CHAPTER 10
Revolving Doors
There is a crack in everything–That’s how the light gets in.
-Leonard Cohen
The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places.
-Ernest Hemingway
The cats. It seemed like so many cats, although I only distinctly remember three. We had a lot when my parents were together–cats having kittens–and now here we were with even more cats. Fat Man was an older, fat, entitled, grumpy cat. His original name was Manatee, as he was always bigger. As he aged and became sick and more and more grumpy and fat, The Monster called him Fat Man. It seemed cruel that he was being kept alive. He smelled awful, had hair falling out, and was chronically ill. Juliet was another one of the cats. The Monster would make a noise that she hated. When he made the noise, her ears would pin back, and she would get irate, tail twitching, until she finally ran away. The Monster liked to piss her off constantly–showing his dominance. The result was a cat that hung out on the staircase so she could lie in wait for anyone using the stairs. She clawed and pounced on us, taking out her frustration on anyone around. There were two other cats that we brought with us. Jeffrey, who used to get on the kitchen table with his eyes closed. It was if he was playing hide and seek and believed we couldn’t see him if he had his eyes closed. He would try to eat off our plates. Muffin was another cat. We were told it was female, only to find out that wasn’t the case. Muffin was the least annoying of all the cats.
The Monster bought cold cut ends to assist in feeding them. He justified it by telling everyone how great he took care of the cats. Too bad he was an asshole to them also. The cat box smelled horrid, and I hated having to clean something I wanted nothing to do with. I hated the cats. I felt like, although they were abused also, they were still treated better than we were, and I resented it.
Leaving for the First Time
When I was in the fifth grade my mother left The Monster for the first time. We went to my grandmother’s house in New Hampshire. I loved being there so much, and I didn’t want to go back, but after several days, she went back to him. I should have known she wouldn’t leave him. I was hopeful, but we hadn’t packed much, so I think I knew this was just a time out. My mother was more stressed, crying, and anxious than during our other visits. It wasn’t as if she snuck away in the dead of night under the cover of darkness. She simply left because she wanted to get away from him. We went back because she couldn’t get enough of him.
Child Protective Services (CPS) came to our house once. It turns out my father called them, which was interesting. It amazes me that he had an inkling anything was going on since he spent his life drunk and didn’t really seem to care about his daughters. He was in his car on the sidewalk yelling that he wanted to see his kids. The lady from CPS asked us some questions individually. When she left–without us–I remember watching her out of the front window and wondering why we weren’t going with her. I didn’t want to go with my father, though. That would have traded one set of problems for another. But I wanted Kimmie and me to go somewhere else.
Heading Out Again
When I was in the sixth grade, my mother left The Monster again. This time we went to my Aunt Christina’s house in Vermont. I only went there a couple times growing up, but it was another home I loved to visit because it felt warm and inviting. She had a cabin on the back part of the property that had no power, no water, and no bathroom. We camped there with Aunt Christina’s daughter Mo, her husband Eric, and their boys who were my age. Mo was my mother’s cousin and was very down to earth. Crunchy granola was what I thought of, but I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. She did massage, didn’t shave her legs or armpits, ate healthy food, and never cut her hair. Eric had a big beard and was a kind man. They were very mellow people, and I loved being around them, although I also didn’t entirely understand the lifestyle they chose. Their boys were always great and I loved seeing them.
The cabin had one room, a wood stove, and it felt rustic and fun, even in the winter. We would snowshoe out to the cabin with flashlights at night, light the wood stove, and all hunker down. I hoped we’d stay with Aunt Christina, but we didn’t. This trip was like the last one. My mother wanted to get away from The Monster but also wanted to be with him.
We ended up moving to Middlebury, VT. In my sixth grade class they were dissecting frogs in science class. I felt very behind at that school, but they did such amazing things. I loved it. It was empowering for a sixth grader who felt so lost to do something as cool as dissect a frog. We were given more control and autonomy at this school. I felt smart, school was an adventure, and I looked forward to going. It was a far cry from living under the thumb of The Monster. To feel like I had a little more control of my environment, even if that meant dissecting a frog with my classmates, was empowering.
We had an apartment in Middlebury. For carpeting, they used rectangle pieces of sample carpets of all different kinds and colors. Kimmie and I loved it because it was like a huge checker board, and we’d play games jumping from one to another. It was a small, two-bedroom apartment, so Kimmie and I shared a room again. She was a slob and I complained, so my mother put masking tape down the middle of the room, and I was allowed to kick Kimmie’s stuff to her side of the room. It was winter and Middlebury was so much nicer than I was used to.
A Source of Solace
We walked to the grocery store, and once when we were in the checkout line, I saw a stuffed dog for sale. It was missing an eye, but I loved him instantly. I showed my mother, and she asked how much it was with the missing eye. They sold it to her for a couple dollars, and I couldn’t believe she got him for me. I didn’t ask for things often, and I also didn’t get things often. I named him Fred and put a Mickey Mouse t-shirt I had used for a doll on him. Fred became my source of solace. When I was upset, I’d sit him on my lap, hold onto him, and sob. We were both damaged–he with a missing eye (both eyes were later changed to buttons)–and we were both valued by someone.
Moving Nonstop and So Many Different Schools
Middlebury only lasted a couple months before we packed the U-Haul up again and drove back to The Monster. The school I went to before we left was full, so I was moved to a different school. My third school in sixth grade. I didn’t want to go back. I hated The Monster. I didn’t want to be abused anymore.
