Bump- Set- 911

It was 2003. 

My mom had just helped me file a 30 day "restraining order" against my father. Aka- an emergency loss of visitation essentially. It was shortly after he had made repeated threats against my life, and had physically hurt me repeatedly (enough to leave marks finally). It was granted, and I was trying to figure out what it meant to be legally involved in ugly things.

I was 12. 

I was starting middle school. 

I was trying out for the middle school volleyball team before school started.

It was the first week or two that I was able to get away from him. I was living with my mom but I was still always still on edge, expecting him to show up or cause an issue. 

I went for a few days of volleyball clinics, was trying to learn and then find a place in life. 

A place I really wanted to be...a place I thought I could create a safe environment maybe?

However, much like any other time I felt safe...

while I was in the gym one of those days...in walked my father. 

Calling me out of drills and demanding to talk to me. 

I believe my mom and I had told the coaches/teachers of the situation when tryouts started, so all I remember is being in the breezeway trying to get out of the conversation and having a teacher step in.

She said that tryouts were closed, and then once she got me back inside, someone called the police. I don't remember who or any of the other specifics...but I remember thinking I would never be safe and would never have a normal life.

Unfortunately, I was relatively correct on that assumption. 

I didn't make the team. 

Either team to be fair.

I could have been that bad. I doubt it given the 20 years I have played since then...but I recognize that it's possible. 

But as an adult...I also see that teachers and coaches wouldn't want that kind of legal liability. 

And I understand why.

This is just an excerpt from the pages of testimony my mom and I gave asking to continue the temporary order.

That they denied. Sending me right back to the man that was actively using drugs and abusing me. 

Just another piece of my childhood that got ripped out of my hands before I had the slightest chance to experience it.

One more time for anyone tuning in...

When I wrote this, begging the court for help...

I. Was. 12.

And they said no.