Through writing, I was able to regain a sense of peace in my life. I stopped aiming my anger at my mom and little brother, and would instead retreat to my bedroom right away after my dad dropped me off at home, to put down all of the bullshit from my dad's on a digital writing document. Then, I could join the family without lashing out at them. Occasionally, I shared my writings with my mom, though rarely. She already had a good idea of what was going on at my dad's house. Plus, once I had it written down, I didn't want to reply those memories again. I didn't want to piss myself off again. There was no reason to. 

My mom was very relieved that I was back to my old self. And, even my dad noticed I wasn't so tense at his house. While it was still quite unbearable at his place, I knew how to remain calm and not lash out at anyone. If I felt myself getting upset, I'd retreat to my bedroom or the couch and put that stuff in my iPad. Then, I could put the writings away and eventually forget about them. I didn't have to carry the weight of the tension between me and my stepmom. My iPad could store it for me, and I'd never have to read my writings again. I could even delete them if I wanted to. 

My stepmom began noticing I was spending a lot more time typing away on my iPad. She didn't let me know she noticed it, but she kept a hawk's eye on me. I didn't notice her watching me very often, because I was busy listening to music and typing down my everyday life. I was utterly oblivious.

She finally confronted me one day. She asked me to give up my electronics so she could look through them. I instantly felt my blood run cold. I knew I didn't have much to hide, but I knew what she was up to. Unfortunately, I was cornered and couldn't get away. So, I said a silent prayer while I reluctantly gave up my iPad, then immediately asked my dad if we could go on a long bike ride as far away from the house as possible. 

As I biked alongside my dad through Cherry Creek State Park, my mind raced a million miles an hour. I didn't know what my stepmom would look through. I just hoped she was only interested in my internet history, because that was very boring. But I knew, deep down inside, that wasn't what she was interested in. She knew I was writing about something, and probably speculated that it was about her.

Unfortunately for me, most of what I wrote was about her. I never wished her harm. But I wanted her out of my life, and I knew if she read about that, she could figure out a way to twist it in her favor, and possibly convince my dad that I was a danger to everyone. My biggest fear at the time was losing my relationship with my dad, and I felt I was on thin ice. If my stepmom got her way, I knew my relationship with my dad would be over. The thought of losing my dad still physically hurts. 

When we returned after being on our bikes for nearly 2 hours, I found my iPad sitting on my bed. I quickly turned it on and looked through it. Nothing was moved, missing, screen-shot, or anything. I sort of relaxed, hoping my stepmom did just look through my internet history. 

That week in therapy, my therapist looked quite concerned, and asked to talk to my mom before she talked to me. I was instantly alarmed, as was my mom. My mom gave me a reassuring nod as she followed my therapist into her office, and closed the door behind her. I couldn't hear their conversation over the TV, and to be honest, I was afraid of what my therapist had to say. Those five minutes spent I spent sitting alone in the waiting room felt like an eternity. I nearly jumped out of my skin when my therapist's door opened, and my mom beckoned me in with a smile. 

In the middle of the floor between my mom and therapist was a large cardboard box of papers. I instantly recognized the font and writing style as being mine. 

"Uh, what's this?" I asked as I kicked at the box on my way to my seat. 

"Your dad brought these in at the request of your stepmom." my therapist replied, "He said she was very alarmed by what you wrote in these."

"Why?" I asked. 

"Apparently, you wish a lot of harm and death towards your stepmom in your emails and letters." my therapist casually sighed. 

"Did you even read them?" I asked through clenched teeth, "I never wished harm or death on her. I want her out of my life, but that's nothing new. That's the worst I've said in my writing. I don't want her to be harmed or killed. By the way, how the hell did she get these in the first place?"

"Your dad said she got them off your iPad, after she asked if she could look through it. You gave it to her, happily." my therapist explained. 

"Happily my ass!" I growled, "She forced me to give it up. I didn't want to, but she made me!"

I couldn't believe that my therapist was so naive. I was seething with anger. I'd been seeing her for almost a year, and for basically that entire year, I spent my therapy hours ranting about my stepmom and seeking advice from my therapist. My therapist led me to believe she understood, and would stand by my side if my stepmom tried anything. But I suddenly realized she had only been doing that to be professional. Suddenly, not only was my privacy grossly invaded by my stepmom, but she printed that stuff out and had my dad deliver it to my therapist in hopes that I'd be confronted. And, there I was, being confronted by my therapist and treated as if I was in the wrong. My therapist believed my stepmom's lies, and never bothered to fact-check my stepmom by reading the documents herself. Sure, I didn't want those things to be read, even by myself, but it would be better than being accused of writing stuff I never wrote. 

Needless to say, that therapy session was cut short by my mom. She promptly lifted up the box of papers and pushed me out the door, while telling the therapist she'd look into it herself. My mom was just as angry as I was. Maybe even more so. 

I broke down in uncontrollable tears as soon as I got into the car. I was absolutely destroyed. My mom couldn't say or do anything that would comfort me. The damage had been done. All we could do was ensure that my privacy wouldn't be invaded again, especially by someone who had no good intentions.  

As soon as we got home, I wiped my old email clean, and created a new email I knew no one but myself had access to. Meanwhile, my mom got me a brand new phone with a brand new email, and then together we set it up once she came back home. I reset my old phone, so it was completely wiped clean of anything that had to do with me, and put it away in a junk drawer. Finally, over the rest of that week, Mom began looking for a new therapist for me. I could not trust my therapist anymore. She hadn't been honest with me, so I had no reason to continue on with her as if nothing happened. 

As expected, my dad didn't say much about the whole ordeal. He more or less shrugged it off. But I could tell it really bothered my stepmom. I decided not to associate my iPad with my email or any of my personal accounts for that matter. I also wiped it clean of any writings I kept on there, so my stepmom could find no trace of anything if she asked for it again. She did ask for it again later on, but because there was nothing there for her to see, she lost interest and never asked to look through it again. 

Instead, my stepmom once again harassed me over my interests. She tried to create a rule where I could only do educational things online, rather than "waste my time" on video games and internet memes. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't enforce it, and I didn't listen to her anyway. She was not my parent and certainly didn't have my best interest at heart, so there was no reason for me to give her that authority.