Free Walking on Eggshells: Discovering Strength and Courage Amid Chaos by Lyssa Chapman

count. We might stay a few days or a few weeks at the Motel 6 (or we might stay with Dad’s “woman of the week”), and then Barbara, Tucker, and I would move back to Beth’s for a day or a month. I don’t know how many times we packed up to move, but it was enough that I began to keep all of my things stuffed under mybed in a large plastic trash bag. It was simpler that way. When we heard the words “Kids, pack your shit,” all we had to do was reach under the bed and head for the car.
    All of these moves were hard on us, but it also must have been hard on Beth and Cecily. It is a testament to Beth’s deep love for my dad that she put up with as much as she did. Anyone who has been around a person who uses drugs knows how much the missed appointments, forgotten errands, and general irresponsibility trickle down to everyone involved with the drug user. Dad’s drug use kept all of us off balance.
    Another problem for me was that Beth and I never really clicked. All of the other women in Dad’s life had absolutely adored me. But not Beth. It might have been that I wasn’t as young and cute as I was when the other women had been around. It could have been that I was in a transitional phase from good girl to someone who lied on occasion and didn’t care all that much about anything. Or, most likely, the reason Beth and I never clicked is that we are just two very different people. That happens even in the best of families.
    At the time I also felt that Beth picked on me. For example, I had never used a curling iron, and she regularly commented to me after I tried to use one that my hair looked funny. One time we both struggled with the iron and my hair, and the end result was that I had a huge burn on my neck from the curling iron. I think now that picking on me was Beth’s way of trying to help me. After all, I was the little girl with the dirty clothes, unwashed hair, and raggedfingernails. I probably needed a lot of help. But I didn’t understand her way of trying to assist me, and animosity built.
    Resentment also reared its head when we were living with Beth and Cecily. I’m not sure if Dad saw it, but suddenly there were a lot of people competing for his attention. I didn’t understand what it was initially, but over time I realized that tension in Beth’s home increased every time Dad paid special attention to me or to Barbara or Tucker.
    I am sure that Tucker and Barbara’s acting out was terribly hard on Beth, too, especially as I was the only one of the three of us who even halfway listened to her. That might be why I took the brunt of her frustration and discipline, only to be overcompensated with kindness when Dad was around. It was one more thing in my life to be confused about.
    I now know that a child learns what he or she is taught, and I was being taught that men disrespect women, hit them, and scream at them. I also learned that what couples do is fight and scream for hours, then everything can go back to normal. At the drop of a hat the same two people who were just at war, now are a happy couple.
    I had also learned to keep secrets. It was an unspoken rule in our family that we were never to speak about what we saw or heard at home. We had learned that lesson in Hawai’i, but it continued here.
    At school I was still in the fifth grade, but I was no longer the only troubled kid in my class, as I had been when I went to schoolin Hawai’i. Now a few other kids my age were smoking and in relationships with older boys. I had finally found friends I could relate to.
    I started stealing liquor from the house and pot from my brother and sister. I rebelled, and did not care about anything other than boys, alcohol, and drugs. At home, my brother and sister took great joy in teasing me in cruel ways. I remember Tucker hanging me by my hair out a window. In addition to being totally frightening, it hurt more than you could imagine. I also remember being put in the dryer while Tucker turned it on and