My life was similar to cinderella. But backwards. I was once in a beautiful castle and worked my way down to poverty. I lived a large gated community in Orange County. As you drove in past the gate, the street went up a hill with multiple side streets that lead into coldisacs. Flowers and bushes were seen everywhere. No one had dead grass or even a mess in their yard. Each had houses that looked as if they had all been placed there with the same cookie cutter. At the top of the hill sat all the custom houses. These houses looked nothing like one another. There were all twice the size of the normal houses and contained unique features such as stones, or bricks, or fountains.

I was fortunate enough to live in one of those houses. Our large house was great for entertaining so we always had a lot of people over during the holidays and during birthdays. I had every toy I had ever wished for and I even had a nanny to pick up after every mess my brother and I made. I had a stay at home mom that loved to cook and a dad that worked hard and was able to provide enough for us to all live easily. He was the General Sales Manager at Mercedes Benz and devoted so much time to his occupation.

My mom and our nanny would chase around the kids all day. Both barely got sleep when we woke up at 4 am every morning. And it didn't help that my dad worked so much. He wouldn't get home until about 10:30. When he got home, he wanted to tell my mom all about his day at work but she was too tired to socialize. Us kids made her life miserable and eventually made them grow apart. Everyone says communication is key, but they never had time for it.

One day my dad came home with a substance that would allow her to ignore her exhaustion. It worked for them for a little while, but pretty soon my mom became dependant on it. My dad was able to wake up early the next day and feel fine while my mom was left with headaches, nosebleeds, and screaming kids. On this substance, my parents both ended up experimenting with other things. People. Their marriage was unsalvageable.

To deal with her depression, my mom would take more of the substance. It would make her feel sick, so she took more to ignore her nausea. Every little problem in her life was solved with this simple substance. My aunts had noticed my mom's new addiction and threatened to turn her into CPS multiple times. No one really thought they would really do it. Until one day in first grade, a lady dressed in slacks and a blazer pulled me out of class and asked me questions about what was going on at home. I told the truth. I didn't see any reason to lie. I was too young then to understand why they were so interested in what was going on in my life.

I was sent to live with my aunt denise for a couple of months while “mommy was learning to be a better mommy.” my aunt and my uncle were large, intimidating people who didn't hesitate to punish their kids. They waddled and grunted as they walked and they smiled so seldom, I used to think they were trying to hide ugly teeth.

After two months, I was finally returned to my mom. Things weren't the same when I got home. Me, my mom, and my brother moved into a house half the size of our last one while my dad remained in the big house. We used to visit my dad frequently and he always had “friends” over with pretty faces and thin legs. Pretty soon, my dad wasn't too interested in seeing his kids anymore. He moved out of the house I grew up in, into a more luxurious area in newport beach. Our little family or three continued to move and move and move. Each new house was smaller than the last.

I remember being in sixth grade when I lived in a two bedroom apartment. We still lived in nice orange county and went to schools. I was always terrified of the thought that kids would find out where I lived. My mom was searching for inexpensive homes online and found a five bedroom house with a pool that was less expensive than our two bedroom apartment in orange county. This house was in hemet. I had never seen graffitI until I moved there. I had also never seen that much dead grass in my life. But I put up with the ugly scenery because I loved having a big house once again.

That didn't last for long. My mom got a call one night from my dad saying he had lost his job. At a work dinner party, he said a racist remark to a man. The company had no choice but to remove my dad, in fear of being sued. Now, without child support, we could no longer afford our house. Were were forced to move into my aunt and uncle's house. They were very unhappy people and their negatives was contagious. I was so embarrassed of my situation, I didn't want anyone to know. Friends would always ask me to hangout, but I always found an excuse not to. Until pretty soon they stopped asking. My mom worked extra hours to get out of the hostile house while I was stuck there. My dad continued to live a mile away from the beach in newport and still owned his boat and fancy cars.

This experience changed me. I thought back to when I was embarrassed of my little apartment and prayed for it back every night. In my time there, I became more introverted. I also stopped believing in god. When we moved out two years later, I felt older.

I now live in a two bedroom apartment, smaller than the last, in a bad area. I don't wish I still lived in my old house. I don't wish I still spent time with my old friends. I don't want my old life back. Even though it was easier, we lived as if we were plastic dolls, consumed in the fear of other’s opinions of us. I am thankful for our crummy apartment in a rundown area, because these experiences have made me who I am today. I am a harder working person now because I realize that everything doesn't come easy in life. And I count my blessings. I am so thankful that I have a roof over my head and that I still have my loving family. My life isn't as glamourous as it once was, but I'm perfectly happy with my current state of being.