When I was just an innocent sixth-grader and I wouldn’t have thought that I would have so many problems with trust and with my parents.
I was at my cousin’s house one night. I looked at my phone and it showed that my mom was calling me. “Hello?” I said thinking about why she’d be calling me. “How do you feel...” she said “About moving out of the house with me and living somewhere else?” “Why would I want to do that?!” I said to myself, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

“Um, I’m not sure how I would feel about that. Wouldn’t I have to go to a different school?” I said after about two minutes of silence.

“No you wouldn’t, you could be with your father for the school week, and be here on the weekends.” She replied.
“But, why do you want me to move with you?”

“Because I’m not happy at home and I know you’re not either!”
At this point I was thinking to myself, how does she know that I’m not happy? How can she read my emotions? I told my mother that I would talk to her when I got home the next day. We said good night to each other and I went to bed.

The next morning I woke up and called my dad to have him come get me. An hour later I was discussing this situation which brought both my mother and I to tears.

  I didn’t want to move but she was so passionate about it I decided to go with her, so I wouldn’t make her feel bad. I know I can’t make everyone happy at once. This situation really hurt my father emotionally, which I felt really bad about. I apologized 100 times over and over it was so hard for all of us but we got through it.
Five months went by and we got kicked out of the house because where we were renting they had the right to kick us out. The owner called my mom and told her we had two weeks to get all of our stuff and leave.
One month went by, we were moved back in with my dad. I had found out that my mother had been looking online for a rental home nearby and I wasn’t very happy with her, so once again she asked me if I would move with her so I did. Six month later I was going to a new school with only a few people I knew.

In November we got a call from the owner and they told us we needed to leave because someone had bought the house we were living in. So we packed our bags and went back to my dad’s house.

Two years went by and my mom hadn’t moved out since the last rental. In February 2014 right after Winter Break she told me that she was moving to New Mexico. So she left. At this point I had really bad depression and I was having a lot of issues. So I had asked my father if I could go on depression medication. So I went on it, with the help of my boyfriend.

My mom had come back for my birthday in March which was great because I missed her so much. The morning she was leaving she came back to my father’s house to get the rest of her stuff. My heart was crushed again because I knew I wouldn’t see her for a few months. From now on I talk to her once or twice a day and I still to this day want to cry every time I hear her voice.

Sometimes I get really irritated and say things I don’t mean about her. Sometimes I’ll tell myself I hate her and never want to see her again but after I think about it I tell myself none of the stuff I just said was true. I tell myself I miss her like crazy and I can’t wait to see her again.

I know she probably does the same thing. As far as I know this has affected everyone in the family the same way.

Recently my cousin Alice found out about this because the only two people on her side of the family that knew were my cousin Mary and my grandmother. Some nights I stay up all night thinking about why she left because she never gave me a real answer on why.

One day I was at my boyfriend’s house. “Hi” I said. “How was school today?” she said, “what are you up to?” “Oh just sitting here at Alex’s house.” Saying in my mind, what would I be doing? “Can I ask you a question?” I said in response. “Yes?” “Um, can you tell me why you left?” I said, “it hurts not knowing why.” “Well I don’t know what I could say as a reason that you would understand.” At this point in the conversation I’m sitting here thinking to myself “What do you mean a reason I’d understand? I’m not 10 anymore!” but instead I said “You can give any reason. I’ll try to understand.”

This conversation carried on for about fifteen minutes and I was trying so hard not to cry loud so she couldn’t hear, this took all my self-control. After the phone call was over I cried hysterically loud and my boyfriend just laid next to me and held me tight; which was exactly what I needed.