I am the product of an interracial marriage. My father is Mexican-American and my mother is White. My mother and I have never had a great relationship. Actually, we didn't even have a good relationship. There were problems from the very beginning. I was always the family favorite and my mother was jealous of my close relationship with my father and all of his family. When my parents divorced I was 9 or 10. It wasn't the actual divorce that hurt me, I knew my dad was unhappy, so I welcomed the divorce because I was tired of all of the fighting and unhappiness. My mom wanted custody and promised my dad and I that we could see each other whenever we wanted. She promised that we were always going to stay in the same town so we wouldn't be separated and could see each other on a daily basis. I was never close to my mother, but I figured I could live with her as long as my dad was only a short bike ride away.
Things were all good until Jeff arrived into our lives. I told myself that I was not going to be the typical, disrespectful, bratty product of divorce, and I was going to give this guy a chance. This lasted a whole week. Jeff was a very prejudiced, close-minded person. He didn't like anyone who was not white and especially if they didn't see things the exact way he did. Not a day went by that I didn't hear some sort of Mexican's-are-worthless comment out of his mouth. I tried to confront my mother about this, but she told me to lighten up and learn to take a joke. The "jokes" turned to yelling, and the yelling turned to beatings. One day, out of the blue, my mom decided that she was in love with Jeff and was going to move in with him as soon as school was over in a couple of months. That was the first day that I felt like I wanted to die.
In May, when school was out for the summer, we moved. Jeff lived out in the middle of no where about 8 miles from town and about 20 miles from my dad. I had never been in the country before, and now all of a sudden, I found myself living there. I went into a state of total depression, which lasted about two years. I was happy every once in a while when I visited my dad, but I was depressed most of the time. This went on until the very beginning of my sophomore year. I was in pompoms, and Homecoming was right around the corner, things were looking a little better for me. I had learned to ignore my mom and Jeff, who were married by this time, and focus on my own life.
At the end of September midterm grades came out. I had one C in Math and the rest of my grades were A's and B's. That C turned out to be the end of the rope for my mom, so Saturday night punishment was rendered. Everything that was important to me was to be packed up and put in my mom's room for the rest of the semester. All of my books, magazines, stereo, video games, even my alarm clock because it had a radio were taken. I was to go to school on the bus, return on the bus, and go immediately to my room. No extra-curricular activities, no TV, no phone.
After packing all of my things, my mom went to work. I was in my room lying on my bed. I thought about nothing, yet I thought about everything. So many things were racing through my head, but I couldn't pinpoint any one idea. I got up to get a glass of water and on my way back I stopped in the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of sleeping pills. I was too upset to go to sleep so I took one pill. I got up again and went outside on my balcony and wished on a star for the first time in years. I wished things would get better, but the more I thought about things, the more I knew I was in a hopeless situation. I turned around, sat down and took 4 or 5 big handfuls of pills. I laid down and waited to die.
I always thought that dying would be a lot easier. My stomach burned and I couldn't sleep. So I just waited. After about 15 minutes I started thinking about my friend's, family, and all the people I cared about. What would they do when I died? That's what initially made me scared. I got out of bed, stumbled down the hall and fell down the stairs. Jeff came out to find out what was going on. I started crying and told him that I took a bunch of pills and needed a doctor. He didn't believe me and told me to go back to my room. My brother called 9-1-1 and I was taken to the hospital by ambulance. Jeff called my mom and told her what happened. When she got to the hospital, the first words out of her mouth were "Why do you do this stuff to me? I have friends that work here and now I have to explain to them why my daughter is a psycho." She never did ask if I was okay, and she didn't even stay with me. She left.
The stay at the hospital was a very traumatic experience for me. I felt totally alone. Some of the nurses were very rude and insensitive to me. During one test I started crying and the nurse made a comment "Well, if you hadn't done this, we would not be here doing this test right now." At times I felt more like a criminal than a patient. The next day a counselor came in to talk to me. She was very kind and understanding. She told my mom and me that I needed individual and family counseling, even some medication might be needed. I was up for anything, but my mom on the other hand wouldn't have any of that. She said she wasn't spending any of her hard-earned money on therapy or medicine. I went home on Sunday and slept. Eight months after that happened, my mother kicked me out of the house and I went to live with my father.
Things are getting a little better as time goes by. I handle things on my own and deal with my problems in my own way. I never have been to therapy or put on any medication. My dad is in denial about my attempted suicide, so therapy is out of the question. I am graduating from high school early, and I am getting ready to go to college in 3 months.
Now I know that I'm not alone as I once thought I was. I have great friends and a wonderful support system. My dad's side of the family loves and supports me a great deal. I have no contact with my mother. No matter what happens, I know my dad and the rest of the family will always be there, and that is really all I need.
Anonymous
Rock Falls, IL