Dear Little Me...growing up.

Hi again. This one might be a little rambly, that’s not a word but you know what I mean, there is a lot to catch little me up on. I wish younger me was here, so I could tell her she will be okay.

Let’s start at the age of 5. Five was an okay year of my life. Five was the year that we moved into our new house. Five was when we got a cat named max. Five was the year my dad was sent to prison. And five was the small smart of growing up.

All I can remember from the age of five are those three things. It was not until recently that I realize that was when I felt some of my childhood was over. I was naive, however. I still played with friends, pretending to be snow dogs and hauling each other around. Or going to the neighbors for a swim after school. We were not rich growing up...who am I kidding I am still not rich.

Five was just the beginning of a path that I took without knowing.

At the age of 8, I knew things no eight-year-old should know. I knew what sex was, how it was done, who did it and the many reasons why. I don't blame my grandparents for this, I was given "the talk." I blame my mother.

Blame is seen as a huge, demented word. Like hatred is seen. However, when I say blame I mean the situation could have been different.

At eight I was watching my older brother play Grand Theft Auto, I saw my first porn video on accident, I knew how to buy a lung off the dark web. Eight was a weird time of my life. Did I feel like I was an adult yet? No. But eight confirmed that my mind was being altered and the lies were just spilling out of my mother’s mouth even more.

To give you some backstory, my parents never married, never got along as a couple. My dad took care of me until he went away, and my mother has always been in and out of my life. My grandparents raised me and how I wish I could pay them back for dealing with my troubled self. How I wish I could take back all of the fights.

Lies. The word to describe nearly every sentence my mother spoke. Now at eight, I did not realize the lies she was telling me. However, as I got older...the lies ran out and the truth started to shine. Let me just name a few.

1. How she described her and my father’s relationship. Sugarcoating the verbal abuse from both.

2. How she said how many times she was going to come out and spend time with me.

3. How she said one time that she would let my grandparents adopt me and now I will forever have student loan debt because she did not sign the papers.

4. The big one: "I love you." She has always had a favorite between my older brother and I, he is the favorite.

She also gaslighted and manipulated me when I was a kid. Even now. So many things, one right after another. I need at least 10 extra sets of hands and feet to hold all the gaslighted and manipulated things she told me.

That was just around eight.

Now on to 10 to 14. Those were the hard years. I won't get to much into it right now because that needs to be its own post. But little me tried her hardest during those years. She failed many times to be gone from this world but now she are the first in her family to graduate college and have a full-time job in the field I love. 10 to 14 was probably the worst years. My mother did not believe what happened, justice was not served, and I am still healing from those wounds, even at 22.

From then little me's mental health was a rollercoaster of emotions, she did not know how to handle it. I am still learning how to deal with my emotions and not let them bottle up. When my dad came home when we were 15, little me was excited. I am glad he is home; I am glad I now have five younger siblings. I am not happy with who he married. Hmm...a new blog post..."Dear Little Me...stepwitches" that has a nice ring. *Jotted note down*

In my teen years I always kept telling myself that when I turned 18, it was over. I was finally free and could be an adult. But when that day came...a rude awakening happened. "How the fuck am I supposed to adult?" I still do not know, it’s like it should come with instructions or something you know?

18 I went off to college. I went out of state...alllllll the way to Ohio. Why? To spite my dad lol. I thought that this would get me away from everything that happened in 18 years. Not really, in college I started to notice my social anxiety and anxiety more. My social battery always ran out quickly and my depression was worse. I loved the college I went to in Ohio...sometimes I wish I would have graduated from there instead. However, because of tuition costs, I had to come home.

My freshman year, living 10 hours from home, by myself taught me a lot though. I don't regret that ever. I don't think it would have shaped me to who I am today. I needed to be away for some time, it did me and my family good.

Now here we are at 22. Graduated, full time job, friends, family is somewhat repaired and have had my person for four years now. We are doing okay; it will always be okay. I think we go through things in life for a reason. We are taught and shown things in our life to shape us, teach us and help us. And for 22 years, I think little me has learned a lot. Not everything but a lot.

Until next time...little me.

(Still working on a signature)