One Is The Lonliest Number: Chapter 6

I started packing that night and waited for my dad to come home. When he came home, Lacy and him talked about it. He told me I was going. I didn't know how to respond to all of this. I was devastated and confused. Was I really being kicked out at fifteen? I didn't have anywhere to go. My mom was still out of town and I was going to be alone. I had this trunk from all of our moves and here I was, packing it again. All of my belongings fit into this one trunk. My freshman year was just ending and I had no idea what was going to happen next.

The only place I had to go was to Mamacita's apartment. My dad dropped me off and I will never forget asking him this, "when can I com home dad?". He didn't have an answer for me. I imagine this not being easy for my dad. I don't think he wanted to take custody of us just to see me go. For the first time in all of this, I wanted my dad. I didn't want him to go. I didn't want to be left there. I was starting to get my life together. I had stability and structure. I wasn't smoking or drinking or talking to boys. I was on the straight and narrow and I was happy. The first night at Mamacita's, her kids and I sat in a circle on the bed and passed around a joint and a bottle of tequila. I became so sick and thought I was going to die. I passed out on the bathroom floor in tears.

At first, staying at Mamacita's was like a vacation. It was summer time so it didn't seem so permanent. Eventually, my mom got a house together on nineteenth avenue and Northern with her new boyfriend Chris. Everything was great. We had the family together. The kids were with us for the summer and life was okay. Chris had a son also that came to stay with us occasionally. This kid was a redhead and he had the worst temper I had ever seen! I had to babysit here and there throughout the summer and it was hell.

My mom was still dancing of course and Chris had just lost his job. Money was starting to get tight and we didn't have a vehicle until the very end of the summer. My mom was having trouble paying the bills so she stopped paying the rent. Then the electricity. All we had was gas and water. The pool we had been using at the beginning of the summer was starting to turn green because we had no electricity to clean it. The house was slowly turning into a dump. We kept everything in a cooler and we didn't eat anything that was perishable, unless we just bought it. That meant that myself and my sister right below me were walking a mile to the grocery store every day in the one hundred and twenty degree heat. We would go buy groceries and ice every single day. If there was any change leftover her and I would go to McDonald's and get an ice cream cone in secret.

At night, it was so hot. I tried sleeping outside by the pool where it was slightly cooler. I was attacked by mosquito's in my sleep and was miserable for a few weeks. We took cold showers and never used covers at night. It was not the best living conditions and it wasn't our best summer. At the end of it, my dad came and got the kids. My mom decided to hit the road with Chris and his new, used truck. They lived out of that for a while when my mom was dancing in New Mexico. She told me I could come along. That would mean dropping out of high school and living out of a truck with her and her crazy boyfriend. No thanks. I asked my dad if I was allowed home yet and that was still a no.

I contacted my old neighbor, from the house we lived in with my dad when he first took custody of us, and asked her family if I could live with them. They said yes and off I went. They were in the same school district and area for me to continue going to the high school I started out at. Although, I am grateful for having a roof over my head at any time, living with them was miserable. I never felt at home, I never felt comfortable, I missed my family. I would get to talk to them here and there and I would just cry. I would cry myself to sleep at night often. Taking them away from me was the worst punishment Lacy could have ever given to me. We were a team, we were together through it all and she broke us up. I never wanted to forgive her for that.

I would try and be at my friends house's as often as possible so I wouldn't have to go home to this family I was miserable around. My friend David and I would hang out and toss the ball around in his backyard or play video games. I was inserting myself into my friends lives so I could feel a part of a family for a little bit. I am thankful for friends like him.

I met another friend, from J.R.O.T.C. that year. Ya, I was the dork on campus wearing a uniform every Tuesday. I loved it though. It gave me a sense of purpose and I was thriving in this class. I met friends in that class that changed my life forever. Jose, was one of them. I would walk home with him after school and hang out with his family so I wouldn't have to go home. His family took me in and made me one of their own. They offered to let me live with them, and I jumped on that so fast you could have seen the dust whip up off of my heels. I moved my things in and I had a home. My dad was still in the picture at this point. He was giving the families I lived with fifty bucks a week to help with food or clothes.

I loved being a part of this family. It was so comfortable because there was so many of them. I was used to the big family atmosphere and it was familiar and safe. The best part about this family was not just that Jose's mom and sister and Tata took me in, but the ENTIRE family did. Tia's, Tio's, and everybody in between. I was officially family. I was not alone anymore. I was surrounded and I was happy.

My dad ended up separating from Lacy and got his own place not too far from where I was staying. I moved back in with him and my siblings. We jumped right back into the swing of things as a family. I started working at the beginning of the summer and was gone most of the time. I would help my dad out with money and around the house. We had a system and we were a team.

Prior to Lacy kicking me out, we were in church and we were very involved. I became very close with the youth pastor. I would help him with basketball clinics and I would spend time with his family and other girls from our youth group. They used to braid my hair, we would eat well together, and it was a strong fellowship. When Lacy kicked me out, I obviously stopped going to the church she went to. The youth pastor kept in contact with me and when we moved in with my dad he would come to the house and talk with me.

