Chapter 8: High School

When I was 14 years old, I fell madly in love. With a boy I had known once before in my life at age seven, Adam Goodson. He had tested into the Smart Elementary School down the street after second grade, and we lost touch. Now, with my hot pink braces and pleated jean skirt with Abercrombie polo (they were IN then, okay?!), I was Into Boys.

I don’t remember how it started now, but I do remember those first few dreamy months – Adam and I would meet halfway between our houses, on foot given that neither of us could drive yet, and usually one of us would bring poetry or fiction we wanted to share with the other. We quoted Emily Dickinson, Shakespeare, and other poets to explain how we were beginning to feel about the other. One winter’s day, it was particularly cold and snowing, but neither of our Moms were free to drive us to the other’s, so we walked. It was right at the end of the storm, so tiny flakes floated lazily down into about five inches of fresh snow.

We had agreed to meet on Violet Lane, a tiny side street in a neighborhood connected to mine. From a few yards away, Adam saw me through the haze of snow and sped up. I did the same. When we met, I half skipped into his arms for a long hug. And then, as we pulled back, he brushed the snow & my bangs off my face, pushing my fuzzy pink hat up so he could see my eyes, and then he kissed me. For the first time. His warm lips met mine and my heart lit up and my stomach felt pulled towards him, and it was magic. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

We walked all huddled together the rest of the evening, with my gloved hand in his jacket pocket and vice versa. And from then on, we were inseparable. Best friends, and falling in love. We said it to each other for the first time on Valentine’s Day freshman year. And then because we were pretentious geeks, we made up our own word for love, Snovia. And used that going forward.

There WAS some side drama. I had started going to a local, non-denominational Christian megachurch that fall. I had always felt a connection to Something Larger that I called God – because my Mom called It God – but had never had a community. I wanted to find one. Enter HamPointe Church. And the Eaglehouse family, the pride of HamPointe. Sam Eaglehouse was three years older than me and HOT. Prior to Adam, I had been pursuing Sam.

Once Adam entered the picture though, my attention shifted. See, Adam and I had a past.

FLASHBACK TIME

When I was seven years old, my family moved from West Bloomfield, MI forty-five minutes away to Novi. I cried for that entire schoolyear every day about missing my West Bloomfield friends. I didn’t understand why we didn’t have kids on their bikes outside at all ours of the day and night, and why our house was so big and scary, and why these new kids all did their hair a certain way. I just wanted Mom to take me home so I could make fun of these people with my real friends. But alas, I was here to stay.

And then I met Adam and Lacey. They were in my class, and I don’t remember how it started other than we played together one recess. After that, Adam, Lacey, and I became a little clique. We bonded together to investigate different suspicious activity on the playground. Obviously this was the work of three 7-year-olds, so it made no sense. But to us, we were ON to something! We knew the old barn on the edge of the schoolyard had a suspicious past!

At the same time, my Mom became friends with Adam’s Mom, Susan. Susan seemed quite normal to my Mom, possibly a bit overinvolved, but nothing out of the ordinary in the uppity suburb we lived in. My mom actually liked Susan a lot at the time. I ended up playing at Adam’s house quite a bit, and him at mine. Lacey joined us sometimes too.

One day, since my house was walking distance to the school, Adam and I decided to take Polaroids of the suspicious barn at the school. We climbed through the woods rather than take the paved path on the other side of the street. Adam and I told each other ghost stories as we walked, laughing and shivering as we quietly got scared.

When we got to the barn, the sky was gray and almost too calm. He and I had freaked ourselves out, but at seven all we knew is we were scared and excited at the same time. We began taking Polaroids. We hid behind a bush, pretending neighbors may be mad if they noticed our suspicious behavior. It was great fun. I felt special, important, part of a mission.

“There’s someone THERE!” Adam yelled as he took a photo, “Run!”

I sprinted towards the paved path through the thicket behind the barn. I could hear him right behind me, running but also glancing back as he heaved, breathing fast. We ran until we made it to my driveway.

The rest of the day we spent in my room speculating as to which ghosts possibly came to haunt our local barn and WHY. I believe he and I decided it was Abraham Lincoln.

BACK TO FRESHMAN YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

At 14, I was nervous about high school. I didn’t make cheerleading in middle school, so I had gotten back into gymnastics to practice. As a result, I had made tryouts the previous spring, and would be on Sideline Cheer that fall. I was pumped. And Cheer Camp meant I was DOUBLE pumped.

At the same time, that first week of classes, I fell while walking up the stairs with ALL of my books in my hands, bag on my shoulder, and coffee in my hands (it was actually hot cocoa, but more on that later)…in front of about ten hot seniors. I went to the bathroom and cried, and then to the Nurse because my front tooth was chipped.

