Downhill

My gaurdian family now consisted of 6 people including myself. There were my parents Pam and Bill Elleston, and their two biological sons Derek and Keven. Myself, and their adopted daughter Aubrey. Now that you know names, this will all be less confusing.

My memories comes in bursts from now on, and my writing isn't as thought out. Please bare with me. OK, here goes!

I remember things started to feel odd around the time that Aubrey came to live with us. I remember getting in trouble for things a lot and having things taken away from me often. There was one time that Pam made a plate of PB&J sandwiches with strawberry jam. I was always told to finish my food, so when I had eaten and the other children had eaten, and there was still a whole sandwich left on the plate in the center of the table, I thought it was my job to finish it all. So I sat there and diligently ate each quarter of the sandwich, and then, when there was just one left, and I was so full of PB&J, I wanted to cry! I didn't want to get in trouble for not finishing all of it, so I thought about what I could do, and where I could hide the last piece, and then it hit me! There was an octagon shaped coffee table in the living room that no one ever looked under, because it held all of the maps we owned. PERFECT! I thought to myself, no one would find it there, and then I could go play outside!

I hid the sandwich and went outside.

A little later that day, I was called inside, and to my surprise, there was that peanut butter sandwich, sitting on the dining table, staring at me. Pam was also staring at me, and was angry. She pointed at the sandwich and asked me what it was. I said I didn't know. A lie I am sure she saw through. Why did you hide this Kayla? I didn't. Yes you did. Fine! I did, but I was full, and didn't want to eat anymore! So you hid it? Yes. well guess what, now you won't get pbj anymore. --

As long as I lived in that house, I was never allowed to have pbj and with the exception of one time. we had gotten and Orange colored jelly and when I asked what it was, they told me it was squid. I refused to eat it, so after that "second chance" I never had another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I was 4 years old.

as a small child I have a feeling I was picky. I say this because as long as I can remember, my menu consisted of the same thing day after day. Chex cereal for breakfast, a bologna sandwich with only mayo and meat on white for lunch, and a small plate of whatever was for dinner, with the exception of sugary items. I was only allowed water and milk, and for the longest time, only pediasure in place of milk, or meals. I was never allowed to have snacks, or desserts, or sodas, which is not uncommon, and not abuse by any means. What was upsetting was that everyone else was allowed, but I was not.

I also remember the time I found out that I have a bad reaction to shredded wheat cereal. I waas about 7 years old, and went to the kitchen to find that my breakfast had changed, I was given a bowl of shredded wheat the first bite I took, went straight through me. I didn't know what to do, and I absolutely did not make it to the bathroom in time. I was so embarrassed, I had just filled my pants. Pam, outraged by the fact that I had just sat there and crapped myself, dragged me by my arm to the bathroom, and told me I had to wash out my clothes, but not to do it in the sink. She walked away, and when she came back, she found me with my hands and underwear in the toilet, cleaning them. She gave me this look I will never forget, the look of confusion and wondering of stupidity. Why was I in the toilet, she yelled, disgusted as well. I looked up and started crying, saying she had told me not to use the sink, so I used the toilet, thinking it would be easier to clean, because all I had to do was flush? Flustered and irritated she told me to grab my clothes and drop them in the trash. We wouldn't be using them anymore. I was showered and redressed (I wasn't allowed to do these things on my own, because I was told I didn't know how). Once I was redressed, I was told to go finish my shredded wheats. Only after I had made a mess of myself twice more, did she throw the bowl of cereal out, calling me disgusting and infantile as she did this. I never had shredded wheats again either.

Ready to move on?