All the years my dad was locked up, Tenice still came to see me. Every other weekend. Her and my dad stayed together for a long while after he got in trouble. Until I was about nine or ten. I remember sitting at my Mawmaw’s kitchen table one sunday afternoon, after me and Tenice had spent all day together. “Carsyn, I have something to tell you, and you aren’t going to like it”, she said. “Me and your dad have split up, I’m dating someone new, his name is Jason. I’m still going to come see you every other weekend like normal. But, me and your dad are no longer together”, another hump in the road. But, she kept her word. She still came and saw me every other weekend. Until a few years later, she and Jason got engaged. When they got married, I was the flower girl. I cried at the altar. Not because she wasn’t marrying my dad or anything. But, because I knew I would lose a part of her. Tenice is someone I considered my bonus mom. I had my birth mother. But, Tenice was so much more. I never went without, she spoiled me, I stayed with her often, she raised me. She was more of a mother to me, than my birth mom could ever compare to. Until she got married it was me and her against the world. She was my “Necey’, and I was her, “Monkey”. I still got to see her often, for a few years anyway. Until she had a son of her own. Braxson. After she had him, I stopped seeing her as much. Maybe two or three times a year. She texts me a lot though, just checking up on me. I still love her as much as ever. She’s still my “Necey”.

When I started 6th grade I moved in with my aunt Spencer. I called her “Nanny”. Her and my aunt Logan are my moms sisters. My aunt Logan lived just up the road. We were very close. I moved in with Nanny because my Mawmaw wasn’t doing all that well. Also, because of the area my Mawmaw lived in. They thought where Nanny lived was more suitable. And a better environment for a middle schooler. Nanny had three children of her own, all younger than me. Parker, Blakely, and Kyle. Parker was the oldest, the only boy. Me and him butted heads for years, we are two years apart in age. But, when we got older we got very close. Blakely was the middle child, Nanny’s first girl. We were the closest. Blakely was my mini me, she could tell me anything and I could tell her anything. She kept every last one of my secrets. She slept with me almost every night, I think it made her feel safe. Me and Blakely are six years apart in age. Kyle is the baby girl. She doesn’t have a care in the world, is sweet and sour, we were 10 years apart in age. I was her “Car Car”. She was the first of my little cousins to start calling me that. It stuck. Nanny’s husband’s name was Seth. He was hard on all of us. Especially me. Him and Nanny both were. Seth taught me to play all sports. But, he made me fall out of love with basketball. I quit my freshman year of high school. I couldn’t take the pressure. Me and Nanny didn’t get along very well. She was scared I was going to turn out like my mom. So, she constantly punished me. Made me do things my cousins didn’t have to do. I spent most of the four years I spent living there grounded, in my room. She also gave me little to no privacy. She constantly went through my phone, set limits on it too. I didn’t have a bedroom door most of the time, as a part of my punishments. I got very sad when I lived there. I lost many friends because I was always in trouble. Never allowed to go anywhere. Even when I started high school. No social media. No boyfriends. No parties. No shirts that show your stomach. No bathing suits she didn’t approve of. “It’s just strict parenting”, is what everyone said. But it made me feel so alone, I was alone. I remember the pit in my stomach when I knew I was in trouble, It was the worst feeling in the world. I would feel so sick. Scared to go home, because I didn’t know how bad the punishment would be. Nanny and Seth did love me, even though I couldn’t see or feel it at the time. 

