13 Nights

By Angie Summers

It is an honest story about a woman determined to beat the mental illness that defined her. Its her struggle to break free from the restrictions of having a mental illness. It is her quest to find happiness in her life despite her diagnosis. Its about a woman who was once a girl living in a scary situation and since has become strong and on her own. It’s a tale of victory. It’s a tale of forgiveness, love, perseverance, miracles, and hope.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728300856

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© 2019 Angie Summers. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/24/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-0086-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-0085-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019901953

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1     Life with a single mother

Chapter 2     Meeting Charlie

Chapter 3     Charlie’s Terrifying Ways

Chapter 4     High School

Chapter 5     13 Nights

Chapter 6     Post Mental Hospital

Chapter 7     Second Breakdown

Chapter 8     End of the Tunnel

Chapter 9     Relapse

Chapter 10   The Wedding

Chapter 11   Montgomery

Chapter 12   Leaving Montgomery

Chapter 13   Happily Ever After

Afterword

Thank you to my one true love. You have been such a support for me. You have played the role of husband, caretaker, mentor, doctor, best friend and therapist. Thank you. Thank you for giving me time to grow, time to heal and time to realize that I deserve good things in my life. Your patience and grace have carried me through some very difficult times. This book would have not been a reality without you. Thank you for believing in me all these years.

Thanks to God for giving me this journey. Thank you for allowing me to tell our story.

I would like to thank my mother who worked on this book for months and months. I appreciate your support and all the time you put into this project. This book became a reality the moment you agreed to help me. It truly means the world to me that you are a part of this journey. You are amazing, beautiful and unbelievably strong.

Life With a Single Mother

Meeting Charlie

Charlie’s Terrifying Ways

High School

13 Nights

Post Mental Hospital

Second Breakdown

End of the Tunnel

Relapse

The Wedding

Montgomery

Leaving Montgomery

Happily Ever After

Chapter 1

Life with a single mother

This is my story, the story of my life, and the journey I went through. It is exactly as I remember it. It may differ from others who were there, but I will tell my story and will leave nothing out. I am not ashamed of my story, and I will tell the truth. While I know that everyone has a story, I know that my story needs to be told. My story is not only wonderful; it is scary, sad and very crazy at the same time. I will start out from the beginning, where my story already starts out sad, scary and crazy.

I was only a baby when my Mother and Father would scream and fight in the living room while my sister would hide me and my older brother Jessie in a closet. My older sister Brooke knew that when it came to the fights, my biological father often erupted in violence…the type of violence that no child should ever have to be around. But Brooke saw a lot of violence.

My biological father was no stranger to not only physical abuse, but mental abuse as well. Brooke was the second oldest of us three. My sister Ashley was my oldest sister and she lived with her dad, not the same as my Dad. We were half-sisters by technicality but whole sisters for life. Jessie was the older brother that always had my back and my oldest brother Paul was deaf and taller than a Redwood tree. I was the youngest. My older brother Jessie and I had different fathers than Brooke, Ashley and Paul.

My Mom married young and fell in love fast. She was a free spirited soul, even when she was young. Telling from her history with men, it almost seemed like she had an attraction to the men who abuse, although I am certain that was never in my mother’s plan for anyone, including her, to get hurt. Maybe like many women, My Mom thought she could change a man. To this day, she has been unsuccessful when it came to changing men. In fact, last time I checked, no woman has been able to change a man. Many women, like my Mom, have tried. When I was first born, we lived in a tiny town called Vulcan, right in the Mountains. I’ve never seen my birthplace since we left when I was a baby, so I don’t remember anything of that tiny little town. The only reason I know that town was tiny was because that is what I had heard from one of my siblings. From what I hear, Vulcan was a beautiful little town with majestic mountains as a backdrop. I also don’t remember what my father was like. I was told he was definitely mean and violent. My mother insisted throughout my life that my father was well-liked and a very wonderful man. It can be hard to trust my Mom at times because of her compassion. My father had done her so wrong, yet she never said a bad thing to me about him. She still hasn’t and she has always supported my decision to rekindle something that was never there. I’m grateful that my Mom supports my decision to ignore him just like he did to me my entire life. It’s only fair.