His methods were strange, but I never thought to second guess them because I really trusted him. I would lay on the couch and close my eyes, and he would rub my feet while we talked. I never questioned it. I would beg my sister to talk to him and be open with somebody. She is not the type of person to open up to a lot of people. She finally agreed. I remember driving to work in a co workers car and I remember that phone call. She was hysterical and told me just to come home please. We flipped the car around and sped to my house. When I got there she came outside and hugged me like she had never hugged me before. I went inside and he was there by the kitchen sink washing his hands. He started trying to stand up for himself but he was falling over his words. She came outside again and told me what happened.

While her eyes were closed, he was rubbing himself on her feet. I was disgusted. I felt sick and so responsible for what happened. I told him to leave, that my sister did not make things up and I believed her over him. This guy had the nerve to call our house and try to talk to me. He tried to convince me he didn't do anything wrong. I didn't even know what to say, but she did. She told him off! She was so brave and I wasn't brave enough for her. I felt so bad. It was one thing that it happened to me. It was a tragedy that I put my sister in that position. She didn't want to tell my dad what happened. I told her it was her choice but I thought that she should. She did. My dad walked in the door and we told him and he walked right back out. He handled it with the church and we put it behind us. I never saw my sister so strong before. I realized I wasn't the only one in the family that was holding us together.

It was around this same time that I met my first love. I was head over heels and he loved me back. Puppy love was an understatement, I was in love.

I Did Not See That Coming! :Chapter 5

Moving in with my dad was as close to a culture shock as I have ever been. We had rules, we had bedtimes, we had chores and we had no clue what we were up against. My dad started dating Lacy right around the same time we were in church with my dad. They married around the same time my mom and Brian were getting divorced. We were not invited to the wedding so I had no memory to share with you there. I remember being pretty crushed that we weren't a part of it. My dad said it was sort of spur of the moment and that's why we weren't invited. Try telling that to a teenager and see if it makes sense.

Lacy, was a crazy woman. At least to me she was. Initially, I really liked her and looked up to her. Lacy was a Christian woman, that's how my dad met her, and she put off that persona for a while. Lacy's husband before my father had passed away from a tragic mistake in the hospital. She had a son and a daughter, Matthew and Brittney, and her mother Beccah lived with them too. Lacy was obsessed with "I Love Lucy". That stuff was all over her house! Lunchboxes, magnets, pictures, and there was plenty more paraphernalia involved, trust me.

Since the house was pretty crowded, I was on the floor in Britt's room or in the living room. They were working on building on to the house but it still left me without a room. When my dad took custody of us, I was furious with him. I would pick out any reason to fight with him. We had screaming match after screaming match. I was such a jerk. See, you can read these chapters so far and come to a conclusion that my mom might have had her priorities mixed up. That did not appeal to my heart at the time. Even though she isn't the average "Susie homemaker", she is the most loving mother I have. Her methods were certainly impractical, but she had the best intentions, I believe. Taking me away from the free for all meant I now had boundaries and rules. I was not having it. My dad and I were at war and I was bringing out the big guns. Or, so I thought.

One day, I wanted to wear my short shorts over to his friends house where we would watch the boxing matches. Naturally, my father said no. He told me to change, to which I replied, "no". DING! DING! Our own boxing match was about to begin. All but one of the seven kids were in the van that day, I can't remember who, but it doesn't matter. We are screaming back and forth at each other and I wish I could remember what I mumbled under my breath that made my dad do this...He pulled that van over, slammed the brakes, opened the door and started smacking me. My dad had never struck me like that before. I have been thumped, which is worse than a smacking, with my dads fingers, I have been spanked, or back handed in the arm, but NEVER hit in the face. Not only was I traumatized, but it was like the hit heard around the world, every child in that car was crying. Looking back, it's rather comical. I was such a little turd and I needed a good smacking.

Now that we lived with our dad full time, we were at our mom's on the weekends. She was going back and forth between here and New Mexico, dancing. She would get a hotel normally and we would stay with her. They were like mini vacations. She would get our favorite things and we would have a great time together. At one point she got a house in Paradise Valley. She was dating this guy that had a limo for a car. I think his name was Peter. Weird guy, stuck up daughters, and I don't think any of us wanted them to date. I remember we didn't have a whole lot at this house. My sister below me and I were sleeping on box springs because we had no mattresses and we had thirteen inch television with a built in VCR. The only movie we had was "Superstar" and to this day it's still my favorite movie. We literally watched that movie every single day, at least twice a day. It was the only form of entertainment available.

Paradise Valley is in the same area as the middle schools I went to and some of my old friends lived in the area. There was this guy, that I was friends with at the first middle school and he was in the neighborhood with a friend of his. I ran into him and we started hanging out while I was at my mom's. One day, I went to his house to hang out. I'm pretty sure I lied to my mom about where I was actually going, but his mom was okay with me being there. I hadn't seen this guy in a while and he was so different. He wasn't a virgin anymore, he had guns, he was some stranger I was hanging out with practically. He asked if I just wanted to stay the night. It seemed fine to me. I didn't even consider what happened next, to ever be possible.