ANYWAYS. I wasn’t KILLING it, is what I’m saying. I had braces, no boobs, and I was right at the beginning of collecting different skirts because I thought jeans made me look fat.

Enter (again) Adam. We started seeing each other around school, and in a different way than we did in middle school -- where he had his little Honors Geek Clique & I had my diehard emo girlfriends. -- Basically, I was cuter? I’m not sure, you would have to ask him, but over the course of that schoolyear, we fell madly in love.

We began writing each other notes every day. I was thrilled with how interesting he found me, and how serious he took my opinions. He began sharing music with me, and each song spoke to my heart. We went to church together on Sundays and Youth Group on Wednesdays. We read the Bible and tried to understand it. I was genuinely curious why so many people were obsessed with this book, and this one guy (Jesus). And I was inspired that my Mom seemed to have a healthy, helpful spiritual life without going to church. I was trying to figure out what was right for me. And Adam was right there, wanting to know how I felt about things, every day.

He wrote poetry about me. He woke up early to get to school early to buy me a hot chocolate…every single day for two years.

And at that time, he was the Love of my Young Life.

WHAT HAPPENED

It was Legend at Northville High School how Adam and I would make out at one of our lockers between classes. I frankly don’t remember using tongue in my HIGH SCHOOL, but I guess I did??

We had many adventures, and that is what I loved most about our time together: he was always down to explore. And he was intelligent and curious and kind. Unfortunately, quickly his mom, Susan, felt threatened by me being in his life.

It’s weird to write it that way – I was a 15-year-old girl. Not a threat to her, an adult woman. And it FELT weird and inappropriate at the time too. I wrote about it in my Journal (that I still have) often over the two years he and I dated.

Susan would call our house upset about our relationship at LEAST once per week for those two years, oftentimes every day. I should say that at the beginning-ish, it was every day. She then went through phases of calling MORE often or LESS depending on…I don’t know…her stability? What else was going on in her life? To this day, I do not know. And she has passed now, so we can’t ask her. All I DO know is that my mom, our Nanny/Babysitter Christy, or I would be in charge of picking up and TRYING to calm Susan down, sometimes for minutes but USUALLY for over an hour.

Susan would start with a worry that she would dig into FAST, begin escalating into tears, and then her volume would go UP. The crying was hysterical for a bit, peppered with moments of calmness alternating with belligerent yelling. We learned to turn the volume down on the phone, and how to use Speaker on the base.

Christy, my mom, and I would listen politely while we munched on after school snack or mimed to each other about how our day’s went. Sometimes if I were alone, I would begin my homework. I was 14 years old.

“Yes, Susan,” I would say calmly, “I know. He IS stressed with finals, I hear you.”

My mom and Christy taught me this. “Yes, Susan, that sounds HORRIBLE for you, I hear you.” As if we were her counselors.

She was calling to vent about how worried she was that, “Adam’s ruining his life by dating Emily.” My Mom would always gently inquire about why (asking for proof), and Susan never had ANY reasons other than an occasional A- or B+ from Adam, rather than perfect As. After a few conversations where she tried questions, my mom Beth went into listening mode. We all did. Nothing we said made any difference to Susan. She was CONVINCED Adam was showing signs of being defective given he was obsessed with Emily.

She would ground Adam so often that he was never NOT grounded, meaning allowed to see me.

I would call him at home to talk almost every day – as you DO in high school when you don’t have a cell phone yet – and Mrs. Goodson would taunt me, either questioning me about why I called for so long that I felt awkward and hung up myself, or she would say something rude and then give the phone to Adam. At the end, she would say something rude and then just hang up on me.

You’ll be shocked to hear that I felt small and insecure around her. And I never knew if she was telling the truth. She would lie about him being out of the house, or lie about who he was with to get a reaction from me.

Sometimes she would disconnect the call while we were talking, and laugh at him when he got upset. Her Adam was growing up, individuating, and she could NOT stand it. He would often apologize to me for her, SO embarrassed. He would tell her that her behavior was “Not okay!” so often. His dad would sometimes agree with him but then bend to Mom’s will.

He had dated a girl before me for a few months, but it hadn’t stuck. Susan thought she wouldn’t have to deal with a long-term girlfriend, someone he really loved. And he loved me deeply. As deeply as one can at 15. As Adam got happier, his mom got more possessive and controlling. And he and I KNEW this and discussed it. We found as many work-arounds for our love as we could. But it hurt.

