During 1984 and '85, I wrote less in my journal, and instead focused on writing poetry. As I noted in the the introduction to the Aberration Nation Teen Event, don't expect award winning writing--only honesty.
In January of 1984, I graduated from high school early and started college in my hometown, Shreveport, Louisiana. That summer one of my best childhood friends was killed in a car accident along with two others from my high school. When my novel, Boundaries, is published, it will be dedicated to my dear friend, Virginia Anne Reeves (1966 - 1984). Although it was a slow process, her tragic death ultimately influenced my life in a positive way.
Her shattered heart wears a smile, And looks beyond the lies, He unlocked the mind of her.
***
Disappointment is my closest friend, Each little dream that falls apart, Each time a crack forms in my heart, She appears so vividly, Disappointment with her melancholy smile.
So many visions have passed me by, All they gave were tears to cry, Life to me, a mystery, Illusive clues lurk in my mind, Their tool, the imagination.
As images grow into clear reality, Disappointment comes to rescue me, The me I gave, The ends I seek, Broken, battered children weeping at my feet.
***
Cold breezes, Chill my heart, In the night, The bitter fight, Rages on.
Summer day, All the way, Time erases, All the pain, I feel.
***
Renegade lover, Stand still for me, My shattered heart wears a smile And looks beyond the lies.
Someday I'll be your secret friend, I'll know your dreams, I'll feel your sorrows, Sweet, sweet lover till the bitter end.
***
Tiny dancer in my soul, It's time to live, It's time for me, Regretful smile lurk in my mind, I wonder if they'll fade in time.
***
On lonely days I miss your smile, I miss your condescending style, I miss your cruelty, I miss your scorn, For what we lost, I'll always mourn.
On lonely nights I miss your voice, I miss the way I had no choice, I miss your smirk, I miss your singing, Echos of my recent past, In my heart, Forever ringing.
***
Shadows plunge the light away, The color dulls, All I have is what I am inside, Attempting to recall the used to bes, How I loved, How I hated.
Void of you my heart is clean, Now remembering is empty, Like you.
I see and feel the final truth, You were once my reality, You are the lie I lived.
***
A space in time, A place that's mine, Yet not mine, I give to you this, Awakening, Building, Brightening dream, On I fight against the current, Fighting now just for me, One day I'll fight for you.
...awareness is an absolutely necessary factor in breaking destructive parenting cycles that are handed down to us from our parents.
Welcome back to the ongoing story of Lisa Morguess. Go here for Part 1 of Runaway Lisa: An Aberration Story.
Your first marriage resulted in an abusive situation. How old were you when you married? Were the issues in the marriage, or the dynamic that developed, related to the those that led you to runaway from home as a teen?
I was 19 when I married my first husband, and he was 21. He was the boyfriend I had run away with. The abuse actually started pretty soon after we began living together, but by then I felt pretty trapped; I was far away from a home I couldn’t bear to return to anyway. It is pretty typical, too, for people who grow up in abusive families to see abuse as normal. I grew up watching my father abuse my mother, and being abused myself by both of my parents as well as my mother’s boyfriends and my older brother, so abuse seemed like a normal part of existence, sadly.
When you are in an abusive relationship with a boyfriend/husband, the dynamic is a little different, though. There tend to be enough periods of calm that you hang on to this hope, this belief, that the periods of calm are reality, and the awful periods are aberrations, if you will. Every time he smacked me around, I tried to believe that it would never happen again.
Then, too, there is the typical modus operandi of the abuser: to slowly but surely take away just about every bit of self-esteem and self-respect of their abused. The physical abuse is horrible, but the emotional abuse is more insidious and has much deeper and longer-lasting effects.
My husband was a drug addict and an alcoholic. When we were teenagers, we partied together. I did my share of drinking and getting high. . .but by the time we got married (even before I turned 19) I got to a point where I realized how dangerously we were living and I wanted no part of the drugs and partying anymore (and, in fact, I haven’t touched an illicit drug since then, in over 23 years). He led me to believe that he felt the same way, but it wasn’t long before I realized that he was still doing all of it on the sly, and it became a recurring nightmare of an issue throughout our 12-year marriage. He would tell me that I was the one with the problem. “My drinking wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t have a problem with it,” he would tell me. “It’s your fault I hit you,” he would tell me. “You bring out the worst in me, you make me do that,” he would say.” “Nobody else would ever put up with you. Nobody even likes you. Everyone says behind your back that you’re nothing but a bitch,” he would say to me. “You’re crazy,” he would tell me. “YOU need help,” he would say. After you’ve heard those things enough times, you begin to believe them.
