“If you could change one thing that happened in your life, what would you change?”
This is the writing prompt that my teacher gave my class. I could write about my whole life basically. I could write about the time I created a fake Facebook, did very bad things on it, and got caught. If I could go back and change that, I would do it any day. I could write about all the embarrassing things that have happened to me in the past. Like when I tried to show off in front of my family. I tried to kick my leg above my head, and ended up on the ground. That one was the most embarrassing.
Most people were probably sitting there, thinking about what they could write. Many of them probably can’t even think of anything, but I can. There is a saying out there, “Everybody has a story, that’s what makes them the way they are.” I heard that from my mom.
We were driving home one night in the car, and I was telling my mom about my mean bus driver. I told her how she hates everyone, and how she is always yelling at us. Then my mom told me about how my bus driver’s son died, and she was divorced. Then I realized, she just needed someone in her life, so she won’t me mad anymore. My mom went on to tell me about a lady she worked with. My mom said that the lady hated everyone. No one stood up to her, afraid they would get yelled at. My mom did though. She stood up to her and asked “Why are you always mean?” Shockingly, the lady sat down with my mom and told her story. Her son died from drugs. Long story short, the lady just needed someone to care for her.
I have a story. I remember asking my mom that same night, what my story was. She told me that I didn’t have one yet, because I was still young. She said that most people don’t get their “story” until their older. That didn’t stay true for me. I’m 14 years old, and this is my story.
“If you could change one thing that happened in your life, what would you change?” I thought back to that day in August. My brother and I were on our trampoline having a good time. We were with our little neighbors but they left, leaving just us there. We were having fun until our parents called us in the house. We were both confused at first, but then the news came to us.
“We both have something very important to tell you guys” my dad said. “It’s very hard for me to say this, and I never thought I would hear these words come out of my mouth…but, your mom and I, we’re getting a divorce.”
I was, well, I was shocked, scared, confused…it was a terrible feeling. Then the thoughts hit me. “Would you be mad if I left your dad?” Those were my mom’s words. “Would you hate me if I left?” I remember telling her no that would be fine. There was a reason I said that. I hated my dad, or at least that’s what I thought…
There were days where my dad was so miserable, I didn’t even want to be near him. This was basically my life after I turned 12.
Before I can tell you about the day of the divorce, I have to go back and tell you my past.
He threw the sandwich at me. My dad. I don’t remember what I did to piss him off, but I know I did something. He got mad at threw the sandwich he made for my lunch at me. It didn’t actually hit me, it flew past me and hit the wall. I know he wasn’t exactly aiming for me either. My dad was never an abusive father. He wouldn’t even smack my butt when I did something wrong because it pained him to see me hurt. That’s just who my dad was.
I remember the time that I came home from a football game with my mom and brother. It was the Eagles practice season or something. I put my water bottle in the bag with my brother’s new book. It spilled all over it. My brother was screaming at me and I got so upset. I felt bad but it didn’t help for him to yell at me. Then I started screaming…then came my dad. With this story too, I don’t exactly remember what I did to make my dad yell but I do remember something. I remember him hitting my wallet out of my hand, but he missed. He accidently hit my hand and I yelled at him. My words were “Don’t you ever hit me again!” I felt bad after saying them, but my dad didn’t like it at all. I got yelled at some more and sent to my room. I hated my dad. I wanted nothing to do with him.
After everything that ever happened between me and my dad, I hated him for it. I remember a day when I was talking to a friend. Her dad was dying from cancer and I remember telling her she was lucky. I told her I hated my dad and wished he would die. She told me I was stupid and never talked to me again. I knew deep down that I didn’t want my dad dead, I was just crazy.
After some more stuff went down between us, I started writing a diary. I wrote about my parents getting a divorce. I wanted it to happen. Every day I thought about what it would be like for that to happen. I thought about how I would live with my mom and would never have to see my dad again. I knew this was what I wanted, or at least I thought so.
This last story is the worst for me. Let me tell you, I am over weight and I know it. I weigh 140 pounds and I am 5’ 3”. I’m very sensitive when it comes to my weight. One day, I was getting some ice cream. My dad was standing over top of me, watching. After a minute he said “That’s enough.” I got kind of mad because in my mind, I thought he was telling me I’m fat and I don’t need anymore. It’s stupid I know but that’s how I was. I got really upset and put the ice cream back in the container. I threw my cup in the sink and started walking back to the freezer. My dad heard me throw the dish in the sink, so he came over and yelled at me. He slapped the ice cream container out of my hand and it hit the ground. I went crazy, I ran up to my room and did the first thing I could think of. Cut.
I never had done it before, and I don’t know why it came to mind but I did it anyways. It was my first time so I used scissors. It hurt at first but after a while it started to feel good. I kept going. I didn’t understand what I was doing at first so I cut on my arm, in sight.
When I woke up the next morning, I decided to just cover it with a sweatshirt. I went down stairs to get one but my mom caught me. She asked if I was cutting but I just lied. I told her I had done the eraser challenge with some friends. She got kind of mad and we had a long talk but then it was over. That’s when I really thought I hated my dad. I told myself, my dad made me cut. He is the reason for it. I hate him and a divorce would be amazing.
When I heard the news, I felt something inside. Like, it was my chance to escape from my dad. I looked over and my brother started to cry a little. I thought he was being a baby at first but then my dad started saying some stuff. He hugged my brother and told him how much he loved him and all this crap. I told myself I wouldn’t cry because it was stupid so all I could do was just stand there awkwardly. Then my dad came to me.
“I love you. You’re the girl I always knew you would be. You’ve made me so proud, every day you were in my life. I won’t be able to see you much anymore, but I don’t want you to let me down. Please don’t change, you are perfect the way you are and I want you to keep making me proud.”
