Adapting to my environment

As I started to understand the complexity of the world around me, I started to adapt. The routine: wake up to my mothers directions. Get up, she does my hair..wants to curl my eyelashes and put mascara on me. I begin to fight her on the clothes she has neatly placed on the banister outside of my bedroom. I'm insecure, as kids at school started to tease me about what I was wearing. Shoes are too small. My jeans are too short. I don't have the same brand name clothes that everyone around me wears. However, I try and limit my complaining because I need to get the bus at the top of the hill.
In the complex I grew up in, most kids went to the school that was in my district. My,other enrolled me in a " rival" school. Therefore, I did not play on the same sports teams as my peers in the neighborhood. At the time I hated this. Looking back, I'm grateful.
If I was able to make it out the door without a fight with my mother, it was a great start! If I was able to get the bus on time, it was even better! It was extremely hard for me to take the, " walk of shame" back to the apartment to tell my mother when I missed the bus. This meant that she had to take me to school. She would get so angry and physically abusive when I missed the bus. I was a bother, and it interrupted her time. I also felt really embarrassed if she had to drop me off in her red vw with rust holes on the floor boards. Looking back, at least I got to school!
School brought on a different kind of stress. Although, I always felt a sense of relief getting away for a few hours a day, I found it difficult to concentrate.
I was on the, " free lunch program" and every day around 11:30 am the teacher would call the kids to the front of the classroom to get our lunch tickets. I hated feeling singled out for the free lunch. In my mind, it was telling all my peers that I was poor. I was poor.
To this day, I can't remember ever having help with homework. I have no idea when I did homework.
When I would come home from school, I couldn't wait to go outside and play football, basketball or kick the can with the other kids from my rival elementary school! My mothers condition was so unpredictable.
I can remember coming home and praying for a snack. Occasionally, she would leave cheese and crackers ( with the little red spreader stick) on the arm of the chair that was placed to the left of the
front door. If it was there, she was usually upstairs in bed drinking. This scenario meant I was home free.... For a few hours at least.
I would go from kids to kids houses. I'm sure I bugged the crap out of parents all over the neighborhood! " Can you come out and play" ..."let's go to the cement block...get your cardboard...let's battle!"
I admired the older boys in my neighborhood. They were my idols for their sports ability. They played tackle football, and I was game! Although, I was born 1 month premature at a little under 5 pounds, I had HEART! I fought those boys on the football field, baseball field and basketball courts!
I would play until one of two things happened.
1- I heard my mothers blood curdling screams..." BRANDY...BRANDY...COME HOME"
2- I was too far away to hear, and her message would be delivered from another kid, " Brandy, your mom is calling you...you better go!"
Neither one was comforting to me. She had several hours of drinking under her belt, so anything could happen. So much happened when I closed that door behind me.
Dinner. She was angry, especially if I showed any dislike over the TV dinner I was being served.
Salisbury steak...can't eat it to this day.
My mothers paranoia was unbelievable. I was always accused of something that I didn't do. The conversation would start something like this:
Mom:" I was talking to some neighbors today, and they told me that you have been stealing my vodka."
Me: "I didn't take your vodka"
Mom: " Admit it...you took it..I won't be mad"
Me: " but, i didn't take it!"
Out of frustration and a total lack of control, she would begin acting, well...literally crazy. She would start to scream over and over...ADMIT IT ADMIT IT..then she would express her anger before hitting me by clenching her fists and biting her hands..knuckles then moving to her arms. If she was able to catch me ( depended on the level of her intoxication) the. She would grab me by the arm and attempt to tear my skin off with her teeth. It was brutal and barbaric.
This is how I started to adapt. I started to admit to whatever she said just to get it over with. I would take the punishment for something absolutely absurd for an 8 year old.
This would be one of many times I was told to, "admit it". I was never told to "admit it" when the police came to the house because of my screams at night.