Maladaptive Development

 

    Sunday December 17th, 2023

        "Sure, Yeah, I guess every lonely girl would hope that she is a princess." a sentiment expressed in Don Blum's animated story about Anastasia. This was my favorite princess growing up aside from Sleeping Beauty. While my daughter watched this at least 6 times this weekend because I am tired of the children vloggers I contemplated my thoughts during the period of my own life during which I would be watching this. The imagery in my mind resembled that of Anastasia's but instead of running to I wanted to run from my family. I recall telling my younger sibling we should plan it. The plan never came to fruition.

    When I got to high school maladaptive behaviors began to surface left and right. At home my mother would sick my father on me when I was naughty. Sometimes he caught me. I would fight back, but my father is a large man. I remember once my father knocked my head into the bathroom wall hard enough for me to see a white light flash behind my eyelids. Sometimes my older brother would also play the role of man of the house, one time knocking mine and my younger sibling's heads together because my mother was too drunk to handle it herself. Physical violence was usually the answer for some unknown reason to myself. I would run and hide in my closet or out the door and sit in the bushes. Usually I would be acting out because I felt very validly bothered by certain behaviors. Later in life I would be diagnosed autistic with a secondary diagnosis of ADHD. While I do agree with ADHD now I am learning about C-ptsd and the symptoms correspond with those of autism. My mother would just call me bipolar and try to discredit what I would have to say. She was usually verbally abusive in this way. 

     I started to feel a bit numb, unheard. To feel I would walk barefoot to school in the middle of winter. I believe this was a form of self harm without the actual act of bringing a blade or knife to my skin. It could be validated as an act of pushing the extremes of my body. I was beginning to get into Henry Rollin's live lectures at the time. It was also the time my older brother and his friends would party with my mother. One day I noticed a pack of cherry red buck cigars on the china hutch in our kitchen. I began smoking them in my room at night as I listened to the violent femmes and sexted young men I met on the internet that were too old for me. 

    I was a bit naughty and as a consequence I did put my family into a little danger.  I am lucky nothing happened. Sometimes one of these young men lived close enough I would sneak them into my bedroom window after everyone was asleep. On one occasion I was showing a guy the corpse bride. Nothing happened I don't even recall kissing he left before the film ended. On another occasion my young mind thought it was brilliant to have someone who was driving drunk come over and sober up. He must have been in the area. I made him a pizza, gave him water and showed him Pink Floyd's "The Wall" film.

    I developed a discomfort in my body. I thought I was fat. My older brother would make jokes that I was ugly. Previous circumstances of other girl's perspectives. My paternal grandmother whom I love dearly however is imperfect would make remarks about the young children's in the grocery store when we went on walks. My own mother would make comments to the effect of "college boys like it". SKINS was popular at the time as well as thigh gaps and tumble. As a coping mechanism after watching my maternal grandmother's traumatic passing I began to binge and purge. I hoped someone would notice and tell me to stop. Like any addiction it is a choice at first. My mother noticed and told me," As long as it's not all the time." 

    My friends at the time were your typical hot cheetoh girls, I had other friends these girls where just who I predominantly hung out with after school. I was learning from my mother that the only attention I would get is negative. That summer was a bit crazy for me. I began stealing my mom's cigarettes, giving them to these girls so we could smoke together. These girl's gave me positive attention. We went swimming in an abandoned lake connected to an abandoned house. Someone called the police on us. We left I stepped on a rusty old nail. I don't know why I had to be so barefoot back then. I don't even know how I didn't catch tetanus. We walked all the way to kohl's. A couple mile hike. We decided we would shop lift that day. I was wearing a back pack so we were already being watched I am sure. We got caught. I am unsure my mother has any other feeling than rage. At least towards me. 

We got diversion by the way. It's not on my record. 

    my attempts to be saved continued. I met a boy after I turned fifteen. My hormone driven mind was infatuated with this underbite having, xanax addicted, greasy haired skater kid who was already out of high school. We met twice. His concern was whether or not I could find weed because I looked like I could. I had never used the substance before. So we went to his house. We were watching "Walk Hard" The movie making fun of Johnny Cash. He politely asked if I wanted to have sex. I said I don't know. It should have stopped there. It didn't. I left. Bleeding while he and a couple of his friends piled into a car together. I walked home. He broke up with me on the phone that night.  That year I stole and sold my parents weed to a classmate. I still have a sound bite from a music video I made at the time from the classmate telling me it was good shit. I wouldn't have known haha. I wouldn't know until the following summer when a crust punk invited me for dumpster pizza and a bowl. When we finished the interaction he asked if I wanted to do anything else. I responded with," I don't know." Politely he drove me home. I shook in my bed that night. I can''t really explain that reaction. 

    I tried getting a job at Kroger the following year. My first attempt failed as I stayed up too late the night before watching Fritz the cat for the first time. I missed orientation. I tried again and got the job. I feel pretty immediately I started smoking weed regularly after that. I was about sixteen going on seventeen. On a watch list at kroger for smoking cigarettes and being a minor. I guess I didn't do my job appropriately. I recall my manager once getting cross with me because I didn't realize they sent us on lunch, we didn't just go on lunch when we wanted to. I made friends with one of my coworkers. She was sweet and homeschooled. She had an older brother he was cute. We all went out to eat one night and so I said," You're buying me dinner right?" He did. we got close in a kind of sweet way. He showed me Fantastic Mr. Fox. I wound up asking him to prom while we walked the trail at the park. It felt a bit odd. I felt like the masculine in this dynamic. He did not complement me very much but looking back he was very awkward. After prom we went to the library parking lot. I am unsure if it was mutual, he fingered me, and I was uncomfortable with his penis, I think we just agreed to be friends after that.

     A few months passed and this guy I had been eyeing at kroger started trying to befriend me. He would make remarks about my eyes being pretty because I came in high frequently. My brother's friend lived in his van so I would smoke weed with him and whoever else was present then go to work or I would just smoke at home. A lot of my funds went to smoking weed.  I didn't drive, I walked home. One of my favorite things back home was always walking down Mary Grubb's highway median at night. I just like walking at night in general. Men in their thirties trying to groom me asked me to smoke with them in their garage. I did. It was a small town. One night I had to poop and the bar my mother use to frequent wouldn't let me shit so I shat in the masonic lounge's garden. Wiping with fall leaves is not a pleasant experience. This Kroger guy kept asking to drive me home. I kept saying no. Finally I found out he smoked weed. He was funny, he had weed, he had tattoos. Whatever he lacked in was made up for with those two facts, let me tell you he was not cute. We kicked off after that. He has a child with another woman already. He kept telling me they were over she just lived at his house so he could see his baby. "Only text me when I text you "Hey Punk" first." If only I knew then what I know now. 

    Eventually she moved out. The first time I met his parents his dad, a convicted felon who missed most of his son's life and now has brain damage due to a motor cycle accident and meth addiction asked, "When is she moving in?" 

 

    This story begins to get long so I will stop here for now. I will reveal how addiction made me my own devil and the bags I carry. The darkness I am currently working to confront and befriend. It will be a bit heavy. quite frankly thinking about it gives me the urge to use, so I will ease into it. I do believe however, the fact I recognize it was bad and have changed my behavior since shows I am not now who I was in the moments I think it is also important to not present a facade.