Symptoms of Me

As a young child before the age of five I did not know the meaning of love. I was neglected abused beaten down and treated like a dog. I had to grow up before I was supposed to.

At the age of five I met the two people who would help shape the young woman I have become. We met at a park in Colorado. I remember that day rather well. My younger sister and I got to eat McDonalds and had ice cream afterwards. In the playground there was this apple that you could climb into and I stayed there for some time just looking at the metal ceiling. The people that came to visit my younger sister and I were our great aunt and uncle who later adopted us.

When we came to Washington I had no idea what was in store. Even then I felt like I was just going to be shipped off to another home just like all of the other times before. In Colorado we hardly ever had food to eat so my younger sister and I would hoard food (non perishable items in cans) and a random bag of frozen vegetables. Of course I didn’t think to take the can opener. When my uncle/dad came home and looked under the bed we got our hides tanned because he couldn’t understand why we took the cans of food.

I was a very peculiar kid. I was very socially awkward and was always trying to be in someone’s lap. I had a habit of climbing all over people. I was also shy at the same time. My younger sister and I would create some pretty messed up games of “spankings” we would set up a little fort under the slide and one of us would be the “parent”; and we would pretend to be in trouble. We would take turns hitting each other’s bare bottom until the other person cried and their behind turned red. One afternoon my mom/aunt came home and caught us and we BOTH got into trouble. Neither one of us thought it was wrong at the time.

Things didn’t really start to get bad in the sense of how emotionally and mentally unstable I was until I reached the age of 12. It was then that I felt I had zero control over my emotions zero control over my actions. It was then that I tried to kill myself for the first time by hanging myself with a robe tie that I had tied tightly under the top bunk and then tied it tightly around my throat. As my face turned colors all I could think about is what if someone found me? What if they tried to revive me? Did I want them to see me like that? Not once did I think of wanting to live but rather not wanting to be found. After that I went out to the kitchen where my parents were and told them what I had done.

Please excuse the language I am about to use; my mom said this; “What the Fuck Amanda? Do I need to send you to a Fucking Shrink? If you really want to die this is how; she placed my dads thyroid medication on the counter and a kitchen knife. She said as she lifted the bottle; Take this but if you do you would also be killing your dad.” She then picks up the kitchen knife and runs it length wise down her wrist; “If you want to kill yourself cut this way so you hit the vein.”

The only response I gave was; “No I don’t need a shrink.” In the end I was prescribed medication for depression. I do not know what it was because I have been on many since then. All I remember were the side effects each worse than the last.

It was also at the age of 12 that I began stealing. I stole just to steal not to harm anyone just to take things. I would lie about it out of fear of being caught and sent away. I would constantly run away any time there was a fight or disagreement. I would manipulate the family and put them against each other to prove that I was not worthy enough to be a member of the family. That I deserved to be an outcast the stain that could not be gotten rid of. I hated myself and wanted everyone to as well. I was out of control.

Fast forward two years: I was fourteen and it is the month of March. I do not remember the exact day that it started. I was molested by our 52 year old neighbor in his garage and small shed in the garage. The entire time he was touching my skin I felt powerless I felt fear I felt frozen in time and space. I did everything I could to not think about what he was doing. I felt like I had to allow it to happen in order to protect my younger sister (who I caught trying to follow me one afternoon) I yelled at her telling her to get her ass inside. The way my parents found out was through my younger sister and I also wrote about it in a journal and showed it to a friend at school who kept telling me to tell someone. Fear is what made it so that I could not tell anyone. It lasted for three months. He only got six months in jail and lost his job at Boeing. I was petrified when I saw him in the courtroom I could not speak. I had tears running down my face. My mom had to read the letter I wrote to him out loud because I couldn’t do it.

Shortly after his sentencing my mom told us that we would be going on vacation for a couple of weeks first with my uncle which went okay since it was close to my birthday (for the most part) I was upset I couldn’t be with my mom. I remember calling home crying because I wanted to be with her the first few days after that I was okay. I was doing a lot of emotional eating to the point that my uncle began hiding food from me. Then we went to Reno Nevada to visit our grandparents. I had a lot of fun cooking with my grandpa and eating watermelon as we cooked dinner. While we were there we also got to help put on a triathlon where we passed out small cups of water or threw it on them as they passed by. I remember looking at them thinking it would be fun to do that just to say I did it.

Shortly after we came back home my younger sister and I were given emotional support kittens. I loved my cat Bugsy he was all black and never quite grew into them. My younger sisters cat Sprout was a calico very beautiful but didn’t like anyone but my dad. He is always the animal whisperer. I became a recluse not wanting to take part in anything just staying in my room not sleeping and reading books. I avoided talking to anyone. My grades fell and when I did interact with the family I picked fights and ran away. At one point I was on an anti anxiety medication that I over dosed on taking over half of the bottle. The reaction didn’t happen until months later when we all got invited to go to the Lion King on Broadway. We were sitting at the Old Country Buffet when I started to not feel well. My stomach was hurting and I was nauseous. I didn’t put two and two together until later on. When we got to the theatre and into our seats I became very shaky and feeling worse. I asked if I could go to my uncles to rest and my mom waited with me for a few minutes; constantly telling me how she wished she could go watch the show so I told her to go. While I waited for my uncle to get there one of the workers came out with a white stuffed bear. I took it and started to see the ears move. Were they really? No. I was hallucinating. When we got to my uncles place I went and later down on a blow up mattress and the hallucinations got worse I was seeing cartoon strips on the curtains a movie (literally being played on the wall of the house across the street). It wasn’t until I started throwing up that I realized that it was because of the overdose on the anxiety medication.