That night, he told me to sleep in his room. I don't know what my problem is but for someone who has seen a lot of life at a young age, I was so naive. I am also the kind of person that will throw myself under a bus before I let you get run over. I am too nice to a fault and this night it showed the consequences. I slept in his bed with him, but I laid as far away as I could on a full mattress. I was nervous, and had no idea where this was going. He started making his move towards me. I just went with it. I don't know why, I wasn't attracted to him, I didn't want to date him, I just didn't want him to be mad at me. He started to try and have sex with me and I kept telling him that I didn't want to. I was a virgin and even though I was experienced with other things, this was the only sacred thing I had left. He didn't stop. I couldn't scream, I didn't want to wake his mother up. I kept thinking to myself that she wouldn't believe me anyways. No one would. This was my fault for all the other things that I had done with boys. No one would believe that I didn't want to do this. I just closed my eyes until it was over and pretended to be asleep when he was done. I was fifteen and I had just lost my virginity.

He said he wanted a "quickie" that morning. Oh, now I have the courage to say , "no." A whole night too late. His mom was finally awake, I could hear her in the kitchen, I just asked to her to please take me home. When I got home, I didn't know what to do. I needed to tell someone, but I couldn't tell anyone that I had been raped. I spent the night there, I got in his bed, I didn't scream, I didn't do anything to stop it from happening. It was my fault, so how could it be rape? I had to own it like it was my choice. I called my friend and told her that I had sex with someone. That was it, now I wasn't a virgin.

When we went back to my dad's I had to pretend like nothing happened. Besides that one friend, I never told anybody about what happened until much later. I told everyone I was a virgin because I was so embarrassed. I had to act normal around my dad and siblings. It eventually became the truth to me. I was still a virgin and I had never had sex. Lie.

Lacy and my dad had to have a house built because our home was too small. When we finally moved in, Lacy and I had grown to dislike one another. I don't know if it was because she was a control freak and couldn't stand my siblings responding to me more like a mother than her. Or, if it was because I reminded her of my mother, whom she despised. Either way, we had major issues between each other now.

One day, all the kids were sitting around the dinner table eating lunch. Matthew and my youngest sister were arguing back and forth and I pushed Matthew's head with my hand and told him to stop. For me, a very normal thing to do with bickering siblings. For Lacy, who was standing behind me, an unbelievable act. She screamed at me to go to my room. "Don't you ever put a hand on my child!!" "Did she hurt you Matthew??" To which he replied with tears perfectly on cue, "ya". Sniffle. Sniffle. Apparently, I was a child abuser. I stayed up in my room crying from the unjust act I had just been accused of.

The next day, Matthew and my youngest sister are at it again. Arguing back and forth because she won't move from in front of the television. Annoying? Very. Does it justify him kicking her in the head? Not on my watch. She came to my door crying and and told me what he did. I went out there and ripped him a new one. Didn't hit him, but if my words were nun-chucks he would have been out for the count. That night Lacy came into my room and told me I was being kicked out, going to my mom's and never coming back. She wasn't lyin' either.

A Whole Mess of Crazy People: Chapter 4

Here we go. Moving all of our things, saying goodbye to my dog, leaving it all behind. In a lot of ways, I wasn't that upset about the move. I had really destroyed my reputation here and maybe another clean slate was in order. This time we were headed to fortieth street and Camelback, where my mothers oompa loompa resided, except there was no candy there. For some reason this guy hated kids. I don't know what would compel a man to date a woman with five of them, but to each his own I guess. This new apartment complex was significantly smaller than our previous six bedroom, two story, game room having home. It was seven hundred dollars cheaper but still cost over a thousand dollars to live there. I was baffled at the move. Did we seriously just leave our mansion for this?!? Now, we had four girls in one bedroom and our brother in the living room, my mother had her own room. Things were cramped to say the least.

My mother was dancing again at this point and was gone often. She was either with her boyfriend or at work. I think at some point they broke up, because my mom started dating a guy that lived in the complex also. He was a creeper. Like, breathing over my mother while she slept,  creeper. He was just one of the characters that we met that summer in our new apartment. There were others...

As a fourteen year old girl, your social life is top priority and I took no time at all to start making friends. I made friends with the group of kids that could have definitely been the "cool kids" of the complex. We went swimming every day, we smoked cigarettes, drank whatever we could get our hands on and it was like I jumped right back into the swing of things. I pulled quite a few stunts at this new place. One of the neighbor girls, Nikki, decided streaking would be awesome. We were in the pool one day and she dared me, then I dared her, and you just don't back down from a dare. Well, I did. On the count of three, I chickened out and all I saw were butt cheeks running away from me. I did not live that down easily. In fact, she counter dared me and later that night I had to streak the complex, and Camelback.

