Ya know, I’ve lived a long life compared to some. Not in years, but in experience. I’ve grown up in a hellish environment. Born to two parents who never wanted me. Oh yeah, I got to be the affair baby. How exciting for me, right? But that’s ok… because I’m still breathing –
which must mean I have some purpose in life.
I grew up with a mother who treated me like a piece of shit. Who took her issues out on me through verbal,
mental and physical abuse. She’ll admit
that she beat me so badly once that even she thought she was going to kill
me. She told me once at the ripe old age
of 9 that she hoped I burned in hell next to my asshole father. I was raised by a father who had no
biological attachment to me. I was told
until I was 9 that he was my real dad and then suddenly that all changed. I had a family who lied to my face for
years. I knew my biological paternal
grandma my whole life – but always knew her as my grandma’s friend and never as
my grandma until my biological dad showed up in the picture. My life as a child was a mess. Most likely why I have as many trust and
abandonment issues as I do. Who can you
trust when the people you are supposed to trust blatantly lie to your
face? I’ve had more holidays and
birthdays ruined than I would care to remember.
Probably another product of my insane mother. And when I say insane, I genuinely mean
insane. Not like zomg, my mom is soooo
cray cray. Like, legitimately, she
should be institutionalized, insane. How
we weren’t taken away by CPS remains a mystery to me even today, 20 + years
later.
But that’s ok. I took
my place as the first born to protect the younger siblings. I took their beatings, I took their
punishment, I took her verbal abuse to save them. It was my job to protect them from the evil
in the world and to let them have a childhood.
And I did my damnest to do that every single day. I never got to experience childhood. I was too busy playing whipping boy to my
mother. Then she became religious, she
found god and she was saved! Or at
least, that’s what she pretends. I tell
ya, that woman is the best chameleon I’ve ever met. She can hide in plain sight better than
anyone I’ve ever met. It’s a skill she
has perfected over years and years.
There was nothing better than to hear people sing her praises while
internally, all I did was laugh. If
people only knew the demon that is buried under that fake smile….
Its funny though… Because I remember the day that I realized
I had to be the adult in the house if I wanted to survive. Yeah, at 8 years old, I took my place as the
matriarch of the family. For my little
sister. And years later, when the boys
showed up, I remained strong in that role.
I knew what part I was meant to play and I played it every day of my
life, with conviction, until the day I escaped that woman. And though I felt joy leaving that house… I
feared leaving. For the little
ones. I felt guilt as I got out because
I knew I was leaving them behind to fend for themselves. I knew what I was leaving them to deal with,
but it came down to save myself or continue saving them. And I didn’t know how much longer I could
survive there without killing her. I
remember one particular fight that she and I were having. She was probably 6 months pregnant with one of
the boys, and I remember forcing myself not to shove her down the stairs. The fact that she was pregnant was the only
thing that kept me from killing her that day.
And I would have done it. No
question. She is one of only two people
who can take me to that level of rage…
I wish the little ones knew that I didn’t abandon them. But I know how they feel. All I’ve tried to do my whole life is to
protect them. And somehow, it turned
into me walking away from them. It
literally came down to me walking away so that I didn’t kill her. And I’ve stayed distant with them. Because I don’t want to shatter their innocent
views of the world. I make no secret of
the fact that I am not religious. I don’t
hold the same beliefs that they do. So I’ve
tried to do what I feel is best for them, by not ruining their innocence. Or destroying their view of their
mother. Because no matter how I feel
about her, she still has 3 other children – and they need to make their own
opinions of her as they grow up. And I
will never hold it against them, no matter what opinion they have of her. We are all different people. I just hope that at the end of the day, my
sacrifice for them has played some small part in their opinion of her. Maybe… just maybe… all of the hell I went
through was enough to exhaust her rage and allow them to have a legitimate
mother. I will never know, but I can
hope.
My childhood left me with scars. Deep scars.
No physical scars. She was smart
enough to avoid doing that. But the
emotional and mental scars… those will never go away. Migraines from stress at 8 or 9. That 20 years later, I still vividly remember…
and can bring me to the brink of a mental break down if I even think about
it. Someone can say something similar to
the nightmares I used to have, or even in the same tone of voice, and panic
washes over me. 20 years later.
Its funny.
I remember when I was in probably 4th grade, we had to write
a paper on what we wanted to be when we grew up. What did I want to write my paper on? Being a stripper. But I knew I couldn’t write it on that, so
instead, I wrote it about how I wanted to be a teacher. 4th grade. That’s how fucked up I was. I knew how to lie well enough to write a
convincing paper on how I wanted a wholesome career, when in reality, I wanted
to be a stripper. Yup. Those are the kind of things I learned as a
child. Your body was a tool. A weapon.
