My name is Abby, I am currently fifteen years old and since my parents divorced two years ago I live alone with my mom. It was my choice to stay with her and that was a terrible, terrible mistake.
This all begins with my parents, and the history of their marriage. They met when they were really, really young. They were starting college, studying medicine, and my dad was obsessed with my mom. He thought she was the prettiest woman in the world. He was in love, I’m sure. She, on the other hand, I think she just liked the attention. Problem is, she agreed to date him, and unexpectedly for both of them, my mom got pregnant.
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With a baby on the way, everything changed. My parents were forced to marry before they were ready, it was clear they were very uncomfortable and unhappy. Plus, their parents were so angry and disappointed. My parents’ lives changed forever. They couldn’t continue their studies, and so it appears my mom forever blamed my dad for that. I believe that’s also the reason she resented even her own daughter, and that’s me.
As I grew up, my mom was mostly at home, taking care of me. Though she was never very kind, or gentle. She would raise her voice a lot, she was very strict and she assigned me a lot of chores, even as a little kid. But that was my entire world. That was all I knew. We spent all of our time together. We went out together. We played dolls together. Even if she used to get angry at lot, we were a team, and I was attached to her.
When I think of my dad, though, things are very different. He gave up his medicine studies to pick up tough jobs that could quickly give him money to provide for my mom and I.
He worked in hardware stores, in bars, and even cleaning up some restaurants. But almost all my memories of my dad when I was a little girl are quite blurry. He had to work full days and into the night at a mechanical workshop, so that my mom and I could live decently.
Just a couple of years ago things started to change. My parent’s arguments only got worse and worse.
They shouted at each other and I would only lock myself in my room full of fear. Eventually, my mom got a job for herself, and she realized she no longer needed or wanted my father… she wanted a divorce.
There were lawyers everywhere, paperwork falling down from the skies, and my parents continued to argue, only now they dressed better and other people would listen to them talk. They also wanted to listen to me, but I didn’t know what to say, I just wanted it all to be over. The lawyers would ask me things, and I would stutter out bad answers. I would blush, I would sweat, and I would look at my parents for support, but they were only glaring at each other, always fighting.
Finally, the big question came to me. A lawyer wearing a suit and a very serious face looked at me and said “Who would you like to go live with? Your mom or your dad?” I didn’t have to think much about it. I had lived with my mom my entire life, regardless of the complications. My dad, sometimes still felt like a stranger. “My mom! I want to live with my mom!” I blurted out.
That was the moment everything started to go downhill. Living with my mom was hell! I couldn’t believe I didn’t see it before. She really started to treat me like an object, like a piece of furniture in her new house. I felt like a lonely and sad lamp in a corner. We never played anymore, she never took me out anymore, we never even had real conversations! The only reason she talked to me was to order me to do house chores or to scold for the littlest things. I think that, after she left my dad, all the anger she had at him didn’t left her, instead she redirected it at me.
Surprisingly, there was one silver lining on this storm. As part of the divorce agreement, I had to spend the weekends at my dad’s house, which, at first, was pretty scary for me. But I soon found out, apparently my dad felt really bad I had to go through all of this. He felt guilty, and he was determined to make it up to me. Slowly but surely I warmed up to him, and eventually we became the best of friends. We could talk for hours together, and he never raised his voice at me. We would play board games and go out for food and have the best of times.