So, in a nutshell, I would say that his alcohol and drug addiction played a big part in the abuse and the general issues in our marriage. I think he was just naturally a very controlling person, too, and I think now, looking back, that he would have been abusive to anybody he was in a relationship with--not just me. When he and I got together, I was so young and needy, and he clearly wanted somebody to rescue. I think he got off on that whole damsel in distress thing. So he saved me from my family and then his own demons took over. And although I was victimized by him, I grew up, and he never really did--when he died at the age of 33, he was the same exact person he had been at 18. And I think the more I “grew up,” the more determined he was to keep me under his thumb.
How did you find the courage to leave such a destructive relationship and move on?
There are a couple factors that came into play in my finally getting out of the relationship. The first one was our son. We struggled with infertility for the better part of our marriage, and didn’t end up having a child until we had been married for 10 years. After Kevin was born, I realized that it was one thing to put up with that kind of destructive life when it was just me, but it’s a whole different story when there is a child involved. And having grown up watching the horrors of abuse and alcoholism with my own parents, I didn’t want my son to grow up with that. To my knowledge, my husband never abused Kevin, but Kevin certainly witnessed a lot of ugliness. By the time Kevin was born, I think I knew in my heart that the marriage was never going to make it. . .but it’s another matter to find one’s way out of something like that. I tried to get my husband to go to counseling with me--he refused, time and time again (after all, I was the one with the problems, according to him). I begged him to enter rehab--he wouldn’t, even after he finally admitted to me that he was addicted to cocaine. I gave him ultimatums, even leaving him once, only to be coaxed back with empty promises.
The impetus for my finally leaving for good was two-fold: the friendship I had with a guy I worked with at a law firm began to develop into something more than a friendship. I was committed to making my marriage work for far longer than I ever should have; the marriage was over--in every aspect--long before I actually filed papers. Without going into a lot of detail for the sake of privacy, I’ll just say that Michael allowed me to believe, finally, that somebody actually could not only put up with me, but love me, and treat me with kindness, respect, and dignity. That’s an incredibly strong motivator.
The final straw came one evening when my husband grabbed our two-year-old son and disappeared with him overnight. He was clearly on a binge. I was frantic all night, not having any idea where they were. My husband called me from payphones throughout the night, screaming obscenities at me. He returned home with our son the following morning, and I went to see an attorney that day to draw up divorce papers.
What did you learn about yourself though the ordeal? Looking back, do you believe it was part of a unique circuitous path you had to follow to find the great place where you eventually landed?
I think the biggest thing I’ve learned about myself throughout everything is that I am strong. I feel weak at times--who doesn’t? But I’m a survivor. I’ve survived some really terrible things, and I am not only here, but thriving and happy. At the risk of tempting fate by saying so, I feel like I can survive just about anything.
As far as it all being a circuitous path I had to follow to get to where I am now. . . I’m not so sure. I’m sure under different circumstances and with different choices, I could have landed in a good place much sooner than I did. But I will say that the struggles I’ve faced and overcome have certainly made me more appreciative and grateful for my life as it is now. Not a day goes by that I don’t consciously take a moment to reflect and acknowledge how fortunate I am.
How did you meet your current husband? Was it difficult to trust again after such a devastating first marriage?
As I said, I met Michael at work. I had been working as a paralegal for a small law firm for several years, and we hired this guy as a law clerk who was awaiting his bar results. He passed the bar and was given an associate attorney position with the firm. He and I hit it off immediately and became friends--just friends. We were friends for a year and a half before it developed into something more than that.
Yes, it was very difficult to trust again after my first marriage. I had been lied to so much, for so long, and in so many ways. . .yeah, trust was a big issue for a long time when Michael and I got together. And the first couple years of our marriage were rough, in large part because of my “baggage.” We’ve worked very hard to make this marriage work, and it’s all paid off a hundred times over. Michael is my best friend in the world, and in spite of the challenges our family is now facing, I love my life, and I feel like this is the happiness I was waiting for for so long.
You have six kids now! Did you always want to have such a large family?
I never dreamed I would have this many kids! I will say, though, that I loved being pregnant so much the first time, that when Kevin was born I instantly decided that I’d love to have ten kids! With my first marriage falling apart the way it did, though, I got to a point where I had to accept that I might never have another child. Then Michael and I got married, and he was eager to be a dad (and he took on the role of dad to Kevin from the get-go, even making vows to Kevin at our wedding).
