"Be yourself. Above all, let who you are, what you are, what you believe shine through every sentence you write, every piece you finish." -John Jakes
An assignment from SoAnonyMiss.
Well, I had to wait until I got off of work to do this, because I think this is going to be a long post. I've been meaning to make one of these deep, honest, raw posts soon. Well, you know, soon is always soon and never now.
I was born March 21, 1986. My mother was 18, my father 21. My mom first got pregnant at 15 with my father, but the baby died. Not relevant to myself particularly, but it still affects me. My parents split when I was 1, divorced when I was 3. My father met a woman, my mother slept with random men. I've learned of my early history and that of my parents throughout the years. My mother snorted cocaine, my father and his new girlfriend shot up heroin. All them were alcoholics.
I don't remember much before the age of 10. I've pieced it together from what I've been told, random memories, and nightmares. Because of this, I have no idea how old I was when these events occurred, I'm just guessing.
We were very poor. We moved around a lot. There were a couple times I switched schools in the middle of the year. I was malnourished. You could see my rib cage a lot of times. They would rather do drugs and drink than feed the children. Dad's girlfriend had a son about my age, and they had a girl together when I was about 5. I can remember many parties. There was more than one time I was awoken in the middle of the night, dressed, and left the house because things got physically violent.
I think I was about 5 when I was molested. I'm pretty sure it was a regular occurrence once it started. At first, I tried to hide in between my mattress and the wall. When that didn't work, I hid under my bed. After that, I slept in the closet. When that didn't work, I would hide in the corner of the closet, and pile all kinds of noisy, plastic toys in front of me. I don't know if that worked. I became a very sad little girl. I have pictures of when I was that age. I look haunted.
I think it was also this time that someone shot me up with heroin. I remember shaking. I remember being in the backseat of a car. I was then thrown into a bathtub of freezing cold water. I have a scar on my arm from the needle.
When I was younger, my mother wasn't around much. She'd call and say she would pick me up on Friday. I'd sit by the window and wait for her. And wait. She would never show up. My dad made excuses for her.
When I was 10, my father broke up with his girlfriend and we moved. Again. I started smoking at this time. I smoked for about 2 years. Yes, I did inhale. I remember more of my life at this point. But the memories aren't so bad, because my father quit drugs and drinking. Every other Sunday, we would go to the Mall of America. He didn't have a car at the time, so we took the bus. Almost every time we went, he would buy me a book at Barnes and Noble. I think it was called something else back then though, I don't really remember.
I lived with my dad until Sophmore year at high school. I moved in with my mother. When I was about 4, my mom had a girl with a guy, and then when I was 8, she had another girl with yet a different man, who is currently my step dad. During those three years, I learned a lot about my mother. She wasn't who I thought she was. In my childhood, I had idolized her into something she wasn't. I learned that she's a pathological liar. She breaks promises all the time.
Anyway, my mother and step father owned a commercial cleaning business, and it was doing very well. They bought a huge house in a small town the year I moved in with them. In any metro area, this house was easily a million dollar house. Because of it's location, the price was drastically lower than that. There was three levels, and on the second level, there was a built in bar, and a fish tank built into the bar. The owners left us the hot tub. Well, I learned how a person on cocaine acts. She was crazy. The scariest times of my life, that I can fully remember.
I'd wake up in the middle of the night to her screaming at my step dad. I think she beat him sometimes. One time, one of the few times she cooked dinner, my sisters and my mother and step father and I were eating like a normal family. I think my youngest sister was about 9. The middle child said she needed to go to the school and pick up her sweatshirt she had ordered. My step dad said he couldn't take her because he had to go to work. My mom said he would. He said no. She went crazy. She started screaming, and started chasing him around with the steak knife. I guess that wasn't good enough, so she got a huge butcher knife and chased him around with it. I was frozen to the spot, I didn't know what to do. I finally ran down to my room and hid in my dark closet for an hour.
I ended up moving 6 times senior year. I ended up having severe insomnia for about 6 months. My grades dropped from A's and B's to C's D's and F's. I almost didn't graduate. But I did. K-12 I think I went to about 10 schools. I was always the new shy girl. I was the one everyone picked on. I was poor and couldn't afford the latest fashions. I had no mother at home to teach me how to do my hair, or how to put on make up. I was always the outcast. I kept to myself. Sometimes I preferred it that way, but a lot of times I didn't. I spent all my time reading and writing.
I moved back in with my father after high school and worked full time. I waited 2 years before starting college. I went part time and continued working full time. My degree was accounting. I still haven't finished, and I don't think I'm going to. I'm going to be a writer.
I'm a lesbian, and not fully out yet. Most of my family doesn't know. I'm more afraid to tell my father more than anyone else. I care more about what he thinks.
I love rough sex. TMI? Well, whatever. I love being bitten, it drives me crazy. I can't ever have sex with a man because of my childhood. I think penises are the grossest thing ever because my innocence was stolen from me when I was too young.
I've recently moved out on my own. I live with room mates, but I'm not living with either of my parents.
I've been abused and kicked around. I've been used. But because of all that, I am so much stronger. I have so much more to live for because I know life can be better. All these things have made me smarter. I'm still figuring things out. But I know things can get better.
I've actually left a lot out, like the time when I was 13 and very close to being raped, my cutting, and almost becoming an alcoholic. But those are different posts. I'm getting tired, so I've gotta get to bed.