Something you could use to get anything you wanted. All you had to do was dress the part. To make them want you – and you were
golden. At 8… 9… whatever. I look back at it now and laugh, but at the
same time, I realize just how screwed up that is.
The problem is, I struggled with that issue for years. While I was wickedly shy in school… I knew I
could use my body to get anything I wanted – if I invested in it. It was a constant struggle for me. Between my shyness and my strong religious
views, and my knowledge that I could turn it on and get what I wanted. And i fought away those demons for a long
time. Then December 22nd
happened and my life changed forever. I
went to a friend’s house, who I had always been interested in – but he had
never shown interest back. He kissed
me. And I thought maybe – MAYBE – we would
fool around. Because I had no interest
in having sex. I was a virgin, with
strong ties to my religion and I believed in saving myself for marriage. Well… when he took what he wanted, my life
changed. It took me almost 3 years to
remember how he hadn’t gotten me pregnant.
Then, one day, while I was living with my boyfriend, he was standing in
the mirror and I got the flashback. The
flashback of this “friend” throwing a washcloth at me and telling me to clean
myself up. Yup. That was my first experience with sex. A guy using my interest in him to his
advantage – and then telling me later that we “both needed to get some.” How I, as a virgin, needed to “get some”
remains a mystery to me to this day. But
once it began… it didn’t stop. Somehow,
that demon that I had been fighting for years, was awoken and it was ready to
play. I had no respect for myself or the
things that I did. I used my body to get
what I wanted, when I wanted it, with no regard for anyone else. It didn’t matter if they had a girlfriend or
a wife or a baby… If I wanted it, it was mine.
Period. It took me 8 years to
break that cycle. My son saved me from
that selfish lifestyle.
Back to what I was talking about…. After that “friend” stole
my virginity… I lost myself. I lost my
faith. I lost my motivation. I lost everything that I held as sacred to
me. I became a selfish, self-centered,
all about me, person. And though there
were certain things who defined who I was, at the core, the surface was a
mess. Nothing was off limits. I cheated on tests. I stole things. I fucked my boyfriend’s
friends and my friend’s boyfriends. I
did what I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted and if someone didn’t like it? Fuck em.
That is how I lived through the last part of my teenage years and my
early twenties. Then I met Tom. And I saw Tom as my “unattainable” – the guy
who was just too attractive, too smart, and had too much going on in life to
ever be interested in someone like me. And
oh how he said and did all the right things.
Promised me a future. Promised me
the babies I so desperately wanted. Told
me he would take care of me forever. And
I bought it all… Hook, line and sinker.
I upended my whole life for him. Moved away from everyone I knew. Lost friends… so many friends. And I tried to fit in his mold. I knew what he wanted and damn if I didn’t do
everything I could for the first 3 or 4 years to be that person. I gave it all. And he kept pushing me away. He kept pulling away. Everything in his life was more important
than I was. There was nothing he wouldn’t
do to get away from me. And I couldn’t
understand what I was doing wrong. What
was so wrong about the way that I was loving him, that he literally wanted
nothing to do with me? One December, I
finally had enough and I told him I wanted a divorce. I told him I was done.. I couldn’t do it anymore. The distance, the fighting, the constant
refusal to give me any type of compliment or reassurance. In 8 years, he complimented me once. On our wedding day – and that was only after
one of the groomsmen specifically asked him if he thought I looked beautiful
that day. After I told him I wanted a
divorce – he begged me to stay with him.
Said he couldn’t live without me.
Said he needed me. I was so important
to him. 6 months later, we were pregnant
with William.
While I was pregnant with William – he was brutal. He treated me like garbage. Told me he wouldn’t coddle me so that I
thought I had some excuse not to do things around the house. He never made me feel good. To the point that I think I began to resent William
because I was pregnant with him. During
that time, my dad committed suicide. And
it crushed me. I was devastated. Pre-term labor and all. I was so stressed that I told Tom after I had
William – I was signing over my rights and they would never hear from me
again. And through all that, the only
thing Tom ever did was put his arm around me once. He never supported me. He never helped me. He gave me one empty gesture that any random
stranger would have given me. That is
how much he loved me.
After the Bell’s Palsy happened… well, my already shot
self-esteem and body-image was destroyed.
And what did Tom do? He made fun
of me. He called me names like “Two-face”
and would make fun of the way I talked. That
should have told me to run. But no… good
old loyal me, I stayed. And I raised the
son that “I wanted” by myself. Never did
he wake up for night feedings, or change diapers, or bathe him. I remember forcing William into his arms to
take a picture so William could look back and see Tom holding him as a
baby. Yup – that happened.
Then I got pregnant with Isaac. Tom was no more excited about that baby than
he was about William. He didn’t care. When I found out Isaac was gone – he held me
for all of ten mins as I cried. Then,
the next day – he told me to stop being so emotional about it. That we could just have another baby. That’s all our children were to him –
objects. And that has never
changed. When we got pregnant with Gabby
3 weeks later – he didn’t care then either.