We never set out to have six kids. I think early on, we talked about having a total of three kids (including Kevin). By the time Michael and I got married, we were both already approaching our mid-thirties, so we didn’t feel we should wait too long to get started on expanding our family. So Joey was born a couple weeks shy of our first wedding anniversary. When Joey was about 18 months old, we were ready to try for a third, and we got one of the biggest surprises of our lives: twins! Even after four kids, we weren’t sure if we felt “done,” and it’s funny because I still remember having this long, serious discussion when the twins were about 16 months old: should we have another, or shouldn’t we? We agreed to wait until the twins turned two to make a decision, but a couple weeks later I found out that I was already pregnant. So Lilah was born shortly after the twins turned two, and then when Lilah was a year old, I became pregnant again, with Finn (so obviously we were still open to having another, although he was a surprise, in more ways than one).
Your youngest son has Down syndrome. How has your family had to adjust to ensure he is well cared for and given the attention he needs?
We did not find out that Finn has Down syndrome until after he was born, and it was quite a devastating shock, probably made worse by the fact that he was a planned home birth and had to be rushed to the hospital when he was less than a day old and had major surgery the day after he was born and then spent two weeks in the NICU. I think the adjustment our family has had to make concerning Finn has been much more of an emotional adjustment than a logistical one. When you are expecting a baby, you have expectations of what that baby is going to be like, and on some level, you map out his life even before he’s born - you imagine him learning to walk, talk, going to school, playing baseball, learning to drive a car, growing up, going to college, getting married, and having children of his own. When you receive a diagnosis like Down syndrome, a lot of your dreams and expectations are shattered . . . and a lot of them you might think are shattered but really aren’t at all. So there was a whole grief process that I went through; I grieved for the baby I thought I was going to have. It never interfered with my love for and acceptance of Finn - I’ve felt this fierce love and protection for him since he was born - but it’s a process of accepting a new reality. My husband didn’t have as tough a time as I did with the diagnosis - maybe because he worked with people with various disabilities for many years, so it didn’t seem so foreign and frightening to him, maybe because he’s just a much more laid back, accepting person, I don’t know. The kids have been very accepting, and honestly, the youngest kids still don’t really understand what Down syndrome is, and I don’t think they feel like Finn is “different” in any way - he’s just their baby brother.
Practically speaking, there haven’t been a whole lot of adjustments to be made. Finn’s a baby - not even a year old yet, so for the most part, he just does what babies do. He’s had a couple of surgeries, and he has a physical therapist who comes over once a week to help him achieve his gross motor skills, but other than that, he doesn’t require any more specialized care or attention than any other baby. I’m sure that as he gets older, we’ll have to make more adjustments as his needs change, but it’s a gradual process.
How did your experiences as a runaway, and as a partner in an abusive marriage, prepare you for the stress involved in having such a large family, including a set of twins and a child with a disability?
Like I said: I’m a survivor. Every challenge I’ve overcome and every heartbreak I’ve lived through has shown me that I’m made of pretty tough stuff. Having a large family, having twins, having a child with a disability. . . those are all big challenges, but they’re also things that enrich my life to a much greater degree than the challenges they present.
Do you believe that your teen and young adult experiences will help you be a better parent to your kids, particularly as teens?
I think those experiences have definitely made me more aware--and awareness is an absolutely necessary factor in breaking destructive parenting cycles that are handed down to us from our parents. That said, I fail sometimes. I fall short of being the parent I want to be, the parent my kids deserve. And at those times when I know I’ve failed, I think about what my experiences as a young person were, and how I felt, and I endeavor to be accountable, make amends to my kids, and purposefully parent them in a positive manner.
When you ran away from home as a teen, did you ever imagine that your life would one day be filled with so much love?
No, I never imagined it. I spent the better part of my life--into my thirties, waiting for happiness to find me, and believing it never would. And it wasn’t until my first marriage fell apart that I realized that happiness doesn’t find anyone, you have to make your own happiness.
Now, I truly feel like I’m living the life I always wanted to have, even with all the challenges we face as a family.
... I HAVE TO love myself the most--not be selfish but just have self esteem, and know that I can accomplish so much in my life--and I will...
***
... I feel like I'm just walking through a dessert and there's no one around for hundreds and hundreds of miles. I just don't understand, and it hurts so much to feel so rejected and so lacking. As if there's something missing that I'll never have. I'm actually afraid for the school year to start. For the last two years, terrible things have happened, and I want so badly to be happy. Why does God allow me to feel this way? I'll never know. I just have to tell myself that all people go through lonely times and that there is nothing wrong with me...
***
I just feel lonely today. I wonder if other people feel like this as much as I do? I wish I knew. I just have to face reality so I'm trying to figure out what it is.
Lonely does as lonely is, Lonely gives as lonely is.
***
My Life is a paradox, My heart a lonely hunter, My melancholy smile, Isn't real at all ...
***
I feel so bored and lonely. This is ridiculous. I have so many things to be excited about but yet I feel like all there is before me is a blank space that I have to fill in order to get somewhere, or to someone or something. What is it? Maybe I'm just going through a stage. That must be it.