This is what my dad told me as he was crying. I started to cry a little too. “Maybe I don’t hate him, maybe I just don’t like him at times.” That’s what I thought as he was hugging me. I didn’t know what to do anymore and I was so confused. None of this matters though. What really matters is that, this was the beginning of a new life for me.
That first week was really hard for us. As in my brother, mom, and I. I didn’t exactly know how my dad was doing, but he left us, why should I care about how he feels? He texted me a couple of times to tell me he loves me and such stuff. He was staying at his mom’s house, the only place he had to go. I think I went to see him a couple of times but I can’t really remember.
School final started and I was doing great. Until one Friday I felt sick as I was getting on the bus. It was terrible and I thought the whole time I really was going to throw up. I went to school and felt better but for some reason, I got sick again on Sunday night. I stayed home Monday. Although, I didn’t really feel sick at all. I went to school the next day and I was fine until first period. I don’t know what it was but I felt sick, so I went to the nurse. I started to cry as I was telling her why I was there. I had no clue why though. She asked if I was okay and I said yes, then went and laid down. My dad came to get me. We got into the car and, he too, asked what was wrong. I then started to cry like crazy. He asked me if it was because of the divorce and I said yes. Something about it made me feel terrible. He talked to me about it then took me home. There was one thing I noticed while we were in the car, he too, was crying.
I missed the next day of school, then on Thursday I screamed and cried until my mom finally took me to school. I was fine on the ride up but when we final got there, I broke down again. It was a terrible feeling and I honestly didn’t want to do it. My mom talked to the guidance counselor and from then on I went there every morning until 3rd period. I always missed homeroom and my first 2 periods. I didn’t ride the bus.
My mom had enough of it. She took me to a therapist. She made me ride the bus. She made me go to class. I was so upset and mad, I didn’t want to go. Eventually it got better for me though. I made some friends and went to class. My grades were good, everything was perfect.
I went to visit my dad sometimes. Every time he took me to my grandma’s house, he would talk to me in the car. He cried every time. Let me tell you, it is pure torture to see your own dad cry. I had never seen him cry before, until that day of the divorce. I hated it and it made me cry every single time. My dad told me about everything that was happening. He told me how he still loved my mom. My dad never wanted to leave, but he had too.
My dad loved my mom. If she came back to him, still to this day, he would let her. He doesn’t care about what she did, he just loves her. I guess that was what love was though, right?
Some other stuff my dad talked about was God. He talked about going to church too. I never had gone before and I never read the bible. Yes, I am a Christian, I just never got around to it. I thought my dad was crazy for the stuff he was saying, so I didn’t really listen.
That night.
That night was, terrifying.
My dad woke me up, asking what the code to my mom’s phone was. I didn’t know what it was so I just laid back down. My dad woke my mom up, asking her. That was it. The fight of the year. It was terrible, the stuff they said, the screaming, everything. I found out what my mom did that night for my dad to leave my mom. She cheated. Every day after work, she would see this guy. They went all the way. I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to fall asleep but I couldn’t. My parents didn’t know I was awake, thank God! That night was just horrible. I finally fell asleep, but it was too late. I witnessed everything. The yelling, the punch, my dad crying. He punched the fridge. I remember that clear as day because I thought one of them hurt each other. Luckily just our fridge was hurt. Then, the words that were said.
“I’ll take you to court.” My mom said. She said she wouldn’t let him see us, meaning my brother and me. She threatened to call the cops. I was so scared. None of this came to be true, but it was still very scary for me.
My dad left. He was crying. Literally crying, begging for my mom to take him back. She wouldn’t.
I cried, all night it felt like. I couldn’t get to sleep. All of it was just way too much for me, and I couldn’t handle it anymore.
Days, weeks, even months passed. I went to visit my dad on weekends. We would watch tv and play games. Just have fun together. One night though, was the best.
We stayed up till 3am, just talking. We watched TV, ate some bagels, even learned some Spanish, but mainly just talked. My dad told me stories. First, he told me about how he loved me. He was sorry for everything he ever did. His words were…
“I remember that day. I remember when I threw the sandwich at you. I hated myself ever since then. I regret it so much and I’m sorry. I know now, that you were just trying to tell me you wanted attention. I paid so much attention to your brother that you felt left out, and I’m sorry.”
He told me how he got to his all-time low. He had no one. My brother was too young to care for my dad and I was never there. All he had was his mom, but even she wasn’t enough. My dad, thought about suicide. He stopped himself though, and I thank God for that every day.
My dad told me about how he had God. God had helped my dad through everything. My dad told me that’s why I should thank God.
“He never forgets to wake you up every morning. Your awake right now aren’t you? You’re not dead, so you should be thanking god for that.” My dad’s words.
From then on, I thanked God every day for being alive. I thanked him for everything I had, food, clothes, and a family. I read the bible. I was finally with God. I thanked him because even though my family wasn’t together anymore, at least I still had one.
“If you could change one thing that happened in your life, what would you change?”
To answer this question, I would not change one thing about my life. Even throughout this whole experience. If this questioned would have been asked to me 3 months ago, I would have said I wanted my family back together. Now, I would never ask for that. God does everything for a reason and I know that he has a very good reason for what he has put me through. Since this has happened, I’ve gained independence, happiness, forgiveness, a relationship with my dad, and most importantly, I’ve gained God.
Everything that has ever happened for me was for the better. I’ve learned a lesson out of everything that God put me through and I’m happy that he did that. I regret everything I ever thought about my dad. I never hated him, I never wanted him dead, I loved my dad. Now, my dad and I are closer than ever.
I would not go back and change something that God has done for me. Instead, I thank him.