see my mother more, which was exactly what they were doing. They had never even seen me, but they felt like they could force me to be changed by a woman who had no right to be called my mother. I was constantly battered verbally, emotionally, and psychologically, but no one helped me get away. My father claimed I deserved to have a voice, but he turned against me, to become my mother's friend, to force me to see her. The court refused to help, but it had already turn their back on me.

Early School Years

I won't only put my home life on this blog, simply because that leaves a huge hole in other factors of my life out. Now. When I was in daycare, I was picked on. I was a freak of nature to the other kids ever since I was little. In Kindergarten, the staff of the daycare put me with older kids, all of whom were in late Elementary or Early Middle School. I was happy. I could relate to them a lot better than the younger kids and they stood up for me, especially when the younger children tried to pick on me in the playground. My early school years were hectic from my parents constant allegations against each other making me change from Kennewick and Richland on almost a monthly basis. My school life finally settled down when my father got major custody. I was living in Kennewick, and going to school. I was responsible enough to walk to school alone everyday, and walk back. I would normally use my bike both ways. Children hated me. I was always picked on by children my own age, and then the base started to expand to the upper grades as well. I only had two or three friends in first and the first half of second grades. My first grade teacher was an idiot and made the class sit in groups of four, instead of sitting me with my few friends and neutral peers, she sat me with the three girls who hated me the most in that class. My stuff was constantly being stolen. I was being kicked under the desk all the time. Yet, the teacher just left me with them, though she knew what they were doing. My dad ended up moving us out of town, in a minuscule collection of houses right off the high way. This as a child didn't bother me, since I had no friends to visit, but when I got older, visiting friends and family became very much as a hassle. The new school ended up being much more cruel, and the students even more so. I saw a counselor off and on, but they never stayed working at the school for long so they weren't really any help. My parents and teachers didn't do much to help with the bullying, so what I ended up with as a friend was Shelby. No one messed with me when Shelby was around. This friendship gave me hope. Shelby invited me to birthday parties, sleepovers, and her family events. Of course I didn't get to got to many of them, but it was the thought that counted to me. Shelby had a short fuse when it came to me, she wasn't afraid to beat the snot of someone you dared to pick on me when she was around. However, by late Elementary school, Shelby was moving away at the end, and the bullying got more elaborate. People would take my homework out of the turn in box and throw it away, they would tell the principal that I did something that I didn't, and they mobilized all the grades against me. By the end of Elementary school, I was a bookworm who heavily depended on books and teachers for comfort. In the end, I was the outcast, the loser, the one who didn't even have a place on the hierarchy of the students. But now, I'm glad that is how it worked out.

How the world views my mom

I held a party of a few friends at my mother's yesterday and their reactions to her was one I was very used to. They do not see the cruel woman that I have grown so used to seeing. My mother wears a mask. One of the more common ones, is that she makes people like her by seeming very nice and likable when they are around. However, the real underneath likes to bend people to her will in order to create the world according to her. For example, with me, she allows her true colors to shine through. She is cruel, not caring that I have my own wants and needs. She loves to play the 'You are still a child, because you are not eighteen yet.' card quite frequently. My friends do not see how she subtly harasses me, by pointing out how I'm a idiot as compared to her and making me look like a child to her adulthood. She exercises her power as a adult to try and force me to bend to her will, but I see through this because I have dealt with this as a child. However, this does not allow her to do these things. It is wrong. I have rights as a human being at the very least and she believes that she owns me and treats me like a slave.