My Mawmaw was my guardian angel, my soul mate, my shoulder to cry on, my everything. She was my great grandmother on my moms side of the family. She got sick when I was in 8th grade. Cancer. She fought for a long time. I went to see her fairly often, as much as I could, which still wasn’t enough. I still regret not spending enough time with her. A few weeks before she passed I was staying the night at my friend's house. And, my friend's mom calls me downstairs. Says she has something to tell me, and that Nanny said she’d rather have it come from someone I trust, rather than a text. My friend’s mom tells me that my Mawmaw has gotten substantially worse, and isn’t going to make it much longer. She said my Mawmaw wants to call me. And that she's on a ventilator so she can’t speak, but she can hear me. To gather my thoughts on what I want to say because it might be the last time I speak to her. We get on the phone and as soon as she hears my voice, I hear a muffled and stressed, “I love you”. Everyone in the room with her got a little upset because she hadn’t said a word to them all day, she couldn’t. But, she tried for me. She wanted me to know how much she loved me. I was her “Angel Baby’”, and nobody could change that. My Mawmaw suffered for a few more weeks, my family wasn’t ready to let her go. But, she was in pain. I called her a few more times, and updated her on my life. She was awake and aware, she could hear me. My fourteenth birthday rolls around, and my Pawpaw calls me. “Happy birthday Angel Baby, how old are you? 12 now?”, He sounded tired and sad. “No Pawpaw, I’m fourteen”, I said. “Oh, I knew that. You know your Mawmaw is the one who always keeps me up to date on those things”, he sounded like he was going to cry. I told him I loved him and hung up the phone. And rushed off to my birthday plans. When I woke up the next morning, December 5th, the house was quiet. I checked my phone, and I had a missed call from my aunt Logan. So, I called her back. She told me her and Nanny were coming to pick me up and they would be there shortly. I knew something was wrong when I got in the car and my aunt Logan was in the back seat. Nobody, in the passenger side. Nanny was driving. I could tell they both had been crying. My aunt Logan looks at me and says, “You already know what happened don’t you?”. I said, “She's gone, isn’t she?”. And my aunt Logan just pulled me into a tight hug and we cried together, the whole way to my Mawmaw’s house. I must have missed school for about two weeks, I was so distraught. Also, with her funeral and everything I couldn’t really go back. That hurt me so much.

My mother has been in and out of my life for as long as I can remember. Sometimes she’ll stay sober and be in my life for up to ten months, and then relapse. She’ll show up to all of my sporting events for a whole year. And then go silent, because she got put in jail again. My mom was my first real heartbreak. She hurt me countless amounts of times. She stole from me. Lied to me. Did drugs in front of me. My freshman volleyball season, she texted me the day before every single game, and promised me she would be there. But, she didn’t show up to a single one. My birthday is always a few weeks after volleyball season ends. On my birthday my mom calls me. We talk like usual, nothing specific happens. But, at the end of the call I tell her I don’t want to speak to her until she's been at least six months sober. I haven’t seen her since my Mawmaws funeral. I haven’t spoken to her in over a year from today's date. I wrote her a letter a few weeks ago, and never heard back. She had been in jail for over a year. And I just recently found out she’s out again. My mom has three other children, my sisters and brother. I haven’t seen Karter, my brother, since I was 7 or 8 years old. My mom lost custody of him, and his dad took him away. Refused to let me or my family see him. Kenleigh is ten years old now. My mom was on drugs when she had her. It caused her to have developmental issues. She got held back in kindergarten. Is smaller than the average ten year old. And can't really speak all that well. My baby sister, Presli, is only two. My mom lost custody of her when she was only 6 weeks old. She refused to take a drug test before Child Protective Services. Presli, when she was born, was pumped with drugs in her system. They didn’t think she would make it. But, she did, and is thriving. My mom had four different children, with four different men. None of which she has custody of. And none of the men she stayed with. My mom is ill. Mentally ill. She thinks all she needs in life to be happy is sex, drugs, and men. Which isn’t what she needs at all. She needs her family. None of our family speaks to her or her mom. Not even her sisters. And she isn’t legally allowed to speak to my siblings. I have a choice. And I’ve chosen not to, for a long time. She hurt me.

