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Little Boy From Little Town Part 2

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By Frank FoxPublished 7 years ago 4 min read
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Teenage years

Hi, again.

So, last time we kind of ended on a dark note and, sadly, it did not stop there.

My next memory of it all is a few years later. By that time, my mother had left the guy that was beating her and found a new boyfriend, who is a great man. He isn't violent. He's rather laid back, which brought a calmer air into the household, which is great but the substance abuse was still very present. School wasn't great for me either, even if I did meet some of my best friends that, to this day, I still speak to on a daily basis. As for the rest of my life, at that age, it wasn't great.

Enough ranting. At about the age of 13, I did something that no kid should have to do or even be put in this sort of situation. My mother had gotten herself very drunk and, mixed with other substances, it made her depression hit her hard, so I had to physically stop my own mother from killing herself. I remember standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, because she wanted to slice her wrist. I remember holding her arms while she was yelling at me that she was going to hit and hurt me if I didn't release her. I don't think I've said this, before but my mother is a very small and frail woman, so her saying that she would hit and hurt me didn't really scare me. It did, however, have a negative mental effect. Again, no kid should be put in a situation where they would have to stop their own mother from killing herself while she threatens hurting him.

So that was one of them. At that time, I had met my now best friend so I would spend a lot of time at his place, eating maybe once a day. So you can imagine how tiny I was.

Anyway, on to another (not so) fun memory. This one, I was again a bit older, but the scenario hadn't changed. I was in my room with a friend. My mom was upstairs, drunk, and at one point I heard call for my step-dad (I guess). Her boyfriend, anyway. At this exact moment, I knew something bad was coming and even though I was telling her that he wasn't here because he was at work, she was swearing that she had seen him come back from work. All of a sudden she got up from the couch, flipped the glass table and stomped all over to break the glass so she'd have a piece of glass to cut herself with. Everything happened so fast, but I had the reflex to hit her hand so she would drop the shard. As I said before, my mom is a tiny woman so I was able to grab her and actually throw her on the couch and keep her there. She would come in and out of her state to apologize and tell me things like, "I don't deserve this," and then go back into a suicidal state. Luckily enough, one of her friends called and I was able to pick up and tell her to send the police to my home, since I didn't exactly have the time to do it, and she did. The cops came by and took control of the situation. My mom tried to fight them because she wanted to get another beer or drink, but fortunately the cops wouldn't let her. You know when you get so stressed that your body shakes all over? I remember sitting down and my arm shaking so much that it went from my shoulder to my knee without my control. Finally, my step-dad got in, allowing me and my friend to leave my house for the weekend.

That was definitely the worst of it. Don't get me wrong, there were some good times in my childhood. To name a few: I started watching anime, but only once every two weeks, when my dad came to pick me up for the weekend. I would always miss one episode, but I got a small television for my room and thankfully the ONLY channel I had access to was the one that allowed me to watch anime. The anime I was watching were: Gundam Seed, Inuyasha and Witch Hunter Robin, every friday for years.

I just want to go out of the blue here saying that my dad, who is a great man, did everything he could to have custody of me and my sister. With how the child services system is, he couldn't really get us, sadly, but I never blamed him. I was never mad. Let it be known that he is a great man and a wonderful dad. I actually moved to his place when I hit 18 years old but we'll talk about later.

I think this is a good place to end it. So far, you might be wondering why I'm telling you all this. Basically, it's because I want people to know that you are not alone. The worst of all of it was being alone in this. Sure, I had my sister but I'm the elder so it was my job to care for her in the harder times. So what I'm saying is, if you are experiencing something similar, know that you are not alone and that it gets better. It gets better with part three, most likely tomorrow.

trauma
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