KarMel Scholarship 2008

 

Personal Story

“The Perfect Daughter”

By Danielle Bastarache

 

 

Desciption of Submission: “An essay with strong opinions on my orientation and how it has been viewed by others in my life, especially parents and peers. Also, how it effected my life mostly at home and personally.” - Danielle

 

            I was always seen as the perfect little girl.  Daddy told everyone that I would grow up to be a beautiful model, balance a career as a doctor, and become very successful.  Mommy stayed home with me so I wouldn’t have to go to a daycare for ten to twelve hours a day; a future president couldn’t just be thrown in with a bunch of daycare brats.  She dressed me up like a little princess and spoiled me rotten.

            Being an only child for the first nine years of my life could be considered the very best or absolute worst thing to ever happen to me.  Two months after my ninth birthday, my little sister arrived, by plane, to the Logan Airport.  After not being able to replicate the most perfect human being on earth due to health problems Mommy had, my parents adopted a little girl from another country.  She was almost three years old, and not being able to speak or understand any English at all was hard enough, but living in the shadow of “The World’s Best Daughter” made everything that much harder for her.  You think the pressure was there before?  Now I didn’t only have to be the perfect daughter, I also had to be the perfect big sister.  Another set of eyes watched me constantly; every move - wrong or right - was carefully studied, remembered, and replicated by her.

            If my parents wanted something bad enough, they wouldn’t stop until they got it.  They always wanted a big family and never hesitated when it came to helping out people who needed it.  This is when they got into foster care with the intentions of being able to adopt.  When I was fourteen, random children, ranging in age from nine months to seven years old began entering and exiting my house on a regular basis.  They would stay for any amount of time - the least being four days, the most five months - and I had to adapt differently each time.  A few months after I turned fifteen, the pressure of me having to be the perfect big sister built immensely when two ten-month old little boys came into my house - to stay.  Being from two separate birth families, only seven weeks apart in age, they were a handful.  They each came form different backgrounds with their own stories and problems.  My parents fought for their rights every step of the way, like they would have for me - or so I thought.

            After they were adopted, my rainbow of a family was complete.  When I was younger, I did everything I was told.  I tried to make sure I never did anything wrong.  If I did, I would get a time-out, kneeling in the corner for a pre-determined amount of time.  But that wasn’t the worst part.  In my eyes, it hurt more to see Mommy or Daddy get upset with me than it did to spend whatever amount of minutes on my knees thinking about what I had done wrong.  Disappointing them was the absolute worst thing I could ever do.  I was supposed to be “The World’s Best Daughter” and the most perfect big sister.  When I was younger, it would be something simple that I did wrong, like writing on the wall or coloring on the table; but as time went on, things got a little more dramatic.  I started talking back, making faces at my parents, bossing my siblings around, and doing things they told me not to do.

            As my faults escalated, so did the punishments.  Instead of kneeling in the corner, I wasn’t allowed to watch anything on TV for a week.  Soon after, I lost computer privileges, and eventually - the worst - my car keys, my car, my freedom.  I felt like I was on top of the world until that very moment I walked in the door to my house with my mom asking “what is this, some kind of sick joke?”  she said this while she held the quilt my girlfriend made me for our on year anniversary.

            How could something like this happen?  Hearing those words from your own mother and getting no response, just a disgusted look, from your father.  Where were Mommy and Daddy?  Where were the people who had always shown me unconditional love and acceptance?  Now those very same people chose not to be there for me at one of the happiest times in my entire life.  Instead, they completely blocked me out.  Actually, I wish they completely blocked me out.  It would have been nicer than all the conversations that ended with hurtful little side comments, fights, harsh words, and tears.  Those are about the only things we share now.

            I finally feel like I know who I am.  I feel like I have finally become “The World’s Best Daughter” and the most perfect big sister I can be, but they don’t.  they see me as their daughter who betrayed them and their family for some girl.  They see me as someone who wanted to “ruin” their reputation in their home-town, and someone who would make their lives difficult.  Little did they know, they were ruining their own reputations by treating me the way they did.  People around me were happy for me; smiling when they would see my girlfriend and I walking by, proudly holding hands in public - of course, only when my parents weren’t around.  I was supposed to be the most amazing woman to ever hit the planet Earth, and I feel like I am to my full potential, but in their eyes, I’m not and never will be.  Even if I do get married, have a family, and lead a very successful life, I will never have their complete acceptance.  I will always be looked down on by them.  They had always wanted to show me off, their wonderful daughter, and tell people how amazing a little girl I was, and now, they were going to do all they could to hide that same “wonderful daughter” from the world.

            This is where I’m torn.  I’m not sure if I feel bad for my sister and brothers, fearing that they will possibly have to go through something similar if they don’t follow our parents’ plan for them precisely or if it makes me insanely jealous that they get treated better than I do.  My parents “fought equally” for all four of us to be theirs in different ways and “love every one of us equally”, they just don’t act like it.  They treat me like crap and then turn around and treat the others like perfect little angels.

            The person who I am today is definitely not that innocent little girl anymore; and I’m not afraid to admit it.  Even though I haven’t changed much , the way they see me has.  I still choose not to do drugs, drink alcohol, or smoke anything, but to them I’m a different person, almost worse than any of those things.  The main thing is that I’m happy with my life no matter how much I have to hide who I really am from the should be the most loving and accepting to me.  No, I cant show or express my true feelings at home; I cant tell them about any of my relationships; and, I certainly can’t talk about anything in my personal life, but I’m happy.

 

 

 

 

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