You’re Stupid Part Two

After the big showdown with my stepfather, my mother finally relented and let me move to my dad’s. I knew living with my dad was not going to be peaches and cream but at least the beatings and emotional abuse would stop. I was in for a completely different ride but it was bumpy. 

One important piece of information is my dad had been taking me to bars since I was nine years old. I’m 12 years old, it’s summertime, and I know no one except the neighbors. There were a couple of neighbors who drank or smoked pot so I hung around their place. 

My dad could see I was going crazy without friends. So, my dad start taking me to the club every weekend and sometimes to parties. These parties were for adults, not children. I saw things no 12-year-old should see. At one party, my dad and I were sitting at the bar drinking and I was smoking pot. I had to go to the bathroom and it was upstairs, walking up the stairs was a full-on orgy taking place. I had to walk over people to get to the bathroom. 

My dad was married and had a girlfriend, so he would go to the 7-11 every day to call his girlfriend. There were a group of young people who hung around the 7-11 and he thought if we met I would be happy. One night he drove me up there and introduced me to the group. They were all older than me and out of high school. What was my father thinking? Maybe it made sense to him because I had already been hanging out with many older people. Knowing what I know today, he was not well mentally.

Now, this was my gang, even started dating one guy who was 21 years old. In what world do a 12-year-old girl and a 21-year-old man make sense? Not in America. He was the local drug dealer, every week we would break down a kilo of pot and sell it to our friends. Friday night was distribution time, back then you could buy a four-finger bag for just $10! Sometimes I would stay at a friend’s house while he meet some other people. We partied and lived in a world of smoke. Because he had access to other drugs he would ask me if I wanted anything special, it was always hash, speed, or LSD. I had one bad trip on LSD and that was the last time I took it. I was eventually addicted to speed. 

One night my boyfriend and I were at my dad’s watching a movie on television, my dad came out of his room madder than hell and put a 357 mag to my boyfriend’s head and told him to get out. Of course, I was mad as hell and a bit frightened so I ran away. My father drove around with that gun and threatened all my friends to tell him where I was. He was pointing the gun at them. I was on the passenger side floorboard when my dad approached one of my friends and I saw the threat playing out. My friends didn’t think anything about it. Now my boyfriend and I started planning how we would kill my father, in the end, God must have said no.

At this point, I was 13 years old and in eighth grade. I didn’t care much for school and would hang out with my friends instead. After missing 34 days of school my father found out and had me put in juvenile detention for three days. My stay was an eye opener to the violence out there, so many girls were in solitary confinement. The stay didn’t affect me, I got out and talked my dad into letting me go to the Eagles concert with my boyfriend just a few days later. It would have been fine except my boyfriend drove a motorcycle so we borrowed a friend’s car. The car broke down as we were almost there. We walked the rest of the way and said we’d figure it out after the concert. After the concert, I used the toll booth phone and called my dad. The worst part is it was freezing outside, my father had never been to that city over an hour away from him. Trying to give directions, I said right before the toll both look for the car. It took him hours to find us and he was pissed. 

Right after that, he put a restraining order on my boyfriend, like that would stop me from seeing him. I was in love and we were going to get married. The fights with my dad kept escalating until he put a gun to my head. That was the last straw, I tried and almost succeeded in killing myself. My dad was so out of touch with reality, he took me by the cub to get a glass of milk. He drove 20 minutes to the club when he could have driven five minutes to the hospital. He’s not able to connect with reality.

By this time I was on probation for carrying a gun and saw my probation officer every month and never spoke a word for seven months. She would tell me that the state was already looking for a boot-camp type of place to send me, that was for kids who could not be reformed.  She felt I could be reformed and kept talking to me until the eight-month when I said send me somewhere that is not a boot camp and I’ll go. It took a few months but she found a convent that ran a bad girl boarding school, Mount St. Michaels.

Luckily for me, it was only thirty minutes from my grandparents. My father was not allowed to see me for a year, and my mother was allowed but she never came. Every Wednesday night there was group counseling, and my grandparents came every time. I couldn’t visit with them but over time they let me say hello and my grandmother would bring goodies for the entire dorm.  

I was in a boarding school for a year, and I cherish my time there. The nuns were always complementary, positive, and reassuring. One day hurt my thumb, and several nuns circled me, held my thumb and they prayed the pain would go away. This was new to me but it worked. 

I started going to the Catholic church on-site every day and eventually converted to Catholicism after completing my studies. Father George and my counselor Jim were my teachers and at Baptism, I chose my Catholic name, Catherine, and name Jim as my guardian. 

As always my mother fucked up another big moment for me. I was scheduled to leave on the 10th, we had a big party planned and say our goodbyes. Instead, my mother shows up on the 9th, I’m hauled out of class not knowing what was going on until I saw my mother’s car. No goodbyes, nothing. Someone had finished packing my room and off we went. It wasn’t until years later I realized the reason she came early is my brother’s birthday is on the 10th, she couldn’t be bothered the day of his birthday so she showed up unannounced. 

I didn’t want to go back to my mother’s and talked with my grandparents about coming to live with them. Behind the scenes, my grandparents put everything in place to take custody of me. My mother never blinked an eye. 

Reformed, I was to a point but still drank and did drugs. My grandparents ran a tight ship and my opportunities were limited to weekends. I wasn’t doing many drugs just smoking pot when it was around. Drinking was another story. This was a continuation of my drinking which lead to addiction. My granny knew I drank and if I were taking medication, she would tell me not to take my medication since it was the weekend. I did pretty well at hiding it except for the night I was skunked, hit the washer, and threw up. Gramps knew then I was drunk but no punishment. 

I guess they looked at the trauma I grew up with and gave me a pass at times. With my grandparent’s love and strict rules, I went to 10th grade with confidence. I was your typical teenager except I was hiding a horrific past. 

I was also sexually abused by my dad but am not ready to say it out loud. 

Melinda