Through my eyes

This is a story about my stuggles through life while still helping people and learning to help myself.

Prologue

I don’t know how to start this story or why I even want to but I feel like it should be told. This was my life, this is my life. I still don’t understand everything, and maybe I never will but telling it might help. Years of therapy, months of medication. Maybe all I need to do is simply share. Open up and let the world in. People will love this book and people with hate it. Some will want to know more while others won’t finish it. But before I get to the story let me tell you my name. Gina. Gina Fornito. That’s me, 16 years old. Junior at Shawnee High School, oldest of four children. I’ve figured skated for nine years, worked with autistic children for three and have been volunteering my whole life. I love to help people and work out problems. I have a best friend of ten years and a teacher friend of two. I’ve met a lot of great people in my life but only the truly special ones are still in it. I went to St. Mary of the Lakes School, kindergarten through eighth grade and graduated with an award in technology work behind the scenes. I have to admit it’s been awhile since I really thought about how my life came to be what it is today. I think I was around eight….

 

 

 Part One: My life

1

I was about eight years old when things started, actually it was even before that but it wasn’t until I was eight that I really started to understand things. I guess I always was a writer even when I didn’t know it and because of my need to write things down my dad found a paper I had written on how I missed him. To be honest I did miss him, of course it was slightly embarrassing to hear him read it at the breakfast table that morning, but he worked long hours and the time we spent with him was limited. Despite the long hours my dad always had and still has an extreme amount of energy. He could run day and night on almost no sleep and it was rare he got sick. His poker straight hair was kept cut not too short but clean looking which brings out his face. I love my dads face. It is so full of life and happiness. He constantly has a smile on his face and a twinkle in his big hazelnut eyes, a feature I inherited from him. Hearing him laugh is like hearing the whole world laugh. I look up to him in every way, and he may not think so but he is my whole world. After all I am daddy’s little girl.

 Looking back now I should have went to him and explained how I felt, but that was the kind of person I was back then. Quiet, hiding, very lost in who I was. Always hanging back at birthday parties and hesitating to raise my hand in class.

Of course that version of me lived on for almost seven years after that day at the breakfast table. It wasn’t until a couple years ago that I finally started to find myself again. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Before the losing and the finding of myself I was part of a happy family, a “normal” family as it is often called today. That was many years ago though, when my mom and dad were together. When I only had one sibling and we all got along.

Tabernacle. That is what my family calls the house we used to live in, The Tabernacle House. My dad built that house. It wasn’t my first home and it certainly wasn’t my last. However, it was my brothers’ first home and that made it special because we have a lot of great memories there. We had a lot of great years before all the mess came. There was the time my dad built a volcano with us and the time we dyed Easter eggs with him while my mom video caught it all on film. All the Christmases and Easters. All the birthdays and Halloweens and first communions. The first and last time we truly were a family. A happy family. But that was then and this is now. Things are different now.

2

My mom lives in Medford and my dad lives in Ventnor. Did I mention that? They’re divorced now. My dad has a girlfriend who lives with him while my mom lives with my and my siblings. Money can be tight sometimes with my mom. She works long hours and sacrifices everything for us kids. Our house in Medford is on the smaller side, not to say it isn’t nice. While my dad’s house in Ventnor is on the bay and there are two boats attached to the deck.

 Because my parents are divorced and they both are busy people, my sister’s childhood is far from what my own was. Everything was done for me and handed to me. Mia though, she’s on her own. At six years old she has more common sense then any kid her age I know. Of course she needs help some times but with so much going on at my house she learned to fend for herself.

 Like I said before, life is very different now from what it used to be. Even our attitudes. I think a little part of all of us long for what we used to have and the emotion that comes through is angry. I don’t think the rest of my family really knows where that attitude is coming from but I do. They need time to figure things out, I understand. It took me up until two years ago to realize I even had things to work out, but I did and I still do. If you don’t let go of the past you’ll never get to the future and you’ll defiantly never live in the present. So while everyone in my family may think this is how life is supposed to be, there’s still a part of them not ready to let go of what our lives used to be. Not ready to let go because maybe they think their memories are going to fade if they do. Or maybe they think it’s wrong of them to let that part of their life go. I’m not saying it’s easy. Tears can still come to my face thinking about certain memories, but that’s ok. I’ve learned to accept the situation, even though it can be painful on some days and move on with my life.

