Meeting Me (Sam)

Hello:) It is a pleasure to meet you, my name is Samantha. I am 18 years old.  I was born on February 16, 1995 to Marcia Hinman and Keith Harbison. My parents raised me and my siblings together for four years of my life before they decided to go their separate ways. A lot had happened to lead up to their separation, but there are some things better left unsaid. Luckily, I was young enough to not really remember or understand most of what had caused their decision for a divorce.  I do however remember every thing after they had separated. I remember all the confusion of not understanding why I couldn’t be with both of my parents at the same time. I remember the hate and frustration my parents had toward each other. I never saw that between them before. I remember my Dad had asked me one day when I was six  “Red, who do you want to live with, Mommy or Daddy?” Without hesitation I answered “Daddy.” He was so happy to know his baby girl wanted to be by his side through everything. That weekend my Mom had asked me the same question, “Sam do you want to live with me or your Dad?” Again without hesitation I answered, “You Mommy.” She was so excited, just like my Dad. It was like they felt they had accomplished something, or that they had something to rub in the others face. I’m sure they discussed it later on and had discovered that of course I had wanted to live with both of my parents. Both my Mom and Dad had moved on rather fast. Which was upsetting to me, but more upsetting to my sister. I really don’t know how my brother felt about anything. He hated me as a kid, so we didn’t really talk. My sister on the other hand was, and will always be my rock. She kept me going.  She made sure I was taken care of, and brushed my hair, didn’t pick out mismatched clothes for school, ate my breakfast, and helped with my homework. As much as I hated it as a kid, and would yell at her “You’re not my Mom, so stop trying to be her!” I am beyond gracious of her now. She knew I was too young to understand that I needed her. Through all the screaming and the fighting, she never once gave up. She kept spending her time taking care of me. She always put me before herself, and her social life. I feel like both of my parents should send my sister a thank you card or something.  “Thank you for raising Sam. It was greatly appreciated.” Don’t get me wrong it wasn’t like my parents were neglectful.  My father got custody of me and my sister, so my Mom didn’t exactly have the choice. My Dad and his girlfriend both left early for work, and got home late. I think their divorce finally went through when I was in the third grade. Nothing really changed. My Dad had custody of me and Cathrine,  and my Mom had my brother Chris. He is my half brother. Life went on. In 2006 my Dad and his girlfriend got into a horrible car accident.  They both almost lost their lives.  My Dad wasn’t able to work,  so he had us pack up and move 6 hours away to my Grandparent’s in a tiny town. Herod, Illinois. It was literally in the middle of no where.  My family did the best they could to help us,  but having to move 6 hours away from all of our family and our life,  took it’s toll on my family. My sister and I were unhappy.  We felt lost. We even started drifting away from each other.  My sister was never home.  She found solitude in boys,  friends,  parties,  drugs,  and alcohol. Anything to take away the pain.  By the time I was 14 my sister was moving out with a boyfriend.  She was 17. I had never felt so alone in my life.  She tried to see me,  but Dad didn’t want me around that life style. Little did anyone know I would eventually be doing the same exact thing. I soon had started high school, and it changed my life forever. Throughout high school I did every possible thing to try and be happy. I drank my self to sleep on countless occasions.  I took drugs I never knew existed.  Even though I wasn’t happy it masked the pain and loneliness I had. Around my family I was still the same girl, but at night when the lights went out in my house I was not the Sam my family knew.  To this day my family still doesn’t know the extent of things I had done, and they never will. No one will even know the person I was. When I was 16 I moved up north to live with my Mom. I was excited and nervous. I hadn’t lived with my Mom since I was five. I made a few friends dated a boy for a few months,  but still felt empty. The summer before my senior year my life changed.  For better or worse?  Not sure yet I’ll let you know. I met a boy.  He was unlike any boy I ever liked. He was good. He had these crystal blue eyes that when he smiled you couldn’t help, but smile too. His laugh was just like a little kids, he would giggle and his eyes would light up. When he gave you a hug after not seeing me for a few hours, I could feel that he missed me. We would lay in his bed for hours talking about our past, and the future we had together. He was the perfect guy. Tall, very attractive,  funny, smart, a football player, and the guy you are proud to introduce to your family. We were so happy, and so in love,  just like all good things. Somewhere things went wrong. I noticed we didn’t hold each other as much. When we hugged it was just a hug. We didn’t giggle as often.  And when he had his eyes were dull. I knew he was falling out of love. By this time I was living with him. Every day there was something we fought about. And since I was always there his frustrations were taken out on me. I am not making it out to be his fault or that he is the bad guy. Edward is an amazing man. We started to get into fights that led to break ups and make ups. On and on it was the same thing. I realized the way we used to feel about each other was gone. I knew we still loved each other, but we both had done things and said things that I’m not sure will ever be okay. Two years of my life with this boy. Which to some may not be long, but when you’re my age two years is forever. I gave him everything,  and now you’re supposed to walk away and move on. Figure out who you are without him.  How do people do that? How is it so easy to just pick someone new. Say I’m going to try and love someone the way I loved you. You share all your secrets all over. You get comfortable all over.  Then on top of that you have to imagine them doing the same thing as you. So when you start sharing your deepest secrets with someone else, it is safe to say so are they. No matter what the person you were once in love with is in the back of your mind.  The hardest part is knowing that moving on is possible. You say you can’t,  but everyone says that. If you really tried you probably could. You may have to force yourself, but it could happen.  All you want is someone to fight for you. Someone to beg you to stay, but that’s gone. You get to a point that even when you’re with them you’re just waiting for a goodbye. For the moment you’re forced to walk away. Maybe they both aren’t ready to walk away, but in the back of their minds they both feel like it is going to happen. Even when things are good you’re still feeling broken because you’re waiting for the next thing to go wrong.


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