This is a continuation of my post from Thursday where I'll try to capture some of my "rebellious teen years". Honestly, it's hard to describe everything that went on in my life at that time because I would need to write a book in order to capture it all. You are getting a "capsulized" version Also, reading back on my last post I do apologize for the spelling errors and will try to edit this post more thoroughly but I will apologize again, in advance, because I'm sure I've missed something.
The Rebellious Teens:
So moving into my grandmother's house was quite an eye-opener. Oh I had spent holidays there over the years but wasn't prepared for what was in store. Looking back, I think they were all on their best behaviour for those short visits.
Once there, a family meeting was called at the kitchen table to discuss where I would sleep and attend school in September. I had moved there at the end of Grade 8 and had to decide which high school I would attend. I had no clue so they chose for me. I only knew one other person that was going to attend there and hoped she'd be in my class. Well that didn't happen. In fact I never saw her so I was thrown into a school where I basically knew no one but everyone else seemed to know each other. Again, I didn't "belong".
Also, I was used to going to church every Sunday rain or shine and asked where I would go. They looked at me dumbfounded and weren't quite sure what to say. You see they were not church-goers although my grandmother always sent money in an envelope to some church (I'm not sure which). Anyway, it was finally decided that I could go wherever I wanted so I was left to my own devices on that one. I ended up going to the same church where I was babtized years before but going by myself each week wasn't much fun so that didn't last.
Did I mention that my aunt and uncle didn't believe in spanking or physical discipline of any kind? Thank goodness! They were modern thinkers in that respect. Well my grandfather was not a modern thinker but "old school" and kept a belt hanging in full view of the kitchen table in case my sisters and I got out of hand. Luckily, I never got it (why? I don't know) and my youngest sister being "the baby" and could do no wrong never got it either so that left Barb, the middle child.
Barb was always getting the belt. In fact one time in particular she was whipped so bad she could barely walk because of the welts on her legs. I grew to hate my grandfather and his cruelty toward her. I didn't attend his funeral years later because I could never forgive him for that and never will. It is what it is.
So I would attempt to intervene in the arguments and fights that constantly happened in our house trying to be the voice of reason, only to be told it was none of business and if I wasn't happy I could leave. Again, I didn't "belong". My opinion meant nothing. So I found solice with my friends and spent more and more time away from the house. I only went home when I absolutely had to. My life was changing and my innocence comprimised. Finally fed up, I decided that when I turned sixteen I would leave.
I quit school, got a job and scoured the classifieds for a place to live.
When the actual day came for me to move out on my own, the hardest thing was to leave my grandmother whom I adored. I told her that I wasn't leaving "her" just the situation. I'll always remember that conversation and the sad look in her eyes. I miss her terribly...
Now freedom but at what price?
To be continued....
Me and Mom
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