3

When I was eight I remember standing at the kitchen table next to my dad who was sitting in a chair.  Even when I was younger my dad used to talk to me as if I was an adult and I didn’t really mind but once in a while it was hard to understand what he was saying. That particular night in the kitchen he told me something I will never forget. He said, “one day Gina me and mommy are going to get divorced.” Now at the age of nine, or at any age for that matter, no child ever wants to hear that their parents are eventually going to get divorced. Especially not from their mom or dad because that makes it all the more real, but because I was maturing even at that age I understood that a divorce was probably the best thing for my family.

That said, a couple years later on Easter morning mom and dad were at in again. Fighting, fighting, fighting. I think somewhere in their hearts they loved each other. I know that today there is still a special place in each of their hearts for the other one, but like in most relationships their love could not compete with the other things in their lives. At some point you have to step back and evaluate the situation. In my family’s case (my dad having known years before) divorce looked like the best way out. They weren’t happy and we weren’t happy. But that’s not the whole story behind their divorce. Let my take you a couple more years into the future.

 

 

4

The year that proved to be one of the toughest years of my life was the year when I was between nine and ten. Here’s why: my dad opened a Salad Works in New York City. He checked the place out. He took both of his brothers-in-law to see it. They had experience in the business because they own many stores themselves. The deal was made, the business opened and the year progressed on.

That year I have to admit is a kind of fog in my head. Seeing as I was so young not everything made sense in my mind, some things are still a blur. There are so many versions of this story but let me tell you what I know. My dad’s business went under. He closed up shop. My dad went to court, lost the case and the bank took our house. At this point it felt like the end of the world.

During this time my grandfather (my mom’s dad) had pancreatic cancer. He had been fighting it for a while and was only getting worse, not better. This caused more pain on the family. My grandfather, also known as Poppy, was an amazing man. He was in the navy at and early age, loved the New York Yankees, and worked for the post office for 34 years. I loved Poppy. I knew his scent and his inside jokes. I knew when he was in pain and I could tell you his famous greeting for goodbye. I believe Poppy is my guardian angel and he’ll never be forgotten.

Now because our house was taken away, my dad, always thinking, had been building a house in Southampton. So off to Southampton we moved. It was a beautiful house, with a front porch my mom loved. In the back my brothers and I built a tree house with my dad and next to it there was a huge hill we could go sledding down. Half of the tree house was attached to a huge tree while the other half was made with 2x4s. On the roof we threw a blue tarp so when it rained our house wouldn’t get wet. Descending from the opening on the house we called the door was a ramp that reached all the way to the ground. While on the side of the house a bridge popped out, the kind of bridge that moves back and forth when you walk on it. At the end of the bridge we built another ramp that, like the first one, reached to the ground. That is another amazing quality of my dad. He can build and fix anything.

Southampton was my sister’s first house. She was born in April 2002, but not before my parents decided on a divorce. Even though my dad was there when my sister was born and he was there when we took her home from the hospital I will not forget the weeks that came after that. He started coming home only a couple nights a week or just to pack a bag. I watched him, in heartbreaking pain, pack his bag and leave. I never thought my heart would heal and it still hasn’t fully. That might have been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to witness.

Before he left the house for good dad used to get up extremely early and leave for work.  For reasons I’ll never know I always woke up just as he was getting ready. I struggled to stay awake while he took his shower and had breakfast.  When I finally heard his truck start up in the driveway I would jump out of bed and run down the stairs to the front windows. His truck would be moving down the long driveway and I would follow it window to window, waving and blowing kisses. My dad would stop in the middle of the driveway get out of the truck and I would unlock the front door, grabbing him in a huge hug and planting kisses on his face. “Have a good day, I love you baby.” “I love you too daddy, see you tonight.” Those mornings I will never stop missing, not for as long as I live. Sometimes I still wake up early yearning for one more day of looking out the windows, my eyes following the truck as it moved further away until it stopped and my daddy got out. I woke up every morning just to kiss him goodbye and tell him I love him. Something I’ll never get to do again.