***
I have my pride and I'm not gonna be put in the same category with a bunch of love sick girls. I realize now that I've been acting just like all the other girls in the world. I've got to be different and I will be ...
***
I just wish school would start so I can think about something else. I'm going to study hard. Right now I really don't have any close friends. I'm turning into quite a loner. It's what I want in a way but yet it's really not. I'm just going to try to channel my ambitions or passions or whatever towards studying. I've got to start giving myself more credit. I've got to grow up a little. The time has come for me to start seeing myself as an adult and acting like one.
***
Try as I might to break loose from sorrow, She walks with me, Every yesterday and tomorrow, Trust is gone, From my heart forever, Perhaps someday I'll find my place.
'Till then I'll forge on ahead, Never look back, Let the dead be dead, Fate has a surprising future for me, Someday not only I but the world will see.
It was so strange to look down and have that empty space.
The following Aberration Nation interview of a teenage amputee was conducted by a teen:
Of the many struggles life brings about, I find physical strains to be the biggest nuisance. I have a slight case of juvenile arthritis, and I hardly manage. Ordinary pain fills most days: walking up the stairs, running down the street, participating in gym class. Every day is a hassle on bones and muscles, especially those of the legs. Disease or not, everyone experiences some sort of relief when getting a chance to sit down, when getting the ability to relieve the pain that overtakes our knees, ankles, toes. We all complain, and we have both legs in tact.
Josh isn’t so lucky. After having his right leg amputated, this seventeen year old is faced every day with a challenge most can’t even begin to imagine. I wanted to ask him just how the amputation has affected his life, and what he has learned from it.
The phantom pains were really bad, but I guess just getting used to the idea of my leg not being there was worse. It was so strange to look down and have that empty space.
How did you manage with the emotional pain?
It was really difficult to cope. But I just had to let out the things I built up inside. Talking to my family really helped, and my friends were supportive, so slowly I started to accept my situation.
Have any positives come from this experience?
It’s taught me many things. I learned how to face fear, since I know what it’s like to be scared for my life. I also learned to be optimistic, to find the bright side. I could have lost more than a leg.
I’ve learned to be thankful for the leg and arms I still have.
Have you emotionally recovered fully? Is there another step to the rehabilitation?
I think I’m pretty close to getting over it. I’m hoping to get a prosthetic leg, though. It would be amazing to walk again.
Any advice to fellow amputees?
Just not to dwell on the negative in the past. That’s a waste of time. It’s better to move on and look towards the future. That’s where you can actually change something, because the past is done with.
________________________________________
This brief but powerful interview is a fantastic avenue for also considering the unseen missing pieces some of us recognize, yet fail to understand, at an early age.
If you've been following the Pieces of Penelope posts, consider that up through age 17 (tomorrow's post), I lacked the insight to connect my loss and loneliness with family dynamics. I couldn't see the forest for the trees. I was too close and too young, brainwashed, in a way, by the dysfunction. Instead, I looked to my social environment for reasons and answers, and in the end always blamed myself.
Just as Josh can never grow back a missing leg, I suspect Lisa and I will never fully replace or replenish the lack of love and acceptance we felt as children. But we can all find positive avenues that enable us to live productive, happy lives. After all, life isn't about what you've lost, it's about what you find.
The book trailer for my novel Aberrations asks, Are you missing pieces of yourself? This seems like a good time to share it again. If you haven't seen it yet, I hope you'll take a look.
... All I know is that if I just had one kiss from that guy, that's all I would need to sustain me for at least another six months ....
***
Love that hurts, Love that takes, Love that loves For loves own sake ...
***
... Yesterday I had the most traumatic experience of my life. I cannot explain it but all I know is that it was hard and it hurt, and I will remember it until the day I die ...
***
... It seems like the good things that are supposed to be in life just don't notice me ...
***
... I'm tired of hurting. I know there is some hurt I can't avoid but as I look back at my past, I know there was so much I could have avoided. I bring so much upon myself ...
***
... I hope I'm growing up so bad ...
***
... I think I tend to idolize people too much ... even the people I don't like. I've been trying to see myself in the way that I see everyone else. Maybe that's the root of my problem. I've excluded myself from my overall image of the world, and maybe that has made me feel like I'm never good enough ...
***
... I think I just realized why I don't trust people. All this time, instead of trying to see myself the way I see everyone else, I've been trying to see everyone the way I see myself -- which doesn't work because it's giving me a depressed outlook on life and people. I have people idolized and the next, I have them hitting the floor. I don't want to trust anyone for fear that I'll be the fool and just prove over and over that I don't belong in the good world -- but only in the bad. This doesn't even give me a chance to be in the good world because trying to drag people into the bad world turns them off and away, which leaves me totally confused and worse off.
