Everyone holds on to something that is has the most meaning to them. Any human being can have something so small that can mean the world to them. In fact, I hold on to something that always knocks me down. My family.
Ever since I was a little girl, I would always tend to have this certain mind set about how someone treated and made me feel at my lowest. Growing up I was the second to oldest grandchild born. I would say I born with the same opportunity as the rest of my family but I would be lying. I remember when I was the one singing in the microphone with my Papa, singing Johnny Cash. How good everything used to be with no negative remarks. I remember back then my innocence matter, until I entered school and things gradually crumbled downhill. I remember my first boy that was a friend. Right off the back my aunt always told me I would get knocked up like her and I wouldn't have a future. Now for the record, my family means more than life itself to me. I would give up my life for them even all the times they have discourage me and told me I was going to be like everyone else. A pregnant drop out. I never understood why I was always avoided. No one attended my softball games, volleyball games, basketball games, cheer leading games, and cheer leading camp where I received two metals and a chance to perform at Florida. With no financial support I wasn't able to attend and have the full experience. The only person that cared was my mom. I remember I was on the homecoming court and most of my immediate family didn't showed up. Not my grandma, grandpa, or my uncles. Shockingly my aunt that always said I was going to screw up showed up, but only to tell me that I could of won if I would have been in the popular group like she was. It was a never ending cycle. All those times I was hurt by my family that said, "Family is the only group of people that would have your back." Then the day of eruption finally came.
It was July of 2015. I was still recovering a bad patch in my life where I was no longer allowed to be alone. I was permitted to always be with someone at all times. One day I had enough. I begged to talk to my grandparents about how I felt because my councilor had mentioned, "You will never be able to live a happy life as long as your grudges continue to grow from the ones you love." I thought to give it a chance. We were currently at a tire shop that they had owned. The place smelled like oil and tires. I remember entering the door sweaty with my nerves higher than the ceiling. I started to talk. It went from a sunny no cloudy day, to a hurricane. My mama and papa was yelling at me in each ear. My aunt was calling me a cry baby and saying that I was jealous of her and who she used to me. My mind was spinning and my heart was breaking. I couldn't escape now so I said it, "If I was so called family then why everything is about Mary and her kids. How come every holiday you forget all about the other grandkids except for her kids?" My grandparents were still in denial thinking that I was the one who is crazy when everyone saw it but them. I remember my aunt said I was still going to screw up and finally I turned around, sobbing and said, “I am not you Mary and I will never be like you." I left and I was told I was no longer their granddaughter ever again.
Time flew with no communication. I blamed my councilor for giving me advice that didn’t work. I felt empty. I later on told my family I was sorry. The one thing they said after my apology was, “Next time don’t spaz out because of your wrongful thinking.”
Today I live on my own with my amazing fiancé and our dog. I cry at least three times a week because of my family. I would rather do that than have WW III Part two again. Today I am 18, with a job, and a graduate from Harding High School 2015. I am also a non-pregnant student at the Ohio State University. But if there was one thing that I know. I would rather be hurt by their actions than be killed by no actions at all.