From November ’06 to June’08 (1 year and seven months)

Okay so I know you are probably interested in knowing what has happened since I was expelled from Glencoe so long ago, so I spent some time and wrote this out for you. Hope it’s at least semi- interesting and  maybe even a time-killer for those days when you’re bored out of you’re mind.

After I left GSL I went straight to my dad’s house. They (the Adults) had called him on a count of my mom was super pissed about me being expelled again and they couldn’t give me to her with a free conscience. So... I waited till he showed up and then he talked to Beinfang and then we both talked to Beinfang (well I didn’t talk really I just cried silently). He took me back to the cities without me ever saying goodbye to all the wonderful people in McLeod County. He said it would be easier to get over if I didn’t have any contact with my “former” friends. I was still really sad about it for a long time though.

The very next day he took me to get enrolled in Wayzata and then the day after that was my first day of school there. Talk about Culture Shock!! Wayzata High School is about 400 X the size of Glencoe, I’m not kidding you. I almost had a heart attack the first time I went inside I swear to God. After I got used to it, it was surprisingly easy to navigate, though. I could find my way around in a couple of days on account of they have the different wings of the school labeled A- F and the floors labeled 1-4. It was fun and even though it was an urban school it has a LOT more freedom than Glencoe does. I was kind of expecting the opposite, actually. For example: we can wear what we want and you can bring your jackets/purses/backpacks to class, which almost everyone does. The classes are A-M-A-Z-I-N-G, and the teachers really care. It’s so nice; I haven’t met a teacher who didn’t. I think I’ve said enough about school…this paragraph is longer than I expected.

Okay so in February ‘07 my sister and I got into an argument about headphones and my dad blew it out of proportion and got really pissed. He said he’d call the cops but I told him that I’d talk to him about it after school when he’s calm. (The argument was before school). He chased me in his robe and boxers out of the house and as I was running to the bus stop he called after me that he’d call the police. I was freaked out but glad I got away from the house. I tried to talk to one of the school social workers but he was in a meeting so I talked to a teacher and he suggested I leave Alec (the social worker) a note so I did. After 1^st block I was called down to Alec’s office and he told me the cops had already been there. One came back and put me in his car where I told him what happened (stupid move, by the way. If you get in trouble with cops ALWAYS exercise your right to be silent, trust me. It took me more than one try to figure that one out because I thought “oh, if I talk they’ll try to help” -yeah, right.) And to my surprise he still handcuffed me and brought me to JDC. I was kinda scared at first because it was my first time in jail but I was gone in three days. I went to St. Joes (shelter), then to Home Away (group home in south Minneapolis) , then St.Cloud mental hospital, then back to JDC and then I wasted a year of my life in Wisconsin at Eau Claire Academy which they claim is a “residential treatment facility” but really it is Purgatory. A place where the damned and forsaken are supposed to somehow “recover” and be reborn as pure, law-abiding, commandment following, model citizens. While I was in there I was sexually assaulted by two different people... I blamed myself and never told anyone until months had already gone by and I couldn’t handle the continued abuse anymore. Even then I only told about one person and the other continued it. I was violently self harming more and more frequently until one day they made up a new security code and I was the first to be put on it. Level Three Suicide Risk. I was never allowed out of sight. Even for bathroom or sleep. Somehow I managed to get a piece of glass and tore into my left arm over and over again. About an hour later someone found me and called an emergency Code Red. The ambulance was called and I was rushed to the E.R. I stayed overnight and the next day I was given the choice to come back or go somewhere else in Wisconsin; I chose to go back. It didn’t matter anyway though because less than a week later they decided I was extremely unsafe and shipped me back to Minnesota.

During my stay in Wisconsin my dad had remarried, fathered another child, and moved out of the house we had been staying in. Her name is Charissa and she’s super nice. I really like her. Point for dad for finding someone so awesomeJ. She had two kids prior to meeting dad and now that April is born it’s a pretty full house but I loved it. I finally have a brother! I’m still the oldest but that is okay with me.

