When my mom left my father 10 months ago, I was ecstatic to say the least. When I would come home it was like going right back to school because in my family, we had cliques. We had the mean popular guy who got to the top by knocking everyone else down; my father. We had the nice girl who just wants everyone to get along, but won’t take action; my mother, and we had the two kids who always, somehow got caught in the middle; my brother and I. It got to the point that I would rather stay at school than return home. My brother and I had been pushing our mom to leave our father for years, but he was very good at trapping us in an invisible cage.

~
“How was practice?”
“Fine, I hit a double.”
“Could’ve been a triple.”
“Were you there?”
“Yeah, and honey, I must say, you’re the fattest one on the team.”
~

Loving words from my father were hardly ever said aloud. The most encouragement we got was, “Maybe next time you won’t screw it up.” He would brag about us to his co-workers on occasion, but even that was rare. My brother being twenty two at the time was still living with us and got a good amount of verbal abuse too. Not near as much now since he was much bigger and stronger than my father, but he still got attacked on a daily basis. My mother was attacked less frequently than us, as far as she knew, but behind her back the comments were constant. “You know your mother will probably die in a year or so right? You know it’s true, she needs to lose weight.” Being seven and hearing that really tears your heart out.

As I got older I realized that almost everything my father said was said to control others. I was the only one who noticed this. When he said, “If you quit playing softball, I don’t know what I will do. I will probably kill myself,” he was actually saying, I like coaching softball and I want you to pitch on my team, therefor I will guilt you into playing. And when he said, “Your brother is so stupid, if you grow up to be like him, I don’t know what I will do,” he actually meant, I want you to study and get better grades because you will be a doctor one day. Quit saying you want to be a teacher, they don’t make enough money.

I never had control of my life. All my dreams were based on what my father thought was best. I wanted to be an actress or singer. I always had, but I never got support from my father. I eventually had to learn that I never would. My mother never understood that if she hadn’t married my father at seventeen, she could have been a famous singer, have less health problems, and simply be a happier person.

~
“Please, pick up. Why won’t you answer me? I have always tried to do my best for you and this is how you repay me? I just wanted you to have a good life! Ah! Just give me another chance. I will be better. I promise…”
~
After we left, frantic calls from my father were a daily thing. There were constantly voicemails of him crying and begging for us to come home being left on our message machine. Throughout this time, my brother had two breakdowns, my mother had more than I can count, and I had none. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t sympathize. I just couldn’t. Why did no one else see it? His words were meaningless, his multiple second chances were constantly ruined, and his promises were always broken.
After three months, I saw the beginning of the end. I came out of the dressing room to see my mother and father talking. My heart instantly dropped. I knew this was the start of his long drawn out plan.
After another five months of them talking, getting along, and going to therapy, my dad moved into our apartment. That was when I had my first breakdown.


~
“No one understands!”
“Baby, what do you mean?”
“You can’t see it, mom. You just don’t know!”
“I don’t see what? Honey, he truly has changed. I know you don’t understand right now, but when you get older, you will.”
~

After a month of him living with us again my brother forgave him. When I refused to do so, my brother yelled at me saying, “He has changed,” and, “We need to be a family again,” but I knew going back would be a mistake. After another month, we all moved back home. I can’t exactly call it that. We moved back to that place I had spent my last ten months avoiding, but now I lived there again. When I entered the front door, I instantly felt a crushing pain. This was where my dreams and self-esteem had been torn apart piece by piece, word by word.

We all went to group counseling and we all got along, as it seemed on the outside, but for me, I was not even close to putting it all behind me. After two and a half months of everything going well and my father acting and treating everyone right, things went downhill. It started with little things like putting the bright colors in with darks, even though we asked him not to; and him taking little stabs at our feelings again, but as time went on, it got worse. My mother confided in me and complained about the things my father did, but I felt no sympathy for her, only rage. If she had listened to me, if she had seen past his lies, we wouldn’t have been in this mess again. But no one listens to me. No one believes me.
~
“So what do you plan on doing out here?”
“I’m… um… going to be an… actress.”
“That’s great!”
“You don’t think that’s totally ridiculous?”
“No! Lots of people out here are here for the same reasons as you.”
“Really?”
“Of course! This is the city of dreams! Welcome, we’ve been expecting you.”
~

We are still living together as a family, except for my brother who got out as soon as possible. I envy him. As for me, I am pushing forward, waiting till my time comes when I can leave my destructive childhood behind. I will go somewhere special, like New York. I will go there and fit in with all the problems other people have. I will not feel like my dreams are a secret and I can start learning to trust and love again. Most importantly, when I am in New York, I will have control over my decisions and feelings; and you never know, maybe in New York, I will actually be heard for once.
~
“And now… ladies and gentlemen, you sure are in for a treat, playing the part of Elphaba tonight, two time tony winner, Cheyenne Norris!”
“Hey! Check one, two, three. Check one, two, three. Can you all hear me out there?”
“Yes, Cheyenne, we can finally hear you.”
~