Introductory: Ready to hear another Sad Story?
Ladies and Gentleman, before I start to spill the guts of an unfaithful Christian girl, I'll warn you that I'm PMSing! In order to get over this, I usually sit in a hot shower and cry for a bit, but then it all gets better in a day or so after it goes away.
To start: My life has been a good one. I've been blessed in many ways, from parents that took me and my younger sibling in and out of the system to raising us to the best of their ability as parents. There's a church family that supports me in small ways, and a few decent friends I can stay somewhat close to. The problem mostly starts with me. I'm semi emotionally unstabble. When your mom starts telling you you need hormones to balance out the crazies and convinces you you've got a problem, its hard to tell her to jump of a cliff. I did so for about two years before giving in, only as a courtesy to her. As a kid, I was the nastiest little shit ever. Have you ever heard those stories about kids that falsely turn their parents in for abuse? Yeah. That was me. Completely accidentally, of course, but I just wanted them to stop using the terrorism that came with a snapping belt on my behind as a way to stop me from doing what I wanted. That isn't to say that I didn't deserve a sound ass-smacking; I was a problem child.
Smart kids are kids to really watch out for. When they know what they're doing and know that what they are doing is wrong, but do it anyway, you have a serious problem in the future. What cracks me up about kids like this is that I've met so many people around my age that admit to being brats when they were kids, and when I see them now, they're level headed and well adjusted. It brings me to a theory that kids getting their crappy behaviour out when they're young and in a safe environment tend to lean toward a more level headed adult in the future. Like the saying goes, boys will be boys, girls will be girls, kids will be kids, right? In any case; I was a problem child. A pain in the ass that knew where to hide the bad books she read and broke things just to see what they'd do. My poker face as a kid was decent - I got away with a few things that I admitted to later. So I'm pretty lucky that my parents didn't completely murder me as a preteen (thtas when life got crazy and really, really horrible).
My change started when I went to this itty, bitty church on the outskirts of town. I can't say that those people had anything to do really with my heartfelt change, but it got close. A little old woman by the name of Mary came and played piano, taught Sunday School in a dusty, mold smelling room, and she was about as sweet as sugar. To be honest, I probably felt the same as any kid does in a church: Yeah, I got the stories, cool. But what is this all about? It was boring to sit there forever with only Mom for a couple years, and Dad who hated it and wanted nothing to do with it. I followed like a sheep to the slaughter. I make it sound as horrible as it wasn't. I did get baptized with my mother and brother; I saw no reason why I should miss out on something so important. I mean, I was almost hitting my teens! I didn't want to miss out on ANY of the spotlight.
Around that time, that church started to go down hill, and we were left trying to find another place with a kids program - it led us to a church farther away, but worth the time. Thats when I really started to look at things in a different light. Older, more mature kids attended the youthgroup there, and my old-soul connected much better with the highschoolers of the group. I made friends, slowly but surely in the group, and eventually made an attachment with the lead girl of the group, Danielle. Never forget it. She turned around and looked at me one night, just stared, then said, "You have a good singing voice."
Now, when I was a kid, I got pretty obsessed with things really easy. I had an obsession at one point with old comic books, which probably terrified both my mom and dad because my mom quickly started telling me that I would need professional help and having a hobby like this was dangerous to my mental health. It was the same way when I really started getting into church, into God and a relationship with Christ. I was seeing things with more open eyes, wisdom that wasn't mine but someone else's and starting to understand the world a bit better. It was like, knowing God is knowing - things you didn't understand before suddenly appear before you in a whole new light, like Eve eating forbidden fruit.
