When I was 12 yrs old I was taken from my Father while he was at work. My Mom just came early to school and got me out of school and told me to come home and pack my things because we’re moving. I really didn’t know what was going on, so I did as my mother told me. When we got to the house I went up into my room and there was nothing really in there. Just some of my scattered belongings all over the floor and two boxes. All furniture was already taken by now. So I packed all my things up in a rush and ran out to the car where Mom was waiting for me and threw my stuff in the back seat and hopped in front with Mom. We pulled out of the driveway. As I was looking towards that old house of ours my Mom turned to me and looked at me and said, “You are never going to see your Father again.” That hit me right straight in the heart. I couldn’t believe she said that.
We finally got to the new house. I was a wreck. I couldn’t believe what had happened. I mean, I grew up in a home where my parents would fight as long as I can remember. I just thought that was a fact of life. I stayed in my room for a month at least. I never came out of it. My Mom would bring me food or whatever. I would sit there in my room and wait for my Father to walk through my bedroom door and give me a hug. I really missed him. I was really close to my Father.
Well, years passed by and I was still living with my Mom and I’m a teenager now. I visit my Dad every other weekend. But life just keeps on getting worse. I would hate to go home because all my Mom would do is come home from work and take it all out on me. She would harass me and she would even hit me. I just got to the point where when she would do stuff like that, I was so sick of it and the only way to make her stop is to just sit there and take it. That’s how it was every night. I would stay at friends’ houses and hardly ever come home. Mom would try to get me home by telling me she was going to take my TV out of my room or what ever she wanted to do but I hated to go home, so it really didn’t make a difference to me. She never cared for me whatsoever. I had always gone to church when I was with my Dad. And my faith had plummeted since I was with my Mom. Now it was just a ritual kind of thing to go to church. Plus my Dad would always yell at me, too. For my bad grades in school and stupid stuff like that, that I couldn’t help because I was in such a mess. I was very suicidal at the time because there was no real relationship with my mother and my relationship with my Father was falling apart. All he would talk about to me was my grades and the stupid divorce because they were trying to get a divorce for 3 years now. He really never treated me like a son. We didn’t have that Father-son relationship we used to have.
I tried filling my self with earthly things, like my girlfriend (I was going out with her for 2 1/2 years), and also my band. I was a drummer in an industrial band. I wrote many songs for them, too. It was a great band; we sounded well together. We played at bars, skate and jams, and at raves. That was the main focus on my life. But that all changed one night when I came home from a friend’s house. We went out and played a little pool before I had to go home. I got out of my friend’s car and said goodbye and walked up to the glass door where Mom was standing in the house looking at me through the glass door. All I was thinking at the time was, “Oh there’s Mom. I guess she wants to fight again.” So I walked up to the door and there’s my Mom yelling at me as usual but, she wasn’t saying the same stuff that she would usually be saying. I always watched my parents fight through this door. With my Dad on the outside and my Mom on the inside. I never knew what it was like to be on the side of the door where my Father stands until that night.
My mom was telling me she hated me. She never wanted to see me again. She never loved me. She just kept me around to get my Father’s money and to tear at his soul. I couldn’t believe it. My own Mother. My own flesh and blood. She had disowned me. Threw me out on the street. Well, as normal I was a wreck and now more than ever before. It just hurt so much.
I ran down to my girlfriend’s house and knocked on the door. She let me in and I told her the whole story. She knew everything that I was going through and she told me to call my Dad. So I did. I called my Dad.
I woke him up because it was 2:00am in the morning. I told him the whole story and he rushed down to pick me up. That was the last night I ever saw Kim, my girlfriend, again. We had lost total contact of each other after that night.
So I moved to my Dad’s that night but the trouble was not over. All the crap I had been through really had taken a toll on me. My emotions were all dried up and had wasted away. I was full of hurt and pain. I couldn’t concentrate in school. I began skipping classes and hardly ever showed up for classes.
I knew all the stuff they were teaching in classes. I was very smart. That wasn’t the problem. Finally, one of my teachers that had grown a special bond to me realized I was like every other kid that was in his class. I knew all the stuff. I passed every test with at least an A. But, I hardly came to class. And he didn’t see me as a kid that would just skip off and miss classes. He would hunt me down after classes and talk to me. And I was willing to talk in fact that’s all I needed to do is talk. I began to tell him everything.
He was right. I wasn’t a regular skip off. I really needed help. He said I was very smart and probably why I really wasn’t scared of any referals or detentions or security guards or whatever. That’s all I did was collect referals here and there. I was presented with at least 5 or 6 referals every day. And I was only at this school for a couple of weeks. I really didn’t need someone yelling at me all the time, because I really didn’t care what they had to say. I just needed a friend to talk to.
Well, that teacher brought me up to the counselor’s office and I told this guy my whole story. And he recommended me to another counselor and that counselor recommended me to another counselor. Finally I sat down with this guy and he listened everything I said and he asked questions and he was a really cool guy.
I could tell he was there to help. We really got to know each other and became best of friends and he told me and my Dad everything that has been going on and why.
And at that time he was also seeking help outside of school, as well. He said I should speak with a psychiatrist. So my Dad finally began to understand me again. Our bond became stronger. My faith was at its highest as well.
I’m seeking help now and I’m starting to come out of my depressed state and just becoming a normal human being again. But, if it wasn’t for friends and my Dad telling me about Jesus and keep telling me he’s there for me and will always be there with me I probably wouldn’t be here today. I probably would have committed suicide.
So, I just thank Jesus for all he has done for me. Delivering me from all that pain and sorrow and giving me a whole new life to start out on the right foot and to be with him and let him guide me through my everyday life. I’m 16 and happily living with my Dad for a few months now.
Thanks for listening and please write back and tell me if you liked my testimony.
Your loving friend, Billy Mack
If you would like to write me back…. please write to: KPHJ20C@prodigy.com