the Rebelution

 

by Kiery

When we arrived, my boyfriend’s family and pastor took me in and became my adopted family. They ministered to me and loved me, and generally instilled the confidence in myself, in God, and in family that I had lost.

When we announced the news of my engagement, my family started writing my pastor and generally trying to sabotage my wedding by not sending my dress or supporting me in any way. To give me my dress would the same as giving money to a homeless drunk in their eyes. My in-laws and my boyfriend paid for everything, and we used the church for free. 

It was a (perfect) small wedding. My grandparents came and I walked the aisle alone. I liked this because, it was me, making a decision. My pastor asked me after the ceremony how I felt, and I answered “free.” I made it. I didn’t give up, and I did what I knew was right. It was worth the pain, the depression, and the sacrifice to be free. 

I’ve left a lot behind, I think differently, I don’t view the world as I used to, and I’m enjoying having the liberty to learn and grow. My husband and I have been married over a year, are stronger than ever, and enjoy being able to make decisions without being worried about unneeded input. I am now confident and pleased with myself – no longer hating my own guts.

My relationship with my parents fluctuates between shallow and non-existent. In time, I hope they’ll accept me as an adult, and not view me as their unrepentant child who still needs training. I hope someday, they’ll be willing to listen, and love me because I’m their daughter, respect my decisions (and husband) because I’m an adult, and have a healthy relationship with me. I’d love for that to be soon. I’m sorry for any wrong or pain I’ve caused them. I know they meant well, they were trying as hard as they could. I don’t want them to think that because I’m different, that it means I’m bad or rejecting them, just that, I’m a person. 

I guess if there’s anything to be learned from my story it’s that there’s hope. Sometimes it’s hard to see, but there’s a way out, a way to freedom, a way to life, and it’s worth the pain to find it.  

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by Kiery

A failure, that’s what I was, a giant failure. I couldn’t be the daughter my parents wanted me to be. I had tasted freedom, and I felt like I deserved it. I couldn’t go back to being the second mom after being told I was an adult. Adults can’t take their children’s adulthood away, can they?

The 6 months between the split and my 18th birthday were the darkest days of my life. I was horribly depressed, I hardly ate, I contemplated cutting and suicide on more than one occasion. Honestly, if it weren’t for the friends I had made before and my boyfriend’s pastor stepping up and reaching me when I cried for help, I don’t know where I would be. I was mad at God, mad at my parents, mad at myself for being so stupid to think that I could have my own life. I felt a little piece of myself die with every passing day, as I realized that I could not be the person I believe I was created to be and the daughter my family needed me to be. I was alone in a house full of people, my already shaky relationship with my parents dwindled down to nothing. I hardly talked to them at all except to get assignments, all while I was screaming “Notice Me!!!!!!!” inside. 

They don’t care about me, I thought. So concerned about the rest of the kids, they don’t see that they’re losing me, pushing me away. I don’t matterMy job is the same it’s been for the last 10 years, take care of the kids while they have another one. That’s what I’m here for, and that’s my role in life. But I was so much more, and they didn’t see it. 

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by Kiery

The thing about training is that eventually, you grow up and exercise what you were taught. I was taught to think for myself, to stand up regardless of pressure, and in the end, that’s what I did. 

The last half of my 16th year my parents spent drilling into me that I was a capable adult and ready for marriage. I went to visit my boyfriend after christmas and I think my parents fully expected a proposal even though (despite me being 16) we’d only been together since September. I was nervous, naturally. A hasty marriage was being pushed by my family  while his were much less hurried. I was scared, because at 16, I interpreted this as there being something wrong…maybe they didn’t like me, maybe they didn’t want us in a relationship. Over the next few months I realized that this wasn’t the case, they just didn’t want to rush us. 

My family refused to think that my initial fears were misinterpreted or that we had already resolved the situation. The summer of my 17th year was filled with long discussions about how I was wrong and nothing was resolved, even after I had told them it was. 

This is the point in my life where I started thinking for myself, realizing how to solve conflict, and put what my parents had taught me into practice. Needless to say, it didn’t go over well. 

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