5

Our house in Southampton went up for sale. When it finally sold my dad was already a ghost in the house. He didn’t live with us anymore and to be honest I don’t really know where he was living at the time. My mom found a house she was interested in and my dad walked through it with us. She decided to buy it and we started to pack.

 I remember when we moved into the new house. It was exciting because it was a new place and we were all young so the fact that daddy didn’t live there didn’t really cross our minds until years later. When the years later came and I started to realize what the reality of everything was, I was crushed. I missed my dad, I wanted him to come home at night and tuck me into bed. I wanted to see him sitting at the dinner table and hear his voice when I got home from school. But he wasn’t there and I soon began to take extremely close notice to it. I eventually pushed the feelings down so I didn’t have to deal with them and I could move on with my life. But being a kid I didn’t realize that one day those feelings would eventually surface again.

 As I got older I began to develop a serious form of social anxiety. It started right after the Christmas of 2005. We had just gotten home from Disney World and we were opening presents because we were away on Christmas Day. My mom got out the video camera and at first I didn’t even seem to notice it but the second the camera turned to me I had my first anxiety attack. I was screaming and crying, while my sister who was three at the time was so excited about something she got that she was trying to show it to me. I was so upset about the camera that I yelled at her. To this day I have still not forgiven myself for that. I don’t know if I ever will.

Time passed and I got worse so my mom took me to see a therapist. I went to her about twice a month and then she decided that maybe I should see a doctor about taking medicine. So I did and the process began.  For two years I was on and off medication and in and out of therapy. Eventually sometime in my early high school career the doctor decided I should try stopping the medicine all together. Again I followed his advice, while still going to therapy and my freshman year of high school went smoothly for the most part.

 I really don’t know what happened that summer before sophomore year but those old feelings started to surface. Maybe it was just time I dealt with them. But they were there and I didn’t know what to do with them. So I again tried to ignore them. This time it didn’t work. I went back to school that fall and needed to go back on medication for my anxiety. Between the stress and school and those feelings I was having, I just couldn’t deal with everything with out having a panic attack. I made it through that year with a lot of bumps in the road but on the way I met some pretty amazing people.

 

 

6

First, there was Elizabeth Heusser. Followed by Scott Harris and Sean Stephens, and of course the Stephens family. A friend asked for my help one day. Could I stay after school with her to fold cards? Sure. So after school that day I walked in to classroom D102 where I met Elizabeth and Scott. These two teachers, along with a small group of students were folding cards made by Sean Stephens. Not five minutes after I walked in the door I found out who Sean was.

 Sean is a 21 year old who has severe autism and gastrointestinal problems. He has his good days and bad, and I’ve seen him on both. Sean creates cards that can be sold for money to help with his treatments. The money made from his cards goes into an account called Sean’s Cure and used when his family needs it.

 Because Sean’s autism is so severe he had his own room at school where he spent his days with Elizabeth and Scott. I’ve never in my life met two more dedicated people. I’ve seen them at their best and I’ve seen them when they’ve had a bad day with Sean. I’ll never forget the day I walked in and the two of them were leaving school early. I’ve never seen them more exhausted than that day. Despite this they didn’t give up on Sean. They were back every day ready for a new challenge, ready for whatever each new day would bring. After that first afternoon I volunteered to help I feel in love with all of them. I started going to Sean’s room when ever I had a free period so I could spend time with him. The more I was in there the more Elizabeth and Scott learned about me and I learned about them.

I began to confide in Elizabeth and when she wasn’t busy with Sean she taught me the secrets of life. She has made me a better person, a happier person. When I first went to her I was so broken I didn’t think anybody could put me back together, but she did. She has so much faith and hope in everyone and she doesn’t give herself enough credit for all she’s done for Sean and his family. Scott is another one who doesn’t give himself enough credit for what he does for Sean. I can always go to him for a laugh or advice if I need it and I know he won’t turn me away. Of course when we aren’t being serious were fighting over the therapy putty.