I’ve had a picture since I was a tot of my father standing right next to a donkey. Years later, I always found it ironic that my ass of a father was standing next to an ass in the only picture I have of him. So as far as I’m concerned, the only truth I know about my father was that he was a miner, he was my blood, and he loved donkeys more than he liked me. I think that’s all I really want to know about him. You see, since I was a baby, I never knew that I had lost out on a father. It was always my Mom, my siblings and I. My real father was long gone way before I could even talk. He missed out on all my birthdays, my first softball game, and all the times I was in a play or any other production. When I was really small I thought any man in my life was my father and although that went away, I’ve never been able to figure out how some fathers don’t give a damn about their kids and actually never contact or make even the slightest effort to get to know their own blood. They walk away from their own families. Truth be told, I have never wanted my father back, Never. We would have never gotten along in the first place, because I can’t stand donkeys.

When it came to my siblings, Brooke was about 8 when we lived in Montana, Jessie was 6 and Ashley was around 11. Brooke was always, and still is, a big leader in our family. She was good with us younger kids when my Mom was working or going to school. She was also a little diva. A fashion diva, to be correct. Boy did she love to style and cut my hair. She would tell me that she would only cut my hair just a tad, a trim, no big deal. Then the next thing I knew she would be, with scissors in her hand, laughing because she ended up making my hair nearly boy short. And she also had an unusual evil laugh. Full of joy, but evil at the same time. One time she gave me an eighties tease with wave bangs for picture day at school. I was in the first grade. She used enough hair spray to ruin the earth forever. When I went to school, all the kids laughed because, well, I looked ridiculous. One tooth missing and an eighties Whitney Houston hairdo. It wouldn’t be the last time Brooke ruined my hair. Brooke was the protector in the family. She watched over all of us up until we could watch over ourselves. She watched while my Mom was away at either school or work. Years later she would be by all of our sides whenever life got hard. Brooke would put her heart and soul into the people she loved. You were a better person if you knew Brooke.

Sadly, Brooke started to struggle with an eating disorder. She told me about it when I was a Junior in High School, when I was having issues with an eating disorder myself. She only told me about her so that she could help me. She had struggled for years and I couldn’t believe that someone so strong could be so confused. Brooke had more battles than just one, but she also had a life ahead of her, a path that would be dark and scary but also bright and beautiful at the same time. Brooke was not put down easily.

Now there was something about Ashley that was intimidating. As a teenager, she did not trust many people, if anyone at all. No wonder, her step-mom had taken any trust or hope that Ashley had. The tales of what Ashley had to endure when she was a child are almost too much to handle. Ashley lived with her dad, and her step-mother who was a very abusive woman. Ashley’s step-mother did a lot to Ashley, but she failed in trying to ruin Ashley. Ashley was never the type of person that could easily be ruined. Ashley always called it like it was and had a great big laugh that she used often. She also was very tall and had a strong presence about her. Almost like a sign around her neck that read: just try to take me down!. One time my step-brother, Sean, was messing with Ashley even though he had been warned many times to leave her alone. He didn’t get the message, that is, until Ashley punched him so hard that he flew across the room. Although it was a violent act, there was something about the incident that made us all laugh. No one can believe to this day how far Sean flew across the room. Ashley still has that presence, but now you don’t worry that she might beat you up. The sign around her neck now reads: I forgive you. She has grown up a lot. And has survived more than any of us kids. That is where her strength came from. She also had a half sister on her Dad’s side. Even though Ashley lived far away I still felt close to her. She did her fair share of taking care of us, just like Brooke, and even Jessie had. Ashley always seemed fearless. Sadly, later it was revealed that Ashley was actually terrified. Terrified and alone. So she turned to alcohol. It became her best friend, a friend that would betray her. She had a son at an early age, but lost custody of him almost immediately. She lived a wild city life that seemed glamorous to me as a kid. Little did I know that glamour had a lot of tears and anxiety that went with it. Ashley had more battles than just one, but she also had a life ahead of her, a path that would be dark and scary but also bright and beautiful at the same time. Ashley was not put down easily.

