I had a really hard time growing up. Like you, I come from a very small town - everyone knows everyone else and everyone knows who -I- am because my older brother & sister were popular & several kids were little brothers or sisters of people my sister was kinda friends with in high school. It didn't help my situation at all. I was way low on the social ladder even though I had "friends" (they were much cooler & prettier than me, though).. And I was bullied a lot. Going to the same school with the same kids for 9 years takes a toll on you. Aside from that, my mom worked 24/7 when I was little and my dad has been a truck driver since he was very young. He was always gone in his truck. I was primarily raised by my sister & then my brother when my sister went off to college. Then my mom got her CDL and got in the truck with my dad and that was it. They would leave and be gone for a month, sometimes longer. Between 6th & 8th grade, I lived with 7 different families - each of my own choosing. They left the decision of who I stayed with almost entirely up to me. I lived with my brother first and he was the one that got me into smoking pot ('cuz he sold it with his wife) and then a string of other families/people.
But because of the constant bullying and "moving around", I made the decision to move in with my older sister here in Nashville for high school and specifically chose to go to a Christian school (southern baptist, of course... 'Cuz I live smack dab in the Bible Belt) thinking that it'd be better. And it wasn't. It was worse. The kids called me all sorts of names - including "Columbine" after -that- happened. The teachers heard it and did nothing to stop it. I stuck it out for 2 years before I finally had a nervous breakdown and told my sister about it all - and asked to switch to public school. Which turned out infinitely better, but I just didn't care anymore about school, so I stayed stoned all the time, slept in class, didn't do any homework (like literally -none- except for maybe English 'cuz that's the one subject I really was always super good at). Blah blah blah.
And then fast forward a bit.. Spring 2003 - like February 2004 was a good chunk of time for me. I'd dropped out of high school and started working at a Sonic, lost a bunch of weight, made really good money for a HS drop out & being 18, partied all the time. Fast forward some more - my parents asked me to move back in with them. So I did. I lived on the boat they'd bought for just over a year. I got myself somewhat together and got my HS diploma (a real one. I graduated with a 3.62 GPA, but it's kinda bs) and then got accepted to college in Phoenix for video game design. And I moved out there with my poodle Max. And then I met my ex-boyfriend. I'd never been in a for real serious relationship before.. I'd just never been interested. And to shorten the story, the stuff that I went through because of him ain't nothin' nice. He was only with me because I "had money" (aka my dad's credit card). I got into doing more drugs with him (nothing I hadn't done before 'cuz my brother... He's a crackhead from Hell and a terrible influence) - smoking meth, pot, doing beer runs and staying drunk, whatever. My focus went from school to being with him and keeping him happy. I stopped going to school, didn't care about finding a job to support myself out there, nothing.
And of course, I slowly started losing what I had - my apartment, then my car (which my parents took back from me when they happened to be in town with a load), etc. And the more I lost, the meaner my ex got. It was pretty ugly. It's not something I particularly enjoy talking about. I was either too skinny (results from tweaking out all the time and not eating), or if I managed to gain a few lbs 'cuz he said I needed to, I was too fat. Not to mention, I was never allowed to talk to other guys aside from like his dad & uncle & his sisters' significant others, much less -look- at them (yet he had no problems talking to other girls and if I got upset about it, it would end badly). He always had to walk in front of me, would never hold my hand in public. If I tried to grab his hand, he'd look at me like I was a piece of trash stuck to the bottom of his shoe and walk a little bit faster to stay in front of me. I'm entirely convinced that he killed my poodle. There's a lot more to that story, it's just something else that takes a very long time to discuss and get all the details out. Suffice it to say, at one point, I was actually hoping he'd get it all over with and shoot me in the head (he had a Colt .45), and when he broke up with me (after getting arrested and locked up), his entire family was in complete shock over everything he had done to me and were actually extremely supportive and really helped me out when I needed it most. When he got locked up, he'd been with his best friend's -mother-, who he was cheating on me with.
I finally wound up homeless in one of the worst parts of Phoenix (after living in -other- really bad neighborhoods where... Yep. I was the only white person). My sister bought me a bus ticket and I came back to Nashville. Got back on my feet - working 2 jobs, got my own apartment, got my car back, etc.. Then I got pregnant. It was an accident.. Or more like me being drunk and stupid and not thinking right. My kid's dad and I dated until I was like 5 months along and then he just disappeared altogether. When I first told him I was preggo, he acted happy about it, but then he said that the baby wasn't his, I should get an abortion, blah blah blah. We went back and forth for awhile like that. Then, his phone number was no longer working, I knew where to go looking for him, but I didn't bother 'cuz I didn't want the drama. He called me a year later when my daughter was 6 months old - he'd gotten deported back to Mexico and supposedly lost my number. I found out that he really hadn't, he'd just met some other girl when he got back down there and they got engaged, then she broke up with him 'cuz he was cheating on her or something. He literally called me like 5 days after they broke up.