Dad's Temper

Ever since I was little, I hated getting my father angry. He'd crinkle his nose, take a stance like a predator, his eyes would become bloodshot, and he would scream at us so loudly the neighbors could hear. However, his temper was so inconsistent that it didn't matter how good I was, he'd find something to get mad about and take it out on us kids. I remember how dad would punch walls, throw things around, slam doors, and scream like there was no tomorrow. He had such an uncontrollable temper, but he hid it well from the court. He hid it so well, the court told my mother to take a year of anger management while the one who needed it was still spanking me until I was about thirteen. Though he only hit someone on occasion, my dad was not the most supportive of parents. As a workaholic, he was never there for me through the bullying I endured from daycare to high school or when I struggled on rare occasions with school. Ever since I was born, he forced me to stand on my own two feet and walk into the world. In third grade, I was glued to a GameBoy playing Pokemon like it was the only thing keeping me sane. In truth, it was. For some reason or another, my father decided to take it away for a month. Unlike most kids, I was a freak of nature (a rather new nickname given to me by a friend, I like it) that turned from the GameBoy to books. In third grade, I was reading the Boxcar children books. Two during school, after school the librarian allowed me to check out THREE which was odd because the max was two for any grade because I'd return them first thing in the morning and check out two more. Back then, we had AR tests to see how well we remembered what we read and if we scored well, we got AR points that we spent getting various objects from a case of toys. Of course, my father claimed that he was the one who encouraged me to read, but he also took away my books during the summer. I would rather read then spend all day doing chores that he and my stepmother didn't feel like ever doing. He also claims to be the one who pushed me to do well in school. However, I had learned early on that if I had good grades, I did better later in life. In my young mind, doing better later in life was my ticket to freedom from hell. Dad's temper made me and my friend Blanco planned for me to runaway. We thought of food, where I'd live (abandoned farmhouses), and when I should go. Of course I never got the chance, but I wanted to so bad. That is how bad that my father's temper pushed me. He made me want to live his house and runaway forever.

Mom's House

In my mother's household, there is six kids on a daily basis, then my sister and I on the days we are forced to spend over there. A total of ten people in a five bedroom house. Two bedrooms are in the basement with a den area, bathroom, and storage area. The other three on the first floor with the kitchen, living room, dining room and sewing room, which is larger than than all the upstairs bedrooms upstairs. I am the only one without a real room. I am forced into the other basement bedroom that has no heating, no real window seal, and no curtains. This room has no real ceiling so the only thing between me and the living room and dining room is two inches of floor board. I end up being the last one asleep and the first one awake because of this. I was promised two years ago that the window would have a seal and insulation, but to this day, it has never happened. I end up sleeping on a broken day bed, in the sewing room. But it does matter where I sleep. I do not get any privacy. My basement room is constantly being loaned out to people I hardly know and stuff from the storage area thrown into it. People will barge into my room when they want and do whatever they want in my room. Also, yelling and screaming at kids is also a constant thing. No one seems to understand that standing two feet from a child and screaming at them is the equalization of beating the snot out of them. My mother will sit on her ass all day long and instead of checking up on children, she will scream and make them come to her. Her husband is a bear and is rather cruel to the kids. Two of the boys are autistic. One girl has either ADHD or Asperger's.

To sum up the main characters

Dad; This man is a puppet master. With a large anger management issue, he a living contradiction. He does not listen to common sense and his family often suffers for it. He plays the role of the man screwed over by the world very well. He likes to control others by telling them what he thinks and bringing them to his side. Until recently, he was my only parent that I trusted. However, this soon changed after he filed for bankruptcy, then divorced my stepmother. He later claimed that he wanted a women who would always be willing to have sex with him.
Mom; This women is an unpredictable spitfire. She manipulates people by seeming like the mother figure, who is always right. She is violent and when she was younger, solved most problems with her fists. Confident in her sexuality, she controls men through sex and children. She abuses the law system with her loopholes created by her, and uses them to get her way. She loves to legally bind people to her will, but does not follow the rules she should.
Me; I am the eldest of the two daughters born to this odd couple, but the eldest of ten born and adopted to either side. Unlike my parents, I do not prefer to manipulate people, rather I am the one most manipulated. While my mother would solve bullies with her fists, I just go with the flow and let it happen. As it was when I tried to solve the problem by talking to adults, it would get only worse with age and adult intervention. I was abused both verbally and psychologically my entire life. This blog is to help me say my story, share my pain and hopefully get some help. I am stuck. The law won't help me and it seems like the only way to escape my parents is emancipation. However, I need to know that I have support and that's I'm not alone. This is also to share my story and tell other teens in similar circumstances that they are not alone in their suffering.