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Why Do These Things Have To Happen?: Megan Christine's Story (Part One) by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Rated "PG" by the Author.
A young teenaged girl copes with many big changes in her life.
I don't understand life at times. I especially don't understand my life and why it has to be so awful at times.
This is Megan. Megan Christine Kittridge is my name, and I am 14 years old. I live in a brownstone with my mother, my two sisters Wren Danee' (11) and Darlyn Patricia (13), and my three brothers Samuel Henry (8), Georgie Patrick (6), and the baby, Ethan Thomas, who is four. (He isn't ACTUALLY a BABY, but he IS the youngest; so we call him "The Baby".) I am the oldest kid in my family. We live in Baltimore, Maryland.
Baltimore is okay, at least the area where I live isn't too bad, but there are parts that are downright dangerous; and I wouldn't be caught DEAD down there! All too often on the local news all we hear about is another killing, another stabbing, another shooting, or another drug bust. Or you hear of another robbery or assault, and I tell you, life is getting scary, especially with all these danged terror attacks that are happening! Or you hear of bombs blowing up buildings or yet more Americans being killed; and it is a scary time nowadays!
My life is bad at times because my mom and my dad split up when I was little, and it was a very painful time for me. All they seemed to do was fight, and I can remember even now of their screaming obscenities at one another, and I can remember lying in bed, crying, and praying and hoping to God that they wouldn't kill one another. When dad left, it was all I could do to keep from crying because I was really close to my dad, and when he and mom started fighting, it was horrible! When they split, and told us older kids that they were getting a divorce, I threatened to run away, but I never did. I just kept hoping that they would resolve their differences; but they never did, and when dad moved out for good, it was a very dark day, indeed, for me and my family. (This was before Wren, Ethan, and Georgie came along; they really never knew what happened; all they know is that dad doesn't come by much except for on holidays, and all they know is that dad doesn't live with us.)
School is also very hard, and it only complicates things. See, I am learning-disabled, and I am in Special-Needs class; and I am in there because I have dyslexia. Dyslexia means that I have problems reading because for some weird reason, my brain sees numbers or certain letters backwards or in the wrong places; and this causes me to have problems reading. I hate it because the other kids call me horrible names like "Retard" or "Stupid", and it is embarrassing when I have to get up in front of a class and attempt to read to them because all they do is laugh; and it causes me much pain and humiliation.
I am also not very pretty: I am tall for my age (5'7" and still growing!), but I am chunky, and I have short, wiry brown hair that is wavy, and I wear thick, Coke-bottle-lensed glasses, and I also have a big nose; and kids tease me how I look. I am not very popular, and more than once I have been called a "Geek" or a "Nerd" (and of course, "Retardo", "Retard", "Special-Needs", "Stupid", or "Dummy"), and there have been times where I have gotten so sick I ended up puking in front of everyone because of my nerves from all the stress that I have to face at school (and also at home).
Home is better than school, but it isn't great. Besides not having my dad in my life, I have to put up with fighting or screaming kids, and I also have to take care of my mom. My mom isn't well; she has mental illness, and sometimes she goes off in her own little world; and she sometimes ends up in the hospital. She has tried to kill herself several times, and I often have had to act as both sister and mother to my brothers and sisters. On top of my homework, I have to take care of the kids, and I have to cook, clean, iron, and do stuff after them, and by the time I get to bed, I am so tired and so exhausted it is a wonder I don't fall over half the time. I don't know how I keep on going at the breakneck pace I am, but one of these days I am going to snap, or it is all going to catch up to me, and I am going to end up in the hospital with an emotional breakdown!
Another thing I have had to put up with was the death of my closest friend, Minka Dowringer. She was my best friend since elementary school, and last month, she was walking on her way home from the store (she had gone to the store to get some stuff for her mother; it was a regular thing for her to do this), and as she was walking home, a guy who was drunk hit her with his car at a high rate of speed, and he ended up killing her. When I heard the awful news, I couldn't believe it, and I was hoping it was all a horrible and awful dream that I would wake up from; but when I found out that it was NOT a dream, but it ACTUALLY happened, I tell you, my world came crashing down, and now, a month later, it still feels like I am wading through butter as I struggle to accept her death and try to go on without her. I don't know why this jerk who should have KNOWN better by NOT being on the road when he was so drunk hit my friend and ended up killing her, but he did, and now my life as I once knew it is over, and I will never see my precious best friend EVER again. Minka was more than a friend: she was like a sister to me, and she and I could talk about ANYTHING and EVERYTHING. She was originally from Russia, and she had bene adopted by her parents when she was a small girl; and sometimes, when I would go over to her house, she would show me pictures of Russian scenes and tell me, "That is the land where I was born". She would then teach me basic Russian phrases (and laugh at my poor attempts to repeat them), and she would try to teach me how to play the ballalaika (sort of like a Russian-style guitar or mandolin). She could play the ballalaika, and she could play it very well. She also loved ballet, and she was taking ballet lessons, and she was also very good at this, and I remember seeing her dancing in the annual produciton of "The Nutcracker". She was always chosen to play Clara because she was so good at her dancing, and dancing was something that Minka truly enjoyed and lived her life to do. She wanted to be a professional ballerina when she got older and dance with the best in the business.
Now, Minka was gone, and I still find myself trying to cope with her death, and trying to go on without her. My life since Minka's unexpected death (and the problems in my OWN life with my mother and school and all that crap) has gone straight to Hell, and I am NOT liking my life right now. If there was anything I could do to stop all this hurt or pain that I have been going through, believe me I would, but it seems like that when I am starting to get back on my feet from the last crisis, something new always seems to come along, and I am then right back on the bottom, and I am having to fight like HELL to try to emerge from this latest situation in my life. I don't know if I can handle any more bad things in my life; bad things are only going to end up killing me.
(~To be continued.~)
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Reviewed by Tamara Dailey-Keur
3/19/2004
Moving write that is so full of saddness. Powerful...
Karen, very sad life story, but that's life and it's not meant to be permanent, so whatever happens to us in this life are only of temporary nature, we've to accept whatever comes our way, and learn from every experience.
Well-penned read, great writing style.
Safi
Those bad things do get to us after awhile, but this is when we should be stronger. Baltimore huh Karen, my town, oh it's kind of crazy but it's not all bad. Nice write. Love and peace G
heartbreaking write--what some children have to endure in their innocent years. :( powerfully described, emotive, well written piece. i look forward to reading more of megan's story.
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