The case of the missing shoes

For about 3 months, we lived in a homeless shelter for battered women. This shelter was both warm, but frightening at the same time. Warm because of Hope. Hope was a volunteer at the shelter. She always was affectionate and had activities for all of the children. We felt safe with Hope. All of the women [who otherwise were very fearful which made the children fearful] felt safe with Hope.

The shelter was on a sketchy part of town. We could go across the street to the public park in the day time if our mother came with, but in order to come back in, you had to be buzzed in. I hated being buzzed in. There was something unsettling about not being able to let yourself into where you're living and being dependent on someone else to let us in. We were told we could never tell Dad where the shelter was which meant he could never pick us up. We had to wait for Mom to be ready to take us to him.

In August, my mom was going to enroll me and my brother in that city's schools instead of our small town's so that we could be with her more of the year. She said it was "to keep us safe." Something happened though: maybe my balked at the school change? All I know is that she changed her mind the day before registration. We moved to a new place in the beginning of August as well. Apartments in the downtown area. It was refreshing to have our own place. Our own beds. Our own clothes in our dressers instead of living out of suitcases. The Apartments were owned by the people who owned the women's shelter. The ladies would pay low-income rent off of alimony or jobs. The theater around the corner had a free movie night once a month for all of the residents.

The thing was that Mom didn't have alimony as the divorce wasn't finalized and she didn't have a job. So things were tight. We got food stamps and food from a local food pantry. We would use the food stamps for whatever we couldn't get at ECHO. My mom was so poor that we couldn't afford gas nor the bus. So that meant whenever we went groceries, we had to walk a mile to get there and then a mile back. That may not sound so bad. But remember on the way back.. we're carrying groceries. And groceries are heavy. I don't blame my mom for any of this. She did what she could and had to do to help us survive.

Well, one day [and I don't know why to this day] she got mad at me. Maybe I was mouthing off. I did have a tendency to speak my mind even as a teen. What I remember is after we were done grocery shopping my mom yelling at me:
"You have to repent!!!!"
"Repent of what?" I asked.
"REPENT!!!! Or you will face the wrath of God!"
"I don't know what I did, so how can I repent?"
"You're a lying bitch! Go down on your face."
I laid down on my face, and she took off my shoes and socks. Keep in mind. It's August. The peak of summer.
"Now you will walk back home!!!"
"Can I have my shoes back?"
"NO!!! Bitches like you don't need shoes!" she yelled as she threw my shoes in middle of the busy road. The cars honked at her, giving her dirty looks. "Now if you want your shoes, You can go get them because you MADE me throw them in the middle of the road."
I looked at my options. I could walk home in the heat of summer barefooted or I could get run over...

... yeah I walked home barefooted.

I got home. My feet were blistered and bleeding, but I was alive. I tended to the sores. I wore flip flops the rest of the summer because that's what I had.

I remember my dad asked at the beginning of the school year if I had outgrown my old tennis shoes

I didn't have the heart to tell him that they were probably squished in the road by some car.

The Runaway's

Whenever I think about how my mom left my dad, I can't help but think of this song:


My mom and dad had been arguing back and forth. It was a lot of yelling. I could hear mostly my mom from the other side of house. My little brother, who was 9 at the time, would come into my bed to sleep with me because he was so frightened by the yelling. We were both afraid. I would have nightmares of it turning into physical altercations. Laying the the bed, we bore our souls- our fears and nightmares.

I don't remember how [I think my brother told my mom], but my mom found out about our nightmares. She said they weren't nightmares- they were happening. I looked at her warily. At twelve I knew the difference between my dreams and reality. I had never seen Dad strike her. By time she found out about the nightmares, I had seen her try to strike him. Dad always reflected the attempts by brushing it aside.

Mostly the arguments would be over she thought Dad was trying to control her, and then he would reply that he wanted to make sure she was taking her meds. Other then that, Mom could do as she pleased. If she wanted to volunteer, she could, If she wanted to work, she could. If she wanted to stay home, she could. I was old enough to stay home for a few hours and keep an eye on my brother. That had always been the policy, and we would go to a friend's house for a few hours while Mom worked when I was younger. It was frustrating, Dad wasn't controlling, but yet at the same time I wanted to believe her. Because why would she lie to me?

.... so came the day...

She didn't steal us away in the dark of the night. That would have been too hard. One day after school Kyle and I came home to find suitcases packed.

"What is this?" I asked.
"We're leaving." my mom declared.
"On a trip?"
"No, I'm tired of your father's abusive behavior. We're leaving him."
"I'll leave a note..."
"No!" she screamed, "I don't want him to find us... He doesn't want to be a family anymore."