The next day, the office ladies were sitting around the pool talking and called me over. My sister and I were on our way to the gym, not to work out but to play, and we sat down with them. They of course began the interrogation of the rumors that someone had seen my naked body running the halls of the complex. My siblings and I had perfected Pig Latin growing up, a secret language, and started figuring out how to lie to these ladies. "Ey-thay ink-thay at-thay I-ay as-way eaking-stray!!" Roughly translated it means, "they think I was streaking". We went on in our conversation and one of the office ladies interrupted us and told us that she also spoke our secret language. Busted. I just denied, denied, denied. When will I ever learn?

Towards the end of this awesome summer of freedom and no rules, we were told to start moving our things. We were being evicted again that day and needed to be out. All of our new friends started helping us move and we had to put our things in storage. My mom came by, gave us some money, her car, and where the storage unit was and took off. For some reason, I don't remember seeing her but once during all of that. She got back with the oompa loompa and we were not allowed in his apartment. We didn't have a place to stay. I think my mom arranged it, or we did, I can't be sure, to stay with one of the neighbors. We had a twenty piece McNugget that day between the five of us. This ladies apartment was disgusting. Like, dog crap all of over the floor along with every piece of clothing that they owned, disgusting. We had to sleep on the floors, and go through all of the crazy drama.

Nikki was one of the daughters of this lady we stayed with. One night, her and her mother got into a tremendous fight. Nikki was pushing her mom and screaming at her. The cops came and had to put a net over her head because she was biting and spitting at them. This chick was crazy. We were all terrified, everyone was crying, and I had no idea how to get us out of this. I finally told our dad what was going on. He took action.

The next day we were on our way to live with him. He took custody of us and now we were going to live with his new wife Lacy, her two kids, and her mother. I wouldn't be there long but, we'll get to that.

My New Identity:Chapter 3

Up until this point I have been Mariko Mie Yamashita my entire life. I have always been called "Miss Boo Boo", because of my affinity for climbing on counters and having no idea how to get down other than face plant it, or "Boops", short for "Miss Boo Boo". It wasn't until my first day of seventh grade, at my new middle school, that I became a new person. In North Phoenix the seventh and eighth graders had their very own school before high school. I will never forget first period, computer class, when I changed who I was. The teacher was going around taking attendance and said, "if anyone has a nickname that they go by, let me know when I call your name". My last name starts with a "Y" so, I had plenty of time to come up with a nickname. I thought to myself, "here's my chance to change my stupid name". Now-a-days, I wish I would have stuck with my first name. It is so original and cultured. But, growing up I was, "Mario", "Miracle Whip", "where's Luigi?!?". I was over the name calling and wanted a new start. One of the benefits of moving so much, was that nobody knew me at all. I was the new girl, I was a clean slate. As she started closer to my name, I felt my heart beating fast, my palms getting sweaty, and my nerves sinking in the pit of my stomach. This was it, I was going to do it. I'm changing my name. "Mar-ri-ko Yama-she-ta?" To which I replied, "Mie". I come to find out, she meant, if your name was "Michael" and your preferred "Mikey", let her know. Oops.

I came home after school that day, still trying to adjust to my new name, and told my mom what I had done. My mom being the accepting woman that she is said, "ok Mie". It really didn't take that long for everyone in my family to adjust to it. That's how my family is though. They are very accepting and understanding. With a mom like ours, nothing was really "taboo". So, I'm this new girl named Mie and now all I had to was start the introductions.

I met this girl Jamie in my neighborhood. Her and I hit it off! Besties, BFF's, sisters, whatever you want to call it, we were. We did everything together. She shared all her clothes with me, because mine were all from thrift stores. We would go to the park, go to Kyoto Bowl, go swimming, we were inseparable. She was also a smoker so we had that in common too. Jamie went to the other middle school in our area, so she was my only friend really. I hadn't quite made friends at my school yet, except for a couple of boys, and she was the only girl friend that I had. As much time as we spent together, it still wasn't as much as the kids at school.

So, now I'm at this school, where none of the girls want to be my friend. I mean no one wanted to be my friend. I started becoming really mean. My mom would tell me, "if you want to have friends, you have to be a friend." Screw that mom, these girls teased me every day. I will never forget this girl Melissa offering me a Teddy Graham on the bus one day. I considered this a gesture of friendship, so I said, "yes please!". Big mistake. This girl rubbed that delicious morsel of friendship on the bus floor and shoved it in my mouth. I was humiliated. Everyone was laughing at me and I wanted nothing more than to jump out of a moving bus window. It took everything in me not to cry and show them anymore vulnerability. From that point on I didn't make any girl friends at the school.

This is where my life took a turn for the worst. My mom was always very open with us about everything, sex included. I had a good idea of what all of that was and what it meant. I always told myself I would be a virgin until I was married and I really believed that. Seventh grade isn't the ideal time for a girl to loser her virginity. Don't worry, I didn't have sex at this point. It was much worse than that. I didn't really know what self respect was at the time, because I was so involved in getting my boobs. What a power that was at thirteen! I mean seriously, all the older boys wanted to be my "friends".

