Some days I wonder if I will ever see the outside of this place ever again. But then I start to think too, what is out there for me. Doc says that is not a healthy way to look at it. She likes to sugar coat things sometimes. I think she means well but who are we kidding, I am not leaving this place anytime soon, maybe not ever. And if I do,what am I going home to? A family that treats me like a deep dark secret. Hellllllooooooo, it’s not like me trying to off myself is any worse than half the shit they have done. Mine just go them some attention they didn’t want.  They can’t act like they are perfect now. The neighbors all know what happened. They just want to pretend like it never happened and ignore everything.  What kind of life is that for me? For me to go back and be invisible again. To feel like I am a freak now. To get blamed for fucking up their lives?  They act like I had zero reasons to want to be died. I can’t really think of many reasons that I had to not to. But, I guess I can’t even do that right. The EMT’s told me on my way to the hospital that I should have tried to overdose on something else. I will keep that in mind....But anyway, on with the story.

Meeting the soon to be stepsiblings and the trip to Montana – So after my dad died, we had some contact with his real dad still, but he lived out in southern California. Remember when I talked about thinking my grandpa lived in Disneyland, they live outside of Anaheim so to me as the 6-year-old I was when I first met him, that meant grandpa lived in Disneyland… My bad, but in all fairness, I was 6. My sister and I had set up a savings account with my grandpa around the time of the funeral. Grandpa had paid for the funeral. The plan for the savings was for us to be able to fly out to stay with him in the next summer to go to Disneyland. This was an even bigger deal to me because Mickey and I have the same birthday. We looked forward to that trip for a year and a half. The trip never happened though. My mom emptied our accounts and gave the money to her boyfriend so he could hire a detective to hunt down his ex-wife and his kids he hadn’t seen since the divorce. Little did we know that this was happening or why it was happening. We were told that we were no longer going to see grandpa because we were getting to meet our new brother and sister because mom and the boyfriend were getting married! Hooray…? Yeah, not so much. Both of them were jerks to me. Like big time. I was the baby already when it was just me and my sister. Now I had three older siblings to deal with. And the other two hated me because I was the “cute little one”. That first visit with them was pure torture for me. My new step sister chewed up a whole package of big-league chew and waded up in my hair while I was sleeping so that my hair long hair had to be cut into a pixie cut. My mom being a hairdresser had an unnatural attachment to my hair and took this very personally. She still talks about that to this day. It has forever changed my views of big league chew and made me have an unhealthy association with rounded hair brushes, but it is this comitic story the family tells like its sooooo god damn funny. I am glad my trauma makes them laugh.  New big sis also would lock me out of my room and behead my toys and snap my cd’s and games in half while she gave me the play by play of what she was doing while I cried in the hallway. My new stepbrother he was great too…he would hang me upside down by my ankles from the balcony overlooking the back yard. He also had a fondness of finding small spaces to shove me in. You know, just to see if my tiny little self could fit. He trapped me in a toy box once for so long I fell asleep in there. Yet another thing that my family found to be super funny to joke about at my expense. We met them for the first time the summer after my dad had died. I remember that my parents had saved up all this money to send my sister and I to California to visit Disneyland with my real dads family.  The money for that trip was spent to fly the step siblings out to see their dad from Arizona instead. I am so glad my dad’s hard earned savings could benefit those assholes instead of being used for his own children to make memories with their family. I saw them a few times after that during the next few years.  We were force to go on this summer long road trip with them to bond with each other before the wedding which was about a year and a half after my dad had died. Clearly mom was still soooo heartbroken in her widowed statues.... Two months of hiking and visiting national parks with kids who lived to make my life a living hell. While in Montana, my brother told me a bear was going to eat me and told me it was chasing me back to our cabin. I got a concussion because I was so scared trying to run back in to the cabin that I missed the door and knocked myself out running into the wall. He told me that eagle picked up kids and ate them while we were hiking and then made fun of me the whole time for crying every time, I saw a big bird fly overhead. Meanwhile, my big sis was doing everything in her power to prevent the wedding from happening. She was not super into having to share her dad with two new kids and she made it her personal mission to destroy their relationship. Sadly, it didn’t work. Maybe if all of the kids had teamed up instead of picking on me, operation call of the wedding would have been a success. By December our parents were married, and I officially had to new siblings. 

Next Chapter: Entry Eight