Beyond the Shadow

Beyond the Shadow

As I am immersed in the sense of solitude which has always been a friend of mine of sorts, I start to wonder what normal is and what normal kids do. I stretch out on the single, lone mattress that protects me from the grains of wood that run beside me in the floorboards, and I contemplate when I will be able to finally stay. Every two years, one move to the next, constant reminders of what is lost and the impending changes that may be bestowed upon me. One routine that always proves to follow me is the school bus, then the city bus when I grow mature enough. The ever present stories that make me crave the presence of each stranger and figure out the details of their lives'. After all, I am always searching for that sense of normalcy that reminds me that I am just like everyone else.

The sense of order is constantly interrupted by the banter, and bellowing screams which seem to be growing with each impending word, until I can't take it anymore. I know it is them, my parents, and they are fighting over something that seems to make the rest of life meaningless. It almost stops time, as the holler back and forth at one another, until one of them is sobbing, and the daylight is stifled by the darkness. I cannot figure out how another day passed before my eyes. Sometimes, when I was younger and alone in my room, I was weak and I cried because I did not realize the reality of their disagreements....I did not know that the rest of our lives' would essentially stop in their tracks. Where did the time go, and what am I doing here? I just want to be a happy family, like the one's I see at my friend's houses'. As the happy moments become few and far between, I notice that I've become lost in the abyss of chaos in my parent's relationship, and I have retreated permanently to my room in solitude.

That is until one day, when my dad approaches me early in the morning, and I am delighted that he is paying attention to me. He tells me he is leaving, that it's over. I do not know the extent of what that really means, as an 8 year old girl, but I tell him, that it's ok, and I will help him pack his things. Unbeknownst to me, that would be the last time I would ever see, speak to, hug or be able to love my father again for the rest of my life. He was my biggest hero in so many ways, and in the times we got to spend together, I felt a bond that leaves you seeking more and never wanting to let go, even after 15 years has passed. 

They say that time heals all wounds, but my heart has never been fully repaired from this loss. I tried to become my father in many ways and protect my mother from the cruel, lonely world that lies ahead, that I have experienced so much of since I was young. I take all of her problems on my back, and the weight begins to feel like too much for a kid. I'm overcome with stress, sadness, emptiness and guilt. Why do I feel this way? When is my dad coming back to rescue me? He promised that he'd come back for me someday...

As time elapsed, the only real measure for the past few years is the hollowness in my heart and the remorse I feel for somehow causing him to leave. After all, I was the closest to him, why did I not think of a way to convince him to stay? I long to be near the one person who seems to somehow understand me, in this lonely world, but I know that this opportunity has been lost. My mom is increasingly more stressed out, financially strained, sleep deprived and absent emotionally. I wonder when this will heal, and all of the wounds will be forgotten, but I know in the back of my mind that this will never truly happen.

She starts blaming me indirectly for life's catastrophes, and I cannot handle the increasingly heavy weight that is being placed on my shoulders. Every trip to the grocery store is marked by public humiliation for me, as she strolls through the store, and tells me how I'm not being appreciative enough that she's buying me groceries, and that she's a single parent now...
She orders me to push the two carts around the store that are overflowing with food that will be conserved and monitored until the next month when we return to the store again. Mom tells me that I'm not taking enough of an interest in all of the things she's buying, and yells at me when I do not look gracious enough about all of the items she puts into the carts. I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt for her financial hardship and loneliness, but no matter what I say, nothing is right.

She orders for me to load the car with the groceries, and fires up the engine, as her temper seems to follow suit, transforming from yelling to bellowing that can be heard from across the parking lot. I struggle to put all of the items in frantically, hoping to avoid more torment and embarrassment in front of the other bystanders; however, it's too late. There is a woman walking straight towards me. She tells me she can't believe the way my mom has been yelling at me throughout the entire store, and continuing in the parking lot, and that I don't deserve it, and she feels sorry for me. Unfortunately, this is just another day at the store for me, and I am quite accustomed to being barked at and screamed at constantly in public. I feel shameful, as I walk towards the car, after running to return the shopping cart, and I sense that my mom has witnessed the lady speaking to me. She says she heard what the woman said, and insists that I run up to the woman to tell her what a little bitch I am, and that I deserve to be screamed at because I make my mother's life so hard. I oblige, with tears streaming down my face and permanently rose stained cheeks, but the damage cannot be undone; my mother is furious now. Day after day, it continues this way, for what seems like a  lifetime, until I see an out, an opportunity that I will not allow to pass me this time.

I gave her the majority of the money I earned babysitting and housecleaning from the age of 12, in an attempt to contribute to our familiy's expenses, but I save enough to be able to finally escape from solitude and lonely nights within the confinements of my room. Eight-hundred dollars, it's only enough to pay the deposit and first month's rent and buy some tap ramen, but I'll take it. I am sick to my stomach as I'm leaving her house because I am filled with remorse, but I cannot see another option for happiness. I throw up a couple times when I reach the new apartment, mostly stomach acid from all of the nerves, yet I cannot help but feel an overwhelming sense of freedom that I have never felt before. I could finally be free from tears, sorrow and fear everyday, and live life simply and happy.

I will never stop feeling shame for the way that I left, unexpectedly and suddenly, and I know that I must accept the consequences that come along with that, but I do not regret it for even one second. I never once looked back, asked my mom or anyone else for money or assistance, or felt solitude again. I had a personality that people actually started to seem to want to be around and get to know, and a blossoming hope that everyday was a new day for opportunity. I was no longer fearful of myself and my own potential. I believed in love and life, in a way that I never had any time before, after my father left. The impending grief that struck everyday was no longer constantly in the back of my mind, and I had the ability to make my life turn out the way I wanted it to. I found a job, barely making ends meet, and was able to become promoted, and continued to grow and explore all areas of life. I may not have experienced and fulfilled most kids' dream of graduating from college, but I earned everything for myself, and had confidence in the idea that I was worth something. I had never felt so special in my life, until that day, and I will never let anyone take this freedom of happiness away from me again.

So if you're asking if I have ill-will towards either of my parents after this, the answer is no, because I am the only person that can be blamed if my life doesn't turn out as planned. I will not make my parents' scapegoats because that would be no different than what I experienced growing up. I have the responsibility to follow in different footsteps when I have children, and to share the indestructible and everlasting love that I always wanted to have. At the end of the day, I am thankful for always having to work with my parents and missing social gatherings when I was a kid because it taught me the responsibility I have today. I will not take life for granted, and I will count my blessings because I know that the man upstairs has an interesting way of rewarding those who practice forgiveness and love. With my own child on the way now, I am sure now, more than ever, that this is what I was meant to do in life, and there is every opportunity for me to give my child the life that I always wanted and deserved. I will learn from my mistakes, and adapt to the obstacles that are presented to me because I know that the love that is shared between a parent and their child is infallible.