Miles Away...

     I fought to keep myself together.  Every part of my body, my soul, ached for this nightmare to end.  It didn't.  Instead, I found myself standing at the top of a spiral staircase, dreading the fall to the bottom.  
     Soon after, I found an apartment with a coworker of mine.  Her and I became extremely close.  We told each other everything about anything without hesitation.  Life was great.  The parties we threw consisted of lots of alcohol and lots of boys. Every girls dream right?  So I drank, got drunk, threw up, blacked out a few times, only to feel good about myself for those 2 hours that my mind was complete mush.  When I woke up the next day I still felt empty, hurt, not good enough for anyone.  What if I truly wasn't good enough?  What if I didn't give him all that he asked for?  I lived a long while believing that I needed to "put out" more, believing that sex was the only thing that guys found of worth in me .  I tried so hard to fill that emptiness, that void, that never ceased with a drink, with drugs, with sex.  I didn't want to feel my pain, didn't want to feel or think about anything!  But the drinking,drugs,sex continued, because in those moments of inebriation I could be someone else.  I could be that someone who was good enough.   
     Not far into my lease one of my coworkers asked me out on a date, well multiple actually, before I finally said yes.  He was/is an amazing guy, the only guy in that period of my life who wanted me for me and not what I would give him.  He was the first guy I opened up my heart to about my past relationship that left me broken and untrustworthy.  We dated for three weeks, and then he spit out those three very words I told him I wanted nothing to do with.  I love you.  At that point in my life that was simply to much!  I just got out of a relationship with a guy who told me those very words for two years!! I wasn't going to let myself fall into that death trap again.  (Plus three weeks? was that really enough time to decide you love somebody?).    
      Six months into my lease, my roommate informed me that we were going to have another roommate.  For awhile that was fine.  Soon neither one of them were paying for groceries,utilities, and eventually rent.  I was left to feed and shelter three people working two jobs at minimum wage.  When I confronted my roommate for help with money she made it crystal clear that I was NOT her mother and that she knew darn well how to handle her finances.  Well that lead to an even bigger mess.  Her sister threatened to kill me, my things were destroyed,pawned, and God only knows what else, and my reputation at work  was shattered.  Everything I had entrusted my roommate to keep to herself she let everyone know about.        
I begged and begged for her to let me break the lease, but the answer I got was: "I will put you through hell before I let you break the lease.  We are in this for the long haul."  Well she succeeded in making my life miserable. So much so I was terrified to go home.  I stayed out until crazy hours in the morning just to be sure my roommates would be in bed when I got home.    
     I constantly asked myself (or maybe it was God) what I ever did to deserve any of what had happened to me.  Was I really that bad of a person that I deserved that life?  I might as well have died.  I was a walking zombie.  I had no energy left to care about anything or anyone.  I was simply following the staircase, preparing myself for the next problem to take place in my life.

So I Ran....

     I ran from my pain.  I ran from a life that I thought I had so perfectly planned out.  I ran from a small town that knew every waking detail of my life.  Little did I realize that running from my past, really wasn't running at all.  At some point those emotions I tried so hard to hide bubbled right back to the surface.  The emotions took over my heart, my mind, my actions, and what little dignity I had left. 
     Every morning I woke, looked at myself in the mirror, and saw nothing.  Why wasn't I good enough?  What did they have that I didn't?  Everything he asked I gave to him....everything.  The friends who once stood by my side I no longer called my friends.  The new friends I made in the end weren't really my friends at all.  Now in a new town, I had absolutely nothing.  When I started work, I worked sixty plus hour weeks.  For a while it kept my mind busy, but it didn't last long. 
     I got a call from Mom telling me that Dad was on his way up to visit me, but the quivering in her voice had put my heart on edge.  Mom told me that she had made a terrible mistake, that she was sorry, that dad was extremely upset and left that morning for Montana; on his way he would see me.  The mistake..financial crisis.  What American citizen hasn't been in a financial crisis?  I stood speechless and confused while my mother sobbed apologies over and over in my ear.  I believed her every word, every cry, but still found myself speechless.  Then through gasping breaths I hear "Dad and I have been having problems for awhile, I don't know if..."  There I was eighteen, oldest of my family, right in the middle of my parents midlife crisis.  They couldn't, wouldn't get divorced.  Would they?  I had always thought that my parents had it all together, there human I know, but as a child you live in a fantasy world where bad things don't happen to good people.  They are good people.  They are my parents, together forever, til death.  End of story.  As an eighteen year old trying to explain that to her parents I'm sure it was only heartbreaking.  When dad finally got to my house his eyes were cold, heart aching just as much as my mothers, but yet he said nothing about it.  When I told him I knew, he gave me the same answer mom did, that he "didn't know if...." and once again I blurred out the last part trying to assure him things would work out.  (and they did and are but I will get to that later)  When I finally had a chance to talk to my brother about it he begged me to come home, said he couldn't handle it alone.  Once again I assured that everything would work itself out.
     Miles away my brother longed for someone to listen and talk to him, and I couldn't be there.  Miles away my mother longed for forgiveness, if not yet from my father, then from me.  Miles away my father's quiet, gentle spirit shattered into a million pieces.  Those miles made it that much easier to be angry at God.             