Jessie was sweet, kind, and very talented. You could tell when he was young he was going to be a football, baseball, and a basketball player. He played two of the three sports. He was also very funny and a bit sarcastic at the same time. The funny was always good, but the sarcasm, not so much. For the most part, he was the hardest on me. He taught me how to make him a ham sandwich when I was five. He also had me dusting, vacuuming, and doing all sorts of other chores that were not mine. But he had my back whenever I needed it. That part about Jessie never changed. Loyalty was always a factor when it came to Jessie. He taught me how to play ‘one on one’ basketball to the point where I could play with the big boys. He was the reason I played softball for six years of my life. During one of my first games, Jessie convinced my coach to let me pitch even though I sucked. That first game I pitched was amazing. I struck out girls left and right. In fact, we won that game because of my pitching. I will never forget the heroic feeling I felt. I really hope that Jessie felt that same thing as he watched me do exactly what he had taught me to do. I never had a dad, but there will never be a doubt that I always had Jessie and Jessie was good enough. He didn’t have to invest into his little sister the way he did, but he did. He never gave up on me, always believed in me, and never let me give up. We watched college basketball together often, we rooted for Michigan. Jessie was a big Chris Webber fan. I loved how he taught me how to watch basketball as well. I learned what traveling was and why free throws are made. I was young, but I loved basketball. In fact, I still do. I guess I owe Jessie a big thanks for that one. I owe Jessie a lot of thank-yous. Jessie had many battles ahead, but he also had a life ahead of him, a path that would be dark and scary but also bright and beautiful at the same time. Jessie was not put down easy.

Paul, the oldest, was born deaf. That fact led my Mom to not only learn sign language, but to make it part of her career. Paul was also born nearly ten years before me so I didn’t have the chance to get close to Paul. And it doesn’t help that I am haunted by memories of us as kids. I remember two things about Paul as a kid. One was the time he poured boiling water over me while I was in the bath. I don’t remember the physical pain, but my head could not process why anyone would ever do something like that. But when it comes to Paul, you could not underestimate him. After all, memory number two came when I was also very young. He put cinnamon oil in every single pair of under wear I owned. The reaction that occurred was unbearable. I may have been young, but I remember the pain on that one. I also could not figure out how someone could think that pranks like that were funny. Those two events changed everything between Paul and I. I never trusted him and I still don’t. I hate hugging him and I cringe every time he touches me. I look at Paul and I see weakness It has always been hard to think of Paul as a brother. All I see is his weakness. And as far as I’m concerned, Paul was definitely put down easy.

My mother was a very optimistic and hard working woman. She raised all five of us the best she knew how. She taught us to be good kids who appreciated the little things. She would always take us hiking to show us how awesome nature was. She knew how to make a happy and comfortable home, without being one of those housewife types. She was firm with her rules and taught us to be honest. She was a strong woman. She still is. My Mom was kind and sincere. She was also incredibly beautiful and wise. I could always go to my Mom with any issue in my life and she would always give me nothing but the best advice. She let us handle our own situations, unless she believed that it was time to step in. I once got in trouble in high school for calling the school trying to excuse my boyfriend from class. I pretended to be the boyfriend’s mom. I did a terrible job. I had a good reason to be away from class since I had an appointment. When I got back to school the attendance lady informed me to go to the Principal’s office. Since I was typically a good kid, the Principal gave me a chance to be honest and I took it. He let me off the hook. The attendance lady was pissed. She called my Mom and called me out as a liar over my note to excuse me from class. My Mom was furious. After I had been completely honest, my Mom felt that the attendance lady had no right to call me a liar. So my Mom called the Principal and gave him a piece of her mind. She did this without raising her voice, or getting angry. She simply told him her issue. The Principal and my Mom agreed that the attendance lady had over stepped her bounds. The attendance lady was ordered to apologize to me. As she apologized, she cried and even gave me a hug. I smiled a bit and thought, I love my mother. My Mom had many battles ahead of her. Some were her battles, but most were the battles her children faced. With every tiny battle she taught us hope, strength and how to keep your head up. She believed in walking away. She would have to walk away from many things in her future, some good while others were bad. She had a wonderful life full of many great adventures at the same time. My Mom was strong; she was not put down easily.

