#sh:lostyears

[honeyjars-sims]

Entry #1: Introduction

I’ve been thinking a lot about the year I turned 14–the last year I spent at my mom’s house and the beginning of my new life with my dads.

It was the year that everything changed for me, but it would take a while before I’d realize just how impactful that time of my life was.

My therapist suggested I do some journaling about this time period since it’s been weighing on my mind.

When we were 13, my twin Chantal and I were living with my mom and her then husband, Jimmy. 

Our younger sister, Trinity, was also in the house. My older sister, Destiny, had moved out of the family home long ago, leaving me without the protection of a stable adult in the house. Not that I could blame her for getting out of there as soon as she could.

I still hadn’t learned the true identity of my father, and I assumed by that point that he wanted nothing to do with me. 

Jimmy had a strong dislike for my Chantal and me, and he had it out for me in particular. The details are too depressing to get into, but let’s just say he took his anger out on me both physically and emotionally. I was too scared to tell my mother the truth, having been told over and over that she wouldn’t believe me. 

As bad as things were at that time, they would only get worse and worse as the year continued.

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[honeyjars-sims]

Entry #23: Happy Birthday

After being honest with my dads about what had happened at my mom’s house with Jimmy, things felt a lot different. I won’t pretend that I was the perfect son. I still did things they didn’t approve of and was still my usual smart ass self. But things did improve a lot.

Even Cece took notice, though she wasn’t completely clued in on what facilitated the change. “You’re being a little less of an asshole than usual,” she remarked. 

“What? I’ve never been an asshole. I’m a perfect angel.”

“Yeah, right!”

“Well, hopefully since I’ve been acting better that means you’ll get me something good for my birthday.”

“We’ll see.”

When our 15th birthday came around, Chantal and I knew this year would be much different from the last, when our mom forgot about us.

Dad and Pops made us a cake with our favorite flavors–chocolate cake for me, and buttercream frosting for Chantal.

They got us most of what we’d asked for on our list as well. However, that wasn’t what made our birthday special. It was having their time and attention. Something they gave freely, without any expectations. 

“Thanks for making our birthday special,” Chantal told them.

“Yeah, we appreciate it,” I added. I truly did. I was finally beginning to accept the love they were giving me, and I had to admit it was a nice feeling. 

I still had a lot of healing to do–still do. What happened will never truly leave me, but it makes all the difference in the world to know I have a support system who will be there for me no matter what. I know they’ll continue to show up for me whenever I need them, and that’s the best gift I could ask for.

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[honeyjars-sims]

Entry #16: Reunited

I was still getting used to living with David and Solomon when word came that my mom had completed rehab.

This meant that Chantal, Trinity, and I would start having supervised visits with her on the weekend. Chantal wasn’t exactly ready to forget what Mom had put us through, but a part of her was excited to see her again. The same couldn’t be said for me.

When it came time to reunite with Mom, she was beaming with joy. She looked good–no longer gaunt, and the rosiness had returned to her cheeks. She looked like the mom I remembered from my early childhood, before Jimmy and before drugs. I reminded myself that she was no longer that person, as much as she resembled her past self. She was still the mom who brought an abusive man into our home and neglected us while she got high. 

“How is school?” She asked us, trying to establish some normalcy into the situation. We all tried to pretend like it was typical for us to meet in a public place with a social worker looming over us. 

“It’s good!” Chantal told her. “I’m getting all A’s.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been an overachiever. I’m so proud of you.” Mom turns to me. “How about you, Johnny?”

I just shrugged. The silent treatment wasn’t a tactic I reserved for my therapist it seemed. Whenever things got too real, I shut down. Besides, I didn’t want to share any of my life with her. In my eyes, she didn’t deserve it.

“Well, I know school isn’t your favorite. I hope you’re putting in some effort, though. You’re a smart kid, you just don’t apply yourself.” I didn’t respond, and she seemed to get the hint. She cleared her throat, looking over at Chantal. “How are things at your dad’s?” 

“They’re great! Pops and Dad are really nice, and I even have a new sister!” Chantal answered.

“Right. I forgot he was with someone. Hopefully they both treat you well. I’m not exactly thrilled at the idea of two men raising you, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now.”

I felt a warmth in my chest, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I hadn’t been giving Solomon and David the easiest time, but I felt defensive. How could she be so concerned about them when she was the one who brought Jimmy into our household? She might not know the full story, but she knew he wasn’t treating us right. Still, I remained silent.