In Minnesota I stayed in JDC under suicide watch and supervised 24/7. They (the court people) wanted me to go to another “nuthouse” deal up in Fargo but thankfully the place wasn’t sure about my insurance and after three months of waiting around my lawyer persuaded the judge to let me go home instead of wasting the county’s cash by sitting in JDC (one instance where I was glad the government is concerned primarily about money).

I went home to my dad’s house and started summer school in a few weeks after that. Summer school was a lot of fun and I met one of the coolest people there who just happens to be a new teacher at the school. Her first day was my first day.  In the fall I started classes with the rest of my peers and found that all my friends happily welcomed me back after they knew I was there. I was in composition that first semester and the essays I wrote were sent to some English professors at the U of M. Not only did they say they were well enough written to be college essays but they loved reading them! I was sent a page of feedback each and it made me so happy to know they liked them so much. Yay ^_^.

Unfortunately, I had started to feel not all that happy anymore and I had a little slip-up in the fall. It had started earlier but what “broke the camels back” came in October. I was staying after school, being a “good little girl”, getting extra credits and I missed my bus. I hung around for a while outside because none of the other busses were even there yet. I started to freak out a little because, after all, I had arrived early. Some girl let me borrow her cell phone and I called my house several times before giving up and calling my dad. I knew I wasn’t really supposed to, because he’s a car salesman and can’t talk that often, but I figured I had a valid enough reason. He didn’t answer. I tried again and he still didn’t answer. Her ride showed up and I tried one more time before resigning myself to being stranded. I saw a cop up ahead and asked him if he was trying to get in the building too. He was and fortunately for both of us he had a radio and someone was still in the building to answer it. I followed him inside where he let me try my house again and then told me where to find a phone on 2^nd floor. I went and after alternately calling my house and my dad I finally called my mom. She was a good 45 minutes to an hour away and I knew she couldn’t come get me or anything but maybe my dad would answer his phone for her. She didn’t answer but she did call back and after I told her what happened she said she’d try him. She couldn’t get a hold of him either and so I just told her it’s okay I’ll find a ride and said goodbye. The only other option I had now was to call up a former friend of mine. She answered on the first ring and said her mom would come pick me up. I really didn’t want to have to rely on her but no one was answering, I was getting worried, and I knew for sure dad was home by 8pm. I figured I could stay until then and call dad to come get me. He wouldn’t be happy about where I was, but at least I had somewhere to stay. I tried the house again when I got to her apartment but still no answer. We went to a “friends” apartment and they all hit up the bowl while I tried not to. There were at least six guys and only myself and my friend and this former friend. At some point they left me there with them. I don’t know why. I didn’t even know these guys. Especially since they were older and the guy who owned the apartment was a perverted 30 year old. I stayed until… 7:30? 8:00? I don’t remember but when I called my dad he FREAKED OUT and told me to find my own way. I thought ‘yeah that’s what I’m doing that’s why I called you’ but he said he wouldn’t come get me. He and my mom took turns calling and threatening this girl’s poor mother, who had just been trying to be nice by rescuing me from a stay at the high school forever. It was so frustrating. She tried so hard to not get upset but they were getting to her. I told her she didn’t need to talk to them, just hang up the phone. Eventually after many phone accusations, arguments and threats to call the police, dad decided he’d come get me. I waited outside the building in the parking lot next door to prevent any further disruptions. On the way home dad yelled at me for going to a friend’s house that I’m not supposed to be seeing anymore. I told him I wouldn’t have if they had answered their phones and not left me stranded and then sat silent the whole way. I didn’t even talk to him when we got home. I wasn’t going to dignify his outrageous accusations and put-downs with any retaliation or objections. He grounded me until I was eighteen. It was still a month and a half before my seventeenth birthday. I felt like this was the very last straw. I no longer had control over anything in my life, so why not take it back by ending it? It was mine to live not to be carefully pored over and scrutinized. Since I wasn’t allowed to do much living I exercised my right to terminate it.