Now, the boys at my school wanted to be my friend too. I couldn't think of any way better to get back at all the popular girls, than to be the girl that the guys they liked wanted. I would wear low cut shirts, booty shorts, anything provocative. No make up yet. I wasn't into that. This brought a lot of attention and I was all for it. I turned myself into a "hoe" without having any sort of experience except for a couple make out sessions in the good ol' game of "spin the bottle". The rumors started flying around about me. I was a "slut", "whore", "hoe", fill in degrading name here "__________", and that's what I was. I can't not take a lot of blame for that. I put together that image and they put the name on it. With all those rumors, all the guys wanted to see if there was any truth. I was a prude! I didn't know about "bj's" and such. I was so oblivious to any of that.

I eventually started dating a boy name Doug. Looking back at things, he was really unattractive, but all the girls liked him so I went for it. We held hands and sent notes and all that gushy stuff, but nothing serious of course. That was until one day he suggested I come over and we take it to the next base. Me and my being so eager please all the time, thought it was a great idea. I walked over to his house and was so nervous and unsure. I just did what he suggested. I had found out what a "bj" meant that day and felt so disgusting afterwards. It's hard to believe that I just typed that. I have never even told anyone about this before.

After that day, the rumors that were becoming true, also became overwhelming. I was teased, pointed at, and shunned by every girl in that school. Even teachers were looking at me funny. I had to get out of there, it was so miserable. I finally convinced my mom to switch me out of that school into the school where Jamie went. I was so relieved and excited to get another chance at my middle school years. Things just got worse though. I was on a spiral of self destruction! I could not stop myself from all of the negative attention. The older neighbor boys wanted to by my boyfriends now, they had cars and weed and cigarettes. It was so enticing and I had no strength whatsoever to say no. I had become this disgusting girl. I had no shame now. I was creating my identity and owning it.

So, there I was. A sleaze at fourteen. This new school was only different because all the girls were doing the same thing I was. We were just a bunch of hussies. I was more involved than I had ever imagined. I was known for being experienced and fighting. Jamie was more of a fighter than I was. She wouldn't get in near as much trouble as I would for fighting. My mom loved to ground me at that age. If I was grounded, she had a built in babysitter.

Besides my school life being a tornado, I still had my home life. There was so much going on all the time. My mom and Brian divorced only a year into their marriage. I still don't know the reason why, but it ended and my mom was devastated. She did not come out of her room for anything, unless she was going to work. She would come home from work drunk and myself or my sister below me would undress her, put her in her pj's, and get her a warm glass of milk. She said it helped her sleep. My mom always said she couldn't strip unless she was drunk. Her job was stripping, so she was drunk often.

This lead to a couple run ins with the police. She got two D.U.I's in 1 month. I remember the weekend of her second D.U.I. like it was yesterday. I stayed home from my dad's that weekend and that night I was waiting for my mom to get home from work. She would normally get out of the club a little after two and be home around three a.m. This night she did not come home. I started freaking out. I couldn't get a hold of her on her cell. I called this oompa loompa looking character she was dating at the time and he hadn't heard from her either. I knew something had gone wrong. She finally called me from jail and told me what was going on. I was instructed to call wee man and tell him to go get her out of jail. I made her promise to come home. I was there by myself and just wanted my mom. She never came home that night. She didn't contact me until the afternoon. I was so hurt and I let her know it when she finally came home. I would scold my mother when she was being irresponsible. Sometimes I felt like her mother.

That put a lot of responsibility on my sister and I. We called the three youngest the "little kids", and they were our children. We did everything for them. We made sure their chores were done, we made sure their homework was done, we disciplined them when they were bad, and we held them through their cries. We were parents. We used to do these surveys for a lady that would come to our house. They were just surveys about what teenagers were actually doing these days, and she would pay us twenty dollars each. I also babysat families in the neighborhood so I always had a little money on me. I would use that money to buy candy or things for the kids. Sometimes my mom would need the money to buy her alcohol so she could go to work that night. One time, my sister and I pooled our money to get Christmas presents because all we had was the tree.

When my mom would leave for work at night, I would sneak out to go to the neighbor boys house across the street. They always had a party going on in their basement. I was so low I would show my chest for drinks and cigarettes. I didn't ever stop to think how low I had stooped. I was living two lives at this time in my life. I was a mother by day and a hussy by night. Jamie and I would send notes back and forth to each other at school about things we wanted to do when the bell rang. We would talk about things we did too. One day, my mom found those notes and my whole life was exposed. She called my father and he read them all too. In those notes, I talked about the disgusting things I had done with guys and the weed I smoked and cigarettes I smoked and the booze I drank. I was completely put out for the whole world to see. I couldn't deny anything, lying was another one of my charming traits I had acquired, I was forced to come clean.

This was another very humiliating experience in my life. Talking with my mother about this stuff was one thing, but with my father, yikes. I couldn't look him in the face. I was so embarrassed! I couldn't even make the words come out right about what I had done with guys. 

