Monday, August 3, 2009

Screwed Up: The Fight

For those unfamiliar with my story, Screwed Up: My Life, please start at the beginning here. The purpose of me writing this intimate account of surviving a difficult childhood is explained here. This story in its entirety can be found at and is available for purchase for $12.95 plus shipping and handling.

My mother put me in their trust, a mutual agreement between my mother and I that neither one of us wanted to have the other in sight. It was a couple hard weeks living with my mother in Texas just waiting to leave. Yet, the day had arrived and I was leaving her apartment and moving to my friend’s home. This would be a welcome adventure and I knew that God was directing my life and making things happen for me. I just knew it!

I was elated to be living with my friend. I knew God had made this possible. A part of me wanted to live with my friend, because it was not my mother’s place, and another part of me wanted to live with my friend, because I knew her and her grandmother and I knew what to expect from them. Yet, another part of me was happy to live with them, because my twin brother stilled lived in the area.

So, here I was, back in Sapulpa. Back to the place I had always considered Hell and the backdrop of one of the worst time periods of my life when I was fourteen and living with my father in his decrepit house. My friend’s home wasn’t too far from my father’s place, but it was far away enough. Still, we had to pass the Texaco my father owned each time we made our way to town. Passing that old gas station brought up many memories of sitting in the dusty, cramped office that reeked of motor oil watching my father fill gas tanks and wash windshields at his full-service station.

This is where my twin brother has learned the trade after being pulled out of high school while barely into our ninth grade year. He had worked there most of the time, learning how to change oil, fix flats, and repair vehicles. By twin brother had always had a knack for tinkering with motors since we were small children and I remember him taking apart many of my childhood toys in an attempt to see how they worked.

While I lived with my best friend from Oklahoma, I was not allowed to attend the Mormon Church. I knew this would be the case before moving in with them, yet I didn’t understand why until one day they explained it to me. I still did not agree with them and begged them to let me go. Apparently, my best friend’s mother was a member and attended the Mormon Church in town and they were afraid that if I saw her and met her that I would grow a liking to this woman that they disapproved of. I did not understand how this was a good reason for me not to attend church though.

I begged and pleaded with my friend’s grandmother to allow me to go to church. She proposed different churches that I could attend, but all I wanted to attend was the church in town. The family I had lived with in Indiana for a year and a half had taught me the importance of church attendance and for some reason I still wanted to prove myself to them that I was a good person. So, my friend’s grandmother called up the bishop one day and told him that I needed clothes and that she wanted to talk with him. The bishop did as she expected and brought over clothes for me and they talked.

It was during this time that my twin brother came over to visit and my eyes were opened to reality and away from this dream that I had been living in for a week. I remember my friend and my twin brother smoking pot outside one afternoon—something I had given up when I moved from Sapulpa years ago. Then, another time, I walked in on my best friend and her boyfriend fondling each other on her bed. This was everything that I was taught not to do. I was angry—I was confused. This was not right and I couldn’t believe my friend had lost her innocence in the three years since I had seen her. I knew I couldn’t continue to live like this and lie for her.

So, I confronted my friend and her grandmother one morning and told them how I felt. I had raised my voice against something I felt so strongly about and spilled my guts on what I thought of my friend and my brother. I was frustrated. This is not what I was expecting life at her home to be!

My angry outburst backfired and my friend’s grandmother began yelling at me. She couldn’t believe how I could say such lies about her granddaughter whom she was raising. How dare I say such terrible things about her granddaughter! How dare I disrespect her home and lie! I was told to apologize and I refused.

That is when she told me to leave and never come back.

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