Grief is hard to understand sometimes. It can drive some people to the craziest of things, some cry then get over it, then there are the others who decide to try to push it down until they finally explode. I was one of the people who buried my feelings so far down that I forgot that having human feelings was okay. I don’t know what could be worse than not being able to realize that being human is okay but I guess that’s why I am here to explain it.
My story starts out pretty simple. I was born into a small town and I lived with my grandmother while my mother went to school. After a while my mom fell for a man that she met at her college and she went off to live with him while I was left to live with my grandmother. At first it would seem like I hate my mother for doing that, but what hit me the hardest was the fact she was taking care of someone else’s kids while I was left with my grandmother. At the age of four I went to live with my mother and step dad but I think that was probably where my mom messed up.
I love my step family but at the end of the day my mom left me with my grandmother instead of staying with me. Once again I do not hate my mother as much as I could but I can not say I love her as much as I should. At the age of six she was taken from me because of some unfortunate causes that I will not go into detail then I was sent back to live with my grandmother. For the first few years of my life I spent those days taking care of my grandmother since it had hit her the hardest. I hate to think that during those days I didn’t get to grieve but during those days I think it was that, that kept me sane during that time. My mother died twenty-two days before my seventh birthday and because of that it changed who I was.
The years went by and I had no idea what to expect from those years since I was a six year old kid who didn’t know how cruel the world could be. The first year I began to live in Mariposa I didn’t know people made fun of someone for losing her parents but I learned quickly that kids were not what they seemed. I heard insults such as it was my fault that my mother died, that I probably killed her myself and at first it made me cry. I would cry and cry while listening to some people tell me it was my fault then listen to other people tell me that it was nowhere near my fault for what happened to her.
As you grow up listening to people tell you that it is your fault for something you had no control over it starts to make you think that maybe it is your fault. I know now that it wasn’t but at that age when you barely have someone to talk to about these things you start to believe along with other things that people decide should be told to a kid. I do not know if at the time I could be any more lost than I already was but it seemed like everyday they tried to sink me deeper and deeper into my own grief. The grief soon turned into depression and self loathing that I had no clue could possibly happen because once again I was practically alone during this process.
I spent day in and day out wondering if maybe someone would walk up to me, give me a hug and just let me sob in piece but that day seemed like it would never come. I never wanted people to baby me and I never asked for them to treat me like a china doll but some people did. I hated the days that they did that because sometimes it seemed like it would only get worse when people did that and I just wanted to get through without another problem
Nine years of the same problem and I finally began high school. A place that is supposed to prepare you for the world while at the same time giving you a chance to try to reinvent yourself, but it seemed like I would always stay defenseless me. I tried over and over again to make myself someone and I will not lie that it hurt as I went through the same problem again during my freshman year. People say that with the time the grief slowly begins to fade, but what happens when that grief turns into depression?
As the time went by I prayed for some kind of hope that someone would come to tell me it wasn’t my fault and just hold me as I cried, but I knew better then to believe that it would that it would actually happen.
My light was at the end of a tunnel that was hard to overcome. I knew that I had a family who loved me more than anything but what any kids want is for their parents to be there for them. My mom and dad missed a lot of things in my life. They missed my first dance, my first boyfriend, my first prank, the first time I had gotten in trouble, and when it came down it they missed a lot of things. I know that it seems like it should seem like those things should be nothing since I had people to be there with me but it is never the same.
As the years went by the grief came in different forms. It came in depression, anger, guilt, loneliness, doubt, and self hatred. They may seem the same but at the end of the day they because different thoughts start to run through your thoughts. Those thoughts bring a person to their worst and all they ever do is hope, hope they will one day find the one thing that will make all of those things go away. I went through this time of my life but sometimes those dark times do come back even when I do try to think about the things I do have.
My light at the end of the tunnel was a realization. I knew all these years I’ve been alive that I have a family who loves me, a friend who only wants the best for me and something that makes me express how I am without all the dramatics. I never want to forget that I have a grandmother who will only want the best for me, uncles who will encourage me to the ends of the earth and a best friend who may not think much of it but will be there to tell me that no matter what I am who I am and there is no one else I should ever wish to be.
I am a slightly broken teenager who has gone through hell growing up but at the end of the day those tasks were what made me who I am today. I may have gone through those things in the past but I would never change those things for the world if it means staying the way I am for the rest of my life. Thank you for reading my story and goodbye dear reader.