Chapter 1 - In The Beginning
Chapter 1 - In the Beginning
They say you never know what you have till it is gone. That could be a positive thing or a negative. Sometimes we let things go to learn to grow without them, and sometimes we let them go so they can learn to grow without us. We have moments in life where we learn to live without people who have made moments in our lives that we thought we could never live without. Love or the thought of love. A conception of hope. I never had that I dreamt of the day it may happen for me. It has been a long life so far and I am only twenty-five. Where I come from is a small back woods town that may have ninety kids in each grade of the school. Everyone knows everyone else’s business and they love to make sure everyone has heard all of the stories. So, when you are surrounded by people who know everything about you, and they do nothing to help you it makes you wonder where the small wholesome towns are? Decent, moral people, who are trustworthy, they are out there somewhere right? I have three jobs to support myself in this small town where there is no major commerce. Which means I survive of being a bartender at two different bars and helping at the local coffee shop. Seven years I have worked in these jobs where there is no room for advancement, no steppingstone or training to move me further in life. Why am I still here you wonder, where else can I go moving cost money, rent at the more populated areas cost more money and I have no good qualifications to get me a better job. I lost my opportunity at college back in high school. My family was never able to afford anything. The local secondhand stores supplied everything I had clothes, shoes, bookbags there was no limit to the recycling. I was always good at art it was my favorite subject even though they called it an elective. As far as I was concerned it was the main class to focus on. I thought it would take me everywhere in life everywhere away from here. I would get to travel and see the world painting or sketching. I look back and think how naive I was. Artists are starving just like I am right now. I did not have to leave to know that my paintings and drawings will never make me money. I did not know that then though, so my dreams were big. I wanted to leave so bad life in this small town with my family was hard. I was the outcast of the family, the black sheep that no one acknowledge at family gatherings. No one invited me to parties or asked me to hang out. I would love to tell you I do not have any idea why I was treated like this, but I knew then, and I know now.
My side of the story that was never heard is a much darker story then the one the town knows. My story started when I was much younger though. My parents divorced when I was five because they were violently fighting constantly. I do not remember a moment that they actually got along. Why they got married and decided to have children was never found out. That still remains a mystery because there was no love there. He was an alcoholic who like to sneak drugs into the house when I was really little. He would beat on her and smash things. The memories recall suddenly sometimes, and it makes my knees weak remembering violence against myself at such a young age. Being body slammed for just being in the way or smacked for speaking to loudly. You learn to adjust to the world around you to survive. She was not any better, but the hurt is much worse. A narcissistic person places high value on themselves. They feel entitled to everything. The lack of empathy and focus on power, beauty and success sucks the life out of everyone around them. I came to believe I was unlovable, ugly and fat. Unfortunately, negative words take root and grow. While positive words are like leaves in the breeze they come and immediately go. I think this is the recipe that led me to where I am. Eventually I began to act out seeking some form of attention. Neglected and alone in the world. The beginning of a story like mine is always a traumatic one. I cannot prepare you for how this story will unfold. So here we are...
My name is Lyla and this is my story.
Pieces of me are spread throughout my twenty-five years of life. I have lost them and came to understand I needed to let them go. Most people lose loved ones, or friends. In Pennsylvania in a little rural town in-between two not very tall mountains is the place I grew-up. It was what everyone looks for in a small town. Low cost of living, close familiar community, and cookie cutter houses. They never tell you that in a town so small where everyone knows your name, they also know everything about you. Every success and failure repeated and told over and over again. Stories in small towns remain almost correctly accurate when someone is embarrassed or shamed. When reality is darker than the story a lie is created to cover it up. I was not an only child, but I was not the favorite. I was made aware I would never be as good as my sibling from a very young age. You see I looked like the ex-husband; ex-father and I my heart knew nothing but to love and care for everyone no matter their faults. Breaking someone so pure must have seemed like a challenge. She was older than me and I was the baby by four years. That was just enough time for us not to be in the same school at the same time. So, she would be leaving elementary school when I was entering it. I did not know the extent of hatred until it was too late. There may have been signs, but I was a child. It started as small comments like oh you only got a B. It was not only family that forced me to the sidelines it was almost like the town rallied around not including me. I felt like I was watching everyone's life move on and I was stuck as the same black sheep alone in the field.