 Other than us, Sean had other friends that came into see him during the day. Kiersten was the one who introduced me to Elizabeth. She had been working with Sean for a while by the time I got involved with Sean. Collier also spent his free periods in Sean’s room and has become on of Sean’s best friends. Of course there were others along the way that stopped by to say hello but the six of us just couldn’t get enough.

On June 6, 2008 we had a prom especially for Sean. Because Sean could not attend the senior prom with the rest of the graduating class we decided to give him his own prom. Mostly all of or supplies were donated including pizza from every where in the area. Even the banquet room was offered to us for nothing. Every single student there was supportive of Sean and was his friend. They may not spend as much time as I do with Sean but they still care and they were all there for him. Even a reporter from the paper came, scoring Sean a spot on the front page of the Courier Post the morning after.

Sean graduated from Shawnee High School in June 2008 but to this day the six of us are friends and we still spend time with Sean. It may not be everyday because he’s not at school anymore but nobody forces us to see him. We do it because we love him. Always have and always will.

7

I am the splitting image of her. My mom, that is. Same features, same hair color, same laugh. Most times when people look at a picture they have to ask who is who. Or when they call the house they don’t know which of us is on the phone. There are still features that make up my moms face that don’t make up mine. The most outstanding feature is her eyes. She has crystal blue eyes that hold love and care. Blue eyes that remind you of the beach and the water,  of the clouds in the sky. The other feature my mom and I do not share is her skin. She has beautiful skin that looks as if it was on the face of a porcelain doll. When you look at my mom’s face it’s like a painting. The colors are where they should be, the smile is a thin pink line on her porcelain face, dark curly hair laying just at her shoulders and her blue crystal eyes acting as the light to her profile.

I wish I could sit here and write about how well me and my mom get along and how much fun we have together, but I can’t. Probably most girls couldn’t. Of course we do have fun and we do get along but not everyday, and that’s ok. That’s part of the relationship girls have with their moms. They want to be the best they can in their mother’s eyes and they want support in return. Sometimes that happens, other times it doesn’t. Either way there is a, sometimes unspoken, love between mother and daughter. 

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not one of those girls who goes to their mom with every problem. I like to work it out on my own or ask a friend for help. If that fails then I go to my mom. You don’t tell your mom everything? No, not right now at least and there is nothing wrong with that in my eyes. It’s not that I disrespect her or that I don’t love her, it’s just my way of looking at things. Everyone has a different opinion, and a way of handling things. Mine is to keep my problem as my problem and figure out a way to fix it without asking my parents every time because one day I won’t be able to ask them.

Anyway my mom and I have had our share of laughs. Some of the things we laugh about might be something truly horrifying to someone else. We don’t make fun of people and we don’t put others down but when we laugh, we laugh. We laugh until we’re crying and my sister has to ask what’s wrong. In which case we are laughing so hard we can’t stop to even answer her and her question puts us into even more hysterics. So maybe you don’t have the best relationship with your mom but nobody has a perfect one. All I can say is be comfortable with one another and don’t let your love slip away.

8

A lot of people have told me I exaggerate my life so that it sounds completely horrific. As if I have the worst life ever and everyone hates me. Let me correct those people. I don’t have the worst life ever and no, everyone doesn’t hate me. The world is filled with millions of people and I’m sure there are a million and one that have bigger problems than me. That said, I did have and sometimes still do have a difficult life. Every person does at some point. My time came early in life, which made it harder but that’s not an excuse. Yes, I’m sure there were days where maybe I was being a little dramatic or maybe even a lot dramatic. When you’re ten years old and you feel like the world is falling down I think being upset is the nature of beings. I was sad for a long time and a lot of friends and family felt I was overreacting, but the truth is I was doing the best I could. My family fell apart, my house got sold, and my heart was broken. You would be sad too if you were going through a hard time, wouldn’t you? I think so. I’s ok to be sad and it’s ok to be angry or upset or embarrassed. Each of these emotions is a part of our daily lives and feeling them just means your living.

