Since there’s a lot of people (unfortunately) dealing with depression and committing suicide, I figured the first place to start in my story is with my younger years, what better place to start anyway.
My parents had divorced when I was 5 years old, so my siblings and I ended up having that typical two homes – two lifestyles childhood. I don’t really have any memories when my parents were married. The majority of memories I do have with family, would be with my dad, gram and Aunt.
My grandmother told me that my mother would drop us kids off with her so she could go show a house or run errands, sometimes she wouldn’t come back till hours later or not come back at all.
I’m not sure at what age I was when my dad decided to take us four kids and move in with his mom and sister; but I do know I was around 9 years old when we moved out.
The time I did have at their home is where I learned my core morals and principles. I’m grateful that my grandmother instilled them in me and that her and my Aunt gave us kids some never forgetting memories. Memories of having a lemonade stand; cutting construction paper into confetti for our little shows we would do on the front porch for the neighborhood kids; going to Wisconsin Dells or Baraboo circus were just a few of those good memories.
So as I said before, my mother was hardly around when we lived with my grandmother and Aunt. And as for my dad, he was working several jobs just to support us kids.
Now this is the moment in my life too were my depression and wanting to kill myself started.
My older brother and sister would tease me and say that my dad was not my father. And because I was darker complected than them, with dark hair, they said my real dad was black. When they would tease me, I’d run through the house screaming that I was going to kill myself. As an adult looking back at that time, I’m not sure why that would come out of my mouth instead of me just throwing a temper tantrum.
As I got older, my grandmother and I would talk about that time. She said she would get so mad at my siblings for doing that to me. And that when I would get like that, she would hide the knives from me. I remember one time them teasing me and I ran out the back door screaming my lungs out. She came running after me, dragged me back into the house and threw me in the shower with my clothes on and turned on the shower.
As an adult, I had asked my Aunt about that time. She said, “Gram and I told them it was wrong. Never understood why they did it. It was a hard/trouble time for you kids. Your father would get you kids every weekend or ever other weekend. I remember your younger sister crying when she had to go back to your mothers. It was worse when your step-mother came along with her kid.”
Till this day, I’m not sure why they did it either but we were kids and sometimes life deals you hard lessons. But this was just the beginning of ‘Life Lessons’ that I was to be taught.
“Sometimes things that hurt you most, teach you the greatest lessons of life” -Unknown