After all that had happened, it didn't take much longer for Jamie and I not to be friends anymore. We had a blow out argument and our friendship was over. I was back to being the loner girl again. Then I met Christopher Ross Olsen. My, oh my, was I in love. He would buy me goldfish and as strange as that sounds, it was so romantic. He was loved by my family and especially my mother. My mom was really into this pyramid scheme called liberty league and we had to pass out flyers in major parking lots for her. Chris would come along and help and he was the KING of putting flyers on windshields. Ya, sorry, we were those annoying people that put papers under your wipers. I broke up with Chris eventually, which was my biggest mistake in  my love life at that age, but he really helped change me around for the better.  We never did anything the other boys would ask me to do. He was just a great boyfriend and the sweetest guy you'll ever meet. Now he's a stud and is making the most of life.

I thought things were finally starting to change for me in life. I had a little bit more control of things going on. Once again, I was wrong. We had just received the news from our mother that we were being evicted. Again.

This Next One's A Doozy: Chapter 2

I left you somewhere around me smoking with the neighbor boy and our next move. Before we moved from that apartment I celebrated my tenth birthday there. My mom was dating a crazy guy named Eric. He was insane. Like, ate cat food, had a morbid dark side, insane. My mom had to work on my birthday, but gave Eric money for Peter Pipers. I invited the only friends I had at the time to come with us. On our way there I was given a Barbie for a gift but the girls took no time at all to rip open my present and play with it before I did. We went to Peter Pipers and I wanted a medium size drink. I was not given a medium size drink. I was given a small drink, and a girl named Rosie got the medium. I was so crushed. I know this sounds petty but it matters when you're ten. After pizza and my one ride around the carrousel we went to the park. They all ditched me, including Eric, and left me on a bench somewhere, where I played with my Barbie for about an hour until they came back for me. I sat in the back of the van crying until we got home. That was my last memory before that move.

Moving is considered a skill at this point. We moved often. Twelve different school moves, over forty homes/apartments/friends houses. It was so normal. I will probably skip over some moves or stories. I can't possibly remember everything. At this point we had moved again. My mother to a home, my dad to a new apartment. Those two places were completely different lifestyles. My mothers house was always a bit of a free for all. She had met a new friend from her job and she and her five kids had just been evicted from their apartment. We were all to familiar with evictions so had no hesitation to offer up a home for them, with us. We had ten kids, two adults, four dogs, a pig, two ferrets and three bedrooms. It was a little tight to say the least.

The lady that moved in was given the name "Mamacita". She was our Mexican mother and she taught us the strict side of life. I remember one time I didn't clean her cast iron pan good enough and she came up behind me and smacked my butt so hard that I can still feel the sting of that bad boy on my rear end. She was also a stoner. Her three eldest children were all stoners, mushroom/ecstasy enthusiasts and big time drinkers. I was already a smoker so I had an in with the "cool kids". They would bribe me to do their chores with promises of nights of drinking and packs of cigarettes. Mamacita's logic was, as long as they can support their habit she would buy it for them. They were between the ages of twelve and sixteen. I felt SO adult hanging out with all of them. We would drink 40's of Mickey's all night, play "three man", and smoke cigarettes in the garage all night. I was a fifth grader going to school hungover.

One day, a friend of Mamacita's daughter offered me weed. It was my first time but I had seen them do it out of joints, bongs, one hitters, pipes, hookahs, toilet paper rolls, apples, foil, etc. I felt prepared to try it for the first time. After that, I became a recreational weed smoker. I would get high with Mamacita and her kids, or sometimes my mother. Every single time I ever smoked weed in my life I have thrown up. I never put two and two together. Probably because I was so young and dumb.

During this time period of the chaotic mess of a life, I was starting to learn new things. Like how to chat online with people and lying about my age. Or, fighting with girls in my school for no reason at all. Fist fights too, not just scream sessions. I started dressing like the kids I lived with. Baggy jeans, tight tank tops, neon bracelets. They were ravers. I was transforming into this person I had not intentions of becoming. One of the daughters of Mamacita would take me to parties and have me lie about my age. She would tell me to tell them I was 16. I was becoming just like them.

On the other side of things, there was my fathers apartment. We didn't have much there but it was our sanctuary. He would rent Corina, Corina or Pee Wee's Big Adventure almost every weekend. We would hang out as a family, go on day trips up North or down South. We did things together even though we were pretty broke. I remember one year getting presents for Christmas from Christmas drive. I don't think my dad could afford a lot of gifts that year. I begged him for a peanut M&M Lazy Boy recliner dispenser. I don't know why I wanted it so bad, but I did. I didn't realize we were somewhat poor and I was so persistent. Come Christmas morning I had this M&M dispenser I wanted so badly. My dad always found a way to make us happy.

At the end of the weekend it was back to our life with our mom and Mamacita. Eventually, they moved out and my mom started dating this guy Matt. He was strange but always a lot of fun. He lived in a studio apartment and we would hang out there sometimes when he was at work because he had a pool. My mom and him were together for a little while but it wasn't much longer until we moved again and she was done with him.

