Growing Up is Hard to Do

My friends have always been more important to me than my family.

When I was growing up, I had my mom and dad. We lived in North Carolina in a large two-story house in the country. I remember the layout of the house well; more importantly, I remember having a happy childhood. Of course, there were fights between my parents. I them getting very heated at times. My dad was a very violent person despite the fact that he loved my mom and I. Growing up, it was hard to find my dad without alcohol in his blood stream; it was hard to find my mother smiling. Despite their many differences, my mom and dad had one universal bond in common – they loved me with everything they were.

When I was growing up, I never had many friends. It wasn’t until I was in kindergarten until I made my first best friend. His name was Sean, and he lived in St. Augustine, Florida. Sean had a big family of four other brothers. His mom and dad happily adopted me into their family after many school days and weekends. You might say that kindergarten is pretty early to make a best friend. Keep in mind that this best friend was the only friend I had – and the only friend I had for a long time.

It was those years in St. Augustine when I spent more time outside than I ever had in my life. I learned how to climb trees, build sandcastles, and create happiness for myself. During those years, my parents weren’t together. My dad lived in Jacksonville and I lived with my mom, her boyfriend at the time, and my brother Ben. This was another time in my life when I didn’t understand family values. My mother worked all the time. My mom’s boyfriend hated children. My brother wasn’t always the nicest person to me. Throughout it all, Sean and his family happily accepted me into their lives whenever I needed them.

Could you blame me for loving my friends more than my family? I almost feel compelled to ask: could you blame me for having a family with my friends instead of a family with my relatives? This was the truth of my life at the time. I loved Sean and his family. They were the ones there for me. They were my brothers, my mothers, and fathers. They were the family I had constructed in my mind to appease the absence of the family I was originally signed up with.

I had been away from my dad for a while. I didn’t know what divorce was. I didn’t know what separation was, or custody, or hatred. These were elements of a foreign thought. I had known friendship and love ever since I could remember. I knew of unconditional acceptance and holding hands and smiling and looking into someone’s eyes with tears of joy. Again, these were fairly new concepts to me. I felt so good with this new dogma that I had forgotten the fights of past between my parents. I had reestablished a constant inner monologue of happiness.

I remember my mom telling me that my dad was coming to visit me. I remember the day vividly. I was dressed from head to toe in black – a sight not uncommon in my earlier years. He was on the boardwalk of the apartment complex that we were staying at. I don’t remember saying much, but I remember feeling comfortable around him. I don’t remember being scared, but I remember feeling that he had never left. Like he had went to the store and come back, I acted as if it weren’t a big deal to see him again.

But maybe it wasn’t a big deal to see him again. I had not known love with him in my life. The only loving icons I knew of were my mother and Sean and his family. It was these early years in my life when I never quite developed love for my father.

Visitation with my father was a rollercoaster. Some months I’d see him a few times, and other times I wouldn’t see him for a few months. I didn’t really develop a sense of schedule. He was never a reliable person. I hating hearing from my mother that my father had yet again cancelled plans for no good reason. This, coupled with the constant moves and changes, I developed a hatred early on in my life for unreliability and disappointment – two things of which I’d have to later become accustomed to.

I was tested for gifted a few times over my first, second, and third grade years. To me, this meant that I had to sit in a room with a stranger, talk to him or her about myself, and answer questions that I didn’t quite understand. I wasn’t accepted into the program until my father and mother became actively involved. They had me tested by a Jane M. Parr, a St. Augustine psychologist. The report detailed how I “appeared to become restless and rather bored,” and that I “showed particular strength in visual organization, spatial perception, and attention to detail.” My lowest performance score was, “in a test of psychomotor speed and eye-hand coordination, but this score was still well above average.” This evaluation landed me into the gifted program in third grade.

I was eight years and four months old. I switched into the gifted program, out of the mainstream program, into another school, and out of my comfort zone. I had to leave my best friend Sean behind. I completed my third grade year in gifted classes as the lowest ranking student in my gifted classes. I didn’t make any friends that year.

When we moved to Palm Coast, I was going into my fourth grade year. There, I met Danny Clifton, Joe Drewes, and Brittany Wall. I became fairly good friends with Danny Clifton, but nothing felt the same to me. Danny was in fifth grade while I was in fourth grade, but we were in the same class because gifted classes were often mixed. This meant that Danny graduated to sixth grade when I was in fifth grade. Again, change so quickly forced me to reestablish my definition of friends. I had never experienced so much change in my life. My communication with Danny did not continue when he graduated to sixth grade.

