When I was growing up I thought I had a pretty awesome childhood. Grew up in the country, on a farm. Could go anywhere my feet could take me. Long bike rides down the dirt road. Leaving home in the morning and running home at lunch to scarf down a hotdog and some kool-aid before disappearing again and coming in covered in dirt when it got dark. Eating dinner and taking a swim in the tub before getting ready for bed. Those were the days. It didn't matter that my dad obviously had something wrong with him that made him cranky all the time and my mom seemed depressed all the time.
As I got older and my mom had more kids, I had more responsibilities. I had to take care of the younger two, go to school and do my chores but life was still pretty awesome.
It wasn't until I got older (12) and my parents split and I had to decide between the two that things seemed to change. Do I want to stay with my dad and continue my life in one place or move to another place and be with my mom and siblings? In the beginning I didn't get a choice. My brothers moved in with my dad and me and my sister moved with my mom. Then my mom moved us to IOWA (hate that state) and I started wondering if I was really happy.
I rebelled and started hating everything about my life. I would watch what other people had and would hate that I didn't have it. I went to live with my dad and then ran away to live with my mom and eventually didn't live anywhere. Just stayed with whoever or whatever friends mom said I could. I managed to graduate with my grandparents help.
I moved way too far away to go to this college knowing I didn't have what it took. No car, no money, no job but what the heck right? I'd lived through this "horrible" childhood I could do anything. I tried. I failed. I went home to welcome arms. Wait. What?
I'd just left all these "horrible" people that ruined my life and they were just waiting there for my to come home when I needed to. I'd ran away from my mom and my dad in the middle of the night with just a note on my pillow each time. Never bothering to call.
Each time I ran off to do something stupid (like moving 2 hours away to live with my true love that eventually dumped me, leaving me alone in a strange place) they would just welcome me back.
I started seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist. I was angry about everything and eventually attempted.. well we'll leave that poor lapse in judgement be. Eventually I felt better and moved back home. That's when I decided to give college another try. I did another semester and moved back home but this time I'd met this wonderful guy that went by the name Donald.
I helped my mom take care of the kids when she found out she had 25+ tumors in her uterus. I started working at a daycare (found out that I finally was really good at something) but I was still miserable.
I was only too happy when Donald asked me to come live with him. I broke my parents hearts and left my siblings to move 1100 miles away to "Live my dream" and you know what? They let me go. They wanted me to stay but they wanted me to be happy.
Now that I'm a mom I've learned a few things ..
- My parents always did what they thought was best
- I was a pain in the ass
- I've always been loved
- I did actually have an awesome childhood
- I am all that I am because of my family
- My parents really did know everything and I didn't know as much as I thought I did
When I look back now I don't see the hard times only the good. My parents tried to give us a good life even if it didn't seem like it. They did what they could with what they had and at times it wasn't very much.