What Adam (and I) experienced is narcissistic abuse – his Mom’s emotions were causing her to punish both of us unnecessarily. We were not just good kids, we were VERY good kids. I was at that time very against underage drinking, was going to church by choice every week, and was dragging Adam with me. We both had straight As. I did Cheer and he did Tennis almost every weekday after school. She had ZERO to worry about, but her anxiety and fear (of I still do not know what exactly, and I’m not sure she did either) led to her controlling both of us.

I was kept apart from him, and my Journal entries at the time are SO depressed, sad, and confused. My parents didn’t understand why even when we went on vacations, I would hide in a closet and cry. I was dysregulated, hurt, and angry. And then, when Susan would laugh at Adam (or me) amidst this, or when she began spreading rumors about me to other adults that got back to my parents…that really broke me. And now I know, that’s sadistic abuse.

My parents did their BEST to help him, and me. They talked with the Goodsons multiple times…my mom would try to calm Mrs. Goodson down, and one time my Dad had to really set a limit when Susan started that second rumor. He talked with her and Mr. Goodson. I wasn’t a part of those conversations. But they didn’t know how to talk to ME about this. Or how to get me help. Or even that I needed help, someone to process this all with.

To my young nervous system, Adam being kept from me…literally not being able to hear his voice or connect with him or know he was okay for weeks at a time, was scary. It felt like my stomach had dropped out. I longed for him and missed him BADLY. The loneliness was painful. It was almost every day that summer. And then on and off as he was grounded OFTEN.

Keep in mind that Adam had become my safe haven. I had never felt seen by my Dad at home, and while Mom provided some of that, I was realizing things about myself that I didn’t want to share with her, as 14-year-olds do. I was writing poetry, feeling attracted to people, and grappling with spirituality in a big way. Adam was my outlet for all of this. And I was his. We were learning and growing so fast together every time we talked. And then, it would all stop. For weeks at a time. And I would not know if he was emotionally okay in that house.

It turns out that they would lock him in his room for hours at a time, taking their other daughter out, and disconnecting the phone and the internet. I would worry endlessly about him. We would hide notes for each other in a secret spot between our neighborhoods. But the only way he could ever leave one is if he picked that lock, jimmied the sliding back door, and left no trace. Susan would verbally abuse him if she ever found out he had left during one of those daylong lock-ins.

As I do this trauma healing work, random memories pop up. The other night, I had dreams about Adam. The dream was the same over and over: just high school me, dialing his number from my chunky, white home phone, sitting on the floor by the stairs with my knees tucked up under my shoulders…waiting to hear if someone picks up. Waiting to hear his voice, or his Mom’s taunting me. Preparing to argue with her so that I can talk with him. My body is simultaneously feeling scared and small (my younger part), and then half “ready to fight” meaning argue with Susan when she picks up. It was SO NORMAL, you guys. I did this from 14 to nearly 17 years old.

And in my stomach, in the dream, as it was then, the bottom has fallen out. I’m nauseated. I’m shaky, but I’m committed to staying on the line because I miss him. And the phone just rings and rings and rings.

I had this dream over and over and over again the other night, and when I woke up I was so confused. I don’t miss Adam. I like women. I’m 33 years old. This is weird.

And then, today, three days later, it came to me: I want to go Home. My whole body is longing to drive to Novi and just to sit down with my parents and be like, What the fuck?? With tears in my eyes and kindness and humility. I sent them a bouquet of white roses this September with a card saying, I love you. I sent both of my little sisters cards offering an olive branch. I have emailed explaining myself (for writing about my life) multiple times.

And all my Mother (and by extension my sisters) demands is that THIS BLOG COME DOWN before they will speak to me. Which is controlling and disgusting. Because this is all true. And even if it weren’t, are you worried about your adult daughter?? Do you care about our relationship? Do you care that I met someone, and moved home to Michigan?

I could go on and on.

But the important part is that it re-traumatizes me. This silent treatment from Dad, Mom, and my sisters. It awakens in me that longing – for Adam, for Home, for safety. It feels urgent and nauseating. At times my child self convinces my adult self that I’m not safe here. I work with it every day. I have to not believe it – I AM okay here, in my cozy little cabin in northern Michigan with my sweet wife-to-be, Kara. I am okay.

I am okay.

And yet, I miss my Mom. I’m getting married in 3 weeks and she won’t speak to me. I miss my Dad and my two, sweet sisters. The silent treatment is gross. And mean. And weird, given I’m not the one who blew things up. I’m a bystander, a daughter, and a human just learning and growing like everyone else.

That’s what I want to say to them – Who do you think I am now?? Go talk to someone.