I had my first break up my sophomore year of high school. This boy seemed perfect. Everything about him. He played baseball, my parents loved him, he was respectful. This boy convinced me he loved me. He told me every day for months. He told me he wanted to marry me, and that he wanted to be together forever. And I believed him. I believed every word that came out of his mouth. This boy left me and broke my heart. He was still in love with his ex-girlfriend. He lied to me, and manipulated me. He played with my feelings. Came back into my life many times. The outcome was always the same. It's funny, because I loved him fully. I loved the person I thought he was. He never knew what happened with my mom, my grandma, or my dad. He never bothered to ask. I knew everything about him. He knew nothing about me. We went on dates, and spent hours together. He was the first boy I had been with romantically that I loved. I always wonder if he thought about his ex-girlfriend when we were together. This boy made me cry for hours. I thought I would never recover. I cried more over him, than I have over most things. It was pathetic really. I don’t love that boy anymore. I still think about him often. But, I don't love him. I remember the night he told me he didn’t love me anymore. He told me to let go and to forget him. That hurt. 

My grandmother on my moms side is a terrible person. She's a drug addict too. Pills. She's oblivious to the real world. When my Mawmaw passed away her and my mom broke into her house while we were on the way there. They took everything out of my jewelry box, and all of the jewelry hidden in my Mawmaw house that was left to me in her will. Her husband was weird with me. I would sleep at their house every wednesday night in elementary school. Her husband would sleep in my bed, and cuddle me to sleep. I didn’t like it. I told my grandmother, but she just said it was because he loved me. She never told him to stop. I was scared of the dark, but he would never keep the lamp on. He would make weird comments to me, even years after I stopped going to their house. At my Mawmaw’s funeral he walked up to me while I was alone in a room and said, “I like your dress, maybe when we get back home I can pick you up. I miss hanging out with you”. When I was younger he always told me he loved me and his wife equally. Sometimes, if she wasn’t around he told me he loved me more than her. He eventually got on the pills like my grandmother. He lost his job, so they had to move out of their house and stay with his mother. I blocked them both on everything. I only unblock my grandmother for updates on my mom. My grandmother showed up to my 6th, 8th, and 12th birthday high as a kite. She started hallucinating at my 12th birthday party and scared everyone. That's when I knew I didn’t want to be around her anymore. Her and her husband have traumatized and hurt me so many times. 

My Dad got out of prison when I was in 7th grade. He went to live with his mom a few hours away. He worked hard to get his life back together, and on track. But, I didn’t see him very often. He moved closer to me for a job. So, I got to see him a little more. For a day, here and there. I spent Easter my freshman year with him and his mom. I call her “Mimi’. I didn’t see Mimi all the years my dad was gone. She lived too far, and didn’t drive much. She lives on a horse ranch, with my great grandmother. I call her “Nini”. But, when my dad got out he took me to see her often. My dad always told me about the girls he had been with when he came to visit. Always told me he wasn’t ever going to settle down again. Until one time he came to visit me for christmas and told me about this girl. Laconda, but she goes by LC. He really liked her, and could see a future with her. A short time later he moved further away from me, with her. He introduced me to her shortly, and I spent a weekend with them. I talked to them about how unhappy I was living with my aunt. And Lc didn’t like it. I spent my freshman year spring break with them, where they lived. And at that time I asked to come live with them. Things had only gotten worse with my aunt, and I wanted to get to know and have a relationship with my dad. He said I couldn’t live with him right away, but I could come spend the summer with him and test it out. My aunt agreed, she said we needed space anyway. My dad ended up wanting me to live with him permanently. He talked to my aunt halfway through summer and she agreed. She was tired of me, so it wasn’t really an argument. And things were good for a while. I started playing volleyball at my new school. But, it took me a long time to make friends. Unlike where my aunt lived, I made friends there easily. But, it was a small town. Where my dad lives is not so small. A lot of people. But, eventually I made a good group of friends. My dad doesn’t treat me like a normal father would though. He has the mind of a criminal, after being in jail for so long. He’s convinced that I'm manipulative, a liar, and that I only asked to live with him so I could use him. I’ve lived with him for almost a year now. Instead of our relationship getting better, it's gotten way worse. I got in trouble a few weeks ago, got everything taken away from me. I tried to sneak around and do the things that make me happy. I got caught of course. And my dad told me “I know who you are now. You’re a liar. You’re going to make a great dope fein when you get older”. Ouch. That hurt. We live with Lc, and I’ve met her family. But, Lc isn’t my mom. And we both know that. Lc grew up with the most picture perfect life, she doesn’t get me. Her and my dad hurt me with their words. She has shamed me for my anxiety, which I developed a few years back.”I don’t like that you have anxiety, we need to fix that. You have nothing to be stressed about, you're only in highschool. High School was the best time of my life. What do you have to worry about?”. She has compared me to my mom. I tried smoking weed one time, but I didn't like it. Somehow they found out and drug tested me. My dad didn’t seem to care. But, it rubbed Lc the wrong way. She said, “When I saw that test I wanted to cry, how dare you try that when you know what path your mom went down”. I wanted to punch her in the face. How dare she compare me to my mom, even mention my mom. She has never met her, never spoken to her, never seen her, she doesn’t get to talk about my mom. Lc also just doesn’t understand my life. She grew up with two parents in the home, they’re still married to this day. She got to see her siblings every single day. She went to college on two D1 scholarships. And made a successful life for herself. I wouldn’t say her life has been easy. But, I understand why she doesn’t get why I have anxiety. She’s never had to worry like I have. 

