More about me than you ever wanted to know

I’m going to begin this little history lesson when I was in first grade. That would make me about 6.

It happened that on one particular day, my mom came to pick me up from school. I would normally walk home since we lived just a block away. But this day, my mom showed up with the car stuffed to the gills. I’m pretty sure she had this little black Nissan then. It was a hatchback and had T-tops (you know…where you take off the sides of the roof and have a somewhat convertible?). My sister, who is three years younger than me, was in the front. I remember arguing with my mom that I didn’t want to share the front seat with my sister. She told me that it was too bad, that there obviously was no room in the back so to just get in. I didn’t know what was going on at the time, but we went to my grandparents house (mom’s parents) and unloaded the car there and moved right on in. When we arrived there, my grandparents were in Hawaii. I don’t think they even knew what was going on and found out when they got home. My parents were getting divorced after being married 11 years, I believe it was. We lived, the three of us, in one of the bedrooms in the basement for the next three years, if I remember correctly. There were two small, brown, dusty, nasty “love” seats that my sister and I each used as a bed. My mom slept on the queen bed that was already in there. The basement was very musty smelling and the room was pretty cramped. But it all worked out and we had a roof over our heads.

When I was eight, a month shy of my 9th birthday, my dad got remarried. We (my sister and I) knew nothing about it. We didn’t even know he was dating anyone. The person he married was just our friend at church. We would sit with her during the services and she would give us candy and stuff. So the day that my dad came and picked my sister and me up from Vacation Bible School (VBS) and asked my aunt if our two cousins could go swimming with us, we were rather shocked, to say the least, when instead of going swimming, he took us to my grandparents (his parents) house.

When we got there, he told my cousins to stay upstairs and he took Dawn and me downstairs to the very back room. Standing there was our friend from church. Next to her was this big chest that my grandma kept mementos in. On the chest were two dresses. My dad says to my sister and me, “Carrie and I are getting married. Aren’t you happy?” I do not remember what happened after that, but after reminiscing with my cousin this summer, she informed me that after my dad told us what was going on, I threw the biggest temper tantrum she had ever witnessed (or rather, heard). After I calmed down, we got dressed (still don’t remember that) and then we all gathered back upstairs and my dad and Carrie got married in my grandparents front yard. I remember them getting married, but I do not remember the wedding itself and I do not remember what happened after all of that. I just remember that when my dad finally took us back to my other grandparents house (where we lived), we told my mom and aunt that we did not, in fact, go swimming. We went to daddy’s wedding. I remember them not being very happy. My dad and Carrie have been happily married for 20 years now. My cousin says he still owes them a swimming date. ;0P

Fast forward a couple years. My mom, sister and I moved into an apartment not too far from my grandparents house. I was going to a different school in the same school district as I was when in first grade. Our apartment was just a couple blocks away, again. I went to that school for third grade and the first half of fourth grade.

Sometime before Christmas the year I was in fourth grade, I found out that I was going to be switching schools starting in the new year. I was so upset about that. I’m not really sure why, except that I hate change.

My mom and I were talking about it a month or so ago and I’m not really sure how the subject came up, but she said that things were pretty bad at the public school. I think I need to talk to her again and find out exactly what was going on because it was just a passing conversation. But, I did end up going to a private school starting the second half of my fourth grade year.

It was that year, that I met Kyle. He meant nothing to me then. He was just another boy in my class that had cooties. The school that we were going to was a very small private school. Not sure how many kids actually went there, but it wasn’t a lot. Kyle and I both went to this school through eighth grade. More on us later.

This school was affiliated with the church we were going to at the time. This church, every summer, went as a group to Chelan (in Eastern Washington). I believe it was the year I was in fifth grade that we joined them (my mom, sister and I). Sometime on that trip, my mom met a guy. She had heard about him from a bunch of people. The baby in a family of eight kids. One day, my mom was down on the beach with my sister and I guess she needed to go somewhere or something? Whatever the reason she needed to leave for a couple minutes, this guy she had heard about happened to be down on the beach, too, and he offered to watch my sister. They ended up talking, blah blah blah. They began dating a while later. He swept her off her feet and was just this charming guy that everyone loved. He showered us with gifts and was just “the best”.

The end of my fifth grade year, my mom and this guy got married. It was a small wedding in the chapel of a larger church. This guy had a son and daughter. The daughter was in the middle of my sister and me, age-wise. The son was about four or five. To say it was a rough few years would be an understatement. My sister and step-sister didn’t get along. My mom and step-sister didn’t get along. I didn’t get along with this guy. My mom’s husband turned out to be a two-faced liar. He brought out the worst in my mom. Yes, there were some good times. We had family vacations on the Oregon Coast and we did other fun things, too. But it was during the times at home, when no one else was looking, that this guy turned into the devil. And no one would believe me when I would say that he was just horrible because he was “Billy B.” that was just so charming and likable.

There was a day that my mom told me we were going to be leaving on Wednesday. I’m pretty sure it was a Saturday or Sunday that she told me, so that would’ve only given us like three days to get everything packed. I. freaked. out. Like I said, I hate change. And that was just too quick for me. So we didn’t end up leaving when she said we would because she felt bad. When we did leave, though, I was at school and my grandpa came and helped her pack things up quickly and my mom had two bodyguards there to make sure she was safe in case he came home before we were gone. And he did. She said that he was eerily calm.

My mom recently told me that we left after three years, but it seems longer to me. They got married when I was 11 and we left my sophomore year in high school. That would make me…. 15? I guess that’s about right. They got divorced after five years though.