About half way through my freshmen year in high school I got what I thought was an amazing offer to go to school out of state. I was not told where it was or how long I would be gone. All I remember of leaving is my mom saying to go and tell everyone good bye and that I loved them. When we got into the car they had hidden things in the very back which I thought was a bit strange. Even still I got in. They child locked the doors which I found out later was so that I could not try to run away. I was able to get whatever I wanted that night for dinner so I settled on a pumpkin muffin. Next thing l knew we were in Thompson Falls Montana. The sign we were looking for was backwards so we had to turn around on a gravel not paved road to find it. I became anxious because I had no idea what we were doing there.

When we got out the first thing I noticed was that everyone had on the same uniform which was okay with me. The upperclassman that met me seemed nice a little distant but nice. That was when I was handed the baskets from the back of the car. I was then led to what they called “Integrity Family” I had to shower wearing flip flops and when I got out I had to face away from them flip my hair shake it and jump while holding the towel by each end to ensure I was not hiding anything. I still had no idea what was going on. I found out later that I was at a school for “troubled youth”. I was sent there because I was spiraling out of control.

I hated every minute of it except school which went from Monday through Saturday. I loved school to the point that by the time I left I only had one semester left. The other parts I couldn’t stand. I hated going to the seminars where I had to face my past to be built back up. I will not go into details it was awful and painful. The girls were vicious constantly taunting and bullying me because I was different. I hated the program so much that I literally sat on my butt for nine months before I figured out that I was not going home until I was either 18 or graduated the program.

When I got back from the private school I was walking on eggshells felt like if I screw up I would be out on my butt. That lasted a couple of months until I began doing online schooling and had the ability to go in to school on certain days to get help from the teachers as a visitor. I began smoking cigarettes and hiding from my mom who would come to pick me up. I would run away from home blaming my mom for every bad thing that ever happened to me. I was angry at her because I couldn’t have friends she didn’t trust me with them. I ended up getting kicked out not for the first time for harboring a runaway starting a fire outside the motor home.

I stayed gone for some time and when I got back it lasted even less than before. I didn’t get back home until after I completed two different job corps programs. One of them I excelled at. I did really well and kept my nose clean. The only time I got white card (the lowest there was) was because I dyed my hair past 8 pm something the staff did because girls would be dying their hair past the time of lights out. I had a lot of fun in business which was a nine month program that I finished in three. I also did plastering for the first nine months again I had a blast.

The second job corps I went to was fun…in the beginning until I found myself in an abusive relationship and broke it off. I decided to befriend a young man who didn’t have my best interests at heart. His girlfriend dumped him for another female and proceeded to make out with her in front of him. I got the brilliant idea for him to get a weekend pass so that we could get a motel room together. To this day I do not remember all that happened. I remember seeing flashes of light some sort of oil being dumped on me and being in extreme pain the next morning. I remember seeing that there were a lot of guys there I barely knew. When I got back to job corps I remember looking in the mirror and seeing white all around my lips that were cracked and bruised. I remember explicitly asking a friend to watch my drink so that it didn’t get messed with. It was then that I left job corps realizing that job corps could not help me unless I filed a police report which I couldn’t do because I didn’t know what happened.

I rose above yet again only to fall for a drug dealer and left my moms. This time no matter how much she begged me I stayed gone. That was until I was 24. I had gone on a two week bender abusing meth trying to end my life. Everything had caved in. I felt hopeless lost confused disoriented and defeated. I was standing in between Target and Kohl’s in Lynnwood petrified that I was being followed by task force and bad people. I decided to call 911 to see if I had a warrant out for my arrest and really wanted to speak to a detective. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. He asked me if he ran my name what would come up. I told him I didn’t know and that was why I called to speak with him. He looked at my face and asked me what I was on I told him meth. He said that I needed to find help and drove off. Somehow I walked from there to the down town Lynnwood Fredmeyer. I stood there in the area rocking back and forth feeling so lost that I could not focus on anything.

I tried to call my mom she didn’t answer so I called my uncle who lived with them at the time and told him; “uncle I did something stupid.” He responded; “ What are you on?” “I tried to kill myself on meth. I need help.” He said that I needed to call my mom. I told him that I already tried to. He said that he would talk with them. About half an hour later they showed up.

I had a very long road to go in recovery. I was not perfect by any means. It was very hard for me to let go of the past. After five years of being clean and sober I decided to put it to the test to see if I really did have an alcohol addiction. It didn’t take but one night for me to realize that yes I am and always will be a recovering alcoholic. Yet I rose above and flew. I am no longer bound by the chains I created. I no longer seek to please others. I am who I am and I am always changing reborn like the Phoenix inside.