***
When sorrow speaks it calls my name,
When love laughs it laughs at me ...
***
Tonight I have been thinking ...
I have committed many a sin in my life. Greater than any man can know. In my heart, I will never know the reasons or will I feel forgiven ... What counts is how you play the game, live the life. I will be happy for my friends when they are happy. I will weep for them when they are sad. Never will I judge a person for I know my sins are many. I will be happy with life, for who I am, for what I feel, and will not waste joy by living in the past. I will treat each man the same for fate will bring love when love is right. I will not worry about useless things. I will not be saddened by things unsaid but will rejoice in words I hear. Life will be fine. The happy moments will outlive the sad. I will sin a great many times to come but yet I will be content for I know life would be but an empty shell if I had not sorrows to contrast with my joy. Forever, I will live each day in Springtime and when pain knocks at my heart, I will endure and love just the same. "Never stop risking" will be the words in my heart. I will remember to risk and to feel sadness is better than to not risk and not "feel." This way, at least I will know I'm alive.
During fits of teenage rage or deep despair, I'm guessing a large percentage of you considered running away from home at least once. My guest today not only had the idea, but at 17, she also methodically planned her escape, and made a run for it--crossing state lines and childhood borders.
Through determination, hard work, and a pinch of luck, she survived. She grew up. Today Lisa is an insightful mom of six, a loving wife, super blogger, and advocate. On her various blogs, she describes herself and her life this way:
I'm a 41-year-old, married to my best friend, stay-home mother of 6 children: Kevin (12), Joey (6), twins, Annabelle and Daisy (4), Lilah(2), and Finnian, born in July 2008 and diagnosed with Down syndrome. Oh, and my husband is currently battling cancer. I'm just trying to hold it all together.
This is her story.
Lisa shares her experience in three parts. Part 2 will be posted on June 29th, and Part 3 will go up on July 3rd.
You were a teen runaway. Can you tell us what prompted you to take such serious action?
My mother was generally an emotional wreck and she leaned inappropriately on me from the time I was very young, so I became her emotional caretaker. It was a lot of responsibility for a child to have. She also expected me to change roles at her will from her emotional sounding board back to a child whom she could bully. As an adult, I can see now that I suffered a lot of depression as a child, and by the time I was an older teenager, it just all got to be too much to handle. Although I was never actually suicidal, I thought about death a lot, and spent a lot of time wishing I were dead.
When I was 15, there was an incident at home during which both she and my stepfather were beating me up, and it was bad enough that my younger brother ran to a neighbor’s house and called the police. The police came , and it was basically my parents’ word against mine and my brother’s. I don’t know that my parents were cited or anything - I’m guessing not since I was not removed from the home. I did, however, of my own accord, move in with an aunt shortly after that for several months. That situation wasn’t much better, for different reasons. I ended up going back home eventually, and things only got worse. I had a boyfriend by then, and there came a point when my mother tried to force us to get married (I was 16 at the time, and no, I was not pregnant; there was no reason for us to get married, this was just another power play by my mother). We called her bluff and told her we would get married, and then she forbade us from seeing each other and threatened to have him arrested.
It was all very crazy, and I just reached a point that I couldn’t live with my mother (or my step-father) anymore. I felt like I was really already an adult anyway; although my parents provided food and clothing and shelter for me, they certainly were not meeting any of my other needs, and emotionally I felt like I had already been on my own for years. So it didn’t feel like that big a stretch to decide to run away and make my own life. I had tried living with my aunt and that hadn’t worked out, and my father and his wife didn’t want me, so I didn’t have a lot of places to go. I could either stay where I was and continue spiraling down further and further into despair and hopelessness, or I could try to make my own way in the world. Shortly after I turned 17, I left home again, this time with my boyfriend, and we left the state, and none of my family or friends knew where I was for a year.
I'm guessing your family situation played a role in your decision to run away. If so, what was the family dynamic?
My mother and father divorced when I was 5, and it was an on-again, off-again relationship for many years after that. I had an older brother and a younger brother. When I was 14, my mother remarried, a man she had known for three months. Their relationship was horribly dysfunctional and abusive as well, and he was never any kind of father figure, he was really just one more person to abuse the kids.
Did your family search for you? Are you in touch with them now?
When I left home, I left a letter for my mother telling her not to look for me, and that if she found me and brought me back, I’d just leave again. My understanding is that she stormed the house of the parents of my boyfriend, demanding to know where I was (his father actually did know where we had gone, but he never let on to her), and she filed a Missing Person Report with the local police, and that was it. To my knowledge, no other effort was made to find me. I did call my mother periodically from payphones to let her know I was okay, but she would just scream at me on the phone.
