the day the earth stood still…part 2

Here’s the rest of the story. To read part one –

Recounting the timeline after the whole family meltdown is impossible. Being able to somehow compartmentalize my feelings, thoughts, experiences, whatnot has always been easy for me since early childhood. A sort of self-preservation capability that apparently children are very apt to possess. So now I find my memories are buried into the back and beyond of my mind. Maybe regressive therapy would work. Do I really need to go there again and relive every painful moment? FUCK NO!

Here’s a bit of what I do recall. There is no time-frame to reference back to. Once my mother was discharged from the hospital, she and I did go to the courthouse to obtain a restraining order against my stepfather. There were many trips to the lawyers, family counselors, and the police station. I was never allowed to contact my father or grandparents during this time that I recall. At some point, possibly days after everything started settling down, the dumb bitch that was mother disregarded the restraining order and allowed the piece of shit back into the house. This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back for me. I really don’t know for how long I plotted a way to finally leave. At some point I was finally able to go back to seeing my father on his visitation schedule. I begged him to find a way for me to be able legally come live with him. I never in my life told him the truth about anything that went on in that house. As far as he was concerned my mother was just too strict and crazy to live with.
He got into contact with some lawyer who told him that the only way to legally allow me to leave the custody of my mother’s home was for me to sign an emancipation proclamation since I was 15. We took the that road and I went home and told my mother I was moving to live with my father.
She went off the deep end over that. She ranted and raved and eventually held me hostage in the house. All my personal belongings were loaded up into the family station wagon and locked up. The only thing I was allowed were the clothes on my back & a toothbrush. I was watched 24/7 for over a week.

My chance to escape finally came one day when my mother & stepfather had to leave the house one afternoon for a job keeping lawns. I was left alone with my step-sister. I immediately had her go get our bikes to ride the neighborhood. I stopped at a friend’s house behind ours and convinced her to let me call my dad long distance. I told him he had less than 30 minutes to come pick me up. He had a 30 mile drive easily ahead of him. The man had made it in under 20 minutes, I imagine some major speeding laws were broken. I sent my stepsister to ride around the block after explaining that I was never coming back. No details were given so that she wouldn’t be lying when questioned later. My father pulled up and I jumped in his car, we hauled ass. Back at the house, I had left a letter telling my mother I was gone to a friend’s home and that she wouldn’t ever hear from me again.

When I got to my father’s house we waited to see if my mother would call him looking for me. Eventually she did call, he played it off that I was staying at a friend’s house. She wasn’t buying it. He asked her if she really cared that I ran away. I was listening on the spare phone with the mute on. Her eventual response to my dad was that she was relieved I was gone and that now there was one less mouth to feed.
I had been reduced to nothing more than a nuisance to her.

It was over. She was done. I was free. I was so freaked out I didn’t leave my room for a week after that.

There’s much more to tell about life after that…stay tuned.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s