I left my home when I was 16 or 17. I can't remember exactly when. It was a flurry of really bad emotional trauma. No one could understand why i left and to be honest I couldn't remember or understand why. Looking back I was so angry at everyone. I said earlier that my room was my sanctuary. I had diaries with all sorts of personal issues written in them and mementos that meant so much to me. It was my privacy.
I went away to work for the summer before my last year of high school. I was into forestry, camping, hiking and got a very special placement with the government as a Jr forest ranger. I wanted to continue in forestry but I think my Dad had a problem with me leaving to go away to college and work up north. It was an emotional thing for him to let me go and I don't think his heart would let him. (which I understand now)

I had a really domineering and abusive boyfriend at the time. Who I believe thought of me as his possession. He was so relentless to get his way about things that I kind of just gave up in trying to be myself. He would not take no as an answer. What I did like about him was the freedom that I got when I was with him. His parents let him do anything he wanted and so I got to do that too. At home I had rules that the girls had to follow, while my brothers had that same freedom as my boyfriend had. It didn't seem fair to me.

When I was working up North I was sending my money home to my Mother and she put it in the bank for me. I was saving for a car. While I was away my oldest brother left his wife and came home. He was given my room to stay in. (no one asked me) My Mom told me that I couldn't have my room back when I got home because my oldest brother was a man and needed a room to himself. I asked her where i was supposed to sleep and she said she didn't know. I also found out that they had let all sorts of people including the boyfriend sleep in my room too. My personal things had been gone through. The boyfriend had put snide jealous remarks in my books. It was like a slow removal piece by piece of who I am. (I believe thats when the abuse began or my feelings that I had no rights anymore and the man in my life had all of the control.)
The brother found an apartment before I got home. I think he understood, but my feelings of not belonging or that no one really cared about me were overwhelming.
Later on there was a pivotal time when the boyfriend had come over to pick me up. I was able to sleep on the couch at his house on the weekends because he lived in a different town. He pulled up with his friend in his car with all of the windows smashed up. He said that they had been driving really fast and didn't see a stop sign ahead, swerved and rolled the car. No one was hurt but the car. They had been drinking and smoking pot and pulled up to the house in this condition. I was angry and didn't want to go. I asked my dad to go out and see if it was safe for me to go. I can remember sitting in a chair in the living room while the boyfriend stood at the door pleading for me to go with him. I said No. He said i was being stupid, I was being a baby about it. I wanted back up from my family but they all sat there smiling and saying it was up to me. Like they couldn't even see or understand that this guy had almost killed himself and his friend. I think that sent me over the edge, as they say. The boyfriend wouldn't shut up about it and i just went to stop the pressure. I felt like no one cared about me to back me up. I was so angry and let down.
I ended up moving in with the boyfriends family. His parents were younger and more understanding. he had younger sisters and I really liked the family situation. I think it was the family that made me want to stay. My parents felt I had run away. My mother thought I was homeless in her mind. I tried to come home as much as possible because i felt so guilty about leaving... but I felt i couldn't come back home, into that same situation.

The boyfriend used to be all encompassed in my weight. While we were having tea and cookies with my parents he'd poke me in the little rolls of fat he could see, every time I reached for a cookie. I felt embarrassed and didn't want anyone to see what he was doing. He'd tell me when and what I could eat, even when I was starving. I know now my sugar was going low. I started doing starvation type diets, when in fact I wasn't overweight. (I had been overweight as a kid and so was sensitive to the, your fat, comments, emotions)
Don't you sometimes want to back into the past and change things? If I could go back in time and relay a message to my younger self it would be to stand up and get angry out loud, instead of always holding it in. With no thought of the damage my compliance was hurting me.

My thoughts for today.