 I took two bottles of Seroquel (bipolar meds for me, but they are also prescribed to people for sleep) and during lunch I swallowed them ALL- over 200 pills in all- with a bottle of Dasani. I went to class, and started to feel… well... Weird- to say the least. I got up and just left the room. I figured it was “time” and I didn’t want to die right there in the middle of discussion. I went to my therapist’s office (she also worked at the high school on Wednesdays and Thursdays) to say goodbye to her but she was busy. I waited for like two minutes until I couldn’t stand to sit there any longer- I felt like passing out and vomiting at the same time- and I went to wander. I remember someone trying to talk to me, someone later helping me to lie on the floor, and then I don’t remember anything until a few days later when I woke up briefly in the ER. I had tubes and IV’s stuck in me everywhere and at first I didn’t know what was going on. A nurse was by my side and she told me to breathe through my nose... Apparently I kept stopping because this machine I was hooked up to would beep when I didn’t breathe and she had to make sure I kept breathing normally. I fell back into unconsciousness and it was like that for about 3- 4 days. Later, I could breathe without the tubes in my nose but whenever I tried to sit up I felt dizzy and fainted. My grandma came and sat with me every day and I felt so sad because I thought about how devastated she’d have been if didn’t make it. I was hospitalized for 8 days and then I went home. I was still grounded till I was 18.

 Anyways... The next semester I was in a poetry class and OmIgOsH it was soo much fun. But, in December my dad went psycho on me and attacked me… over a coffee cup*rolls eyes*.

It started out as the best day ever. In first block (poetry) we had a “coffeehouse” day like ‘real’ poets had and it was awesome. The lights were dimmed (we had stage lights in that room) and there were candles, coffee and refreshments in the form of donut holes and other delicious things. We read our favorite poetry from different authors and from ourselves. I read three of mine, all which were loved. The teacher and some students even asked for a copy.

After first block I met some friends at the front entrance because everyone from T.A.P. was going to the Mall of America. We went “behind the scenes” and got to see all the fish from on top of there tanks. We also saw what they eat and the animals that were either being rehabilitated or grown to a bigger size so they can join the others. After that we were let loose to shop around in the mall. Tons of fun! We were told where to meet up at and what time but other than that we were on our own. Needless to say, I spent a lot at Hot Topic and Spencers...

When we got back to school it was just in time for me to go to my therapy appointment with Tara. I love Tara, she’s so cool. She’s probably the first therapist I really, really liked. Anyway it was another great session and I went home feeling absolutely amazing. I thought great days like this only existed in dreams.

Later that night all was well and before I went to bed dad talked to me about ‘serious stuff’. It went fine- we actually were civil and it didn’t end up an argument.