“You have nothing to worry about, Mom,” Chantal assured her. “They’ve both been very good to us.”

“Well, that’s good.” Mom began wringing her hands. “I want you two to know that I’m divorcing Jimmy. I know he was hard on you, and he enabled my drug use. I decided it would be best for the family for us to part ways.”

I was relieved to hear that, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing I approved of her decision.  

“That’s good,” Chantal responded. “I think it’ll be good for you to be out of that relationship.”

“I do, too, baby. I promise I’m going to do everything I can to make up for what I did. Maybe you two could come live with me whenever these supervised visits are over. I’m getting an apartment.”

This time, Chantal stayed as silent as me. Neither of us were interested in living with Mom again. 

“But we can work all that out later. For now, I’m just glad I get to see you.”

“Me, too, Mom.” Chantal replied. I said nothing.

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[honeyjars-sims]

Entry #15: The Price of Perfectionism

As the first few weeks in my new home passed, I didn’t feel much more secure. I was opening up a bit more, but I still had my guard up around my new family members.

David and Solomon decided it would be best for us kids to start individual therapy. It was a good idea on their part, but unfortunately it didn’t make much of a difference in my life (at least not for a while). As much as I needed it, I refused to participate in therapy. I sat in silence while the therapist attempted to lure me out of my shell to no avail. 

Chantal was faring much better with her own therapy. It was clear she was putting in the work. In all of the chaos surrounding me, Chantal tended to get lost; but she had trauma, too. 

Hers manifested differently than mine. While I was trying to be the worst version of myself, Chantal was trying to be the best. She helped around the house without being asked, excelled at school, and had a positive attitude. 

It was a hard facade to keep up, however, and I remember the moment when it cracked. Chantal was doing the dishes when she accidentally dropped one. 

It fell to the floor and busted into hundreds of little pieces. Chantal fell to pieces as well, sobbing and apologizing profusely.

Our dads weren’t mad at all, but that didn’t seem to reassure Chantal.

“I’m so clumsy! I shouldn’t have dropped that plate. I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“It’s okay, it’s just a plate,” David told her. “We have more.”

“I can’t believe I was so careless! I promise I won’t do it again! I promise!”

David did his best to console her, and she eventually calmed down. It would take more than a few therapy sessions for her to work through her perfectionism, though. 

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[honeyjars-sims]

Entry #14: The Outsider

My new parents weren’t really sure what to do with me. Cece was the perfect kid; she did well in school, obeyed her parents, and never talked back. They’d never really had to discipline her much, so they were out of sorts when it came to deciding what to do with me.

I didn’t exactly make things easy. If they tried to punish me, I would just leave the house, which mostly worried them. They didn’t know what I was getting up to out there, which was a fair concern. 

Adding to their difficulties was my genuine lack of emotional control. Outside of my deliberate attempts to be a pain in the ass, I would have random meltdowns that were out of my control. It could be anger or sadness, sometimes a mixture of both. One minute I’d be fine, the next I’d be screaming and crying over the slightest inconvenience with no way to stop.

My family was basically walking on eggshells around me, trying not to set me off. David and Solomon ended up letting a lot of things slide that they probably wouldn’t have.

This angered Cece. 

“Why does he get to act however he wants without any consequences?” She asked.

“There are consequences, but sometimes we have to put safety first,” Solomon explained.

“It’s not fair! If I acted like that, I would be punished for it.”

“You don’t act like that, though. You haven’t been through what he’s been through.” 

The sad thing was, my parents didn’t even know everything I’d been through. Even in all of the court stuff, I was never completely truthful about everything that went on in my mother’s house, such as the physical abuse. I figured Mom and Jimmy were being punished anyway, so why bring it up? 

As resentful as she was of me, I was resentful of Cece as well. It didn’t escape me that if Solomon had known about me and Chantal then we probably would’ve lived with him sooner. Cece got to live the life that should’ve been mine–one free of abuse, neglect, and poverty–and all she could do was complain about me getting “special treatment.”

It’s safe to say that the two of us didn’t get along.

She and Chantal on the other hand were close from the start. In fact, everyone else in the family got along with the exception of me (which was mostly my own doing, to be fair). Even in a different environment, I was still left feeling like the outsider.

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[honeyjars-sims]

Entry #13: The Worst Version of Me

You might think I was thrilled to be out of my mom’s house and away from Jimmy, but you’d be wrong. It’s not that I missed being there, but I was still unsure about David and Solomon.

