Contrary to what the title says, I haven’t quite figured “it” out yet. I still struggle to get through each and every day. Of course, you don’t know my story so here is a quick rundown.

I am a twenty-two (almost twenty-three) year old college student at my local community college. I grew up with a mom, dad, and younger brother. My parents separated and then divorced not long afterwards. This was when I was sixteen. My dad then moved his girlfriend into his apartment during spring break maybe a few months after my parents had separated. After my grandma(dad’s mom) died a year later, my dad and his girlfriend bought a house together. All during this time, I was not getting along with my mom very well. So, when I got the chance I moved in with my dad, his girlfriend, and her two daughters.

After a year, dad and his girlfriend got married. It wasn’t to last though. They divorced before they even were married two years. My stepmom back then, let’s call her Jamie, was horrible. She is exactly what I think of when I think of the phrase “evil stepmother”. I don’t know how I even got through that time in my life. She was a master manipulator. She knew just how to prey on my insecurities and how to squash any self-worth I had for myself down so that I couldn’t ever find it. She made me think that she loved me. She made me feel like her daughter, at least until she started treating me like an enemy. Her oldest daughter was just like her mom too, same manipulative streak in her. I don’t think I will ever truly know if they ever cared for me at all.

In that house, I was the bad guy too many times to count. If the girls did something wrong, I got blamed. If the chores didn’t get done because the oldest daughter wouldn’t do her part, I usually got blamed. I lived in fear after I turned eighteen that one day I would drive up to the house and all my stuff would be sitting in the yard. No matter how many times I tried to do the right thing, whether I was protecting one of the girls from getting in trouble with the parents or just trying to be myself, I felt like I always got the short end of the stick. That is how I have felt most of my life.

Where was my dad through all of this, might you ask? He was there. You know how someone can be there but not be there emotionally? That is the best way I can depict it. I want to get something straight though. He never knowingly did anything that would hurt me, I don’t believe that for a second. He just basically had wool covering his eyes, so to speak. He was blinded by her influence. But, that doesn’t change anything that happened.

It has taken me years to get to the point where I can sit here and write all of this out. I felt so voiceless, so invisible. I walked on eggshells around them, worried that they would hurt me. I don’t know that I will ever be totally okay, no matter how many years go by. There are too many “what ifs” that would swirl around in my head if I let them. Sometimes, I don’t even know how I made it through all those turbulent years.

“Jamie” tore down all the good in my life, and yet I still wonder about her. I wonder how the girls are. I wonder if they even have given me a second thought, or if I was just a pawn all along.

It was not long after they divorced that I finally saw who they really were. It was then that I cut ties with them all. I haven’t talked to any of them in about two and a half years. I am so glad I did it when I had the chance.

My dad is now married to an amazing woman who I love, and I know she loves me. I have two stepsisters I adore( both are older, which is kinda nice) and I also am an aunt(technically, step-aunt but whatever). I now have an amazing relationship with my mom and am closer to my brother than before. If I hadn’t dealt with all I did, I would not have the amazing family I do now.