I had gotten over the fact that he wasn't in my life anymore and was doing perfectly ok until he called me. I finally just cut him out of my life altogether 'cuz I just didn't see the point in trying when there's no chance he'll ever come back or even step up to help us out. My sister was there for me throughout my pregnancy and was in the delivery room with me when I had my daughter, but she's never understood the emotional stress or how depressing it was for me to be having a baby on my own.
But I made it work. Moved back in with my sister for my maternity leave and the rest of the school year (she & I worked at an elementary school together), saved money for a new apartment, re-enrolled in college, later got my own place and dove back into working 2 jobs, just tacked on classes, my daughter, and juggling a new boyfriend. Lost my full-time job with benefits after having been there for 3 years, then my school pulled all of my financial aid (which I had been relying on to help pay bills), and then my boyfriend broke up with me - that all happened within 2 weeks. It was very upsetting and depressing. I knew I was going to lose my apartment, and instead of helping me, my sister simply said that my daughter could stay with her, but I would have to find somewhere else to go. So that's what I did. I didn't want her to be homeless with me, though I really think that had I just kept her, I wouldn't necessarily be in the situation I'm in now. My ex and I eventually got back together and he let me move in with him, and things were great for awhile, but then it turned into a really rocky situation... Eventually, he stabbed me in my foot with a fork (I couldn't walk for 3 days 'cuz he'd hit a vein. Having to explain that situation to my managers at the restaurant I was working at was extremely humiliating. The living room looked like a crime scene for 3 days 'cuz there was so much blood all over the carpet). I still have a scar from it. During the last year my ex & I were together, I did kind of develop a pain pill habit. Working in a restaurant and running my arse off all day really put a lot of strain on my back, so I bought a couple from someone, realized how great I felt after doing them and how much better I was able to work, and just kept on. I was spending probably $200 a week on Roxycodone (at $25 a pop, that's not very many pills, but Tennessee is an expensive state for the underground pill market in general).
I ended up moving to Texas and -back- in with my parents (at my dad's request). My ex promised me everything would be okay, he would wait for me, all that stuff. I hadn't been in Texas for 2 weeks and he broke up with me. He said he hated me, never wanted to see me again, I'm ugly, he's felt so much better since I left and it's all my fault that he acted the way he did. We were engaged - supposedly.. Even though I didn't have a ring yet. I'd actually let him meet my parents and they both fell in love with him, my dad even telling me that he wouldn't mind if we planned a wedding in Mexico and he would help pay for it.. My parents are notorious for -not- ever wanting to leave the country. They have no desire to see any other parts of the world that are not the continental United States. So for my dad to have said that and actually mean it.. Was a big deal.
But anywho. My dad was a dick to me. Even -he- was saying I'd let myself go and I used to be soooo gorgeous and now I'm ugly and fat, and he sees why my ex left me. I wasn't planning on saying anything about what all actually happened between us. As much as I hated seeming like the bad guy in the situation, I was willing to just let my dad think whatever and stay quiet. But then when he said that, I was just drunk enough to get upset and tell him everything.
Living in Texas was extremely rough. It's a very tiny town - even smaller than my hometown - and everyone there is either on drugs or an extreme bible thumper. So I drank a lot, started doing pain pills again, and yeah, even tweaked out a few times. Being 800 miles away from my little girl and dealing with my parents.. It was rough. But, I got lucky and met someone new and after a really bad argument with my dad, he came and got me and moved me back to Tennessee.
In between all of those times, I've nearly lost my dad twice - he's only 64, but he had his first heart attack before I was even born - at like 34 or so. He's now had 4 documented strokes and 3 documented heart attacks. He had his last major stroke in 2003 which knocked out his hand-eye coordination and his ability to speak. He can talk now & regained his ability to drive truck, but he hates talking on the phone. His last heart attack happened like in June 2011 - just after his birthday and right before Father's Day. He and my mom were in Sacramento with a high security load in their trailer (they hauled military equipment for the government). He had to have a stint put in his heart and then he and my mom had to retire altogether.