9

            It was February 2003. I was in fifth grade. I came home from school one day and my dad was waiting for me and my brothers. He was all excited as if he had some great idea, and let me tell you that he did. Yes, it was a little crazy but my dad is like that, very spontaneous. So that afternoon as I dragged my book bag across the garage and into the kitchen was the afternoon I was told to start packing, we were going to Vegas. What? When? Tomorrow morning me, you, Nick and, Anthony. Mommy has to stay home because Mia is too little to go. At this point they were starting the separation. So the next morning bags packed, gas in the truck, and a 2004 road map (we were driving, didn’t I tell you?) we were on the road. It took three days to get there. We drove all day and stopped late at night so we could sleep at hotels.

When we finally got to Las Vegas it was around seven at night, meaning the city was alive. I don’t think I can tell you what the city looked like to me. I was in amazement and I knew I was going to love it. My dad took us to every show and every hotel. Daddy, Nick, Anthony and me. Just dad and his kids, that’s something I’ll always remember. He is so good with us. We spent four nights in Vegas and on the fourth night I got sick. Everything was ok though because daddy was there. The next morning we were off again. On the road to home with four days between us. That’s how long it took for us to get back because of the snow storm in Chicago. When we finally got home my mom was waiting with a big dinner and my sister was playing happily in her chair. It was nice to come home to that, almost as if nothing had changed. As if the next day we would all sit down and do the same thing and then daddy would tuck me in and go to bed in his room with mommy. It was only a dream, but it was a good one.

10

Sean. Where do I begin? I day with Sean is a day of accomplishment and happiness. The thing I look most forward too, besides seeing him, are his high fives. Sean loves high fives. He’ll probably give you twenty or more in a day. If he likes you, he’ll test you. What I mean by this is if Sean likes you then he’ll get real close to your face, see if it scares you. He wants to know your reaction. If he doesn’t like you he just doesn’t bother. I’ve spent a lot of time with Sean, in fact I’m going to be with him this week, so I know him pretty well. Sean’s cards are awesome. I love them, and he even won an award for one of them.

Over the summer school Sean learned more how to speak in sentences. How to communicate what he wants or what he needs.  There is so much you can do with Sean. Go for a walk, make cards, do a puzzle, turn on music, or just sit with him. He’s so happy when people come to see him and it makes me happy when he’s happy. I went for a walk this summer with Sean, Elizabeth, Scott and Collier. We walked all around the school and almost the entire time Sean held my hand. I love that. I love that he interacts with me, that he responds to me. I know he can’t communicate well but I believe he understands what we say to him. I believe he is aware of everything that has been done for him and I believe he is full of hope.

Sean is one of the most hopeful people I know. How, you ask, can I know that? I know that because Sean may be in a bad mood but he makes it through the day or the week or the month and then he comes out of it and he’s happy and smiling. He spent so much time in pain, so much time when we didn’t know how to help him that I believe he got where he is today with hope. Maybe you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to but if I know Sean, he’s got hope.

11

It’s 2:23 on a Wednesday afternoon. I haven’t even been in school for a full seven days. It’s beautiful outside and I’ve got everything going for me, except the fact that I’m sad. Why? Too many days in a row of happiness? That’s how I feel; you can’t have so many days without being sad. So here I am on this gorgeous September afternoon with the sun shining in the window and my eyes threatening to let water pour down my face full of make up. My hands are slightly trembling and words I don’t care to remember are caught in my throat, choking me. I’m the person who loves change and can’t stand it. Right now I can’t stand it. I’m so afraid of losing them, of losing my safety.

Let me be honest. I don’t know how to be ok. I don’t know how to continue doing well once I’ve already reached it, and I have. Everything is on track but I don’t know how to keep it going. I guess what I want is someone to care. Even now that I have myself together I still want someone I can go to or will notice when I’m not ok. I want them to be able to look in my hazelnut eyes and know that no matter what I am saying to them or how dry my eyes look, I’m not ok. I used to have that. I used to know what it felt like, but now like always things change and people move on. So here I am, stuck once again, with no one who can notice.

12

I loved her. We did everything together. We even held hands when we were walking down the street. Times were different, I was younger. I didn’t understand. I thought she was great. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t write this to criticise her or talk bad about her. I write this to explain where things went wrong, where misunderstandings turned threatening. I’m talking about my dad’s girlfriend. Ah, now it makes sense, right? I’m sure a lot of kids out there aren’t so happy about meeting mom or dads new “friend.” They’re not used to it and they don’t want to be. All they want is their family back together, which in most cases, is not going to happen.

