I grew up with parents who didn’t care. They were split, but my dad didn’t seem to care I lived in a dirty home and my mom, whom I lived with, didn’t seem to care that she was causing my isolation.
Growing up, I lived in a clean home up until I was around 9– the infestation started. It was roaches. At first it seemed kept at bay, like just a few had snuck in. But it gradually got worse, to the point where it would be considered a very severe infestation. They didn’t care to fix it.
It was hard for me to eat food at home, knowing they could (and would) chew through the bags and the skin of fruits or veggies. I often went without dinner or breakfast, eating lunch at school— and on the days that I was home, I’d make sure the food was clean and packaged correctly before eating. Food couldn’t be left out, it HAD to be put up inside of a container or the fridge. They didn’t seem to care though, because I’d go out and there would be food unpackaged with little swarms of roaches on it.
This also meant I couldn’t have friends over. I couldn’t hang out with them. It would always have to be at their house; but I stopped bothering with sleepovers and hangouts as it got progressively worse. It impacted my social life and had me withdraw. If anyone found out about this secret, I’d be ostracized. I’d be a huge target for the bullying and whispers, when all I would want is help.
But then again, I already was being made fun of. Being rather unfortunate looking, with a smell— that god awful smell that will NEVER leave you. The roaches would create this musty odor that seeped into everything— especially your clothes. You wouldn’t notice it until you came back from a very long vacation. I vividly remember sobbing until I couldn’t breathe because I had been stripped away from finally feeling clean. It didn’t matter if you had just washed, or you just cleaned your clothes. If you step into that house even just for ten minutes, you’ll come out with this subtle musty smell rubbed off onto you.
Of course, I became acutely aware of all of this entering high-school. I often wished that they had just told me straight to my face— they would whisper behind my back and act friendly to my face. It always made my blood run cold, and I was once again reminded of my home situation that seemed to have no escape. CPS cases were open, but of course, the shitty system wouldn’t save me.
By that point I wanted to kill myself. I didn’t want to live. I felt alone, miserable, and disgusting. I’d yearn for the days where we’d go somewhere else for vacation and I could feel clean again. I’d hate the days it came close to ending.
I tried to make changes to smell at least a bit better at school, to hide this secret longer. Washing my clothes every night, or washing my clothes early in the morning so they were fresh. My mom got mad at me and said I was wasting. Each time I brought up the roaches she’d say it’s normal, that it’s apart of country life. I knew it wasn’t. She’d always shift the blame on how we didn’t clean, and how we always left clothes around in our rooms.
I started to resent both of my parents and stepfather, ESPECIALLY my mother.
With my dads empty promises of taking me away from the situation, my mothers negligence, and my stepfathers odd comments and memories of his past abuse, I wanted nothing to do with them anymore.
At the age of 16, I started making the effort to pour laundry detergent into a container and sneak it to my room to hand wash clothes. I was lucky enough to have a door leading to outside in my room. I’d leave my clothes and backpack outside so they wouldn’t pick the smell up. I’d do my best to avoid leaving my stuff inside. If they needed to be dried the next morning, I’d risk it and put the clothes in the dryer early in the morning, then take them out and put them outside again. I was desperate to make the whispers stop— though I feel I was pushed to the point of delusions to where any whisper I heard made me freeze up and sweat and want to sob right then and there.
I rarely got good sleep unless I slept after school. I would go to sleep at 11pm and wake up at 4am more often than not. I just couldn’t stand to sleep, in fear of the roaches crawling on me. Luckily my room wasn’t insulated properly, so they didn’t exactly go back to my room. I’d see one or two here and there, but it wasn’t as bad compared to the kitchen or other rooms.
I can handle any bug just fine. But once I see a roach that resembles the one that made my life hell, I feel my blood run cold and I freeze. It sets me into a panic.
I clean excessively now and make sure I never smell. I often wear earbuds to block the whispers out, even if they aren’t about me.
If my mom or dad had actually cared, I would’ve grown up normally and have a normal social life.
I now have a pretty bad anxiety disorder and hate having people over. I hate whispers. I hate stares. I feel like vomiting when people mention anything related to infestations, even if it’s not about me. I’m socially withdrawn and awkward.
Please, do something about any infestation you have. For your kids sake.