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"Separation Anxiety" by Emileigh Traft

I was only four when my Father left my Mum, Brother, and I. It seemed like I was the only one that even cared. It hurt me that my Dad didn't want to be around me anymore. My Brother was only two when it happened, so it didn't bother him. Even my Mum didn't mind it. She knew it was going to happen eventually and she could care less. She didn't even love my Dad. Nor did my Dad love her.

Though, I suppose I always knew something was wrong with my parents' marriage. They never showed any displays of affection like most Mums and Dads. They rarely kissed and Dad always talked funny late into the nights--what I later realized to be that he was drunk. Mum and Dad fought a lot. More often than not, I'd cry myself to sleep because of it. I was very sensitive as a child and the slightest thing could set me off. This was one of the main reasons that I was so easily targeted by bullies.

I don't really remember much from the day that my Dad left us, but I remember Mum and Dad saying goodbye as Dad picked up his suitcases and left. I didn't know where he was supposed to go, but just a few years later, I realized that he left for my future Stepmum.

In 2007, my life changed forever.

This was the year that my Dad and my Stepmum married. My Stepmum was nice, not like the Stepmums in fairytales and that. She had been married once before to a mean guy, but she still had two children with him. I, now, had two stepsiblings. The boy was twelve, at the time, and the girl was in her early twenties and already had kids of her own. I, soon enough, gained stepnieces and a stepnephew. They were nice, my Stepmums family was. They liked both me and my brother, but we loathed them. More specifically, we loathed our Stepmum.

The marriage caused me to go into depression and so, my mum put me into therapy. It wasn't something I could recall much of. I was just given a toy and asked a couple questions each session. Mum tells me that I used to cry after every session, but I don't remember it. She told me that the main that she put into therapy was because I told my Pre-School teacher that my Dad was dead when she asked me about Daddy-Daughter Day. It got so bad that I really blamed myself for everything, but I guess it was okay.

The marriage didn't mind my Brother too much. After all, he was only my half-brother and his dad was not mine. My Dad had always been his, however. My Brother's real Father didn't care about him and my Dad did and so, my Dad was his, no matter what the paternity test says.

The first time we met our Stepmum was right after she and Dad had gotten married and she was very nice, offering cookies and hugs, but I didn't like her. My Brother didn't mind her too much, but he wasn't fond of her. I hated her. I thought she was trying to replace my Mum and I wasn't going to let that happen, so I pretended to be nice, even though I hated her. She insisted that we call her Mum and I told that I didn't want to. She accepted, but I could tell that it hurt her feelings.

I was a spiteful and arrogant child and now I see that hating my Stepmum was very cruel of me. She was very nice woman and she still is. She's awesome and sweet and yeah, sometimes I want to yell at her, but I love her all the same. My Brother lives her now and so do I. She's helped me through quite a few problems and I thank her for that. The real eye opener for me is when Dad told me that she might not be around for much long and that broke my heart because even though I spent most of my life resenting her, I did love her more than I could put into words.

I still don't call her Mum. I still get mad at her, but I love her. It's been nine years since she and my Dad got married and not much has changed. A few dogs have come and gone, illness has made its rounds, and my Stepbrother is still a total bitch, but I'd that we're alright. I'm fifteen now and my brother is thirteen. I still see my Dad and my Stepmum every other week. I love them both, even if they drive me nuts a lot of the time. The divorce and the marriage really shaped me to be the woman that I am today. I have a lot more sympathy and I have thicker bones than I used to. I don't let anything or anyone get to me and in my perspective, that makes me a survivor. I may not have had a tough past, I may not have had a simple past, but everything that has happened to me has only shaped me to be the fighter that I am today and I thank my Mum, Dad, and Stepmum for making me the girl that I am today.