Troubled thoughts

I can't get the reason why I started this blog off my mind; my childhood. I have said before, it wasn't the best, but it wasn't the worst either. Like many of you out there, I grew up in a post boarding school generation. I know that my grand parents didn't beat or be mean to my mom growing up, and for years I wondered why she treated us like that. As it turns out, she was treated like that at the boarding school. I'm sure not everyone was beaten or for that matter my mom was either, but she saw it. She watched her classmates be treated like dirt. So naturally she treated us no different. For a long time I resented my mom. I didn't even want to be alive because of some of the things she said and did to me. She don't think she knew that she was treating us the way she was treated. And that really hurt us, specifically me. My sister has come out of our childhood like nothing happened. She also has a normal brain and doesn't suffer from depression like I do. So her point of view is different than mine.

If I remember our childhood, I have to force myself to remember the good because the bad is predominate in my mind. Unless I'm with my sister, then we talk about EVERYTHING, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I remember our mom always kissing and hugging and telling Morg she loved her, and then she would turn to me and say bye Lorna. I've always known I am adopted, and when I was really young the family would ask me who my mom was, and being a shy little Yupik girl, I would just sit there and smile. I consider both my mom. I confuse everyone when I say my mom. I have to say Tina or Abatch. After my junior year of high school I got really close to my Hooper Bay mom, Abatch. For the longest time I wondered why she didn't keep me. I thought she didn't want me, and hearing the words Tina said to me, I thought Tina didn't want me either. But as it turns out, Abatch and Tina were really close, and Abatch told Tina she would give her her first daughter, which so happens to be me. I know for a lot of you out there, this makes no sense at all. But in the Yupik ways, it's totally normal for one family to adopt their niece or nephew and share the children.

I thought Tina resented me, and regretted adopting me after our dad, Danny, past away. He always told her that I was his baby, and Morgie was her baby. She says I went everywhere with our dad. They had been trying to have a baby with no luck, so they were told to adopt. Once they adopted me, she got pregger's with my sister. I have little glimpses of our dad, but not enough to create a full memory. My sister doesn't understand why our dad did what he did, but I do. That's why I feel a bond with him even after all these years. I remember sitting on the couch late at night, watching TV, looking at Morg and Tina and wondering why I was so different, but the same from them. I've always known my brain was different then theirs. Now I understand why I had those thoughts of suicide while my sister did every sport she could in high school. My brain is just wired differently.

There was a time in my life when I was really sick. I mean in the hospital hooked up to IV's and oxygen, and SPo2's to measure my oxygen levels every single month. For almost a year. Can you imagine spending your childhood in the old Native Hospital? That place was freakin scary, and I practically lived there my 5th grade year. But my life had a different purpose, and I finally was able to get my Asthma under control. Don't ask me how because I really do not remember. During those years, I was on Prednisone. All. The. Time. I got all the classic side effects; moon face, weight gain, insomnia, irritability. I did not like being on Prednisone when I was a young girl. My body had gone through "the Change" at a very early age. I blame the Prednisone. When I was 10 my brother was on leave for Christmas. In my eyes, he was the biggest, bestest, strongest big brother in the world. He used to have me sit by him, or on his lap and just hold me. Like a little sister should be. That year our uncle was staying with us. He used to stay with us before, and he stayed with us a few times after, but that particular time I noticed him watching me. I didn't think anything of it because at 10 there was no evil in the world. All grown ups were good to kids and didn't hurt us or be mean to us unless we were bad and were being punished.

That night, after everyone had either gone to sleep, or were out partying the night away, my uncle asked me to sit by him. I went and sat by him, and he put his arm around me. My brother had done the very same act hours before so I thought he was just showing me the same love my brother showed me earlier. As it turns out, he had other intentions. He put his hands on me, and being a little Yupik girl, I did not fight him. I did not tell him to stop, or that he was scaring me. We do not tell our elders what to do. They tell us what to do. That has been ingrained into our heads since the beginning of time. So I just sat there, scared, wanting to cry but couldn't. Finally after I have no idea how long, I said I had to go to the bathroom. I went to the bathroom and cried. I remember going into our messy bedroom after and trying to hide thinking he won't be able to find me, but I thought I would get into trouble if he couldn't find me. So I laid on the bed. Crying. Shaking. Thinking that my little world had just shattered. He came upstairs and went to the bathroom. After that he found his way to my bed and tried to lay down. I remember him running his hands through my hair, then he said, "let's see how it feels." I didn't know what he was talking about, but I knew I had to get him away from me and not let him be near me anymore. I don't know how I convinced him, but he left my room and I didn't sleep that night.

I have been terrified of older men since then. I remember at 12 holding a knife to my wrist pressing so hard it hurt, just wanting to end it all. At 12! But my sister was in the same room with me, sleeping. I knew I couldn't leave her alone in this world. So I suffered these thoughts all by myself for years. I went into counseling for a while, but quit once my mom, Tina, asked if I was done yet. So I quit going to the counselor. I drank my way through the later part of my teens, and almost drank Adya's childhood away.

Writing this part of my life has me really scared. But I know that once someone knows that they aren't the only one who had it happen to them, they will be able to tell their story. I know this is a very sad, scary story. But my life has turned around and I do not have those thoughts in my head and am on anti-depressants. I promise I will write about a more uplifting subject next time. I had to get this out of my system though.