My mom worked a lot back then. And when it came to my senior year in high school, she wanted to make sure that I had everything I needed or wanted having to do with being a senior. I didn’t even realize how difficult it was for her until recently when she shared things with me. I went to Winter Ball, and had a nice dress. I went to Prom, and had a nice dress. I got a senior ring. I had my senior pictures taken. All the “important” things at the time. And I never knew what it took in order for my mom to be able to provide those things for me. I’m grateful that I have a mom that loves me so much that she would sacrifice the way she did (and does).

When I started writing this, I was going to tell you about Kyle and me and how we met in fourth grade and how we ended up together. I guess my fingers had other ideas. I’ll tell you that story another time.

Not really sure why I wrote this all out….

I think because of these circumstances in my young life, I had a lot of pent up emotions that I didn’t know what to do with. I know I was a total and complete BRAT when I was young. I yelled and screamed a lot. I wasn’t a very nice friend. Looking back, I can see that I was acting out and a lot of it had to do with all the changes that were going on, I’m sure.

One of my best friends, I met in fifth grade. I would always take her glasses and play around with them. She didn’t want me to and her parents didn’t want me to, but I did. I would also go around biting her. She has a scar on her back from me.

Another one of my friends, I met in third grade. We were inseparable. Until I decided that I was going to stop being her friend and for no good reason. Later, I gave her a card apologizing for being a brat, but our friendship has never been the same. We’re still friends and she’s still one of my best friends, but I’m lucky if we see each other twice a year and she doesn’t live all that far from me. We just live different lives. But when we do see each other, we pick up right where we left off.

Gosh, this whole post is so depressing….

Things that happen in our lives shape the person we become. No matter what the circumstances, we can choose to go down the wrong road and be destructive to ourselves or we can make something good out of the bad. We can make something of ourselves.

I feel that I’ve done a pretty good job of doing something with my life. I may not be someone that spent time in college to become a doctor or something special like that, but in my little world I’ve done well. I’m a happy person, I have a great husband, wonderful family and a ton of awesome friends, all that I love and cherish more than anything else.

And I’m really sorry that this is so long and rambly, but thanks for reading if you got this far. I’m going to hit ‘publish’ before I ramble even more.

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Comments

  1. You and I could sit down for a looooong time and trade stories like this…..

  2. OMG- I really relate to you.. My parents never divorced, but things were hard and then BAD (not because of parents) when I was 19. Let’s just say it’s been 13 years of hard. But you’re right – you have to express these things ,but also know in your heart that there is good if only in between the bad times. I feel pretty blessed despite all I’ve been through. God Bless! Happy SITS day!

  3. hey…soo… do you get along with your step-mom/church friend now? and.. how’s your mom now?

  4. Awwwwwwwww….been there.
    Really, it is by divine providence that we are who we are today, is it not?

  5. Melissa – yes, I get along with my stepmom. We’re not like bff’s or anything but she’s been good to us over the years and I don’t really have any complaints concerning her.
    My mom is good too. She’s had a couple of long term relationships, but has never remarried and she’s happy and content being single. =)

  6. Oh, no need for apologies! It is great getting to know you on a more personal level.

    I too am from a divorced family so I totally feel for ya in that regard!

    Way to go for growing from it and moving on…it took me WAY too long to do that!

  7. I love that you rambled, but then, I love to ramble. It always feels so much better to just put it out there.

  8. The rambling doesn’t bother me. I tend to ramble.

    Thanks for sharing that post though!

    Isn’t it amazing that people like “billy b” are able to convince so many people of just how “great a person” they are?

  9. i love reminiscing and combing through the things of our past. It really does make us understand the things – the events & people – that have shaped us into who we are today. You look back and remember times you were bratty. I look back and see a bossy little girl who over-dramatized everything. Gee – I hope I have changed for the better in that way! hee hee hee! brilliant post!

  10. it strikes me a lot that the little tidbits of the story are what i remember the best…and i heard that in yours here. the chest. the smell of the basement. the people in the room.

    i’m gla dyou got all that stuff down…sometimes a good purge can make you feel a lot better!

  11. It’s so good that you wrote it all down Megan. Some of it I knew and other parts I didn’t. I remember calling you a “really mean brat” when I was tiny…I’m sorry Megan, you were just hurting and I love you mucho! 😉 (and YES I am completly aware that I was a brat too!)

  12. Thank you for sharing all of this. It must have been hard to write…but it’s a bit inspiring to know that if you can do it, I can do it too.
    Did it feel therapeutic to write all that?

  13. I guess it was a bit therapeutic writing it out, but I’ve also got a bit of anxiety going right now. It’s all “out there”. And I have no idea if my dad reads my blog or not, but it’s here for him to read…and that gives me anxiety since we’ve never really talked about what went on back then.

  14. Well, glad you got that off your chest. Sometimes it just helps. I had divorced partents too, and it is never easy.

    Thanks for visiting my saucy blog today.

  15. Whoowee… well, that was a trip back down memory lane. You really bit your friend on the back and left a scar. Ok – I’m sorry, but I have to confess that I’m laughing hysterically at that (but only because I knew the rest and that little part caught me by surprise)!

    Rambling? Well, I didn’t think so, but then I also know the rest and I think you did a fantastic job of condensing it all down to such a short story. Almost too good in fact – where’s the rest? You could write a book! 😉

    Love ya!

    PS – I never once thought you were a brat (but perhaps it’s because we were so often “partners in crime”.

  16. It is good to get things out of you… especially things like these which affect your behavior. You know there are several things in my life I wish hadn’t turned out the way they did… but when I think deeper, I realize that I’d never be the person I am without those… so..

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