It didn’t take too long for my Mom to realize that she needed to leave my father because the abuse had become too much for all of us to handle. Even the beauty of where we lived wasn’t enough to keep us there. The Mountains lost its luster with every hit. She took all of us kids and moved us to Xavier, California. I was too young to remember our move. I wasn’t sad I wouldn’t see the huge Mountains anymore, for I was just a baby. I wasn’t going to miss my favorite park, for I was only a baby. I wasn’t going to be sad to leave my friends, for I was only a baby. I was only a baby when my father decided to grab me from my mother’s arms and leave with me for over a month. Co-conspiring was my grandmother, my father’s mother. You see, the custody battle didn’t go to well for my father. From what I have heard over the years of my life, my Dad was a pretty messed up character. I am pretty sure he took me just to hurt my mother. However, whatever he did to me, I have no idea. I don’t remember a thing. I can’t pretend to say that I have a certain instinct that he hurt me during that month. For I don’t know, I was only a baby.

When it came to the kidnapping, all my Mom knew was that she was holding me, as mothers do. Holding me with protection and love. But even that wasn’t going to save me. He approached her and swiftly grabbed me from my Mom’s arms. He then took off in a car with me inside. He had convinced Brooke to put the baby seat in his car. He told her that he got to visit me before we left. She had no reason to not believe him, so she put the car seat in their car. Brooke was young and had no idea what was going on. I remember Brooke telling me later that she blamed herself when I got taken. If only she didn’t put the car seat in their car. She was way too young to discern between what was right and what was wrong. She obviously had no idea what my father was going to do. Once they left our driveway, I was gone. In most cases, I would have never returned.

My Mom did everything to get me back. I don’t remember all of this, but this is what I’ve been told about the situation. Once my Dad got word that he would face serious jail time if he didn’t return me, he dropped me off at my Aunt’s house. Someone told me that once I was safe, I cried up until I was in my mother’s arms. My mother was so relieved. She knew the chances, and I’m sure it was a long time before I was ever allowed to leave my mother’s sight. My Dad’s decision to take me away from the people I needed angers me beyond belief because he didn’t just hurt my Mom, he hurt me too. I am not put down easily. I fought back and it took years of therapy to get over what my father had selfishly done, but I eventually got over it. To be quite honest, I have no intention of ever meeting my biological father. It is definitely his loss, not mine. The moment we left Vulcan was the moment I was forever detached from my father’s life. And it was the last time I ever seriously referred to him as my father. His name is Ron. Ron Andrews.