            So when Sara walked into my life I had to think a little harder. Here is where I give my dad credit. He didn’t introduce us when my brothers met her because he was afraid of what my reaction might be. To his surprise when we met we hit it off. She took me shopping, we got our nails done, and I played with her dog. Yes, it was all fun and games, until I grew up. And I did grow up rather fast. Fast enough that when I was about 13 maybe 14 years old we began to fight, and it didn’t stop. We fought about everything from how to do my sisters hair to how I was a manipulative liar (her words, not mine). Of course these things bothered me at the time but now I realize, what could I do? She is the adult and I am the child. I don’t have to like her and she doesn’t have to like me, but we do have to respect each other. Now, because I say I don’t like her doesn’t mean I hate her. Remember, there was a time when I loved her.

            I guess you want to know why I don’t like her. Up until recently I didn’t know the answer to that myself, but I do now. Besides our constant fighting she takes a part of my heart and doesn’t even know it. She takes the part of me that gets to fuss over my dad. She lives with him, therefore she is the main girl in his life.

            When I was around nine my dad bought me a book of fairytales. It was a huge book about the size of a huge cereal box. Around that time was when my dad stopped coming home every night and started packing a bag. On the nights my dad was home I would get under the covers on my moms side of the bed and read to him from my big cereal box book of fairy tales. I would read until he fell asleep and I could hear his steady breathing. I would then put the book on the floor and shut the light losing my self deeper under the covers, safe with my daddy beside me.

13

Giana Rose Perri. Gorgeous, smart, talented, awesome soccer player and cheerleader. She hasn’t had it easy but she makes the best of the situation. She knows what’s right and what’s wrong. G is what keeps me going. She’s my best friend, my sister, my family. I met Giana in first grade at St. Mary of the Lakes School. Every year we were in the same class up until eighth grade. We graduated from St. Mary’s in June 2006 spending one year at different schools, me at Shawnee, Giana at Holy Cross. Sophomore year in high school Giana transferred to Shawnee. Again we were together.

 I say Giana is my family because she is. She spends so many nights with me and my family it’s like she grew up in our house. Giana learned to ride her bike in our basement, slept over on school nights, and lived with us for a month and a half while her mom was in the hospital. We lean on each other for everything and we barley go a day without talking.

Giana is gorgeous. She has dark brown hair a little below her shoulders and matching chocolate brown eyes. She has the perfect shade of pink lips on her naturally tan body. Even without make up her eyes stand out as if they were lights in the dark. Her nose is just right on her evenly proportioned face with her sandy brown eyebrows laying just the right distance from her eyes. When she laughs her whole face lights up making you want to smile just looking at her. I wish she believed how beautiful she really is.

When we were eleven Giana and I celebrated our birthdays by having our parties together. I am the tenth of December while she is the twenty sixth. All of our friends came to my house where my mom, being the creative person she is, had them make handbags out of black material with gold stars on it. Giana’s mom took care of the cake, getting a picture of Giana and I in our matching shirts and Santa hats scanned onto it. After pizza and cake we all got into the car and went to see a play our sixth grade teacher had a role in. We had a blast. Every year we celebrate our birthdays together, even though we don’t have a party anymore and every year it’s just as special.

Giana is the one person who knows everything about me. She was there when my family moved three times and my dad continued moving three more. She was there through the divorce and the heartbreak I suffered after. She was there when we broke a water pipe in the basement, and she was there on every Christmas, birthday, and Halloween. She knows every secret I have and every regret that I’ve made. She knows my mom and dad as if they were her own and she knows my whole family just as well. Since Giana sleeps over most Friday nights our Saturday morning ritual is chocolate chip pancakes. I don’t know how I would live without her. As I stated before, she is my best friend, my sister, my family and our inside joke, my twin.

                              14

 Things have changed but that doesn’t mean we stopped being friends. I still see Elizabeth every day, along with Kiersten and Collier. We still visit Sean at home and as for Scott, well he manages to stay in our lives. I’m going to have a great year. I finally found a therapist I love and the medicine is working correctly. Of course there are still things I need to work on but isn’t there always something you need to work on?

