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My dad would do nothing but sit at his desk and play computer games

I needed to let this off my chest while staying anonymous. This place seemed good enough.

I had a childhood… different from others. I would say unique, but that would make it sound special.

It was ANYTHING but special. It was actually something I wished I did not go through.

When I was in the middle of the second grade, my folks, both stationed in Guam, split. My mom moved to Germany with my half-brother, leaving me with Dad.

This was where it all began.

My dad move us both from Guam to the Philippines so he could meet with this lady he met over the Internet. It was in January. Schools in the Philippines ended in March, and my dad figured it would be too late to switch schools. So, I had to repeat the second grade, resulting in me being one year older than most of the rest of my class.

I was one of the foreigners in the two schools I attended. I was oversensitive and easily triggered. That made me an entertainer to other kids. I was constantly bullied for being different, and I reacted with tears. And they LOVED it.

You would think my parents would care, right? WRONG. My dad would do nothing but sit at his desk and play computer games. I rarely see him outside of it. My step-mom, the lady my dad met and eventually married, would say I was overreacting and needed to make friends. Like words were going to make me feel better.

It got worse when I transferred to another school three years later, which was run by this Christian curriculum called School of Tomorrow. I went there from 5th to 8th grade, and it sucked.

The students, including me, were placed in cubicles, which were secluded desks. We were to work quietly, with no way to talk to each other minus passing notes, which was forbidden. At first, I thought it was a good thing. I did not need to deal with annoying bullies. But now, looking back, it actually made me feel reclusive. The bullying started up again after I arrived, my parents offered no motivation for me (which caused learning problems and detentions for me), and those bullies would dig for every single thing I had or did. I felt insecure, shy, and unloved. I felt like my dad and step-mom did not care one bit. I could not communicate with them or anyone because of my insecurity and because I had no skills with communicating my entire time there.

My real mom, who I kept in touch with, was my only source of support. I would cry at night, praying that I would get to be with her and not here. I wanted to be in a real school, not a cramped cubicle with nothing but brainwashing material to make me a full Christian, something I did not even decide to become.

Finally, around five years ago, my dad decided to send me back to America with my mom to have a better chance at life. Wow, Dad! You actually decided to care after eight years!

Well, guess what? You were eight years too late.

Because of what I went through, I became shy. I did learn to be open-minded, thankfully, but it was not enough. I had a hard time adjusting to a public school, but it became easier thanks to my mom pursuing me. I had the motivation I needed after all this time, and now, I’m twenty years old, having graduated high school a year ago. I have a few friends and even a boyfriend.

But I’m not ready.

Not ready to be an adult, and not ready for college.

I have anxiety because of what I had been through, and I did not know I had it until high school ended. I am very insecure and have trouble communicating with people, and every time I think about the future, I would tense up and have trouble breathing. I am terrified of what the future holds, and I am scared I would be alone and unsuccessful in life.

Thanks, Dad.


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