Base Camp
Seventh grade was almost coming to a close. Life had its challenges; typical pre-teen stuff by now. I could count my friends on my right hand, but life was quiet and stable for the most part. Mom, “Dad” and I were living in a cute little house in Lacey, Washington. I got to see my brothers every couple weeks and I loved the visits; I missed them dearly.
We got a call one random day. My oldest brother was calling. He sounded a bit panicked on the phone, “Bean, get mom right now”. She got off the phone and told me and Dad that she had to go pick him up and out the door she went.
Brother came home from school and this time it was his turn……………….everything he owned was out on the lawn. He was 13. It was different for him though. Despite the apparent ignoramuses we lived around, someone at brother’s school finally tipped off Child Protective Services. A kid can only go to school so many times with a black eye or fat lip and eventually someone is going to get smart. I’m honestly surprised it took that long. I carried a lot of anger my teenage years that someone hadn’t called years ago. Were people really that stupid? Took eight years for him.
Father found out he was going to have to pay child support for brother and me and he wasn’t going to have that. He called his family and some of the stepmother’s family over for a “family conference” one weekend on a trip to take younger brother home. It was a surprise ambush in every sense of the word. We walked into the house under the guise they just wanted to “talk”. The minute father said we weren’t going back to our mother’s house, we tried to bolt out the door. There was no way in hell brother or I was ever going back to that house. There was a big fight out on the lawn, the cops got called, and after two hours they finally let us leave. Father couldn’t produce the proper paperwork to show he was the one who had custody. A very bitter battle would ensue and we would be completely cut off from our younger brother for the next couple of years. It was devastating.
Losing our little brother was like getting our heart cut out. I cried a lot. I cried after receiving nastygrams from stepmother to “leave their family alone” when we’d try to send him letters. Even though we would finally be able to reconnect with our younger brother later in our teens, he would remain with our father permanently.
Teen and high school years are a bit of a blur for me as well only because my torment only got worse. Home life was hard because by now there were step siblings to deal with. They were dealing with their own broken home issues and my older brother had problems with our new Dad. No doubt where his anger problems came from. Both of us were trying to figure out ways to cope and trust again. That did not come easy. There was a lot of drama and head butting in those days.
I didn’t have healthy thoughts during this time. I kept a diary and I had pages and pages of future plans to hurt my stepmom. By now, I didn’t want to kill her necessarily but I wanted her to bleed. I wanted her to suffer. I literally wanted to hit her and beat her so bad that there was a good chance she might not walk again. I got satisfaction knowing that one day, justice would come and if I had anything to do with it, it would be from my hand.
I had no friends at my high school. I was the fattest girl in my school. When anyone was talking about the fat girl, that was me. The only friend I felt that I had was my older brother. I didn’t have an identity though. I wasn’t Athena. I was “older brother’s sister”. Bless his heart, it’s not his fault. He was very likable and charismatic. He was friends with everyone and he was able to cross “groups” in a way that I couldn’t dream of. I never went to a high school football game. I never went to a high school dance. I don’t even have any band camp stories I could come up with. I ate lunch on the side of the school on a bench as far away as I could get. It was my hiding spot and no one was going to tease me there.
When I was old enough to drive, I got a car, a job, and I started smoking. Work and smokes are how I dealt with life. Oh hell….. did I forget the food? Oh dear, yes…. lot and lots of food.
I had a job at Jack in the Box my sophomore, junior, and senior year. Have you ever tried their curly fries? If you haven’t, you should. To die for. Sorry, getting off track. I stuffed my face every time I was at work. In fact, I would drive over there when I was off work to…………… stuff my face.
I don’t even have a yearbook from any of those years. To be honest, there were few people I wanted to remember. I worked and enrolled in college my junior year as a way to keep my mind busy. School and work would become my refuge later in life as well.
The Summit!
By graduation time, I was just shy of 400 pounds. This is the first time I reached the summit. I don’t know what the real number was because the scale didn’t go up that high, but I knew it had to be close.
When I was applying to colleges, I had only one goal in mind; I needed to get as far away from Washington State as possible. I felt if I ran away, my memories would stay in Washington. If out of sight, out of mind worked for my Father, perhaps it could work for me.
In June 1995, I was on my way to Texas. I would leave my childhood behind and my life would be perfect. So I thought. Bye Bye Washington…. here’s a big screw you…. {{laughing}}. *sticking up middle finger*