I dutifully helped pack up the car with the suitcases, not understanding. We ended up in a women's shelter in a nearby town. There were about half a dozen women there with their children. Most of the other women had bruises on them. The some of  the other children recoiled from strangers out of fear. I could smell the fear there. My mom called my grandfather to tell him what had happened.

Meanwhile, after work my dad came home as usual. I can only imagine what it was like for him to come home with no one there. No note which would have been strange. We usually left notes for everything, even if we were going to only be out for a bit. I'm sure fear gripped him. I do know that my grandfather called my father to tell him what happened. I think grandpa must of sensed something was off. The police came, and took away my mom. We met our grandparents at the police station, and they took us to my dad [there was a policy to not directly release kids to potential abusers.] Dad was overjoyed to have us back home. Mom was admitted again into a hospital. She hadn't been taking her medication in over 6 months. She decided to keep living at the women's shelter at first after she was discharged to sort things out. She would come and visit us frequently at home. Eventually she moved back in with the understanding that if she were to leave again, that was it.

Time passed. It appeared wounds healed. But 6 months after that, she decided she wanted to leave again. This time, I pleaded with her to leave a note because last time we left, it scared Dad. After some pressing, she agreed. So again, we packed up and went to another women's shelter. Mom was angry with the last one because she thought they had turned on her with the police. She refused to believe it could be her father that turned her in. We stayed at that women's shelter some time. It worked better than the last. It was still scary. We had to be buzzed in for safety. There was a lot of fear from the other women and children. My mom seemed to be happy, healing and stepping out on her own, which I was happy to see. Unfortunately, she didn't remain happy...

Sacrificial Offerings

After my mom had tried to take her life, my dad sent her to the best hospital he could. Unfortunately, that meant she was shipped out of state. Daddy missed her so. I would see him up at night pondering if he had done the right thing, sending her away from the family. But mommy was sick. Like any illness, she needed treatment from doctors.

We would drive hours to see her on long weekends. She would warmly embrace us when we came to see her. We would visit, play games, walk on the grounds. I can't remember how long she was there, but to my mind it seemed dreadfully long. I missed my mommy. I missed her baking with me, reading to me, and singing to me. She had a voice of an angel. If ever I was upset or just to talk to me, she would sing to me. It was our special language. She would teach me all kinds of things: math, science, grammar, and how to laugh all with song. Eventually the time came, mom got to come home. The doctors said she was well enough to come home.

It was a wonderful day. We left bright and early. We stayed overnight like usual, but instead of going back to the hospital the next day Daddy, Mommy, Kyle and I went to the zoo.  Kyle held onto to Mommy's and I onto Daddy's so that they could also hold hands. I don't remember so much the animals that we saw as much as the wonderful feeling of my family being together again. We were whole.

On the way back home, I rested my head on side of my chair. Kyle fell asleep in his car seat. Mommy and Daddy were talking, thinking that I was asleep.
"I'm glad you're coming home," Daddy said as he squeezed mommy's hand.
Mommy smiled painfully, "Yes, but I have to keep seeing a doctor."
"It's just a precaution. I don't want to see anything happen to you, Maggie."
"I know, Ron."
"That's why I asked to be given my own store to manage instead of traveling so much."
"What?!"
"I stepped down as regional manager. I want to be close to you, Maggie. The company agreed to make the manager of a new branch they are opening."
"But you love that job."
"It's just a job, Maggie. You and the kids mean more to me than my job. I want to be there for you. What if I had been away on business in Iowa when.... I can't do that. Not right now. Maybe down the road, I can again. Mr. Felzer was understanding and said if I ever change my mind that the job is mine. But right now, Maggie, this is what I feel needs to be done."

So Daddy went on. He stepped down from the regional manager. I would have never known if it had not been for me hearing their conversation. Daddy never brought it up. He was happy to be around.

Mommy started seeing a new doctor- Dr Miranda. She said that Mommy had something called Multiple Personalities Disorder, that's why her moods changed so fast. Sometimes she was really sad. Sometimes she'd get really mad. Sometimes she just couldn't stop doing stuff, and then you just got out of her way. If I didn't get out of her way, I'd end up getting smacked on the rear end which I figured I earned anyhow.

Eventually, we bought a new house in the next town over. By then, I was 8. I wasn't too happy with it. Leaving all of my best friends in my old town, neighborhood, and class for all new people. So Daddy & Mommy decided that perhaps my brother and I should see Dr Miranda too.

The day we saw her was the first day we had ever met her. She was frumpy and had short grey hair stacked on her head. She looked kind enough, but something seemed strange. She had my mom, brother, and I sit down. Mommy talked about how she when she acted different ways it was because other people were taking over.

