A Child's Heartbreak... Continued

When I was younger, I truly looked up to both of my parents. However, I was given mixed signals from my mother. She would say "I love you" to me, but would continually tell me how fat and ugly I was. She would lie to me about my father not sending child support (I've seen the stamped by the bank checks, my father did pay).  She'd make me think that my father did not love me, and... well... she would abandon spending time with her children for time with other men. My Dad was the only rock in my life. I would call him often just crying. He would send us care packages with food in it, send Christmas presents with my mother's name on them (because she spent all of her money in the bars), and he was also the only one to clothe my sister and I.

I felt lost a lot of the time. It got to the point where I wasn't doing my schoolwork (I was getting straight A's before), and the school had to step in. I knew this was not the way I wanted to go, and I decided that I wanted to do well in school. That was the only thing that gave me positive feedback. Well, not the only positive feedback... I want to thank my neighbors in Roberts, the DeVries' family, for making my life a little easier. They would do things like pay me to watch their animals for a day or so. When I was in a skit, and I wanted my poodle skirt that was $12 to buy after we did the skit, my mother said no, and so my neighbor bought it for me. That was so special to me that I still keep that poodle skirt to this day. There were also other neighbors earlier (when I lived in Red Lodge) that took pity on me. One friend of my mother's also treated me like a friend. She would let me spend the night at her house when my mother wasn't home. She would take me out exploring in the hills behind our house. So I did have people who took over the mother role from time to time for me. My friends Becky and Karla also made life easier at that time.

After my mother spent that time in jail, (she was arrested for being overly drunk in public, and spit on a police officer), my Grandfather paid for her bail, and we had to move. My sister remained in Montana living with friends while I was toted off to Sun Valley. That was when I was 10. The year in Sun Valley was filled with good and bad things. I made friends there, but not many. I got to see famous people. Honestly though, for the most part I was living alone. My mother would be there in the mornings, but she was generally in bed with some random guy. And here's the kicker - I had a tiny bedroom that was basically a closet in itself, yet had no closet - so I would have to go into my mother's room each morning to pick out my clothes for the day. It is always oh so special when you have to walk into a room with your mom and some dude lying naked in the bed while you are getting ready for school.

My best friends there were these two brothers who I spent a majority of my time with. They were great kids, and I will always remember them. We would roller blade together, go into town together to walk around, play ding-dong ditch... All of the things children sometimes do. I was an active kid, and I even had a little dog-walking business to make a little cash for myself. My mother was not around to see these things, and this was the year that she apparently vowed to make me "not fat". My step-grandmother and her were in cahoots. My step-grandmother told me she would buy me a whole new wardrobe if only I would just lose 20 pounds. My mom decided that I should ride the stationary bike for 20 minutes a day (as I said, she was never around, so she couldn't check on me to make sure I did it). I did this MAYBE twice. At the time, I was generally outside on my roller blades that my step-grandma lent to me, or on the scooter that my Dad bought for me.

The final straw came along that year around Easter. My mother promised that she would get eggs for us to color on her way home from work that day. Only she did not end up coming home until 2 A.M. the following morning. I cried and screamed and yelled at her in front of the new guy that she had brought home. I had had enough. Plans started forming in my head. I knew I was too young to choose which parent I wanted to live with, but I had to do SOMETHING... My mother knew something was going on, and tried to prevent me from going to my Dad's for the summer. Between my Dad and I, we immediately cut that short, and I was out there for my summer with the only parent who actually gave a crap. The plans that were forming in my head were shut out for that summer. I had fun with my neighbor friends back in Washington (thank you to Josie, Patti, and Alex - you always made summers fun). When the time came to go back to my mother's, both my sister and I did not want to do it. My sister was not going back to Montana, thus she would be living in that closet with me in the other bunkbed.

I begged my Dad not to take me back. He said that if he kept me, it would be illegal. However, he also said that if I spoke to my mother about it, that maybe I could go back with him after all. At this point, I was 11 years old. I remember going back to the condo. My mother wasn't even there to greet us. Guess what? She was at the bar. She left a note saying that she would be back later. Good mothering, huh? My Dad said that since I couldn't talk to her, that maybe we should try for next year. My sister was old enough, so she was going back with my Dad either way.

*On a side note, my father is not my sister's biological Dad. However, he paid child support for her, took care of her, and treated her just like he treated me.

I broke down sobbing. I could not stay another year with my mother. My Dad cried along with me (and he rarely cries), and he decided that we would leave a note for her saying to meet us down in the Elkhorn Lodge when she got home. The four of us (including my stepmother - that story is saved for later) went and had lunch... then dinner... It wasn't until after dark (keep in mind that this was summer, so it did not get dark until later) that my mother finally arrived - DRUNK. The memory of what happened next is kind of fuzzy to me, but I remember being there with my sister and telling my mother that we wanted to go and live with Dad. She started yelling and she pulled out her usual stab me in the heart phrase "You don't love me anymore". I was starting to feel like that was true. I had been hurt too many times by her, and I stood up to her. I told her that I was going back with my Dad. PERIOD.

The last thing I remember is her saying "F*** you" and watching her walk off into the night with her cowboy boots clicking against the pavement. I was free from her! I was going to go back with my Dad! I was proud of myself for sticking up for myself, yet I was heartbroken from hurting my mother. At that time, I still did have love for her... It's not like I don't care for her now, but that is all it is... caring. I don't love her anymore, and I know this, because on the rare occasions that I talk to her and she says "I love you", I have to take a deep breath and choke those words back to her. As a child though, my heart hurt to see her crying and so angry, but I knew it was the right thing to do.