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  • One can never tell who their true friends are until trouble snakes its way in and grabs you by the throat, suffocating your entire being until there is no life.

    Trouble seemed to find me no matter where I hid. Mom’s, Dad’s, and even at school. Mom rarely punished me and it took something that she would call unforgiveable in order to be sent to my room. After my punishment was over she would go and buy me a new electronic of my choice and tell me how she loved me more.

    With my Dad it seemed I was always in trouble with him. He would yell when he was angry and cry when he was sad. At times, I felt like I was walking on eggshells around him.

    Between the both they did all that they could to manipulate my emotions so that when the day came I would automatically vouch to live with one or the other.

    For a time I believed that on the day I was conceived the one-minute rule didn’t apply and instead I was given the honor of being made in a petri dish.

    I looked nothing like my parents whose families had a strong Polish background. My red hair and green eyes were all my own and I hated my hourglass frame that accompanied my wide hips and short legs.

    I dreaded my eight hours and five days a week schedule at school. It was murder on my mind and I felt I could never catch a break from the teachers in the small class of ten with grades nine through twelve.

    All we learned was about God and what would have been a normal high school day filled with sports and planning for dances at a public school didn’t exist at Marilyn’s Christian Learning for girls.

    The only positive surrounding my day sentence was I used it as an escape from those who claimed to have my best interest at heart.

    My friends were not the perfect beings that we were forced to be at home and we understood each other. I was able to be myself and stretch my legs without fear of being scolded by a verbal talk that mom loved to give others if she felt they were not behaving to the letter like a respectable Christian.

    I struggled to get out of that mold that my mother used to shape me into what she believed to be fitting. I love my Dad, but couldn't seem to get passed what the two had done to me. Their fighting, their snide comments about one another left my world in a state of confusion and turmoil. I had never seen so much hate and for a moment I believed that I was turning into my Mom. Sort of like a mini-me.

    I parroted her words so that the courts and others around would see my mom as the perfect porcelain doll she had painted herself to disguise the evil that infested inside her.

    I have to think that I could never see myself leaving my mother, even till this day to be with Dad, because that would mean I turned my back on her. She had made that very clear through manipulation that she was doing what was best for me.

    When she purchased my kitten, I was able to fall in in love all over again. This love was not tainted and controlled. It was a new beginning for me to finally have a friend to call my own.
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