Once Upon A Time...

Once upon a time there was a girl; young, vulnerable, curious about what life had to offer.  She dreamt about that fairy-tale, where everyone lived happily ever after.  Where friends were friends forever, princes rescued their princess', and families remained unbroken.  She dreamt.

     My story starts towards the end of my freshman year of high school.  I grew up in a Christian home going to church, youth group, that sort of thing, going only because everyone else in the family went.  I didn't understand why we went, but knew that there were certain rules to follow, and One very special person(Jesus Christ) who died to save my sins.  The rules seemed numerous, and I never understood why one man would die for my sin.  So, my freshman  year we got a new youth pastor who knew a lot about what to-do and what not to-do, and even more about how not to follow his own advice.  Needless to say I wanted to experience life: without rules! 

     So I did; well....tried to.  Sophomore year I no longer wanted to be known as the "goody-goody."  So I experimented, smoked a little pot here and there, got drunk every once in awhile, sometimes threw in a cuss word, nothing too extreme right?  Friends noticed, some congratulated, others disappointed.  For once I felt noticed for who I was and not for what society made me.  My old friends were quickly put on the back burner and my relationship with my parents quickly dwindled.  This year was also the year that my parents(and I) decided to take in a family friend because of problems in her own household.  It was good for awhile, we shared a room together, bunk-beds, and she became that sister I never had but had always wanted.  Stories of what happened to her in her past my family strived to never have happen again.  We locked away knives (sometimes forks), razors, pills, anything that could be used as a weapon.  Counseling sessions, sessions to watch and make sure she swallowed her pills, mandatory youth group.  Cell phones, and or electronics had to be off and in my parents hands by 9pm, and a body check every night to be sure she didn't try cutting and or killing herself earlier in the day.  Needless to say, she needed more help then my family could give.  I was jealous in a sense, because I became that awkward middle child that nobody pays attention to.  She loved the attention and I only wanted her to get better, she didn't.  She told my parents about me smoking and drinking, even though she stood right next to me and joined in.  So the rules under their roof became ten times worse.  Have you ever tried to pee in a cup the size of a golf ball?  Let me tell you, that's not an easy task, especially for a female.  I mastered it by the time my mom trusted me enough to stop testing me.  She also tried convincing friends that the life she lived at home with my parents was horrible and that my parents were crazy, yet nothing but a smile appeared on her face under their roof.  She manipulated my parents into getting anything she could have possibly wanted.  By the time my parents realized what was happening, my relationship with them was already gone.  Even worse, their trust in their only daughter was completely shot.  Towards the end of my sophomore year I started dating an old neighborhood boy.  He was my knight in shining armor, my Romeo.  He understood me and for once in my life I felt love from someone else besides my parents(or what I believed was love).  He became the center of my life, nothing else mattered.  I gave him everything, including my virginity.  I loved him after all and he loved me and my sixteen year old heart saw nothing but what Hollywood portrays in movies.  We partied, drank, drank some more, smoked pot, smoked some more, until everything that day eventually became....black.  Hollywood must've forgotten to prepare young pups like myself for broken hearts.  My heart was so vulnerable and so new to a relationship that it preferred the love that I felt for this boy over any other flaw in the world; including disloyalty.  For two years I told myself "people change" and for two years he promised me things would change, he would change.  He promised they would change because he loved ME.  Wanted to marry ME.  Have a family with ME.  I held that promise dear to my heart; that promise was never fulfilled...