I stayed at my father’s house for so long because my mom changed her exposition from “My daughter has disciplinary issues,” to “I don’t feel like raising my daughter anymore.” Abeit, she still aided me financially and tried to come to some orchestra/choir concerts… She lived 30 min away for most of the time and then (towards the end of fourth year) she moved about ten min closer and even so, I only saw her some random weekends and usually during Christmas. Every time I asked her to take me back, she disputed, refused.
When I expressed my depression, she thought of me as over-dramatic… reminded me of our religion as every one did. Some of my siblings could relate because they had been under that roof before. However, they weren’t stuck for more than a year (with the exception of my older half brother, Burger, and half sister, Mariah who I didn’t have a relationship with until much later.) They were mostly just glad to not be in my position anymore. My step-mom was just like my step-dad in the matter; Staying out of it besides expressing personal opinion about my father every now and then. Anyway, the only person to genuinely and wholeheartedly understand me was – is Xavier.
My father knew how much I loved him and so Xavier was used as a reward – similar to a cellphone. I could only see him at school and during one day of the weekend – and never longer than 5 hours. Plus, they didn’t get along very well. I’ll expand on that later… However, I did start to conflict with my father a lot more than usual and I behaved more boldly, more careless. To the point of not coming home one night untill like 9 – on a school night. I also earned myself an in school suspension – twice. At home, I only interacted with my lil’ Zackie and my Rocco. And when I did interact with my father, I made constant disrespectful comments. They wanted to blame my mischievous actions on my involvement with a boy who was 1.5 years older than me and just so happened to be an atheist.
Here’s the real reason I acted out: Although I was happy to have Xavier and other small, unmentioned blessing in my life, I wasn’t happy to be living. No matter what, I was still facing this… demon that lived in my room, my house and the very back of my head.
One night in my junior year, I sat up all night in thought and by morning I came to the conclusion that I was leaving. I had a plan mapped out, I knew exactly what I was going to do and where. I just didn’t know when. A couple of days later and my father made it known that he no longer wanted me there… so I made sure to let him know that he shouldn’t expect me to be soon.
Now I would go into details about my plan, but I didn’t give said details to anyone. Not my best friend, not my father, not even my boyfriend of the time (because it honestly didn’t include him – like every one assumed.) I felt so secure in this plan that I held it dear to me in my heart. Just the mere thought of it gave me peace of mind. After my epiphany, I walked around that house without a care in the world because I felt my time there ending. One time, after finding out about my lying to him, my father beat me (with a belt of course) and I actually laughed. One time, while I gladly scrubbed the carpet as my father told me to do, I sang my little heart out the whole time. He walked up to me during this and slowly asked me to write him an essay explaining, “Why… you are being like this.”
My mother caught wind of my planning to leave and finally took my emotion and depression seriously. And she knew that I was serious about leaving, but I still wouldn’t live with her, oh no.
(Okay, she gave me a choice: Her or her mother… But she lived in a different county than my school, which means a different school than my bf, and friends, and at the time career field [I went to a tech school])
When I moved to my grandma’s house in the middle of my Junior year, Xavier had been in my life for about six months. I closed the door on my plan and it took only two days and one trip for me to move all of my belongings 40 min down the highway… Further away from my father, most of my close friends and my baby.
When I told Xavier, he understood. I remember him playfully head butting me after I told him one morning in the hall, before school started. I teared up because 1) seeing each other would be much more difficult outside of school and 2) That shxt actually hurt. He kissed it better and tenderly wiped my tears with his lips.
My father never got an essay.