The Girl
Welcome to the page that's all about ME! If you don't wanna learn fun facts
about me...TURN BACK NOW!!! It's really long, so you have been warned I guess.
*bg*
Alright, I'm currently 16 years old and I run Anastasia's Buffy Stop, Will
It Hurt The Carpet? and I co-own the Sweet Misery Awards. I love working on
sites and I love doing graphics(although I think I suck at them).
Um, I'm so bad at the background stories so I'll just ramble and hopefully
you will get a little bit of information out of my ramblings. *grins*
It all started when my mommy and daddy decided they wanted children....that's
when the horror began. *g* My mom had already been married before, to an evil
man-whore named Greg. They had a child together who was named Patrick. Patrick
was about 4 years old when I was born. I was born April 22nd, 1986. My half-brother,
Patrick, me and my little brother, Jeremy were all brought home in the exact
same outfit, although Mom literally had to stuff Jeremy into it. *g* Jeremy's
chest measurement was 15 inches across...WITHOUT his arms. That's a pretty
big baby.
I was 9 lbs 9 oz, graciously provided with gorgeous strawberry blonde/dirty
blonde hair with gorgeous red highlights(thanks to my Grandpa). My mom and
dad had been married since 1985 and I was born in 1986...so my parents were
quite frisky. *g*
Anyways, when I was 2 and a half years old, my little brother, Jeremy was
born. He was a big baby. I told Mom she had a baby tummy...she tried explaining
the making of a baby to me...I don't think I understood(good thing too.) but
Mom had a baby tummy when she was pregnant with Jeremy. *g* Jeremy was a cute
little baby. Always getting into trouble, running around the house nekkid...well,
ok, he wasn't THAT cute then, but looking back on pictures and small stories
I have put together, it was a cute thing.
My parents fought a lot and it wasn't a lot of fun. There were a lot of allegations
and bad things going on. When I was 4, it was a bad couple of years. Mom and
Dad split up in October of '93, i think. Maybe '94. I can't exactly remember.
Anyways, yeah, there was a lot of trouble.
I lived with my dad for a couple years, then my mom a few, and it was back
and forth like that for a while.
Skip to when I was 7. I was living with my dad, and he had had a few girlfriends
on and off, but nothing too serious. We were living with my Aunt Barb at that
point. My Aunt Barb does not have a big house. She has the exact opposite
It is so small. It has 2 bedrooms that remind me of walk-in closets and then
1 other room which she uses for a toy room. The hallway is so small I feel
like I'm being crushed in it and the living room barely fits a t.v., couch
and 3 chairs. The kitchen and laundry room look like two walk-in closets put
together. Now, do you have the image of how small that house is? Now put a
large lady(my Aunt Barb), a medium sized man(my Uncle Jim), 2 dogs, an average
size adult male(my dad) and then a seven year old little girl(me) in it. Does
it still seem kinda spacious? Didn't think so. It was really hard, living
there...but wait til you read on and read about a full-size family, plus aunt's
and uncles and stuff...hehe.. Read on to find out more.
Anyways, one day, my dad came home and said "I want you to meet a really
nice lady." I was thinking it was another girlfriend. It was. But this
time, the lady didn't have donuts(like a few of the past girlfriends had had).
We(my dad and me) got into his car and drove to a part of Newton(my town)
that I had never been in. It was the "middle-class" area of town.
They had nice homes but it was mostly old people who were living off their
retirement money.
We pulled up in a driveway that was already occupied by a pretty, white car.
I said, "Where are we?" Dad said, "We're meeting the nice lady.
Her name is Tammy." I smiled and got out of our car. We walked up to
the front door and Dad just walked right in. I walked in after him. We walked
through the living room, then the kitchen and out the backdoor. I saw to my
left an older lady with gray hair, and obviously her husband, also with gray
hair. Straight in front of me, sitting on a wooden chair was the "nice
lady", Tammy. To my right was a moderate sized above ground, swimming
pool. One of those sets that you buy at Wal-Mart and set up yourself. There
were 3 kids in it. 2 boys and a girl. They were very nice and wanted me to
go swimming with them, but first I had to talk to Tammy.