Xavier was the opposite of Vulcan. Vulcan was typically cold whereas Xavier was typically hot. I can remember certain things about Xavier even though I was very young. I can remember the blonde-haired girl that lived right next door to us. I believe her name was Elizabeth. We played together almost every single day. We also fought almost every single day. There were also two brothers that lived in the apartment above us. One was mean and one was sweet. I had a crush on the sweet one, his name was Eric. We had a little grass area to play in even though we lived in low income housing, and our building looked like it was about to fall apart. Playing in the yard on a sunny day you would hear tons of sirens, car alarms, and trains. I don’t remember hearing gun shots go off, but there were probably those sounds as well. Lucky for me, I don’t remember hearing any gun shots. Paul would get beat with baseball bats every day at school, only because he was deaf. One time Brooke and I walked to the nearest convenience store on a beautiful day. In the parking lot a big man had grabbed his girlfriend and started beating her. He attacked her as if there was no one around. I was terrified, and I know Brooke was too. After all, there was a psychopath in the parking lot and she had to make sure nothing happened to me. Brooke was still young herself, so she never should have had to feel like she had to protect me. No one helped the helpless woman either. Everyone just stood around and watched as he punched her in the face repeatedly. Brooke quickly made it our main goal to get back home as soon as possible and as safe as possible. I’m certain that after we left, still no one helped that poor woman. How crazy our society is where a man can openly beat a woman and no one intervened to help her. As far as I remember, no one even called the cops. Little did I know that this incident would later become more familiar. Later, I would feel that it was normal for a man to hurt a woman.

I hated the city for so many reasons, but unfortunately, the city was my life for the time being. Even as a little kid I had thoughts of leaving Xavier. I would dream that we lived in a place where wild flowers grew about. A place where I could actually try to climb a tree. I know my Mom daydreamed of a better place, not just for herself, but for her family. Xavier smelled, was filled with weird people (like most cities), and it was already filled with smog even though it was only 1986. My Mom was a single mother trying to support her kids, so living on a farm really wasn’t an option for us. We had to live in a building that no one should have been allowed to live in. All of us kids continued to play in the concrete jungle we called our home and used our imaginations the best way we knew how. Even though my Mom did her absolute best, we still didn’t get all the toys some kids did. At the same time, she would still be able to get us toys that we absolutely loved. I know as a kid I had no idea that we were poor. I don’t really remember not having all the hot new toys, not seeing all the T.V. shows, not getting everything. I was happy and content. I had a best friend who lived next door, my first crush on the floor above, and my family in my home. Maybe we didn’t have the most, but we always knew we had each other. I know that I loved my family just the way we were. Oddly, I was never jealous of kids that got everything they could possibly want, because trust me, I had those friends. I am so happy to say that not having those toys proved to be a character builder. And because we couldn’t afford a T.V., I never watched the shows most kids my age were watching. Scooby Doo, Inspector Gadget, and anything that may have been on the Disney channel during the mid-eighties. However, what you don’t know, you really don’t care about. I have never felt a void.

My Mom was a nature lover and it was almost as if she had the whole world to show and give us. A world where you didn’t need money. She would take us on amazing hikes through the desert, the forest or along the beach. There was a time when we caught a nice sized lizard on a hike outside of Xavier. The type of lizard that would be in a pet store, but we could never afford. We begged our mom to let us keep it and surprisingly she agreed. I’m pretty sure none of us kids knew what we were getting into. We all worked together to find an aquarium, cage, anything that we would need. We came up with something, but that sneaky lizard would escape time after time. Sometimes it would sneak up on my Mom as she would open up a cupboard. Our lizard liked hanging out in the cabinets. Eventually she persuaded us kids to take the lizard back to where we found it and let the lizard live his life in the wild. I was pretty bummed we had to let it go because the bully that lived upstairs happened to be a tiny bit afraid of lizards. OK, so the poor kid was terrified of lizards. I would hide him behind my back and right as the bully would go to make his attack…BAM! I busted out the lizard, with a huge smile on my face, and he would scream like a little girl every time! I’m telling you, it was awesome! There is nothing like the freedom of knowing that no matter what, you can defend yourself. For that reason alone, I loved that lizard.

One day, we as a family were hiking through southern California’s desert when I fell off a rock and right into a cactus. Yet again I was young, but my memory of this event is quite clear. I can still remember how hot the rock that I sat on was as my mother tried to pull out any quills she could. I also remember my siblings blaming me for ruining the day. I could have been wrong, but nonetheless, I will never forget the pain I was in. I don’t remember how many prickles I got in me, but I’m guessing by my memory of that event that there were tons of them all over my body. At least that is how it felt. It hurt even after the quills had been removed. Knowing how young I was, I probably threw a fit. The whole nine yards: crying, screaming, and freaking out. Or maybe I was really chill about it. Maybe I didn’t even cry at all, but I don’t remember so I guess we will never know. I know this much, I fell on a cactus and it hurt. I was never a big fan of the desert after that.

