*Continued story - link at the bottom
My house wasn’t a safe place, and I didn’t know that wasn’t normal.
Time moved on and I hit my teens I had learned I could excel in school and I received good grades. The impact of my dysfunctional home had already made it’s mark, but those marks were invisible. I knew I didn’t want to live like them. I planned my escape. Yet, on the inside I felt broken. On the outside I was pretty and smart and I tried.
*my edited photo.
I was a cheerleader, an athlete, a student, I worked hard to find things to do to stay out of my home. The teachers liked me. I shined on the outside, imagined or real, I saw pity in their eyes. After all it was a small town and they knew. I felt hope, I knew I could escape. If I worked hard enough. If I just tried.
And then, I met a boy, he was funny and wild he liked to live free, he had a nice laugh and a fast car. He said I was beautiful, he said many things, his touch was loving, something I hadn’t had much of. The attention felt good, and I couldn’t get enough.
Hours in my room were spent thinking of him, studying, waiting for my life to begin, always trying to ignore the fighting and yelling. I earned a scholarship to a great school. I struggled through the paperwork, with no one to help. At night HE would pick me up and we would drive around sometime we drank and ended up in the backseat. Nobody at home noticed I was even gone. I felt so free, being out of my house. I tried to put it behind me. I tried.
*my edited photo.
Graduation was coming, I was packing for college, my freedom was so close I could smell it. At home the fighting was worse. One night they were fighting and things escalated, the yelling so loud and frightening, I came out of my room. They threw wine and furniture all over the house the ranting had become violent more often. I called Him to pick me up, he came in his fast car and rescued me. I was finally free.
* my edited photo.
I moved in with him and I missed the last week of school. At first we were happy. Yet, he had work to do, so I made him breakfast and dinner and kept the house clean. We were setting up house, we were excited. The signs were there, but I couldn’t see them. I let college enrollment fly by, my scholarship expired. I married him, the baby was born in June. I don't know when it happened, but he was angry and drunk. And I tried. I had almost escaped, I tried.
My house wasn’t a safe place, and I didn’t know that wasn’t normal.
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Notes from the Author: My last story was a great success, but I don't think people who haven't lived it really understood, why and how I would marry an alcoholic after growing up in that situation. I've tried to expand on that a bit. In addition, I will be writing the next steps. On how I came to see this life wasn't normal and how I really could change my life.
Part 1 - @whatsup/i-grew-up-with-alcoholics-i-tried
Related Poem @macksby @macksby/little-girl-blue-i-tried
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