The Light That Saved My Life

He didn’t tell me what was going on. I guess being eight years old makes you unworthy of the truth. I was terrified. My sister helped me back in bed and told me not to worry. What was I to them? An infant? Someone without a brain? A robot without emotions? I tried my best to get some sleep, but I kept having nightmares about the possible reasons as to why I would be awakened by a flashlight in the hands of a strange man like that.
The next morning my grandma came to explain to me that my mother attempted to commit suicide. Well, she put it in nicer terms and told me that she “took some pills and drank her life away, almost literally.” The truth being she tried to take her life and then chickened out and called the ambulance. I suppose my mother wanted to end her life more than she wanted to see my sister and I make something of ours. I suppose this ordeal was finally enough to convince the judges that my mother provided an unsafe living environment, and that my sister and I should unquestionably be living with our dad instead.
Fast forward to today, my mother is out of my life almost completely. There are not enough words to explain how grateful I am to no longer be a child writing countless journal entries about my mother physically and verbally abusing me, cigarette butts lining the carpet, the countless pills that filled the bathroom cabinet, and the strange white substances that often surrounded my mother’s nose. I have been living in Colorado for a little over three years now. During those three years, I have accomplished a lot, however there have been many setbacks. My dad is hardly home because he works in the oil fields and has lately been spending most of his time off, visiting his girlfriend in Washington. It kind of feels as though I don’t really even have parents at all, sometimes. There have been times where my aunt and uncle have lived with us, but they never stayed. My sister and her fiancé live with us now, but I know there is always a good chance they could leave as well. I have hence, spent a lot of time alone.
It is because of these experiences that I have learned that I should never rely on anyone else too much. I believe in being independent. I was forced to grow up and take care of myself at only eight years old, so I like to believe that I am pretty mature for my age. I have seen the best and I have seen the worst; I have enough confidence in myself to know that as long as I focus on what’s best for myself, I will survive just fine.