There was also a time when we got to go to Disney Land. I have no idea how that worked out, but it did. I remember the Pirates of the Caribbean, the princesses looking radiant and almost perfect, and of course, meeting Mickey Mouse. Disneyland was completely magical. There were big bright buildings with a castle at the head of the park. The castle was exactly what you see every time you watch a Disney movie. I thought it was the coolest thing that I had ever seen. I’m sure I wasn’t big enough to get on a big roller coaster, but the tea cup ride was a blast. Round and round it went I can remember laughing due to the excitement in my stomach. It made me a little dizzy, but sometimes being dizzy is a good thing. Every night Disney Land has a fireworks show. A show that seemed twice as good as the one you see on the Fourth of July. Huge explosions of color, one after another. I don’t know whether they still have that same great show to this day or not. I think there was also a parade. There was nothing like meeting Cinderella. Out of all of the princesses, she was the most beautiful. With perfect hair, glowing skin and a smile that only a princess can have. I felt very lucky as a kid to get to go to Disneyland, for many of my friends had never gone. But it wasn’t about whether my friends had got to go to Disneyland; it was about spending time with my family. I learned early on that happiness is a state of mind, not about money or even power. For when we were at our poorest, we still got to go to Disneyland as a family. We got to enjoy the rides, the magic, and the fireworks. And when we weren’t at Disneyland, we were there for each other. I may have not had much when it came to toys, but I had the best family, the best mom, and that was something far more meaningful than money. I was only about five when I made this revelation.

There was the time all of us neighborhood kids decided to play hide and seek outside. Why not, it was a beautiful California day…warm and sunny, with nothing but the smog in the air. For the game I decided to hide underneath a window, behind a very fragrant bush. I knew the bush’s strong smell would hide my own odor, making it that much harder to find me. The window seal on the outside had metal trim and very sharp edges. I hid there up until whomever was it ran past me. I knew the best rule was to always go hide where it had already looked. I got up fast and the corner of the window seal ripped my forehead open. Honestly, the pain wasn’t what scared me; it was the blood. As I ran to get my Mom, I will never forget how much blood was dripping down my face. The blood was all over the hot concrete making perfect little droplets. Everyone came to help, but there was only one thing to do. My Mom whisked me to the car, to the hospital, where I would receive my first set of stitches. It was also in Xavier where I earned my second set of stitches. I was standing on the back of our couch and I was playing warrior princess. I fell off and landed onto a bucket of paint. The edge of the paint can ripped my chin open. The scar from those stitches never went away. I am reminded daily of those events.

I’ll never forget my Mom, and the way she was peeling those potatoes when she told me that she had some pretty big news. I watched my Mom peel the potatoes as I listened. It was amazing that she hadn’t cut herself with how fast she peeled. There was definitely frustration flowing from my Mom. She told me that she had decided to pack all of us up to get out of Xavier and California as soon as possible. We were going to Washington. Of course I couldn’t completely grasp what the move meant. It meant no more cute boys on the floor above me, or best friend next door. All of a sudden Xavier didn’t seem that bad. Regardless, I still wanted to leave. So we packed up what we could, and left the little ghetto where we lived. I don’t remember the drive up to Washington much, but I’m sure it was entertaining with just my Mom and all of us kids. And I’m certain the drive up kept getting more beautiful with every mile. It seemed that things were looking up. We were about to have a new home. We were about to meet a whole new group of friends and everything was going to be new. Anything new was a good thing.

I will never forget the very first thing I noticed about our very cute little home. I noticed the grass in the yard. I couldn’t believe how green it was. It seriously almost