I had felt the oncoming of a sore throat so Charissa gave me my Seroquel and some Nyquil. I was so sleepy. Then dad came down and asked for his coffee cup I’d used that day and I couldn’t remember where I put it so I said it might be on the table. He checked and it wasn’t so he came back down. He did this once more and finally he said he thought I had it. I said okay then, search my room and rolled over to go back to sleep. He found it and insisted that I had hidden it from him and now I would have to pay by losing my purse and everything in it including the stuff I bought that day and my notebook of poetry. I said it was unfair and he just walked out of my room. I called to him “it was a mistake you don’t have to be a b**** about it” and pulled my Invader Zim comforter up to my ears. I had the last word and I was satisfied. I then heard him turn around and start back to my room. “Oh, shit.” I thought. He turned on the light and asked me what I said. I mumbled “nothing” and he asked again. I said “nothing, go away.” I thought maybe if I denied it he’d possibly give up and later forget about it, but no such luck. He asked me if I thought I could talk to adults that way and punched me in the eye. I sat up and he had backed off to the doorway. I was surprised and just sat there looking at him for a minute. Then I wanted him out of my room. I got up and told him to get out. I tried to guide him on his way but he stuck to his spot. He asked me if I thought I was big enough to take him on. I ignored this and tried some more to get him out. Apparently he took that as a challenge and next thing I knew we were fighting. Or, more accurately, he was fighting and I was defending. I tried everything to just get away or get him off me. I was being dragged down by my hair and hit, kicked, and eventually, grappled to the floor. I thought “ohmigod- ohmigod- I’m going to die I can’t let this happen.” I tried pushing him away, pulling myself away, digging my nails in and at my most desperate I tried biting him. In the end I was no match and he held me down to the floor and got on top of me. There was no way I could get out of this hold but I tried my best anyway. He held my arms down so I tried lifting my legs to kick but he pinned those too. I tried scratching him wherever my nails could find skin, but he evaded them and brushed it off. This was when I actually tried to bite him but, again, I failed at liberating myself from his grasp. He was heavy and it hurt to have him on top of me but mostly I just hated the feeling that I was trapped. I panicked big time. I mostly thrashed and wriggled all the while his grip got tighter and tighter. Finally, I gave up for the moment. I was tired and figured maybe if I relax he’ll let up his guard and I can escape. I was right. He did loosen up but not enough because fast as I tried to slip through he tightened his hold up faster. He said he was “warning me” and I shouldn’t try to struggle. What the hell do you mean?! Not struggle?! How could I not; I only wanted out. Meanwhile the whole time he has me hostage underneath him he’s yelling obscenities at me and I’m trying to find the breath to assert myself. At one point he says I’m nothing but a loser b**** and I manage to say no I’m not. Eventually he’s had enough of his game and when his wife comes down he tells her to call the police. She asks “local or emergency?” and I can’t hear the answer because I can’t believe my luck. He’s really calling the police? Why would he do something that obviously is going to get him in trouble? But I didn’t have time to wonder his motives because Charissa is back downstairs and she holds the phone up to dad’s ear since he is still pinning me. I hear him tell the cops that he has an out-of-control 17 year-old that “just flipped out and attacked me” and he was pinning her down as he spoke. I couldn’t believe my ears. So this was his plan. He was going to send me to jail. When the officer got there and was shown to the basement dad made a big show of not being sure if I should get up because I was “dangerous.” If I had the energy or spirit I might have laughed in his face. The officer helped me up and handcuffed me. Barefoot and in pajamas and everything. He led me upstairs where he sat me down at the dining room table and asked my dad what happened. Of, course, dad told the parts of the truth that suited him and made up the rest. I wouldn’t have expected any less out of him since he’s been that way my whole life. The officer asked if I did hit dad and I said I did because 1.) I wasn’t about to lie to a police officer and 2.) I thought telling the truth would get me further. But no this is a prime example of nice guys finish last. I guess all of life really isn’t as nice as those CSI and Law and Order shows I watch. Another slap in the face was hearing that officer ask dad if he needed an ambulance to come out. Hello?!?? What about the REAL victim here? What about me? By this time the swelling in my eye had gone down but it still hurt so I kept it shut most of the way .I was realizing how seriously unfair this was and it was all I could do to not cry in front of  my dad. I was not going to give him that satisfaction.

Later in the jail the officers that worked that night (and actually the next morning since it was past midnight) noticed my eye. They asked about it and I said “well, yeah, I said  I got hit“ and they made a big deal about it. I hadn’t seen it but apparently it was pretty bad. I had to write exactly what happened down and sign it, and then they took pictures of it and made reports about it. They took me to the E.R. and there I had more pictures taken of it and also of a scratch I had down my left arm. They wrote more reports and informed me I could press charges if I wanted and it was probably a good idea so it didn’t happen again. I declined because I didn’t know exactly what would happen to him and since he’s still my sister’s father, I decided I didn’t want to put them through the ordeal.