Tammy and I were introduced to each other and then I was introduced to the
rest of the family. Then I jumped in to the pool, fulling clothed. I couldn't(and
still can't) swim, so Jennifer(the girl) held me up and helped me get around.
I could stand up with my head above the water around the edges where it curved
up, but I couldn't stand in the middle, it was too deep. Jennifer, Robbie(the
oldest boy) and Danny(the second oldest) helped me up onto a plastic floating
chair thing. Ya know those ones you buy, again, at Wal-Mart. They were really
sweet and pushed me around in the water. At one point I fell off the chair
but someone, I think Robby, caught me and helped me back up. I spent the day
there, and it was fun. I was liking this new lady.
A few weeks later, my dad and Tammy announced that they were getting married.
In August, they went through with it. The wedding was not fun. There wasn't
really a "wedding". We just went to the courthouse and they did
the small marriage with the immediate family thing. Jennifer and I were the
"flowergirls". What we pretty much did was hold the flowers in the
basket and then at the end, we ended up throwing flowers at each other and
everyone else. *g* But I was pretty pissed off that Dad was marrying Tammy.
I hadn't liked her from the beginning...well, after the swimming pool. She
was stealing my dad.
Skip forward to when I'm 13. Tammy and I hate each other, because we are
both trying to get the majority of Dad's attention and I'm pretty fed up with
Tammy at this point. I make a small comment about "I hope she dies and
rots in hell". Wasn't a very happy 13 year old. So, finally one day,
the good news arrived in my poor, pitiful teenaged life. I was moving in with
Mom and Jeremy was moving in with Dad. Dad and Mom were trading kids, again.
I was exstatic. I was overjoyed. I was...just plain excited. So, I packed
up my stuff and a couple days later, we did the switch. I adjusted well, living
with Mom. I moved in June(ish) so it was the summer and I had plenty of time
to get situated in the house and have fun.
It was a pretty good couple of months. School started in August and I was
loving school, loving my teachers, having a few fights with a specific evil
bitch named Stephanie, but otherwise I was having a great time.
Then, one day, my mom and I got home, I was just putting my bag down on the
chair in the living room and the phone rang. My mom answered it and the conversation(if
I remember right) went like this.
"Hello? Oh, hi Barb....What?....Oh my god....oh my god....oh my god....oh
my god" *mom started bawling*
I walked over to Mom, tilted my head and was like "What's wrong mommy?"...
Mom replied "Not right now, Stacy"....she started crying hysterically
and I kept asking what was wrong because I hated seeing Mom like this. Finally
she burst out, "GRANDPA DIED!!!!!!!"... I stood shocked for a moment
and then burst into tears. I was really close to my grandpa Jerry and Mom
was really close to him too. Grandpa was Dad's dad...and after Mom and Dad
divorced, Mom was the only one that really saw Grandpa and Grandma at all.
Mom and me and Jeremy would all go up and visit Grandpa and Grandma almost
every other week.. or at least once a month. I couldn't imagine a world without
grandpa. I screamed...well, I don't know what I screamed, but I screamed and
ran towards the door. I remember hearing Mom, still crying on the phone, say
"Stacy..no." as I ran out the front door and to the next door neighbor's
house. The boy next door was my current boyfriend. I knocked on the front
door and his mom answered, took one look at my red with tears eyes and let
me in. I told them what happened and they just sat there, not knowing what
to do. (They being my ex-boyfriend and his mom) My boyfriend(at the time)
hugged me and I bawled. I was in seventh grade and my grandpa just died. I
didn't exactly know what was going to happen.
The rest of the day is a blur. I think I spent the day, laying in bed, trying
to keep my mind off of grandpa.