In Junior High, I was so ready to start really spreading my faith, I brought a Bible to school with me. I was already weird; I loved old comic books, was an avid reader and typist, and was competitive in flute with all the other perfect hair colors in my class. What amazes me is that its always the damned brunettes that have to struggle to be noticed because so many of us are so quiet! I refused to be another face in the crowd. That didn't end too well for me. The first day I brought that book to school, two of the guys (both held back TWO years from highschool, which I now see so much humor in) grabbed the book out of my hand and threw it in the trash, but not before stomping on it and spitting in the trash. I was completely traumatized; and I was already getting counseling. I barely remember that part of it, but somehow I wound up in counseling. It wasn't long after that I dropped out of Jr. High to be homeschooled by my mother. She did so for all of half a year before getting a job, and then starting to assign my stuff half-assedly the night before she would go to work. I remember at least once or twice wondering what the hell I'd done again to make her so pissed to look for a job rather than teach me.
When she finally bit the bullet and just got a computer program for me to graduate on, I finishd homeschooling a year early. I worked through summer one or two years, and finished early. During this time, I continued to grow outside of a school, outside of having social skills developed by being out in the world and interacting with other kids. I drifted towards the bad crowds anyway; it was almost a good thing that I was taken out of it. I started doing community service, working more in the youth groups I'd been assigned... Those were tough years. I had friends only inside the church. Having them outside seemed strange and unnecessary. I will warn you - don't think that just because its a church function your kids aren't doing something they shouldn't be. Messed up kids go to church too. I started a relationship with a smoking drinking highschooler - we never officially went out, but he pursued me like the holy Mary. I loved every bit of attention I got from that boy, because I'd never gotten it from anyone else. And to be completely honest, he was the first guy I ever touched. I think I was about fourteen or fifteen at the time, and he was a couple years older than me. I never touched him again after that - he cheated on me with another girl.
After that bombed, I threw myself into my school work and got a job a couple years later working the land, mapping it out. I was about as butch as butch can be, so butch in fact that my mom even took me aside and asked if I was a lesbian. I guess some of her buddies had come to her and asked very seriously if I was one. I was so mad I couldn't even see the building. I wouldn't speak until she took me home and even then I was still furious. I notice that when I get so upset, so angry about something, I give up on trying to talk about it. I just cry. After working for the guy I was working for, I got my GED and got a pay raise. Then I moved to an office being a CSR for my mom's company. Yeah - all this time she worked her way up and then I worked for her. I was just doing what I had to do before my mom took me aside one day and told me I wasn't going anywhere in my life. She suggested I move to out of state to go to college for and try and start a life there.
So I did.
It was working swimmingly! I had tough moments, but I found a job right off the bat, and had completely nailed the classes I had originally set out to finish. There was a sushi shop right next to the place I worked, where I would study. I loved that woman; she always said I studied so hard, and would give me free sushi. I met my best friend when I moved down there. I even started going to a church where I found support at the cafe where I volunteered, and had rededicated my life to God... And then I started getting calls from a concerned parent, who would sob and yell, and get frustrated with me for not calling, not telling every little detail of my life with them. There was one point where I was on my way to a convention and I got a call from said parent telling me that the convention I was going to was going to get me dragged to hell. Thats about the time when my distaste for religion was starting to set in. I loved God, I loved Jesus, but I didn't like the people in it at all.
It was about a full four months of this and a disagreement with my landlady that finally pushed me to move back home; My car made it, and I was renting out a crappy appartment where the neighbors stole my stuff and I had no friends. It was the worst mistake. I had only just started getting used to my last place, where I was adjusting well, had people to support me and was getting ready to make a move towards college to become a massage therapist when I moved back. I was chronically depressed, working for my mother again to help her business out while I was there with no set plan in mind. Eventually, the mold in the appartment had set into me so badly that I was starting to have coughing fits where I would nearly pass out on the floor. I was sick of being alone and listening to my neighbors have premarital sex while the baby cried in another corner of the dump. I moved back in with my parents.
So here we are. A basic set up of everything (not everything, but enough) to get us started to where I'm at today. Now I'm trying to start sorting out relationships, from my family with dysfunction, to the man I wanted but couldnt have, to the God I've disappointed every day, on a daily basis.
That spill deserves a drink.
Welcome to the Hypostian's Journal.