In fifth grade, I met Harrison Bray, Alex Walsh, Stacey Gunberg, Jason Beams, Niki Tilton, Elizabeth Ruggieri, Noah Marks, Kenny DiFiore, and Michael Miller. These people would become key players in my life throughout my fifth through eight grade school years.

These years melded together so much, I have a hard time remembering which years each event happened. I can, however, remember the most important events each year. Thanks to Niki, I’ve never forgotten my fifth grade craziness – standing in the back of the room trying to fill up a cup with water that had holes in the bottom while the substitute teacher stood there asking me what I was doing.

“I’m trying to fill this cup up.”

The water poured right through the cup.

In sixth grade, we took a school trip to the Florida Keys over spring break. One night, I decided to climb the back of a random camper and hop up and down on the ladder. When I heard the front door to the camper open, I jumped off and started running at the same time, so when my feet his the ground, I’d already be moving fast enough to get away from whoever would emerge from the doors.

Middle school laid the groundwork for high school – which redefined my life completely. I met amazing people throughout my middle and high school years. Stephen Mayhugh, Tyler Teachworth, Rachel Kindergan, Katie McDuff, Patrice Majewski, Jordan Baylor, Bianca Webb, Jamie Lowe, Matthew MacDermid, Jill Vanderoef, Judy Vanderoef, Paisley Majewski and Amanda Westerhouse. There are, of course, many others that I met throughout those years. Most of them, however, do not keep in regular contact with me.

It wasn’t until the end of my high school career when my brother Ben and I started developing a real relationship. He can become a little overbearing at times, but I do care about him now. During all these years in my life, my mom and dad were on and off with each other, but loving me every step of the way. I will never be able to tell them how much I appreciate them sacrificing their own happiness to try and create a family for me.

But, I never had a real family. Instead, my mother and father became two great friends. I had fights with them occasionally, but they never acted as disciplinarians or parents. I was spoiled throughout most of my childhood and up through middle school. During the first few years of high school, I became less materialistic and more dependent on others to satisfy my cravings for entertainment. My friends became my possessions. I collected as many interesting people as I could as a means to keep me happy. Some stayed, many left. Since middle school, I’ve always had at least one friend. Since high school, I’ve always had a few friends there for me. I was often jealous of my friends when they say they can’t come over because they have “family time” they have to spend with their mom and dad and brothers and sisters. I sometimes wished that I had family time. I got upset when families are at each other’s throats, thinking to myself, “at least they have a family to get mad at.” It’s natural to fight with those you love – it’s how you grow and learn and love again. I guess what I feel the most is envy that people can have families and friends, when I know nothing of the former.

Today, I turned nineteen years old. Over the past nineteen years, I’ve had a wonderful time with everyone that’s come into my life. I’m in college now and trying to understand what it really means to grow up. My father and his family keep in regular contact with me now on the phone. My mother met me today for lunch and also keeps in regular contact through e-mail and phone. Rachel calls me every single day and sent me a wonderful gift which I received today. Amanda and I meet up with each other over the phone as often as we can and gave me a wonderful gift. Jamie and I talk online all the time. Judy meets up with me in Orlando and calls occasionally to catch me up to the latest events. Kenny helps me with my math homework and talks to me online. Jill talks to me when she can break herself away from her overbusy schedule. Patrice calls me occasionally in hopes that I can break myself away from my overbusy schedule. Tyler text messages me and calls when he finds the time. Bianca and I pick up our conversations like we never get off the phone with each other. My cousin Lindsay has recently started contacting me and sharing with me her own life – she’s a great person. Katie calls me sometimes to share a laugh or two or to meet up with me. Paisley and I contact each other whenever we see something hilarious and worthy of telling each other. Kim and Kyle (whom I knew in high school, but only recently became better friends with) keep me sane at college as much as they can. My brother called me today to wish me a happy birthday.

My family hasn’t always been there for me because it’s never really existed. but I guess I can't be totally unfair -- my friends haven't always been there for me, either. I tend to output way more than I receive. However, the combination of what little family I have coupled with the awesome friends that I have combine to create a loving expansive group of people that redefine traditional friends. Thank you to everyone who I’ve listed, and everyone else who I haven’t who has cared about me during my life. You are the reason I am. I thank you, and I love you all.