I'll Be Better.

I know this is only my second post, but it is going to be serious. I'm sorry in advance.

I have a lot of emotions built up, and they're not good. When I was 9, my dad robbed a pharmacy at gunpoint. From there, it was kind of all downhill. I've spent about 7 of my 17 years living with people other than my parents after June 28, 2008. I've been molested. I've tried to commit suicide. I've had a gun held to my head. I've had 2 miscarriages. I've been in 4 different facilities. I've been diagnosed with PTSD, Major Depressive Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Panic Disorder, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. My past affects my every day life. Let me just say, I know there are people who have it worse than me, but worse is a qualifier when you consider that we all handle experiences differently. I've been hurt and I've been wronged. But - I'll be better.

I'll be better in that my children will never have to go through what I went through. My kids will never have to watch my husband break my back by stomping on my spine for 10 minutes. My kids will never have to watch their older siblings get hit with large objects when their father gets mad because the new baby is crying. My kids will never have to cower in fear because, "shh, dad just got home." My kids will never have to fight off dad in his drug fueled rage because he's about to go in the baby's room because she won't stop crying. They just won't.

I'll be better in that my daughter won't long for school field trips I can't pay for because the money went towards buying pills. I'm not going to shoo my daughter away from the living room because she's gonna see something she doesn't need to once everyone gets to the house. My daughter will never walk into her room after cheerleading to see her sister sitting in the closet and freaking out from a meth-fueled paranoia. My daughter won't wake up in the middle of the night to a drunken man she doesn't know fondling her undeveloped body. SHE JUST WON'T.

I'll be better in that my son won't see a little girl he barely knows get hit by their foster mom. My son won't have to hide his legs because his foster mom won't whip him with a switch until he bleeds because he won't have a foster mom because I will be better. My son won't meet me in a restaurant on his tenth birthday for his 3 person party. My son won't go home that night and curse God and ask what he did to deserve this. My son WILL NOT cry himself to sleep for 7 years because of me.

My children won't have scars all over their bodies because they WILL NOT feel the need to slice their skin to feel something other than nothingness. My children won't look for love and comfort at the bottom of a bottle or the end of a pipe or in the arms of whoever will look their way. My children won't write how they'll be better, because I'LL be better.

Finally, I'd like to say that I love my mother and I love my father, but they have not been the best parents. They don't need to be. Because now I know how to be better. I won't hurt my kids like I've been hurt. I'll be better.

Who Am I?

For years I've asked myself, "Who Am I?" I've been in and out of foster care, I've been molested, I've had a gun held to my head, and I've attempted suicide more times than I care to count. I've often wondered which of these experiences made me who I am today. How many of these experiences define me. The answer is, surprisingly, NONE. What defines a person is their hopes and dreams, their fears and what they've lost. Things that aren't in my control don't dictate what my life will be or how I will turn out.
I could show you a picture of me smoking and drinking and partying - and that's me. I could show you a picture of three consecutive straight A report cards - and that's me, too. The difference is a year and the realization that the mistakes of my parents are not something that I'm bound to repeat.
Someone could tell you all of the horrible things I've witnessed and you would cry, hang your head, and think, "That poor girl. I wonder where she is now? Probably in prison," But that is the misconception that dooms people like me to repeat the past.
For my first three years of high school, after I had moved in with some of my family, I was treated like I was my mother. I was treated like I was my father. I was treated as if I were the one who had robbed a pharmacy at gunpoint. Now, I know my family loves me - and there's no denying that - but what result do you expect when a child who has hardly ever had any support is treated like a hardened criminal? You get the first picture of me. I succumbed to the pressure and I fell to meet everyone's expectations. I failed classes. I skipped at least 60 days of school my sophomore year and about 30 during my junior year. I smoked (cigarettes) and I snuck around to have sex and drink with my friends. I learned how to lie through my teeth to get away from my family and their low expectations.
Skip forward to my senior year. I'm living with my mom again. Yes, I still make mistakes. I drink when I go to parties and I'm still sexually active. These are normal teenage things. The difference between the first and second picture, though? I'm happy and healthy and I'm safe to come home and admit that: Yes. I did have a little bit to drink last night. However, the main difference is that I'm being supported in all of my decisions. My mom doesn't check my phone because she doesn't feel the need to. She feels confident that if I made a mistake or got into some kind of trouble, I would come and tell her. She gives me the freedom and trust that I need to explore my limits, but she also sets boundaries. I have a 12 o'clock or 1 o'clock curfew depending on where I go on a given night. My mother creates a safe haven for me to come back to. I may disappoint or upset her, but I don't have to hide anything from her. It's this environment that has gotten me straight A's and an amazing group of friends. I'm able to be anything I want to be.
Despite the aforementioned narrative, neither define me. I'm not the drinks I have or the grades I get or the friends I have. Would you like to know what defines me? I'm afraid of the dark, and I always have been. I have an unhealthy obsession with cats. I'm open to loving anyone regardless of color, creed, race, religion. I love classic rock. I take a selfie at least once a day. I was once vegetarian for 7 months. I want as many tattoos as I can fit on my body because I don't think that art should be confined to a canvas. I have 00 gauges because I think they're beyond cool.  I paint. I sing. I act. I'm a good person with multiple interests and infinite plans for the future. These are what define me. These make me who I am. So, I've stopped asking myself, "Who am I?" Instead, I ask, who are you?