Intruder.
By: Taylor Merrell
Tags: Pain, Growth, Love, Sadness, Stepchild

I’m so tired of this being my normal. Everyday I wake up in the same situation and I don’t know how to begin to change it. I don't have enough money to be on my own. Some days I don’t think I will never have that. I think I was put on this planet to live in toxicity. Some days that thought engulfs my mind. I hate when it does that.

I am and always will be the step child. The step child no one wanted. The step child that is nothing but an intruder. The step child that no one bothers to actually get to know. At least when I am by myself, it feels authentic. I am authentic. I try to remind myself that I am not my step family. I think so differently than them. Some days this though gives me power and some days, it cripples me. Some days I wish I was as toxic as them because at least I would belong. Maybe. No guarantee though. I rent a room from one of these toxic family members and her kids. I hide in my room just in case anyone is in a “mood” which is more often times than not. Constantly I hear them talking shit on other people. It gives me racing thoughts on what they say about me when I’m not there. I bet they say they can’t wait for me to leave. But where would I go? I'm trapped here. I went downstairs today to find the tin I left on the counter with cookies in it shoved in the cabinet where I have two shelves to myself. I left the cookies out to share with everyone thinking that they would see it as a kind gesture but instead they were put back where I belong. I belong in the cabinet with the only two shelves to my name. That's my worth. I don't belong in the common area with everyone else. Out of sight, out of their family. I know it should like I am overeating. “Taylor, just put your stuff away and don’t worry about them” Sure, that's easy but It’s like I keep throwing my kindness at a wall hoping one day it will stick. it never does.

I wish I had parents. I always get so jealous when people complain about their mom and how she's calling AGAIN. Fuck I wish my mom called me. My parent situation is a strange one. My real mom died when I was 5. So after that my dad married this dragon lady who immediately became my step mom. My only real family was my dad. He was so wonderful to me. The only one that truly understood me. Meanwhile, I was introduced to me into this toxic step family. Sounded good at first. I had it all for a moment. Parents, grandparents, cousins, the whole shebang. But no. I had to keep quiet and to myself while hanging out with the family because my step mom just back handed me in the parking lot and I had to clean up the bloody nose by myself. If I spoke about this to anyone, I would get another one so I just stayed quiet. I was constantly on the verge of tears. I always felt this tightness in my throat like I was going to cry. I needed help. My step mom did this on a regular basis. She wanted pure control. Over everything. Any sort of push back I gave.. I either got a bloody nose or a brown belt with medal butterflies to the ass. She made me bleed so many times. A few times I got pulled to the side at school asking about my bruises which I always dodged and avoided any blame to my step mom. Until one day. I was in the third grade and my step mom and I had a huge fight. I tried standing up for myself when it came to getting out of bed at night and peeing on the carpet. I know this sounds crazy.. like why would a 8 year old kid do that? Well.. I would do that because I was terrified to go to the bathroom because if I flushed the toilet, and it woke her up, she would get out of bed and I would get yelled at. Peeing on the floor was easier. Quieter. No on would ever know. But she found out what I had been doing and.. it was a hard night. I went to school the next day with bruises all over my arm. I told Mr. Doyle when he asked me what happened. He made me feel safe. Safe enough to tell my story and what had been going on at home. CPS followed me out to my car that day and questioned my mom. The same day I go pulled out of school. Homeschool began and the abuse continued. Only this way, it could remain a secret. We moved around a lot and we rented a lot of rooms from strangers. I’ve lived with hoarders, note people, clean freaks and even meth addicts. All of them had the same thing in common. I felt like an intruder. Flash forward to today: I’m still renting a room and I’m still an intruder. My dad is dead and my step mom hasn’t spoken to me in 7 years. In my adulthood I have moved so many times. I even had a son. My son saved my life honestly. When I had him I decided to get married and start a family. 19 years old. I thought it would give me a foundation. Stability. Something I never had. He was asshole though. Slept with four of my friends. When I found out I had to leave him of course but I was only 21. I didn’t have a good enough paying job and I had to rent a room. Struggling working full time I was only able to see my son two days out of the week since I worked the other 5 and I couldn’t afford a baby sitter. Now, 6 years later it’s what my son has grown accustom to I don't want to make his life any more complicated. I have a better paying job but still not enough to get my own place.

I’m stuck here. How do I get out of it? I cant go to school because I’m too busy working and on my free time, I spend it with my son. The guilt I have is insurmountable. I always wonder if I will have this guilt forever. I wish my dad was here. He would understand. He’s the only one that would understand. Sometimes I even wish my step mom would talk to me. She hates me for ruining her life I think. Why do I even want to talk to her? Why would I want to even talk to my abuser? The only thing I can compare it to is Stockholm syndrome.