I am not in touch with my family now, no. When I reached adulthood, my father and I were somehow able to mend fences and became very close, but he died very suddenly a little over 10 years ago. After I turned 18, my boyfriend and I moved back to California and eventually got married. I had an on-again, off-again relationship with my mother for several years, but it was never an emotionally healthy relationship. She was never able to see me and treat me as an adult, and she continued to bully me for years.
I finally reached a breaking point with her when I filed for divorce from my first husband. I applied for a restraining order against him because he was an alcoholic and a drug addict (and he ended up dying from a drug overdose shortly after I filed for divorce) and very abusive, and I feared for my own safety as well as that of our two-year old son. At the court hearing for the restraining order, my mother showed up with my estranged husband and tried to tell the court what a horrible mother and wife I was (and the truth is, my mother had had virtually no contact with me or my family for a number of years already at that point, so she had no idea what kind of wife or mother I was - this was clearly just another opportunity for her to try to hurt me). Of course, she was not even a party to the hearing, so the judge was not interested in anything she had to say, but that was the last straw for me. What kind of mother does something like that? That was almost 10 years ago, and I have had no contact with her since then.
As far as my siblings, I lost touch with my older brother about 15 years ago. He has/had a lot of problems: never able to hold a job, in and out of jail, drug addiction, etc. Last I heard, he had moved to Idaho. He and I were never close. My younger brother and I, on the other hand, were very close growing up, but I think he never forgave me for running away. When I came back to California, we re-established a semblance of a relationship for a while, but it was never the same - maybe just because we were both a little older. There was a lot of conflict between him and his wife, and me and my first husband, so after a while things just became too strained for us to really have much of a relationship. Then when my husband died, my brother and his wife, in all their new found Christian zeal, decided that I had driven him to his death with my evil ways, and that I was going to burn in hell. Needless to say, I don’t have a relationship with them.
Where did you go and how did you take care of yourself? What did you do for income? Did you finish school?
When my boyfriend and I left, we went to Utah, of all places. None of it was impulsive; the entire endeavor was carefully planned out over the course of 2 or 3 months. I was in high school, but working part-time at a pizza joint, and he was graduated from high school already and working full-time for an exterminating company. We both saved up our money until we had around $2,000. He wanted to go to Utah for the skiing, which is funny because we ended up being so poor when we lived there that I think he skied once while we were there.
We agreed on a date we would leave, and on that morning, I feigned illness so I could stay home from school. After my brothers had both gone to school and my mother and step-father to work, my boyfriend came over with a small U-Haul trailer attached to his car, and we packed up as much of my things as we could, and then we went and packed up all of his things from the apartment he was sharing with his brother at the time. He drove the car with the U-Haul trailer, and I took a Trailways bus until we crossed over the Utah border - that’s how carefully we had planned it out: we knew that because I was a minor at 17 years old, and he a legal adult at 19 years old, it would be a federal offense for him to take me over state lines, so I took the bus.
When we arrived in Utah, we lived in the car at a KOA campground for several days. We scoured the newspaper every day looking for an apartment to rent. This was in October, and it was already beginning to snow, so we were a little desperate. We found an affordable apartment listed in the paper and called the number and the manager said he was leaving town, but if we could find a way in, the apartment was ours. It turned out to be an old house that had been subdivided into three apartments. We broke in through a window, and the apartment was ours.
My boyfriend got a job very quickly in a sales position. I lied about my age and got a job first working as a cashier in a little Greek diner, and then later at a microfilming company. I was always afraid of being found out - after all, I provided my social security number on the W-2 forms I filled out to be employed, and I lived in constant fear that somehow through that they were going to discover that I was actually an underage runaway. But it never happened.
When I left home, I was about a month into my senior year of high school, so that meant that to leave, I dropped out of school. I had always been a bright, hardworking student, so it was certainly a shame to throw that away. However, at the time, it just seemed like a price I would willingly pay for my freedom. After I returned to California, I eventually earned all of my missing high school credits and got my diploma.
Was there a turning point in all this? Did anyone in particular help you?
As I said, I left with my boyfriend. We had a plan, and we had saved up some money, so I think in many respects my story was different from many teen runaway stories. I never lived on the streets or had to eat out of garbage bins or sell myself into prostitution. Alt hough we were very broke at times - I remember having to scrounge for change between the sofa cushions to come up with enough to buy a loaf of bread and some bologna - we both had jobs almost the entire time we lived there, we had a roof over our heads, and clothes to wear. I don’t think I would have attempted to run away on my own. I was well aware of the stories of teen runaways and how they could end up. Having somebody to go with made the whole thing seem a lot more doable and less frightening.
Looking back, do you believe there were better options? What advice do you have for teens teetering on the edge you found yourself on?
