Somewhere To Write

Posted by Anonymous on 2012/07/30 under Uncategorized

I don’t know where to start, start off by introducing myself? Or by just start from the beginning.
I’m 19 years old, Turning 20 this year; I’m usually a really laid back, easy person to talk to, funny and witty. Lately more than usual, I’ve been sad, depressed and helpless. My memory jumps back and forth from the good times to the bad. Like when I was a kid, those memories are blurry but from what I can tell, by the pictures and photo albums, I was happy, I was always smiling and laughing, always ready to strike a pose, life seemed grand. Maybe it was because my very innocent mind wasn’t corrupted, just yet. My family always had problems right from the very start, money was the biggest issue. Not making enough to support 4 growing kids, not having a job, and not able to buy us toys or anything extra. But then again there were those good times, when my dad used to buy us things, we would go to Wal-Mart every weekend and buy a few DVDs.
My mind will suddenly jump back in time, back to when I was beaten, when I was kid, I remember when my dad asked me when my birthday was, he asked so suddenly and I was unaware that this event would change my life forever, I know this for a fact, because this memory is so vivid, it plays in the back of my head like a tune to a song. When he asked, I didn’t answer, my mind at that point went blank, and he slapped me and pushed me into my mother’s room. No one was home, no one stood in the way, no one to home to hear my cries. He yelled at me, calling me stupid, “why the f*** don’t you remember your birthday?!!!!” I cried and told him I don’t know, he locked me inside my mom’s room and told me I had 5 mins to remember it or he was going to come inside and beat me. Frantically I looked all over the room to find a way out, the house we lived at that time had barred windows, I still tired to escape, it was no use, he came in not even 5 mins later and asked me again, I could only cry, that’s when he grabbed me and started hitting me with his belt, I cried but my cries went unanswered. I finally mumbled out my birthday through tears. He stopped suddenly and said “good”, as if nothing had happened; this was one out of hundreds of beatings I received from him over the years. As I look back at the meomory, this was when I also learned my father, was a complete psychopath.
Besides the hundreds and hundreds of beatings I received, some from his belt, other times a stick of some sort, or a hanger, I was also verbally abused. I was called probably ever name in the book. “Your f***en stupid, you will never accomplish anything, I’ve raised stupid kids!!” he used to say, he used to call me: stupid, fat, ugly, useless and a waste of time, the list could go on. He didn’t just call me names; he used say things all the time to my mom. Every night I could hear him yelling at her, she would sit there and say nothing. How awesome is that, to be a kid and think you were useless? To think you were nothing? And to try and fall asleep hearing your own father yelling at nothing more than complete nothingness? Because my mom didn’t listen or at least don’t remember what he used to call her. I guess she doesn’t remember when he used to hit her, or call her names, or just yell at her. I only say I guess because even after everything, she STILL would get back with him after they’ve broken up. She STILL thought he would change even after the 100th time his left. In my heart I can’t blame my mom for anything; we both were in tough spots, right? But in my mind, I blame her for everything. If she would’ve listened to me the first time I told her “ mom his never going to change, his going to be the same way , it’s going to be the same s*** every time”, maybe our life would be different, maybe the events that happened would’ve never happened if this monster never came back into our lives.
Some traumatic events that have occurred in my life I have never shared before because I was ashamed embarrassed and didn’t think anyone would care or understand that this kind of stuff messes with your head on a daily basis. It just doesn’t go away, I can’t just forget and say “hey dad” and not think of all the negativity that his done.

When I was 13, I remember walking into his room, my little sister was on top of him moving back and forth like if he was a pony, I didn’t think anything of it then, my mind was still innocent. I didn’t think, even though he was evil and mean that he would actually be pleasuring himself by having my little sister rub his d***. She didn’t know what she was doing. I didn’t say anything, I was confused, they weren’t naked but the atmosphere was weird. I felt uneasy, and proceeded to leave. What disturbs me the most was my sister was laughing and telling me” come on, ride the pony with me” , the face he had was even more disgusting, eyes closed, he was truly enjoying himself. I turned around to go back to my room, when he grabbed me and pushed me to the ground. I was being restrained to the floor with him rubbing himself on me, what he said is still jammed inside my head” don’t worry, I’m preparing you for what other guys are going to do to you”. Like if he was doing me a favor. I ran inside my room, locked the door and cried myself to sleep that day. When my mom came home, I didn’t say anything, I didn’t speak about it. I was embarrassed, but what was more shocking is when I finally got the courage to tell my mom, I wrote a letter…she didn’t believe me. She still stayed with him. She still let him control her.
One night he finally snapped…at 18 I remember him yelling out at the top of his lungs at my mother when he came home. I was in my room, the anger boiled up inside me, he sounded so stupid. It was my mistake. My mistake almost cost me my life. I went outside of my room to go outside and throw some cans outside, he stood right in the path, I told him to move but he wouldn’t. he turned to yell at me instead, but I wasn’t like my mother, I couldn’t have him in my face disrespecting me like that, I couldn’t stand it. I yelled back, I yelled and cussed at him like there was no tomorrow, like I wouldn’t see him after this….he pushed me hard, and I thought he was going to do it again so I defended myself and kicked him where it hurts. He got angrier and grabbed a knife and proceeded to try and stab me.
Even though this man went to jail, even after all the court battles to have this man prosecuted, he still got away with it. His in his own country, living freely, doing whatever he pleases, while I suffer slowly.

Im dying on the inside, I can feel my body giving up. My mind dying. Suicide has crossed my mind more than twice, dying feels like the only answer. The pain his left, the scars…I can only try and stay strong for everyone..but mostly importantly my boyfriend. It’s hard. Sometimes I can’t breathe; I have these episodes of anger and sadness, were I just cry and cry. I try and think positive, I try and think of happy things but I can’t. I don’t feel like I’m strong enough. I feel like his won the war.
My head gets clogged with bad thoughts But im able to snap back, I just don’t know how much longer I can snap back, I don’t know how much longer I can do it…one day I won’t be able to snap back, one day I feel like I’ll snap and that’ll be the end of me, I’ll have a emotional break down and just end it.
There’s some happiness to this story, and that’s the relationship I have with my boyfriend, the person who might just save my life.
I met my boyfriend on 1-03-12, 1 ½ month after the indecent with my so called father. I truly believe we were meant to meet each other. There is nothing negative I can say about him, his so caring and sweet. He truly is my guardian angel. Even though we’ve been together for only 6 months it feels like we’ve together for years. He understands me and hasn’t given up on me, he tries his hardest to help me…and I can truly say I know for a fact he loves me.
When I was going through a emotional wreck one week, I threaten to break up with him, he got on his knees and told me that’ll we’ll get through this together. I could only cry, how could I put someone else through this? Instead of feeling grateful…I felt guilty. I knew for a fact…something was wrong.

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