"Do you ever feel that way, Lola? Like someone else is taking over?"
"No, not really."
"I do!" Kyle said excitedly, "and they are going to take over the world."
I rolled my eyes, "Kyle, I don't think that's what she means..."
"... no they take over. Do you have feelings?"
"Everyone has feelings. Of course."
"Name your feelings."
"Well, when I'm sad I'm might cry. Or when I'm happy I might smile or laugh..."
"No. I mean NAME your feelings. Give them names."
"You mean like people?"
"Yes."
"...."
"My mad guy is named Carl!" yelled Kyle.
Dr Miranda smiled.
"How about this... draw a picture of you feeling the feeling. What does the face look like?"
I drew a picture of me feeling sad, happy, angry, nervous...

Afterward, Dr Miranda called my dad in.
"I'm sorry Mr Dahl, but they all have Multiple Personality Disorder."
"LIAR!" I yelled running toward her. "I don't have no other people in me and you know it!"
"Lola. Settle down," my father said strictly, "What do you mean?"
"She asked us about our feelings and then told us to name them."
"You mean like sad, happy, mad? There's nothing wrong with that sweety."
"No, Daddy. She said to give them human names."
My dad narrowed his eyes at her, "Dr Miranda, you're fired." He stalked out angrily. I don't think I had ever seen him that mad.

"But Ron, what will we do? I still have to be seen." panicked my mom.
"Not by that quack you won't."
Silently we all got in the car.

Something First Amiss

I was five when my world turned upside down. I played at my friend Amy's house most of the day. My Little Ponies, Barbies, tag. Her mom, Tracy, interrupted our playtime by announcing they were going fishing on their boat. That was my cue to go home. I said my “thank you's and good byes” to their family; and walked down the street and around the corner to my house as I had many other times.

I got home early afternoon. It was my younger brother Kyle's naptime, so I quietly entered the house as to not wake him. I noticed right away that it was eerily quiet in the house. No TV or radio on. I went through the living room into the kitchen where my mom usually was. No one was there. “Mom....”, I called.
No answer.
I went downstairs into the basement, thinking maybe she was doing laundry, but she wasn't in there either.
I went back upstairs. Maybe she was taking a nap? I looked in Kyle's room, he was sleeping peacefully in his bed. I went across the hall and knocked on my parents' door. No answer. I silently opened the door. There was my mom! She had fallen asleep on the bed. And next to her... pills? An empty bottle of medicine laid open beside her. I didn't understand, but I suddenly felt panicked. I shook her. “Mom! Wake up! Mommy!!!!” I cried loudly. She stirred ever so slightly, but didn't awaken. I knew this wasn't quite right. My mom was usually an extremely light sleeper.

I went into the kitchen. Daddy was at work, but I didn't know his phone numbers. I regretted that I couldn't read. Grandma! I could call Grandma. I knew her phone number. 362-8194. It rang for what seemed like an eternity.
“Hello?” Grandma answered sweetly
“Grandma!” I sobbed into the phone.
“Lola... what's wrong?”
“Mama's napping and she won't wake up. I didn't know Daddy's phone number... so I called you.”

“Okay, I'll be right there... Allen!” she was hollering off to my grandpa in the background. Then I heard some mumbling. She was coming over to the house and that he should call my dad while she drove over. “I'll be there in 15 mins. You lock the door and don't let anyone in unless it's me or your daddy, you understand?”

“Yes, Grandma.” I hung up the phone, and went into the living room to lock the front door. I paced back and forth as I waited. Not sure what to do. I heard Kyle wake up in his room. He was playing in his room. Then I heard a key in the door. Grandma came through the door. I ran up to that woman so fast that I nearly knocked her over. I cried onto her chest, frightened and relieved all at the same time. Frightened because of mama, but so very relieved to not be alone. Grandma tenderly kissed my cheek and then wiped my tears away with her soft, wrinkled hands. She told me to go play with Kyle, and she would check on my mother. “Margaret” I heard her say loudly as I stepped into my brother's room. I heard soft talking, but only my grandma's voice. About 10 minutes later, I heard someone else come in.

“Mom...” It was Daddy!

I ran in and greeted him with enthusiasm. He gave me a brief hug, and told me to go play with Kyle. I dutifully did as I was told.

Not too longer my dad's arrival, I heard the sirens. Sirens? Why are there sirens? There must be an accident or fire nearby. Then I realized. They were coming here. To my house. The paramedics came in quickly, put Mama into the ambulance and drove off. “Mama!!!” Kyle cried realizing they were taking her away. My grandma quickly picked him up and place him on her lap, holding him close to comfort him.

My dad came in from their bedroom. He knelt closely to me, picking me up and hugging me all at the same time. “Lola, you did the right thing, calling your grandma. Your mom took too much medicine. That's why you couldn't wake her up. She's sick. The doctors are going to work very hard to make her all better.”