Life Of Curve Balls

Part 1 - Beginning of life Elementary - High School :

Once upon a time there was this girl name Stacey, Born July 4th, 1990, in Mission, British Columbia, I entered the world as the lone girl among six brothers. This unique position shaped my life profoundly. Humor became my coping mechanism, finding light in darkness.

Memories from age two remain vivid: a brown shag carpet, twisted black rails, and a specific house layout. Yet, I recall nothing of my parents' tumultuous relationship. My biological father's departure led to meeting my true dad, bringing an amazing sister and another brother into my life.

My sister, now my best friend, initially scared me. I gravitated towards my brother, unfamiliar with female siblings. She persevered, becoming my closest confidant.

Joining Beavers, I learned survival skills: wood-cutting, fire-building, canoeing, and knot-tying. As one of three girls in this traditionally boys' group, I thrived. A brief stint in Brownies ended quickly – skirts and tea parties weren't my style.

Nicknamed "Bummy" at two for my couch-jumping antics, the moniker stuck. I embraced mud play, repeatedly hosing off and diving back in. My tomboyish nature flourished among brothers.

Childhood memories include my mom and Aunt Mar exercising to Richard Simmons videos. Using chairs and food cans as props, they embodied the quirky charm of 90s fitness culture. These moments, tinged with nostalgia, still bring smiles and laughter.

In high school, the popular girls picked on me. They made fun of my hair. I dyed it blonde, but box dye always turns it brassy. I grew up with boys so fashion wasn't my best suit. I did always family legacy that haunted my high school days. Troublemaker kin left their mark, tainting my reputation before I even started. Teachers eyed me warily, expecting the worst. Skipped classes, brawls, and substance abuse defined my relatives' time there. Their dropouts cast long shadows. I inherited their protection, but also their notoriety. Every hallway held whispers of my family's misdeeds. My brother Chris used all of our family last names, leaving me in a tough spot.

My sister Casey and brother Stewart both graduated - they were the better siblings, if you will. Proud of both of them. Shout out to you, sister and brother.

Grade 8, there was a girl I befriended; her name is Brittany. She and I clashed in a war of words. We scheduled a confrontation. Word got around the whole school - my brother Kevin's friends heard about it, and every time I saw one of them, they would say, "Kick her ass" in short terms. The principal caught wind of the fight arrangements; they called us both to the principal's office. The principal says, "Well, Ms. Doyle, go figure. Another Doyle in my office." I say, "Don't you compare me to my family." As I smirk. The principal says, "Well, what are you in here for, fighting?" Brittany and I talked, made up, and became friends again.

I saw her a few years back at my work establishment. She seems to be doing very well. Happy about that. 

  Skipping school, I'd smoke and drink with friends like Dreanne. Crushing on Levi, I stole Bailey's to impress him. Dreanne played wingwoman, orchestrating encounters.

Summer brought darker company – drug dealers. At twelve, I lost my virginity to an older man and tried cocaine. Scarface became a daily ritual. These guys, once David's friends, now estranged.

My brother disapproved, warning me about my new crowd. I ignored him, seduced by their money and lifestyle. Parents struggled, baffled by my rebellion. I was spiraling, convinced I knew best, blind to the dangers ahead. 

  Brandi and I clicked instantly. We spent countless hours together, forging a bond that defied social expectations. Though "popular" girls mocked me relentlessly, their taunts couldn't dampen my spirit. I remained true to myself - humble yet outgoing. Little did they know, beneath my friendly exterior lay a resilient core, capable of weathering any storm. Their ignorance of my strength was perhaps for the best.

Summer bloomed with Brandi by my side. We dreamed up a playful "wedding" for my July 4th birthday, our laughter echoing with wild ideas. Mom's surprise party caught me off guard. Friends gathered, yet I callously called it "boring." Regret now stings. Her gesture was touching - a mother's love wrapped in celebration. Thanks, Mom, for that sweet memory.

We'd party at this house often - Natasha, Brandi, Brittany, and others. It's where I lost my virginity. One night, I got wasted on sambuca. My brother Kevin picked me up, furious. He struggled to get me up the steep driveway and stairs. I fell into rose bushes.

Next morning, I woke disheveled and clueless. Mom saved me from alcohol poisoning. Showering, I tried milk for my hangover - big mistake. More vomiting ensued before I passed out.

Mom interrogated me later, gangster-style. She called everyone from my phone, including the guy I'd slept with. She banned him from seeing me again.

She'd learned about my first time overhearing me talk to Kevin's girlfriend, Laura. Initially, she just pushed birth control. Later, she discovered his age from others.

Looking back, I regret my reckless behavior. Mom, I'm sorry and I love you. Thanks for everything.

My dad Austin was born in Ottawa in 1953.  In 1990 ran for the Liberal party - he came so close to winning the election. Now don't be sour about this piece as Liberal was different back in the 1990s.

This chapter may have you expecting this to be a story about a happy family, but I can assure you, there will be some drama...