In one of the schools I was in, we were playing baseball for PE. I didn’t really like baseball to begin with, and I was chosen as the catcher, which was a scary place to be positioned. From the years with The Monster hitting at my face, I was terrified to be behind home plate where a ball would be coming at me constantly. I was afraid. I felt weak to be afraid. But I was terrified. There was a girl up to bat who never, ever hit the ball. Ever. She was able to connect with one and was so excited–and unsure of what to do–she threw the bat backwards and right into my forehead. It knocked me out for a second, and as I was in and out of consciousness for a bit, an ambulance was called. I was brought to the emergency room with my principal who told me he would get me a chocolate milkshake. I was diagnosed with a concussion and had an enormous lump on my head. They asked me tons of questions over and over–which took me quite a while to realize. My name, address, birthday, and phone number. I know I couldn’t remember much past my name at first, but over time things came back to me. This was my third concussion, and I never got the milkshake.
Less than six months later in the summer before seventh grade and middle school, my mother left The Monster for the fourth time. This time we moved to an apartment back in Coventry. I was going to go to school with kids I had spent my childhood with. Kids I knew. Except for my neighbor Debbie, I didn’t have friends in Warwick. I never got close to anyone. I didn’t want anyone to know what our home life was like. Now I was back in more familiar and more comfortable territory. I liked the apartment and that we were gone from The Monster. My mother didn’t divorce him, though.
We lived in the apartment through seventh and eighth grade. My mother went to Weight Watchers and she was the thinnest I had ever seen her. She cried less and dated some, but it wasn’t as bad as when we were younger. The Monster was around, but he didn’t come over often.
Middle school was good. Fun. I dated Adam and we made out in the hallway. What kids did was cool. We didn’t just kiss; we French kissed with tongue and everything. I was back in school with Kate, who was doing cheer. Another great friend of mine cut herself and was suicidal and sexually active. Pot was the biggest drug around at that point, but I wasn’t interested in anything drinking-, smoking-, or drug-related. Hit too close to home. I was still waiting for the boob fairy to visit, but I was shooting up in height. I was on the track team which made me feel pretty special.
I Take a Stand
When I was in eighth grade, my mother told us she was going back to The Monster. I yelled at her. I hated him. I hated her. I couldn’t believe after a year and a half she’d actually go back. I was disgusted and overwhelmed. Angry and disappointed. I was so upset. I didn’t want to go through with another move, another school, and more of him. I screamed at her. How could she do this to us? How could she go back? How could she laugh it off every time we told her how awful he was to us? How could she go back to a man that beat her? I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go back to The Monster. I’d rather die.
I stomped and huffed and puffed and sobbed and went into the bathroom. I got the bottle of Tylenol and swallowed each and every pill. I had never entertained a suicidal thought, and I wasn’t rationally thinking through killing myself. In that heated moment I knew I just didn’t think I had it in me to go back to that house with that man. I was older, more developed. I knew what he’d want and how much he beat my mother, and I saw myself in her role. I didn’t think any of it through until I woke up the next morning. I am thankful I woke up. I felt grateful I didn’t take too much of something that would have done more damage. I knew I wasn’t suicidal, but I also knew I didn’t know how I would survive going back again for the fourth time. I was lucky I didn’t have to get my stomach pumped or have any negative side effects from the experience.
We went back to The Monster, but I didn’t have to switch schools. I finished eighth grade in Coventry. We were only with The Monster for a couple months before we left again. This was enough time for my mother to get bruised a few more times and know things weren’t changing. This time she decided to move to Vermont with my Great-Grandmother in Barre. So we packed the U-Haul up again. By this point leaving was the norm. It didn’t feel different from any other time before, and, just like the last four times, I didn’t think it would last. I was glad we were moving farther away, thinking it would make it more difficult to go back to him. I felt beaten down, battered, overwhelmed, and transient. I had no roots, no place that was home and, with the exception of Kimmie and Ms. Carolyn St. Jean all those years ago, no one who loved me and believed in me. I felt defeated and yet relieved to be leaving again. I never believed that my mother would stay away. I thought my life would revolve around her leaving and then reconciling. There was no elation in leaving, just resignation that we were going somewhere else again. The people we went to were people I loved, but leaving them to go back to The Monster was so destructive to me. Such an interruption to my life and so exhausting. I just wanted it to end. I never wanted to see The Monster or Junior again. And I never did.
Becoming a Warrior Princess
It’s exhausting for a child to have constant upheaval in life, switching schools and moving to different towns or states. I’ve lived in Alaska and Reno, Nevada while my kids have grown up. I’ve lived in more houses than I had hoped in both places, but they only switched school systems once, thankfully. Still, I’ve hated moving them, with the exception of going from Alaska to Nevada. I never felt like I fit in anywhere; I never had roots. I didn’t want them to feel the same way. I have a gypsy heart now, and I want to see everyplace I can, but inside I would love a place of my own where I simply fit in.
Triumph with Love
When life seems like an abusive revolving door, I learned who the people were that meant the most to me. Those who showed me love and were there for us when we needed a place to go. My Aunt Christina who was a lovely woman. My Gram who cooked and loved me and always said kind words to be supportive. My cousin Mo and her husband Eric who never judged and taught me there were different ways to live. My Great Grammy whom I was very close to.
LEARN AND GROW
• Home is where you are
• You can make it what you want, regardless of where you are