Sitting at the dining table in the front living room, with CPS sitting across the wooden table from me, short but heavy gasps of breath escape me.My grandma, silent, sits in the chair on my left and the CPS’s right. Fear. Relief. Confusion. Shock. Paranoia. True happiness. All of those feelings concocted together in a 45 second conversation. Luckily, my case worker from Child Protective Services in Michigan was there to witness it. By “it” I mean my reaction when I got the news; When it became clear to me exactly what she was saying to me when she called. The CPS guy sitting across from me starts to seem a little lost because as of now his job is- basically- done, in the sense of interviewing me. His face shows little emotion as for my grandma, she is stunned or, in other words, shocked. I have a concoction of emotions going on, on the inside. Tears are literally streaming down my face and I forget how to breathe for a moment, as my head begins to pound and my vision start to blur. Nobody knows what to say or how to react, considering the unexpected turn of events. They both sit there, hands folded on the table top. I stand up and run my hands over my hair, then over my mouth which is agape. Ever since July 31st of this year, my life has been a major roller coaster ride. One minute, we had good news, the next, we had come to a fork in the road. I was nearly committed to FieldStone because of how scared I was to go back to her. It was- and still is-  all so unbelievable.

She finally offers me a way out, and when I accept, she denies me. She told me that I was wrong, and that everything was okay. She wanted so badly to believe her own words. I wish I could have believed them, but only if I knew they would be true. If I had believed them, I would not have the opportunities I am being offered to fix myself, to fix my life, or my mistakes. She was the only reason I made those mistakes, and she is the reason I need to fix myself. If she had never taken me, I would probably not even be broken in the first place.

I have this quote I like to tell people: “Just because I’m broken, doesn’t mean I’m broken hearted”. Most people in my generation are looking for love-true love, that is- and here I am, just looking for my home. I’m looking for the place I belong. For the last-nearly- twelve years, I wasn’t there. After Monday, September 19th, I will, hopefully, be able to stay where I am currently located. Everyone says I will win. They all say not to worry because she most likely won’t show up, or if she does, she will most likely go to jail. In Ohio, I left my youngest sibling. Maybe he will be her second chance. Maybe me leaving will open her eyes and she will do better by him. Maybe she will stop drinking, stop looking for love in places when it was never there in the first place. Maybe she will learn how to not manipulate people, including her kids. Maybe she will pay more attention to what her child needs than to what she wants.

I feel guilty for leaving him with her. But I am also hurt because neither of them have made an effort to call in for me, to see how I am doing. I promised to call and see how he was doing, but I have talked to him once in the last month. Maybe twice, I don’t even know. But every time I have tried to call, nobody answers the phone. She keeps saying she isn’t ignoring me, or it’s not that she doesn’t care. But I know her, and I know that she can’t handle working 24/7. She says my brother is at school and she is at work. But things just really don’t add up, and I have no proof as to know when she is lying to me or when she isn’t. She says she loves me more than anything in the world, yet she has made no effort to prove it to me since I left.

Anyone who is able to give birth can be a mother, but only certain women are fit to be a mom. She put up such a fight to try and make me go back. I have tried so hard to be able to stay. Now is the time I get some kind of a legal approval about my decision. I officially give up on trying to get her to understand that I never hated her. She is still my mother.  I never did or said what I did to turn anyone against her. I just wanted to be happy. I never really had a childhood, I never really had my own life. I never even had control about my own feelings. She is too stubborn to let me be who I was meant to be. She had an idea of who I should be, who I should hang out with, how I should feel, what I should do as a career, what I should do in general. She always said I could be whoever and whatever I chose, but she always found a way to put in her own suggestions and opinions. I told her I wanted to be a Social Worker for CPS, she told me to be a Juvenile Probation Officer because that is what she wanted to be. I told her I wanted to go to Stanford, she told me I needed to stay where ever she was. I told her I wanted to travel the world for one summer, and she told me I had to take her with. I had to live in whatever state she lived in; I had to be within driving distance. For so long, when I was much younger, she never even knew my favorite animal. I wasn’t allowed to wear too many black clothes because it would portray that I was depressed or trying to be “emo/goth” and I wasn’t any of that.

But isn’t that why I was put on medications? Isn’t that why I kept trying to escape? Isn’t that why I left in the first place? Why, yes, yes it was. She was too stubborn to open her eyes to the truth. She never wanted to admit that she was wrong; That she was the problem in my life. She was the lie holding me hostage from the truth. My mother isn’t the point of this paper; She isn’t the main topic.

But, if you think about it, she is the reason I have this topic in the first place. If she was the mother she told people she was, I would not be here. If she had never taken me in the first place, I would not have the issues I have today. My head would not be as messed up as it is now. This paper would be written about a completely different topic. But it’s supposed to be about me, and unfortunately, this is me. This was my life for almost twelve years.

I will be seventeen years old on March 1st. She took me when I was about five years old. Between those times, I was abused in basically every way. I was manipulated into feeling things that I didn’t feel; Into thinking what I did feel was wrong; Into thinking that my family didn’t care. “The only reason my family wanted me around was so I could babysit” is what I was supposed to think for so long.

My brother Camron has lived with our grandma for about 98% of his life. He is going to be fourteen in November. She said the only reason he has been here is because he has a good life and he is happy (which is true) and that he belongs here. I was supposed to let our younger brother, Christopher, be a child for as long as possible. I never had that. I am the older sibling so I’m supposed to be responsible and help take care of everything. She used the word “help” but in actuality, she was the one “helping” me. Chris is going to be so grateful that he had me while he did, because now that I am gone, my life will -unfortunately- become his. Except, as she says so herself, Mother is now working, so he won’t be able to see her much. Which might not actually be a bad thing. He’s too young and too much of a “mama’s boy” to understand what is really happening. He doesn’t know what alcoholism is, he doesn’t know what kind of addiction she would have gained if we had stayed with her current husband, he doesn’t know what her current husband did to me, or even could have done, he doesn’t know anything because he is still a “baby”. Luckily for him, that gives him the advantage of staying innocent for a little bit longer. All he knows is that he needs to go to school and wait at Lori’s for his mom to go pick him up after she gets out of work; That his mom needs to work so she can pay the rent for their apartment, and she uses food stamps to get their food, and that I left. I don’t even know what she said to him about me leaving. She could have told him anything, and I will never know.

It took a little over two weeks  for my Case Worker to finally show up, and the day he did, my mother called. The first thing she says is, “How is your grandma going to get your birth certificate?” I was so confused, and I even asked her why she was wanting to know. She told me a bunch of words, still not answering my question, then asked for the phone to be handed to my grandma. Maybe five minutes later, my grandma comes into the front living room and just sits down in the chair next to me, staring.She says something, yet I am still confused. So, finally, I just ask her, “I get to stay?” My grandma nodded her head “yes”.

I have never felt so much relief in my entire life. I literally almost had a anxiety attack from feeling so much pressure immediately be lifted off of my chest so suddenly. I also had to ask if it was a joke- I still feel like it’s a joke. I saw this picture of a conversation someone had posted and it says, “Why are you always expecting the worst?” The other person responded with, “It’s all I’ve ever experienced.” Everyday I am waiting to wake up, for someone to jump up and shout “APRIL FOOLS!” Everyday that it doesn’t happen is another day I relax, and feel so thankful.

If I could tell someone else who might be in a similar situation as mine, I would tell them that they should not give up hope so easily. They should keep fighting. They have to realize that whatever is happening to them, is not their fault. They are most definitely not alone.  If need be, they can always be their own hero. But it takes an enormous amount of strength to face your demons. Don’t back down, no matter what.