I developed a deep sadness so many years ago, I can’t even call it depression, it's much worse. I’ve never hurt myself. Or tried to commit suicide. I’ve just felt numb for a long time. Felt lost, almost. I’ve had so much to worry about in the short years I've lived. I’ve been hurt by so much and so many people in a short amount of time. In the grand scheme of things, I’m just a sixteen year old girl. But, in my eyes I’m constantly hurting. Praying for my life to get better. Hoping someone will notice my cries for help. Everyone just tells me, “you only have two years left”, or, “just look forward to college”. But, I can’t. I live in the now. I feel what hurts now. What obstacles I have to overcome now. Who comes in and out of my life now. How loved I feel now. How trapped I feel now. How I feel there's no escape now. I have anxiety attacks often. But, when they happen I hide, and don’t tell people. I tried telling my dad, but he just thinks it's an excuse. Lc doesn’t think I really have anxiety. When my dad yells at me I don’t speak, I cry. “The tears don’t work on me anymore Carsyn”, I don’t cry on purpose. I can’t help it. Deep down I am truly broken. Nothing can fully fix me. Nobody would know what I have been through, because I put on a really brave face. I hide my emotions and feelings until I can’t anymore. I bottle them up, until I break down. I handle most situations very well, I don’t let them get to me. I keep myself busy, giving myself less time in the day. I try to not get overwhelmed, or overstimulated. But, lately that's been all the time. My heart is broken, and bruised. I’ve been torn apart from many adults in my life. I’ve been wasted away to nothing. I try to be happy around my peers. I’m the comedic relief friend. I put on a happy face for everyone, even when I’m falling apart inside. I put on a poker face. Nobody knows what I’m thinking or feeling. I’m your normal average teenager to everyone who doesn’t know me well. I play multiple sports, I try hard at them. I’m good at school, it doesn’t come naturally, but I try hard. I want to go to college, get married, and have kids, like everyone else. I want to give my kids the life I didn’t have. I don’t want my kids to hurt like I have to. I want to give my kids the life Lc has. I want so many things, and I am determined to make them happen. When I turn eighteen, that's when my life begins, that's when I get to be my own person. “You only have two more years”. Two long dreadful years, yeah. But, I’ve lived through worse. High school isn’t that bad. I’ll make it. But, when I’m eighteen I’ll run and never look back. Move far away from my past. And start a new life. A life where I don’t need to put on a poker face.