 Elizabeth is working with kids who have Asperger’s Syndrome. Asperger’s syndrome is a pervasive developmental disorder that causes patients to have difficulty interacting (both verbally and nonverbally) with others. This is not nearly as bad as Sean’s form of autism. Scott is teaching a woodshop class at his school, changing the lives of more students without even knowing it. With the help of Elizabeth I am getting my life back together and learning to move forward.

 In a couple of days I will get to start working with these new students of Elizabeth’s and I’ll love them as I do Sean. I start work in a couple weeks, now that it’s fall again and I continue to keep myself busy with after school activities. Me and my dad are turning a new page in our book and things with my mom and me are getting better. Of course there are still something I don’t understand and I don’t think I’ll ever understand but life’s too short to keep hurting about the past. I’ve got a whole life ahead of me and I’m going to do great things. I have to have faith in myself before I can ask the world have faith in me.

Monday morning I’ll go down to see Elizabeth in her classroom and make plans to see her when were both not busy. Then I’ll see Collier and we’ll make plans to see Sean this week. After school I’ll go to therapy and then my cake decorating class and everything will finally be falling into place. But before I stop here I want to share some of my other pieces of advice. So don’t close the book just let, keep on reading and maybe, just maybe you’ll learn something from me. Then again maybe you’ll learn something from yourself.

 

 

Part Two: Feelings on Divorce

I myself am lost on this drive called life. Do I turn right or left? Or do I have to make a U-turn? Am I going north or south? Or am I already where I need to be? You see I am the person who can listen to your story and tell you exactly what comes next and what you’re going to do. I can tell you exactly how you’re going to react and how you need to handle the situation. I can tell you if you need to turn left or right, or if you’re making a U-turn. I can tell you if you’re going north or south or if you’re already where you need to be. However, on my own drive through life, I am completely at loss.

Why? That is what you want to know, isn’t it? What if I said I don’t know why, because that really is the truth. I sometimes question myself. Why don’t I know where I’m supposed to go? How, if I can help everyone around me, can I not help myself? These are the question I’ve been struggling with for years.

I know the root of the cause. I know what caused me to swerve off this road I’m on and into the ditch. My mom and dad, my parents, my mentors, my heroes, my saviors. Why did they do this to me? Why did they cause me to become so lost? I just want to reach my destination. I just want to reach a place where I can, at least rest for a while until I figure out which way I’m supposed to turn.

A lot of people ask me what bothers me the most and I never know how to answer them except to say everything. Let me give you an example. I was in the grocery store the other day with my mom. She left me in line with the cart and went to get something she forgot to pick up. As I stood in line and watched all these strangers go by me, this one family grabbed my full attention. There was a mom and a dad and their three kids. Now why, you ask, did I care what this strange family was doing? My answer to you is that I didn’t. I didn’t care how they were going to spend the rest of their day, or what they were buying, or where they happened to be going on vacation that week. I cared about how the family was communicating and functioning together. I cared when I watched the dad tell his middle and oldest child to go pick something out from the candy isle. I cared when the kids ran off together, happy they were allowed to get a special treat. I cared when I watched the mom and dad stand in line with their cart full of food next to me, waiting for their kids to come back. As I watched all this, the dad and his kids, the family, grocery shopping together, the happy faces these people were wearing, a knot came into my throat. I tried to look away, I tried not to care, because at the beginning I didn’t, but then I realized I did. I cared the whole time. Well then why did you care? That’s the question that was running through my mind. I cared because that video that is now stored in my mind of the family in the grocery store, used to be us. It used to be how my family functioned with each other. It used to be the way every Sunday morning was spent. And now, here I am standing in the grocery store with my cart thinking and yearning for one more Sunday grocery trip. Just one more, and then I find myself doing something else. Quickly sucking myself out of what I want and slipping into prayer for these children. Praying like a madwomen that this family never gets torn apart, that this family never has a problem to big they can’t handle, praying that these three little children that I don’t even know, will go through life experiencing a happy family, a happy childhood and never, ever have to hear the word DIVORCE used in their house. Because let me tell you, when your family breaks apart into tiny little pieces, no matter how old the children or child is, it’s going to create a hard, torturing, nightmare for them. Sometimes divorce is the only way and sometimes it is the better route, but if there’s a chance, if there’s a 1% chance that you might be able to work through whatever maybe going on in your marriage, please don’t give up. For your children’s sake, give it one more shot.