I don’t have any regrets about what I did, although I am well aware that my story turned out a lot better than other teen runaway stories. At the time, I really didn’t feel like I had any “better” options. I had tried to live with my aunt, and that was not a positive experience . My father and his wife didn’t want me. The situation at home with my mother and stepfather was unbearable. My high school guidance counselor knew what was going on, at least to some degree, but never reported anything to the authorities or tried to reach out to me in any meaningful way. So I really felt very alone and hopeless, and then this guy, my boyfriend, comes along and wants to save me and suddenly I saw a way out, so I took it. Even now, almost 25 years later, the only alternative I see to my running away was to have stayed in an intolerable living situation with my mother and step-father.
I guess the best advice I have for any teenager teetering on such an edge would be to get help. Find a trusted adult - through church, through school, a neighbor, somebody - who will listen and, if not help you, then at least give you some direction as to where to find appropriate help.
What did you learn from your experience as a teen runaway, and how were you able to use those lessons as you came into adulthood?
I’m not sure that I learned any great life lessons in my experience as a runaway. I think sometimes, experiences are just that - experiences. I survived. It was a chapter in my life. I think if anything, it confirmed the underlying feeling that I grew up with, and that has to do with a sense of self-reliance and not believing that I could really ever count on anybody except myself.
Many teen runaways do not survive either physically or emotionally. How were you able to do so? Life is a long road. Did it get worse before it got better?
As I said, we found an apartment when we arrived in Utah, and furnished it using the money we had saved with thrift store furniture and necessities. We both found jobs, but even so, it was a very hand-to-mouth existence. We were usually very, very broke. His car broke down shortly after we arrived in Utah, and we couldn’t afford to have it fixed for more than a year, so we walked and took the bus everywhere. We ate a lot of Top Ramen and bologna sandwiches. We often couldn’t even afford the laundromat and washed our clothes by hand in the bathtub (I still remember the blisters on my hands from wringing clothes out).
I will say, also, that ours was an extremely rocky relationship from the start. He was abusive to me very early on, but there I was, an underage runaway, hundreds of miles from any friends or family. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and besides, I had grown up watching my dad abuse my mother, and being abused by both of my parents and my mother’s boyfriend and new husband, so abuse was familiar to me, almost normal in a sick sort of way.
What top three things would you say to parents who are dealing with flight risk kids?
Listen to your kids. Take them seriously. Take responsibility as a parent and realize that as long as your child is a child (and even a teenager is a child) you are responsible for his/her emotional and physical well-being. If your family is out of control, get help. There is help out there.
Do you think the average adult takes teen emotions and issues seriously enough?
In my personal experience, no. However, I realize that I only see things through the very small and jaded window that looks out onto my own past. I don’t know what the statistics are, but obviously not every teen ends up so profoundly unhappy and desperate, so clearly there are good parents out there who are taking care of their kids, listening to them, and taking them seriously.
Of my six children, my oldest is on the cusp of teenhood at twelve years old. I see already that he is changing, and that parenting a teen will not be an easy task. I hope that I always remember my own past and that it will be a reminder to me to make sure my kids feel loved, valued, and taken seriously as they make their way to adulthood.
________________
... Lately I feel pulled between my true values and the tempting human feelings I often have. But through this, I'm learning more about myself. I feel that I'm finally getting to know just who I am ...
***
... I feel like crying out and saying, "God, I want what they have." It's a hunger so deep that I just want someone I can cry to and explain the feelings I have of wanting this special something they have. Yet I know in my heart I'm so unworthy. I don't deserve anything, but I want it all so much.
***
... I'm beginning to see people as so human, with such precise feelings ...
***
... I've discovered what my life needs is humility. This is the hardest thing for me to achieve. Is it something you achieve, or is in, in fact, something you find? There is a certain kind of humility and I feel that when I find this, I'll be free from this human bondage that prevents me from expressing myself. Sometimes I need to express myself so much and then I think, What do I need to express? I think it is my fear ...
***
... I need to not go out with anyone so I can devote myself to cleaning up my act ... I always say that you go through stages during your life. Each stage you experience and learn from but to be a growing person, you've got to know how to tell when it's time to discover what you've learned from it, grow, and move away. If you hang on to things that must pass, then you're damaging yourself and possibly others ...
***
I'm basing my new life on the most important things: unselfishness, loving others, not judging, and most of all, forgiving ...
Most people think I’m just shy. They’re not wrong; not really. It’s just that there’s more to it than simply being shy. At age 4, I was diagnosed with Selective Mutism. I didn’t really know what it meant back then, only that it was difficult for me to make friends every time I moved to a new environment.