My mom dated a lot of guys. They were in and out of our lives. There was David, Mark, John, Skip, Pierce, and some other random guys. Then my mom met Brian. They fell deep in love and got married. Brian was a painter by trade but had a really bad drinking problem. I fought with him constantly, as I did most men my mom brought around. With my mom being married now meant no more stripping. So, for a little while she stopped dancing and went back to personal fitness training. He sort of saved us from the lifestyle we were living in at the time. Brian had two dogs Max and Molson. Molson and I became very close. He became my dog eventually and Brian was totally o.k. with that. We moved, again.

We were now in North Phoenix for a little bit and I was thrown into a whole other lifestyle. People had money here. They had possessions I never even dreamed of owning. They had nice cars, nice homes, they played sports. The kids had all these awesome toys! They had computers and video games! I was in a wild dream or something. Life was starting to look up for us. That was until I met some new friends.

Ain't No Testimony Without The Test: Chapter 1

Ok, so I have given you a taste of my epiphany if you will. Now for some background...

*****DISCLAIMER*****

I know we are all entitled to our story. I know that we all got here somehow and most of us have a lot to say about it. I don't think my story is anymore important than the next one. I just hope that it may just shed some light into someones life that can relate to me.

(I also have terrible punctuation issues so don't judge me)

With that being said...

Let's give you the start. I was hoping to create this blog and give you chapters to my life. We'll call this blog, "chapter 1"

Basic background, I was born in Torrance, CA. I didn't live there long enough to say I was from there. I'm a Suns fan so, call me a native to Arizona! My parents moved two of my sisters and myself here when I was 4. They stayed busy by popping out two more children, a boy and a girl. So, that's five kids in 7 years. Pretty impressive right? My mom was a personal fitness trainer at home so she didn't have to pay for child care and my father worked at the local grocery store. Mind you, I was a child when this was going on so it could be mostly imagination at this point. The biggest thing I can remember about my early childhood was that we were poor, but happy. I used to sell my toys out of my bedroom window. I would do anything for a dime. Literally, at times I was selling things for a dime. I would do car washes for my mothers clients, sell my toys, I even caught a pigeon once and tried selling it. That venture was shut down rather quickly when  neighbor threatened to call the police on me for trying to sell wild animals. I was seven. I remember there were days we were pretty hungry. I remember my dad moving out. I remember the fights. I also remember my mom had a thing for wallpaper. Strange but still pretty vivid in my mind. 

As kids, my parents had us in church. They had us in A.W.A.NA.S. which was probably my favorite memories of God as a child. That and conning my father into fifty cents for a doughnut on Sundays. I will never forget the first scripture that I ever memorized. John 3:16.

It came time that my parents couldn't sort out their differences and like most marriages, it ended. We split up, dad had us on the weekends. Mom had us during the week. It never felt that traumatizing for some reason. The divorce was so normal for our lives. I guess because of everything else that was going on, which I'll get to, that we never realized it wasn't normal. 

My mother, God love her, is an eccentric woman. She wasn't always so wild, but boy did she make a turn around. She was adopted by a couple that was very loving but excruciatingly strict. She was raised baptist and was the epitome of a square. When my parents divorced, she took on stripping. It was well known by everyone in our new apartment complex, but we were completely oblivious to it. At first. We would ask her where she goes at night, and her back story was that she was a vacuum saleswoman. I was ten and it made perfect sense. Then the rumors started around and a neighbor girl, who claimed to be in a gang and that was terrifying to me, told me mom was a stripper. I wasn't even sure what that was at the time. 

One day when my mother was taking a bath I went and asked her. I used to sit with my mom and talk when she would bathe, do her hair, do her make up. Most mothers would agree that they have no personal time when they have kids. I was not about to be the exception. I intruded in her personal space so much it was "our space". Anyways, back to the story. I asked her about it and she was completely honest about the fact that yes, she was a stripper. That was the point in my life where my mother and I became very close. Our relationship as mother and daughter had just taken a drastic change to sister and sister. I was now her confidant. I kept all the secrets. Which I loved. 

With this new persona of secret keeping sister, I also took on a new role. I had just been deemed the care taker of the children. My younger sister right below me and I were a team. We cooked, cleaned, disciplined, and comforted our new three children. Our lives became about them. My mom started delving into peppermint schnapps and she was in the lifestyle of a stripper. Don't get me wrong, and please don't think I'm taking anything away from my mother. Her heart and intentions are better than anyone I know. She just has a crazy way of doing things. 

The neighbors started noticing us five kids were alone, a lot. CPS started showing up at our doors, even a police officer once. The CPS worker never even had a chance. We never opened our doors because we knew they were coming to take us away. The police officer on the other hand had the law on his side so naturally we open the door. I mean, he's a cop and that's safe. He started asking me all sorts of questions. "Where is your mother?" "She just went to the grocery store, she'll be back any minute." Lie. "Where is your father?" "At work, but if there was an emergency I would call 9-1-1 and then page him". Lie. I told that police officer whatever he wanted to hear. The truth was, I hadn't seen my mother for almost two days at that time. My father never had any idea what was going on because we never told him.

