The Day I Left Home
So if you have been following my blog at all then you know I said earlier in the year that I was going to use some prompts in order to help the flow of imagination. The prompt for today is “the day I left home”. Again, anyone that knows me knows that this is both a negative and a positive aspect of my life. First of all, I want to cut to the chase and just make it clear that the home life I had with my biological mother was absolute hell on earth; and I could not wait to get out of there. This meant fleeing in any way possible.
To begin with, I didn’t find out my true livelihood until I became an adult. This is because 90% of the adults that had anything to do with raising me, completely lied to me. It was not until I was an adult that I found out I was with my biological mother much longer than I originally thought. Let me start with the good stuff first.
The first four years of my life were wonderful because I still had my dad. My dad was my rock and whatever positive memory I have of my childhood, involved him. Unfortunately, he died shortly after my fourth birthday from a massive heart attack. You would think that that would be something a four-year-old would not remember specifically. But when he had his heart attack he literally died right in front of me. My memory had blocked that out for so many years, it was not until I became an adult myself that I was able to remember what happened. But that is a different story for a different day.
There were several different times that I left home. I was what the state listed as a habitual runaway. I habitually ran away from my home because I hated living there. The people I lived with detested me so much they never bothered to hide it. My mother was blatantly whoring around in front of me and my sister. And since I was the youngest one in the family I was able to see my sister follow in her footsteps. I remember being in my family's home when my sister was in a major car versus train accident. In this accident, her boyfriend died, but she lived. However, she ended up in the hospital for an extended period of time and when she came home she wore a back brace and a neck brace. So that meant I was her dedicated servant. That didn’t last long either. She ended up going to bed with her then-dead boyfriend’s best friend and picking up where she left off.
It was shortly after this that I recall my mother sending me to my oldest sister and brother-in-law to live. The exchange rate for me going there was to become their built-in babysitter for their children. This ended horribly as I went to the police because my brother-in-law sexually assaulted me. And in return, my sister came to me saying that I did some horrible things to her family as well. I was ready to give up. It was at this point that I remember multiple attempts at suicide. Apparently, the pills I took weren’t enough.
This is when my life began to spiral in a good way. My mother said to hell with it and she gave me to the system. I was now a ward of the state because she didn’t want to have anything to do with me. That was fine with me. Foster home after foster home, I continued to run away. I ended up getting a boyfriend and hiding away in his family’s house. Even being a hideaway, not having any friends, not going to school, and basically being a recluse; was better than being in my own mother’s home. The woman I was staying with really listens to me and she agreed to help me do whatever I needed to do to “save” myself.
It wasn’t until I was 16 years old that she went to a governmentally funded school with me, posing as my mother. At this school I was able to live there and get an education, as well as so many trades; there was no way I wasn’t going to be successful. She signed all the paperwork to enroll me and I began my new life.
I moved into the school and I was immediately put into a room with other girls. I didn’t know how I was going to adjust or if I was going to adjust. But it turned out to be the best thing for me! I got my GED the first time I took it. I studied for and became certified in so many different trades. Heck, I can service your HVAC unit and your plumbing issues while I lay carpet and paint your house! They taught us everything. I took office classes to learn how to use computers. I became certified in so many different areas of work there was no way I could feel when I got discharged from the program.
And that’s exactly what I did. When I got discharged from the program, I was an adult. I spent four years there, so I was approximately 20 years old when I got discharged. I had enough money saved up for an apartment, a car, and I already had a job. This was my stepping stone and I was proud of myself because I made it! Now over two decades later I am still extremely independent. Even though I have my husband and my adult son always looking after me to make sure that I am okay; I am independent.
I do not grant this independence to my mother, either one of my sisters, or anyone within the foster care system. Every single one of these people ultimately failed me. I was thrown out, kicked while I was down, accused of heinous acts, and disappointed in myself when I woke up in the morning. A kid, a teenager, a young adult; should never feel this way. My upbringing is the reason why I took my son's upbringing so seriously. It is exactly why I monitored every aspect of my son’s life. And I am convinced to this day it is exactly why my son is serving our country in the military right now, has never been on drugs or drink, and is an upstanding citizen. Yeah, I take credit for that. Not all of it, but a lot of it.
This prompt is killer! I really liked this one. Chime in down in the comments and let me know what it was like the day you left home.
Thanks for Reading;
Kristina
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