Ahh, the intricacies of a dysfunctional family unit. So, it was essential for my family to be seen as elite and perfect. How I longed to bring that down, to expose my family. Maybe I could get pregnant, lol that would surely make her look like an ass, a total failure as a parent – in her “church” circles. Lmao. This is what a teenager fantasizes about when all she desires is revenge. How can I shatter this perfect image? haha, how can I HELP with this? Well, as time marched on I began to focus my efforts on myself. How the hell can I get out of this house – oh! college, perfect. I could probably go for free as my father had died and my mother worked only part-time and with 8 kids (5 still dependent) it would be a no-brainer. WRONG. My mother never got involved in the process – blew off filling out the appropriate financial forms and I ended up having to pay for my own college. I worked part-time and commuted to college with whomever I could get a ride with. (I might add that my two younger sisters went on a free ride to college – because someone invested more effort into their situations. they were helped. WTF more confirmation that I was the family kick-dog)
Enter DISASTER. One winter morning in Feb it was very icy. My ride, Jen came to pick me up for college. I was pretty ill with the flu but having a Math test I just wanted to get it over with and go. I poured my aching body into her paper-thin Toyota Corolla. This particular gal, Jen, had previously attempted to kill herself in the bathroom at school senior year. But who was I to judge? She was all I had for a ride. We were late for school and she was driving faster than usual.
She lost control of the car and we were skidding off the road on the ice when I put my arm up to cover my face. I don’t remember thinking that it was going to turn out badly. I had never been in a car accident before. I had no idea. The last thing I saw was Jen curled up in the fetal position in the driver’s seat as the car left the road, into a grove of trees.
I woke up and there was silence. My door was open, my books out in the snow. Then I heard the moans. I looked at Jen – there was blood in her mouth. I grabbed the rear view which was hanging by a wire, and looked at my face, phew, I was fine. Nothing to see here 🙂 Now Jen began screaming, really freaking out. Footsteps in the snow, crunching, coming closer. Paramedics, yes, thank God – get her away from me before I slap her as her shrill screams were going right through me and were quite unnerving. I was so uncomfortable, I kept sliding off my seat. I kept pushing myself back in my seat and would immediately slide forward every time. This is when I noticed the seat was half the size it was supposed to be. It was shoved up inside itself. I looked down at my right foot and noticed it was facing the wrong direction. I threw my coat over it as the paramedic approached me. He said Hi, how we doin? I said fine. He said, what’s under the coat? I said, nothing. He moved my coat and saw my leg/foot and yelled for someone to bring a board. I reached outside into the snow to collect my books and noticed that I could rotate my elbow almost all the way around in a circle and my shirt felt really tight around my elbow.
They pulled me, gently, out of the car and strapped me and my arm and leg onto a board. That was a long ride to the hospital as the shock was wearing off and pain and terror were moving in. I had broken my femur and my right distal end of my humerus.
I needed a metal rod in my leg and a 3.5 in screw to stabilize my elbow. My driver had shattered her face (cheekbones and jaw) and closed off her intestines by hitting the steering wheel so hard. We were both in pretty rough shape. My mother called a priest in to pray over me. I sent him out-with the help of my new buddy, morphine. I told him that I was not going to DIE like my mother secretly wished and that he needed to get the F out of my room. Imagine how angry you have to be to kick a priest out of your room!!!! And use the F word!!!! That was me. Trust, anything my mother thought was a good idea…was anything but.
So after 2 weeks I was released from the hospital. Therapy to regain use of my arm and leg would begin once I was settled in at home. Now I had to be totally dependent upon someone who wanted nothing more than to control everything about me. OH JOY. I kept saying to her, “How am I going to protect myself?” and she would say, you don’t have to protect yourself. I lost count how many times this exact exchange transpired. At this point, I had not fully remembered the abuse I had suffered to my body until I was 10 but I knew that my house was not safe. I always knew that.
Again, I found myself exactly where I didn’t want to be despite my effort to get away. dependent upon those who didn’t care about me, again. OMG just shoot me. Thank God for really strong pain killers. I honestly don’t know how I didn’t lose my mind.