I stayed in JDC 3 days and then on Monday (Christmas Eve) I had court and the judge said if my mom was okay with it then I could go home with her. I did. I was at her house for a month before the school superintendent (who is now Sonju- J I love Sonju.) and the new principal and I sat down to have a Coming Back meeting. I wasn’t very happy about this especially since I had already found out my best friend wasn’t going to the school anymore. At least that might have helped ease the pain.

I started back at GSL High School and I felt like a ghost. All my old friends didn’t really pay attention to me. Well except for Hailey and Cassie. And that only lasted about a month for Hailey and then she got busy. It seems she’s always busy, but I still admire her for it. Cassie is my best friend I guess you could say. She’s more like a little sister or someone I’m just especially fond of. ^_^ She’s amazing even though at first I was worried about her. Now I know she can handle herself fine and I don’t have to be this big “protector” of her.

I am like that with my sisters. I guess I really miss it. Both of them are living in the cities with dad. It kind of drives me crazy to be away from them so much. And now I only see Sabrina (who’ll be ten in July) on the weekends and I never see Leah (who’ll be sixteen in August). I miss Leah so much and I only get to talk to her through MySpace. Thank god for social networking sites, eh? She and mom got into a “big hairy” and now they hate each other, I guess. Well, mom says she does but she is really just uber mad. Leah isn’t that angry, she is just stubborn. They both are, actually, but I generally don’t take arms with anyone because first of all, it isn’t my argument and I don’t know exactly what happened anyway, and second of all, I prefer to stay inconspicuously at the sidelines; not cheering  anyone on necessarily but being there for them if they fall.

Sometimes it is hard at home here with my mom and Tony but not nearly as bad as the last time I was living with them. It’s me, I think. I may be growing up ;). I don’t take things to heart anymore when I know someone is trying to get at me. I still argue with Tony when I know I’m right, sometimes, but that is the “Brahma bull” in me, as my grandmother would say. I’m learning to tame that bull, and it’s not easy going. I try, though, I really do.

Lately, I have just been walking in our woods, reading, writing, and daydreaming a lot; trying not to think of what the <hell>icopters I’m going to do all summer. As I write this I am primarily in study hall and since I mostly get my work done in classes I have the freedom to do so. At least I think I do; no one has asked what I’ve been working on so adamantly the past several days so I think it’s okay…

Beinfang has been amazing and I can’t thank him enough for everything he’s done for me. I love him so much and I am so very thankful god has let him be with me this long. There are so many people that I’ve had the privilege to meet along the ride that I’m so happy and grateful to have spent time with, no matter how short or long.. Everyone can teach you something, no matter what age or gender. A friend told me that and although I’m not entirely sure if he knew that is exactly how I feel also, I am happy he recognizes the truth of it.

As I write this, I am eight months free of self inflicted violence and one year free of any critical damage. I am very happy with these choices although at first the ending of a six year addiction was very tough. I plan to go to college after high school and currently have been contacted by Bethany Lutheran, St.Kates, the U of M, Luther, and some other out-of-state ones I don’t remember the names of. Right now my heart is leaning toward Luther. It is in Iowa, but not so far away I won’t be able to visit. I will become an adolescent therapist as well as poet, photographer, and artist. The latter are primarily for my own hobbies or “obsessions” as they are more accurately described, and also as coping skills. I also want to be an English teacher, but I don’t know where I’m going to fit that in. I hope to start an after school club called Escapes and two teachers at two different high schools have shown a lot of interest in it. I was going to start it at Wayzata, but “the incident” happened before I could. Then another teacher here at Glencoe said it was a very good idea. I have the emails of both and one asked if I could come back to speak at Lincoln Junior High. Of course I will! Needless to say, I’m super excited. I would love to do something to help people in need and educate others of their existence. It’s something I’m proud to say I’ll be doing the rest of my life.

Sincerely and with much love,

Kayla Jamie Fuller