Selective Mutism (SM) is a little known mental disorder similar to autism. Children affected by SM have an extreme fear of speaking in public places, reaching the point where it becomes physically impossible for them to utter a simple string of words. Many parents of children with SM aren’t even aware of their child’s condition. There isn’t much information on the subject, so most people just dismiss their behavior as shyness. Often, children with SM are thought to be stubborn, misbehaving kids who refuse to speak on purpose. It’s not that we choose to remain quiet, however. Children diagnosed with SM are actually physically unable to speak. The success rate for SM is low, and many of the affected never really grow out of their fear.
Selective Mutism is, in a way, my aberration. Throughout my whole life, I’ve struggled with communicating with others and making new friends. Signs of my SM started showing up when I first started preschool. While the other kids liked to play on the monkey bars during recess, I would sit on a bench in the corner and draw lions. I was fascinated with their silky coats, dagger-like fangs, and majestic manes; no other animal was quite the same.
I remained the typical, sugar-fueled preschooler at home, however. My mother didn’t notice a thing until our school’s Parent-Teacher Conferences came around.
“All the child does is sit in the corner and draw. She doesn’t talk to the other children,” Ms. Wahn said, sniffing as she shuffled her papers around and crossed her legs. “We have a guidance counselor. I’m sure you two can swing by anytime you’d like,” she added, pushing the bridge of her glasses up her nose.
To be honest, I don’t remember my sessions with Cathy very well. I’d get pulled out of class every week on the same day, at the same time and we’d play a game of Monopoly Junior or UNO. She also had this little dollhouse stacked under a box of memory cards of Winnie the Pooh characters and a chessboard in her closet of games. She may have asked me a few questions about school or what I was doing on the weekend. I felt comfortable around Cathy. She was quiet, like me, and when she smiled her eyes would sparkle and the creases around her eyes would show.
In third grade, I stopped going to see my psychiatrist. People were asking why I kept leaving during class, and for some reason, I felt embarrassed to tell them. Deciding that I no longer needed therapy, I told Cathy and my mother that I was better and that I didn’t want to go anymore. They accepted my decision and I didn’t see her again. I vaguely remember feeling both sad and relieved, knowing that I wouldn’t ever see Cathy’s tiny, lavender-colored room again as I walked down the hallway back to my classroom.
Luckily, third grade was the year that Myra came to our class. Myra and I were complete opposites. Bubbly and energetic, Myra approached me in her color-coordinated outfit on that first day during lunch: green T-shirt, green sweater, green skirt, green headband, green socks.
“Hi. What’s your name?” I looked up from Harry Potter. “Hi, I’m Myra. Whatcha reading?” Slightly annoyed, I looked up, yet again, and closed the book. “Harry Potter.” “Oh. Cool.” I could tell she didn’t know what I was talking about. “I like Nancy Drew.” My eyes brightened. “Me, too!” I liked all books back then. “Mysteries are fun.” “Yeah. Harry Potter’s kind of a mystery.” “Really?” “Sorta.” She examined the school’s copy, slightly worn with years of use. “It’s kinda thick.” I took it back from her. “It’s not that bad.” “Oh. Okay.” We sat in silence for a while, not knowing what to say. I smiled awkwardly and eyed the book, wishing I could get back to it. “You can keep reading and stuff if you want,” she finally said. “Okay,” I said, relieved. “See you later.” I picked up the book, flipped back to the page I had dog-eared, and waved. Smiling politely, she left the table and headed to the next one, her wispy, platinum blond ponytail swinging behind her as she sat down and introduced herself to another of my classmates.
We ended up becoming best friends. That year, I had my first sleepover at her house, where we gossiped about our teachers and classmates. She liked to lie, probably for the attention. I could always tell whenever she was making something up, but I listened to her anyway and went along with her stories. Gradually, I pushed myself away from Myra. Finally, in fifth grade, I heard that she’d started to talk behind my back. I was too timid to approach her about it, but our friendship was never quite the same after that. I still haven’t seen her in two years.
Although SM has been tough on me, both Cathy and Myra helped me greatly. Cathy was my confidante. She was probably 50, maybe even 60, but she was my friend. As for Myra, I was definitely hurt to hear that she would say anything bad about me, but eventually, I realized that she couldn’t change her personality and that it would’ve happened sooner or later. Besides, she helped me learn how to make many of the friends I have today. I don’t know if I’ve completely gotten over what happened with Myra, but I think, overall, I’ve gained more than I’ve lost.
I used to think of my SM as a burden. Of course, I’m not always glad to have SM, but it’s taught me to value friendship and family even more than I normally would. And that’s what keeps me going.
During 1984 and '85, I wrote less in my journal, and instead focused on writing poetry. As I noted in the the introduction to the Aberration Nation Teen Event, don't expect award winning writing--only honesty.
