***
When I was growing up, I hoped that...
someone would notice me...I was dying inside everyday while wearing a smile on my face.
my Mom would stop beating my brother.
Branch wouldn't actually run away and leave me all alone.
Branch or anyone would somehow appear in whatever room I was in and catch Tim in the act.
I was not crazy.
I was never born.
my Dad would not go to hell...this is what I was indirectly told.
I could just live in my room and never come out.
I could have tunnel vision when I left my room so I would not see him lurking naked behind doors around the house.
I could grow up to be a marine biologist and travel the seas alone forever.
if I did whatever I was supposed to do then my family would love me.
I was normal.
I was strong enough.
the man I dreamed about repeatedly would not actually come to my house and murder my family at night.
my brother would like me...that anyone would like me.
I had enough strength to beat my Mom up and get away if it came down to it.
my Mom would not kill herself when she would go into her "other self".
God would somehow explain to me someday why he was putting me through such torture.
I could be pretty like other people.
I could be more like the rest of my family.
I could have been born into a different family.
I could have died in the accident too.
Mom would have saved me from my situation when I told her about it instead of just having Tim and I "talk" it over. WTF!
What happened instead?
Nothing. No one knew I was feeling any of these things so nothing happened. Every day just came and went and I increasingly felt as though I was leading two separate lives; the real one I experienced inside and the one that did everything I was "supposed" to do to please everyone and gain their acceptance.
When my hopes were shattered, I...
wanted to escape...which eventually turned to suicidal thoughts. Suicide became an ultimate escape from it all and at the same time the ultimate revenge on everyone who "supposedly" loved me yet hurt me repeatedly. I also somehow learned to just zone out. I would sit in my room in the dark, lay in front of my stereo on the floor, put my speaker to my ear so I could only hear the music and I would be able to escape from my mind. I would lay there for hours most nights either crying my eyes out or almost completely lifeless...a shell. I still do not see how my mother could not have noticed this. Sometimes I wonder if she just avoided the whole situation. It's not like she was in great mental shape herself.
someone would notice me...I was dying inside everyday while wearing a smile on my face.
my Mom would stop beating my brother.
Branch wouldn't actually run away and leave me all alone.
Branch or anyone would somehow appear in whatever room I was in and catch Tim in the act.
I was not crazy.
I was never born.
my Dad would not go to hell...this is what I was indirectly told.
I could just live in my room and never come out.
I could have tunnel vision when I left my room so I would not see him lurking naked behind doors around the house.
I could grow up to be a marine biologist and travel the seas alone forever.
if I did whatever I was supposed to do then my family would love me.
I was normal.
I was strong enough.
the man I dreamed about repeatedly would not actually come to my house and murder my family at night.
my brother would like me...that anyone would like me.
I had enough strength to beat my Mom up and get away if it came down to it.
my Mom would not kill herself when she would go into her "other self".
God would somehow explain to me someday why he was putting me through such torture.
I could be pretty like other people.
I could be more like the rest of my family.
I could have been born into a different family.
I could have died in the accident too.
Mom would have saved me from my situation when I told her about it instead of just having Tim and I "talk" it over. WTF!
What happened instead?
Nothing. No one knew I was feeling any of these things so nothing happened. Every day just came and went and I increasingly felt as though I was leading two separate lives; the real one I experienced inside and the one that did everything I was "supposed" to do to please everyone and gain their acceptance.
When my hopes were shattered, I...
wanted to escape...which eventually turned to suicidal thoughts. Suicide became an ultimate escape from it all and at the same time the ultimate revenge on everyone who "supposedly" loved me yet hurt me repeatedly. I also somehow learned to just zone out. I would sit in my room in the dark, lay in front of my stereo on the floor, put my speaker to my ear so I could only hear the music and I would be able to escape from my mind. I would lay there for hours most nights either crying my eyes out or almost completely lifeless...a shell. I still do not see how my mother could not have noticed this. Sometimes I wonder if she just avoided the whole situation. It's not like she was in great mental shape herself.
***
Hope...I pretty much lost hope for people growing up. I don't trust people. I talk in my sleep sometimes and one night when I was asleep my now husband said that I made this horrible face and said, "Don't trust people, they'll fuck with ya." When I woke up and he told me about this I thought...ya...that has pretty much come to be my motto in life as awful as it may sound for some people. That became my survival skill. After all, if you can't trust your parents that brought you into this world then who the hell can you trust. They are supposed to love you more than anyone else. I still have hope these days...a small shred of it...I hope that someday I can get this monkey off my back. I hope that I will reach that light at the end of the tunnel. I hope that I will not die still feeling this way. I hope that my kids never have to experience any of these things. I feel sick so I am going to stop now.
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