The next morning, I woke up, feeling like crap and not wanting to go to my
dad's house. It was a Friday. I don't remember school. I don't think I went
to school that day, I believe I was excused because of a "death in the
family". Mom came in and told me that I needed to get out of bed and
get ready to go to my Dad's. I told her I was going to kill myself if I went
over to Dad's.
I then was immediately transported to the Des Moines hospital, by my mom,
into the Psych ward for the people who have mental issues. It was really scary.
I wasn't really going to commit suicide. I just really didn't want to go to
Dad's. All I wanted to do was sleep in bed and never wake up.
I went through a few days of therapy and they decided I had post-traumatic
stress syndrome, which is a form of depression. I had anxiety attacks frequently,
in which I couldn't breath and felt like I was being choked to death.
On Sunday, I went to the funeral. A person that was in the hospital had given
me 2 yellow barrettes. You'll find out there significance later.
I walked into the funeral home, holding my teddy bear, I think. I know I
was holding something. There were a lot of people I recognized, some that
I didn't. Dad wasn't there yet. I wasn't worried. Mom and I walked around.
I finally got enough courage and strength to go look at Grandpa. He wasn't
grandpa anymore. He was a cold, dead, yellow body. My Grandpa had been taken
from me, because of a heart attack.
I looked at him, his eyes were closed. It was so scary. I felt like any minute
he would just wake up and everything would be alright. I reached out a hand
to touch his face and I almost got my hand to touch his cheek, but pulled
it back quickly. My eyes teared up and I fought back crying because I didn't
want to make Grandpa's flannel shirt look bad. I stepped back a few steps
and remembered what Grandpa always told me... "Take two, they're small".
He would give me two little Ritz crackers, when I was a baby and would say
"Take two, they're small." To this day, I eat with food in both
my hands.
I walked over to Mom, suddenly, I had an idea. Everyone was putting stuff
in the casket to be buried with Grandpa. I remembered the barrettes. I looked
up at Mom and said, "I need the keys"...without asking, she gave
me the keys. I ran out to the car and in a plastic sack, with all the stuff
that I had brought to the hospital, was the 2 yellow barrettes. I ran back
inside and gave the keys to Mom. I then slowly walked up to Grandpa, in his
casket and I laid the 2 barrettes on his chest. I leaned down close to him
and whispered, "Take two...they're small". I then couldn't fight
the tears back anymore and walked over to Mom, leaned my head in her shirt
and started bawling. She rubbed my back and we sat down in a chair and cried
together.
Then came time for the actual funeral. They had his casket in the front of
the chapel area and the family sat in one area and friends sat in another.
I pulled up a chair beside my Aunt Jessie and we cried. My mom sat beside
Grandma and they cried. I saw my dad and Tammy creep in the side door and
take a seat in the back, just as everything was getting started.
I kept looking back at Dad and the main thing that stuck out was that he
wasn't crying. He frowned, but it wasn't much. They played the music and carried
Grandpa out the door, after we had all said our goodbyes.
We then walked out to our cars and drove to the graveyard. I don't really
remember much of that. I cried a lot. The next few days were really horrible.
Lots of crying and, well, crying.
Everything reminded me of Grandpa. Songs on the radio, pictures, people at
school. Everything, but eventually, it got better.
The rest of 7th grade, 8th grade and 9th grade were horrible. I didn't do
good in school. I was a horrible student. I stayed home as much as I could.
I never wanted to do anything. 10th grade rolled around and things went good.
It was a pattern. The first part of the year, I would be fine, and then towards
November, December and January, I would go into this deep...sadness. Not want
to go to school. I'd rather stay home. It's a very sad thing. Christmas time
isn't always happy.
In April of 2002, I transferred from Newton High School to Basics and Beyond
alternative high school It's not a loser school and it's not a school for
drop-outs. It's a school for people who do not fit into the specific mold
of a normal high school. I have been going to Basics since.
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