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Troubled Life

Troubled Life

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Published by katie_stewart_1
brief story of some of the troubles I went through growing up. There's more, but that's for me to know and I may write more later
brief story of some of the troubles I went through growing up. There's more, but that's for me to know and I may write more later

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Published by: katie_stewart_1 on Jan 11, 2011
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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Troubled Life

By: Katie Stewart

I never knew who my biological parents were. I was adopted by a wonderful family that taught me everything they thought I would need to know in life, but little did they know there was a lot more to life than what they had told me. I guess you could say that I lived a sheltered life in a way, but that is not completely my parents fault. My parents taught me the importance of money and working. What they didn’t explain in much detail was that life wasn’t as simple as they made it sound. During my elementary years I was a well behave child until about forth grade. That’s when the lies began. I would do silly things that I should have just been honest about but instead I began down the road of lies. Once I began lying, I couldn’t stop. During elementary school the lies were minimal, but as I got older they began to get worse. I went from a private school to a public school when I got to Junior high school. I decided I was going to begin with a new slate and try my best not to lie about anything, but you know how kids can be. I had only been in junior high for about a month before something big happened. I found myself in the girls locker room trying to defend myself against a girl who had hit and pushed me so I slapped her across the face. Sure enough we both were sent to see the disiplinarian principal. What got me was that she did not believe that I was the one defending myself so I got in trouble as well as the other girl, and thanks to my previous lies my mother decided I was not telling the truth. How was I suppose to be honest if no one was going to believe me anyway. So the lies began again.

Why should I be honest if no one was going to believe me anyway. Shortly after that incident I ran away from home, which lasted about 3 hours before a cop found me and took me back home. Junior high I ended up hanging out with the wrong crowd. Although I did nothing wrong with them, ever time they did something I was the first person people blamed. I didn’t know what else to do but lie my way out of everything which always backfired in my face. Seventh grade rolled around and things seemed to start getting better. I kept lying to my mother, but I was getting better at it. Eighth grade is where everything fell apart. My best friend, at least I thought she was my best friend, shoplifted a lot of clothes and put them in my bag when I wasn’t looking so I was the one who was caught. Both my mother and the police believed the other girl, but when it came to me, well you can probably know the outcome of that one. My parents decided to place me in another private school when I made it to high school. I fit in for a while until my past caught up with me. You know how kids can be. Once a rumor starts, they tend to get out of control. I tried not to listen, but as a teenager how can you not. I had become an outcast; one of the worst things a teenager can feel. I began to rebel against everyone, including the world. I didn’t care anymore and didn’t want to try so the lies were a constant. I never met up to my brothers standards in my parents eyes. They always had compared me to him. I’m not him, I kept telling everyone, but would they listen. No. My parents took me shrinks and doctors to try to figure out what was wrong with me, but all they had to do was listen to me. When I turned 16 that was suppose to be the happiest day of my life, but , once

again, it wasn’t. I was told not to leave where I was, but I didn’t listen. I wanted to go have some fun with my friends so I did. But instead I was left alone with who I though was another friend of mine, but I found out the hard way that he was nothing but a low life scum bucket. I had been raped on my sixteenth birthday by my friends brother. For the rest of my high school years I was looked upon as a “slut”. No one believed what had happened except the teachers and one other student. Once I turned 17 I took off from home again feeling rejected and not good enough for anyone. The only the I knew in my head at that time was that men just wanted one thing from a girl, so I gave them that. Something I’m not proud of and regret to this day. I ended up getting myself pregnant at the age of seventeen and married at eighteen. Having my daughter was one of the best things in my life, but not getting married. I had gotten pregnant while married and was accused of cheating so a DNA test was done and of course I hadn’t, but that wasn’t good enough so I thought, with the screwed up head I had then that if I put him up for adoption my marriage would work. I used to regret that decision, but now I realize it was the best for my son. That envionment wasn’t where he needed to be. So the divorce happened. By the time the papers were filed I was once again pregnant, but my ex husband didn’t want anything to do with the baby. After my divorce I had my youngest daughter and she is awesome. Changed my entire life, but I can’t her the entire credit. Six months after I had her I met my future husband which helped me learn what life really was, not what I had been taught. Life may have a lot of up and downs, but every mistake I made I learned from. Because of my experiences I know the things my children should know for their future. Funny how life can bring you down only to teach you the things you need to know for

your children. That’s all that matters. Money is useful, but I don’t need it. I can make do with just a single penny in my pocket. What makes life full and happy is having people around you that love you and will support you with anything you do no matter if they agree with your particular decsion. To this day my mother still doesn’t believe I was raped. That used to bother me, but why should it? She wasn’t there, she doesn’t know what happened. As long as I know what the truth is, that’s what matters. Live one day at a time and live it as if it were your last. Otherwise what kind if life are you living?

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