My father is probably one of my favorite people on Earth. Our relationship has been a roller coaster, and trust me I will get to that too, but these days we're good. When the nonsense with my mother was going on, my dad was hard at work. He is a 100% Japanese, motown lovin', Detroit raised brotha, cookin fool. My dad kept us cultured. When he had us on the weekends he had us in church. Not just any church either. I was raised in an all black church. There was always a lot of speaking in the tongues and dancing and PRAISE! I loved it. It was so much fun. It was weird. My dad was never the Christian one, my mom was. They swapped places I guess, but either way we were raised to love God. 

So, right about now, I'm 9 or 10. We are living in an apartment complex. My dad on one side of it my mother on the other. (She followed him a lot to keep us close). I picked up smoking at 9. The neighbor boy and I would take them from his mom and smoke them in the alley. So stupid. My mom is stripping, my dad is still working. We are in church and I think that's it for this chapter. Stick around though. The next chapter is where things start to get interesting...

Fight or Flesh

Oh lord, you made me to love love alright. I considered lying to feed my flesh. Draw the curtains over my eyes for the show behind them. I'm day dreaming at night coming up with ways to have him. 

My shoulders never knew so much conflict. 

My loins heard of this betrayal by my faith. Oh sweet skin, how it longs for flesh to kiss. And yet my shoulders meet again in the battle of my life. A temptation I've tasted before could destroy this path of righteousness. And here you are to fill me with laughter and love like I've never known before. 

But as my shoulders dance together in utter distaste for one another the music starts to quiet. 

The tango turns into a two step. Two steps forward and one step back. I am still undecided. I loathe the discipline I lack. Can I maintain the love that promises me things no one can give me? It sounds so easy. I am weak. What are the cruel intentions of your presence? Is this a test of my devotion, of my will to invest? 

Obedience is such a tricky demand, and yet I am obligated to abide. 

Why do you place these questions in my heart? Here lie the answers. Line them up one by one, no two by two. I f I must hear them, bring them in pairs so one can not outshine the other. I am obedient. I loathe the discipline I am discovering. Will you take this temptation away? No, the defeat is still lingering over my heart. My heart that is an unwilling accomplice. I am the brains and it is the brawn. Taking what it wants without considering the consequences.

I am not attempting to wound my feet on another path of redemption.

I am looking to hold onto my promised salvation. The room fills with my frustrations. I am drowning in my irritations. I pray, release this hold you have or make this hold fit the jagged edges of my desires. If the can not clasp each other then let the clock strike midnight and to my quest I return.

Where it all begins.

Today, a new year and a new beginning. I was sitting in church yesterday afternoon for the 3 o'clock New Years service. During praise and worship Gabe stops singing and says this, "think about where you were one year ago and where you are now." I'm clapping my hands to the music and start to feel the tears come. Who I was a year ago is so incredibly different than who I am today. Such a drastic change too.

See, I had plans last night to go to a New Years party. I had every intention of having a drink, not a lot because I'm in a covenant (which is another story), but a few probably. I was going to an 80's party with my good friend Megan and was very excited to bring in the new year surrounded by karaoke, 80's icons and plenty of fun. Then Gabe goes and asks a question like that. He always seems to bring some sort of clarity to me and I really am thankful for it. Even when it seems to make my world crumble for a minute.

Now lets get back to the service. As the tears start to tumble down my cheeks, I am sort of frozen for a moment. I think back to exactly a year ago. I can tell you what I was wearing. I can tell you what I was drinking. I can tell you what I was doing. Mind you, I have the worst time estimating time (because I'm a woman), but because this day is marked as a holiday it came a little easier. A year ago.....

New Years Eve party at a friends house, and it's a party. Kegs, live music, shots, and I brought the champagne. I'm also singing with the band so I was feeling pretty awesome that night. At the time I was dating the drummer but had past romance with the guitar player. Sounds like me. That was always an awkward situation (also another story for another time). I didn't let a little thing like a love triangle stop me from having a good time. We danced the night away, I sang my heart out, pretty sure I rapped my heart out too. The house is jumping, the party is a success, and I have two bottles of champagne. One for each hand. I am feeling on top of the world. So, there I am. There is the my image of myself a year ago as I'm sitting with my congregation.

A year ago, I was a shell. Ya, I know. A wee bit dramatic. I know the previous paragraph screams of a good time but I can't imagine myself as that person anymore. I am not defined by that anymore and it scared me. I literally saw two people when Gabe said that. The old me and the new me. I never thought I would make a change, or a difference. I have been so stubborn and proud. I was one of those, "perfect the way I am" snobs. Ya right! Perfect? Pffft. Please! How arrogant and incredibly selfish. God did not intend me to be perfect and so perfect I am not. I thought I was better than change? Better than self improvement? Better than growth? I'm genuinely shocked that I wasn't picked up by my ear by God and shaken violently.

Yesterday, I saw myself as a newer person. I am finding so much peace with that. I am not that girl who was socially motivated anymore. I was crying because I finally saw God in my life. I can see myself with him in me. I never knew that truth before. I was crying because imagining my life without that image of him in me is devastating. When I left service that afternoon I called and canceled my plans. I stayed in for the New Years by myself but not alone.