 

Part three: Strength and Pain

Today was a day that called for strength. It called for hope and faith and love. Today was a long day, filled with many obstacles. Some of which I could not fulfill. It was a day when you realize pain is never going to leave you, its always going to be close by ready to catch you at your weakest. Ready to hold you until someone comes to pull you out. I found hope today in a fictional character. She helped me see that sometimes you have to be ok with the situation whether you are or not because in the end there’s nothing else you can do. You can’t go back and change it, you can’t go back and erase it, you just have to accept it. I also learned today that it’s ok to feel the pain. It’s ok to be hurt as long as it doesn’t become a disease. As long as it doesn’t capture your true self for so long that you cant find it again, as long as it leads you to hope, because it will, through family, through friends, through images, and through speeches.  Maybe pain isn’t as bad as we all think it is. Maybe it’s not bad at all. When we hear the word pain automatically our mind thinks: bad, hurt, upset. Maybe that’s one perspective of pain maybe that’s one persons look on pain that was somehow created into a domino effect. I could be wrong but pain can also be a healer. It can help you move forward in not creating the same mistakes again, in not letting yourself go in farther than is realistic for you. The world today is so negative. Maybe if we just stopped looking at the negatives of things we could see all the positives; but then again maybe not. It’s your choice, it’s your feeling, and it’s your belief.

Part four: Why

Why? Why do we experience all these negative feelings? Why do we deal with pain when were the ones who caused it? Why do we get angry at others? Why do we get angry at ourselves? Maybe because we can’t change the situation once it happens. Maybe because we know it’s how it’s supposed to play out. Maybe it’s just fate. Whatever the reason may be its there, and you can’t escape it.  So don’t run. Suck it up, take a chance, and work it out. Make the impossible, possible. Change the world.

Everyone has their own strength. Some people can feel their strength and know what they can handle others feel weak because they don’t know how strong they really are until they are tested. It’s hard to determine what may happen along the way, if you don’t know the route you’re walking down.

 

 

Author's Note

Heres a newer edited version. Im not done but I wanted to get it up. let me know what you think! thanks

Reviews

[Mike Mitchell]

You should make this into something longer. It's a good start to a short novel, or novella. But, as is, it's very "matter of factly" stated and makes it sounds almost as if someone is giving a long summary of a larger work. The first part especially. Try to expand this, and put in more anecdotes and detail. Describe people. Places. Tell us something about therapy. Tell us a day you had with Sean.

I know that it can be hard to write something so personal and confessional, because you just don't want to let perfect strangers into your life like that. But it also works as a kind of therapy.

I like that you Tarantino'd it (didn't tell chronologically), I like the order (it flows really well), but one of you're biggest problems is paragraph breaks. You need a lot more paragraph breaks. Sections 4-7 in Part I, especially.

But other than that nice job! I'm glad I read it.

[darkgurl]

This is a inspiring write I think, I think your write is just fine, I can feel emotion in this and anger in some parts, this is well written......Kim

[Eagle Cruagh]

You should probably not get a lot more advice, it will
only confuse and distract you.
It is suggested that you follow the critique of Mike Mitchell,
it seems perfectly sound and he is trying to draw you out, to
reveal more of your feelings in your story.
I suggest, as he has, that you flush out the characters in your
story so we can see them. What does your father look like, when
you were kissing him goodbye, did he cry, smile, laugh ? Make your
characters look, act and say who they are. Who is your Mother ?
Describe her, what did she say ? How did she act ?
Do you see what we are getting at ? Make your characters live.

Now that all the advice has been given, this writer has great potential.
She is gifted in story telling, has a unique command of the language, for
one so young. Her story is most enjoyable reading.

My rating is 100 %

Eagle Cruagh

[Phoenix Alleena]

That was a beautiful and uplifting tale.
Great job with it, and awesome choice of words.
Keep it up ^-^