Parents, Part 2

We moved around a lot after I was born.  I don't know if that was true before that, but during my youth we moved at least twice a year.  Sometimes it would be close enough to remain in the same school.  Most often it wasn't.  Because of this, I didn't make friends.  There was no point.  

I did realize early on that my presence had a calming affect on my mother, and she would be less violent if I was there.  Actually, I don't think I realized it consciously, but I do remember deliberately going into the room when my younger brother was being beaten, even though everything in me was screaming to run and hide.  This seemed to lessen the damage for him.  It was all I could do for him.

I do know she especially hated my two brothers, though for different reasons.  I can't attest to her feelings about my older siblings because I was much too young to know.  I do remember several occasions where my younger brother would ask why she did this if she loved us, and my reassuring him that she didn't love us, and if he could just realize that, life would be so much easier.

In seventh grade I met the first of the adults in my life that could have been a parent figure.  Mr. Stevens was my teacher, and the first adult male I'd met that was not interested in me sexually.  No.  I was never raped.  You needn't go there.

As far as I can tell, Mr. Stevens just wanted to protect me.  He mentioned once that he wished he could adopt us, but his wife had an aversion to kids, and that was impossible.  However, his meddling did lead to our first abandonment.  By this time, my mother had already come to blows with my now-adult sister, and we were no longer in contact with her.  When my teacher decided to do his mandated-reporter duty and call the police, she skipped town and left us at school.  (She did try to pick us up on her way out of town, and it was only by forcefully holding my younger brother back that I managed to get her to leave without us.)  The "plan" was to confront her and have her work with a social worker to see the error of her ways.  As it turned out, she was forewarned and had packed each of us a suitcase and had planned to skip town.  Since I didn't jump in the car with her, nor allow my brother to do so, she went without us.  

After a visit to the sheriff's office to tell our story, we ended up staying with a church family until placement could be made.  This was my lucky break, and I was actually hoping for a great family when she showed up three days later and took us back.  No charges were brought, and we ended up staying in our home for the remainder of that school year.  We did have to change schools and were not allowed to see anyone who had known us before.  She also made me promise not to try to make contact with my sister for at least a year.  She gave me a sob story about being tired of fighting, and I made that concession for her.

By the time I reached high school I was quite independent.  I managed well with her rules, and a confrontation my freshman year actually got her to find my sister for me.  This was several moves later, and we were now in Oroville.  I remember the day my sister and older brother showed up at school to see me.  It was surreal.  I didn't recognize my brother at all, and I was somewhat awkward with my sister.  However, I was happy to have her back.

It was during that year that I decided I needed to get out of the house, and I convinced my mother to allow me to go to boarding school.  Because she was ultra-religious, and believed that freedom ruined children, she found a few like-minded boarding schools for me to choose from.  One was in California, one was in Utah, and one was in British Columbia, Canada.  Naturally, I chose the furthest.

This is where I met the Fournier's.  The boarding school did not have dormitories, but rather a series of large houses where students lived with a family.  I arrived in the summer, and by freak chance ended up with this family.  I had been destined to live with another couple, but at the last minute, they decided not to stay, and everyone living with them got divided up amongst the remaining families.

This is also where I came out of myself and decided that shy and quiet was getting me nowhere, and that I should really be outgoing and happy if I wanted friends.  This worked wonderfully, and I had the best year of my life.

The Fournier's treated me like one of their own.  They had three kids, and although I knew I wasn't really one of them, it was the closest thing yet.  They let me call them Mom and Dad, and for one year I pretended they were.  I know they did love me, and treated me with more care than the other students.  I know this because Mrs. Fournier wrote me the most beautiful letter at the end of the year, which I still have, and she HATES to write.  At least, she did then.

But time goes by, and at the end of the year, they decided to go be missionaries in Africa.  It was hard to see them go.  I stayed another 1/2 year at the school, but it wasn't the same.

Over the years I've looked them up a time or two, but hadn't found a trace of them until now.

Since coming of age, I decided my last chance was through marriage.  My sister's mother-in-law loves her like a daughter, and they seem to have a very close bond.  She's been in that family for many years, and although it took some getting used to, I think she has assimilated nicely.  I know it isn't the same thing, but it's close.  She has also found her biological father, and although that will never turn into a real father/daughter relationship, that connection has changed her (even if she doesn't realize it).

When I was 21, my mother left for good.  She sent each of her kids a letter asking not to be contacted or looked for, that she was tired of being a parent and wanted her freedom.  At the time, my youngest sister was 11, and she was left at home for CPS to find.  Although this isn't true of all of my siblings, I have respected her wish and have not made contact.

I am married now.  My husband has wonderful parents.  I love them, and they love me.  I have no doubt of that.  And although they are my family now, the parent/daughter connection was never made.  There is nothing wrong with that.  I am not complaining.  They are wonderful people.

I probably shouldn't be writing this.  I don't want to hurt anyone, or cause embarrassment.

I've often wondered what it would be like to have that presence in my life.  That person you could always count on.  I don't even know what you would count on them for, once you become an adult, but I see how even grown people are with parents, and I know that relationship is special.

In the last few years I have been surrounded by people who love me fiercely.  I have no doubt that I am loved, and I have been extremely blessed by the quantity and quality of that love.

I am not suggesting that I have been slighted or am somehow worse off than anyone else.  I am not looking for sympathy.  I have had a wonderful life since becoming an adult.  

I am merely curious.  Like I said, this is something I think about often, and I knew I would write about it sooner or later.  Forgive me if I've hurt or offended.