While Chantal was happy to call them Pops and Dad, I continued calling them by their first names. They were essentially strangers to me, and it felt off to refer to them as my parents. 

Cece seemed well-adjusted, but that didn’t mean I would get the same treatment. After years of being treated worse than my siblings, a part of me wondered if I was to blame. Maybe if I’d done better in school or was well-behaved then I wouldn’t have been disciplined as harshly.

Deep down, I knew that wasn’t true. I wasn’t a bad kid, and the punishments given to me were things that no child deserved to go through. But if I did everything right and still got treated that way, where did that leave me? I felt helpless. 

There was only one way I could think of to find out exactly what type of people David and Solomon were. I would have to be the absolute worst version of myself. If I did that and they still treated me well, then I’d know for sure that they were safe to be around. It made perfect sense to 14-year-old me, so that’s what I did. 

It wasn’t that much of a stretch since I’d been acting out at my mom’s house for a while. I continued sneaking out, skipping school, smoking, and generally being difficult. Everything my dads asked of me became a battle.

“Did you do the dishes?” Solomon asked one night.

“No, you do them.”

“That’s not how it works. We cooked and you ate the food, so you should help with cleaning the dishes,” David chimed in.

“Get one of the girls to do it. That’s their job anyway.”

“That might be what you learned at your mother’s house, but things don’t work like that here. Everyone contributes.”

I felt bad; after all, I didn’t really believe the stuff I was saying, I was just trying to be combative. Regardless of my guilt, though, I had to soldier on. It was the only way I could get the answers I needed.

“Whatever.” I headed off towards the front door.

“Johnny, get back here! We’re not done talking to you,” Solomon called.

“Fuck off,” I said as I opened the door. 

“If you leave, you’re going to be in big trouble,” David told me. 

I kept walking.

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[honeyjars-sims]

Entry #10: A Surprising Revelation

After my argument with Mom and Jimmy, I left for my sister Destiny’s house. 

“Can’t I just live here?” I asked her. I hadn’t told her the whole truth, just that Jimmy and I didn’t get along. 

“I would love to have you here, but it’s just not possible,” she explained. “If I were to take you in, I’d need another bedroom.”

“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”

“That’s fine for a night or two, but if I’m your legal guardian then there are obligations. You’d have to have your own bedroom, and we’d have to have the income to take care of you.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“I’m sorry, Johnny, but it just can’t happen. With me being in school, Tyler and I are barely making it on his paycheck.” 

Destiny let me sleep on her couch for the night, but I understood that was all she could manage at the moment.

I also tried reaching out to my grandma Ginny a few times, but Mom and my aunt convinced her to move into a retirement home after she had a fall at home while she was alone. She was okay, but it could have been worse. I was devastated knowing that she would no longer have a place for me to stay, but her move to the retirement home ended up being what saved my life.

Not long after I returned home from Destiny’s, someone knocked on my door. It was a social worker, and she explained that there was a court order in place for a DNA test for Chantal and I. 

“For what?” Mom questioned.

“Well, someone is claiming that he’s the biological father of the children,” the social worker explained.

“That’s impossible!” Mom insisted. “Their father doesn’t even–he’s not involved. Who is asking for the DNA test?”

“Solomon Owens-Haim,” the social worker replied.

As soon as the name “Solomon” left her mouth, I saw the color drain from my mother’s face. I knew then that the man requesting the test was in fact my father. 

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[honeyjars-sims]

Entry #8: (Un)Happy Birthday

I still remember my 14th birthday like it was yesterday. It was the first birthday, but unfortunately not the last, that my mother would forget.

Chantal and I had arrived home from school that day to an empty house. 

“Where do you think they are?” Chantal asked me.

“They probably forgot about us.”

“No way. They’re probably getting some last minute gifts or planning a surprise.”

“Do you really think that? Mom barely pays any attention to us these days.”

“Yeah, I do. You’ll see.”

We waited and waited, but there was no sign of the rest of our family. It was an unignorable sign of what was to come in our 14th year.  

When she finally got home, we tried to talk to mom about how hurtful it was that she missed our birthday. She waved it off. 

“I’ll get you two some gift cards,” she’d told us. She didn’t understand that we didn’t want gifts; we wanted her time. At this point, she was barely recognizable from who she was a few short months ago. She was lost in a haze of drugs and the stronghold Jimmy had on her.

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