When I was at risk for pre-term labor and forced on bedrest – he made
every comment known to man to make me feel like a lazy piece of shit. Even under doctor’s orders – I was “milking”
it for everything it was worth. He truly
treated me like I was nothing to him – and looking back, I know I never
was. I was a prize to be won… he won me
and then he quit. More than one person
has witnessed him telling me to take care of “my kids, that I wanted.” He told me we had William because he thought
it would fill a void in my life. And
Gabby… well, she was just had because he thought that would fix my issues. He never wanted any of our kids.
We had issues for years.
But I focused on my kids. I spent
everything I had to give my kids the life I never had. And though I complained about getting 3 hours
of sleep – I invested everything I had into my kids. I took my role as a mother very
seriously. But I knew Tom didn’t love
me. And I brought the whore into my
house… stupidly thinking that her presence in our lives would not only
strengthen our relationship – but our friendship. I thought that somehow, him having another
wife would balance everything out. She
was everything I wasn’t. What I lacked,
she had and vice versa. On paper – it looked
perfect. Then I overheard a conversation
where he told her that he wished he met her 10 years earlier. The day that changed my life. I was furious. How could he care so little about me and our
family that he was willing to give it all up for someone that he knew for 6
weeks? Well, apparently he didn’t care –
because less than 24 hours after I confronted him on that conversation – he told
me he wanted a divorce. And it crushed
me. Even though I knew, for years, that
our relationship was a mess – I never thought he would abandon me. I was the mother of his children. I gave up everything for him. Sacrificed who I was and what I held dear – just
to give him a life that he wanted. And
at the end of the day, it wasn’t good enough.
Fake blonde hair and a fake personality meant more to him.
The next 6 months were pure hell. I tried to hold it together as I watched them
leave together. I tried to be strong for
my babies because I couldn’t hear William ask me anymore why I was sad. I tried to pull my life out of the flames and
reinvent myself. I met someone. I knew there was something special
there. And then that was done. I signed up for school. I found a job. I started making my own money. And all the while – I was trying to figure
out what to do with my life. To keep the
house, to leave the house. What to do
with 10 years of accumulated stuff… and debt.
It was overwhelming. I didn’t
know what to do about the kids. I knew
my work schedule was crazy and I didn’t have the money to pay a babysitter for
all of that time. I thought it would be
more fair for the kids to be with family than with random strangers. So I gave Tom the kids. Then I got criticized for walking away from
my kids… abandoning them… not trying hard enough… not being dedicated to my
kids. By people who have no idea who I
am.
I love my kids dearly… and I’ve tried to do what I could for
them. But at the end of the day, I knew
I needed to get my life straight before I could truly be there for them. If people don’t understand that, then fuck
em. Because this is my life.. .my
decisions… my children. People don’t
know what I’ve been through. And those
who do, understand why I did what I did – and to those people, I am forever
grateful for standing with me.
The point of all of this?
I’ve learned through many, many years of struggle and pain that I need
to be who I am. I love hard. I love
fast. I give everything I am and
everything I have. If I had a dollar
left to my name, I’d give it to someone who needed it more than I do. When I tell someone I love them, its because
I mean it. I don’t throw away
words. I choose what I say carefully,
because I know how damaging words can be.
I’ve lived through hell and back… I consider myself a survivor. And its not a badge of honor. It’s a badge of
truth. People have lived through worse
than I have. I don’t consider myself a
victim. I never have. But through everything that I’ve experienced –
I’ve become who I am today. My past says
I should be strung out on coke and hooking on a corner. But I’ve beaten all of that. I’ve refused to let my past define me. I’ve used my past to motivate me to be a
good, loving, moral, accepting, non-judgmental person. I accept everyone for who they are – even when
we stand on opposite sides of issues.
Just because something is my moral conviction, does not mean that it
needs to be someone else’. I’ve learned
to stand on my own two feet. To not let
someone else define who I am or my worth in this world. I could easily stand alone for the rest of my
life because I have finally realized that I don’t need anyone to make me
me. I am good as who I am. People can take it or leave it. If they choose not to accept me, there will
be others who will.
I am a strong,
independent, opinionated, loving, giving woman.
Those who know me best know that. And even through the lowest points in my life, in the past
and those to come, I will still hold others up.
I will still give everything I can.
Because time is a fragile thing.
We never know when our time is up.
We never know when that “I love you” will be the last one. We never know when that hug will make the
difference in someone’s life. We never
know when that smile will change someone’s day.
We simply don’t know. So while I
could easily be a bitter, spiteful, hateful person – I choose to follow my own
creed. The creed that I have forever
memorialized on my left arm. Peace, love
and harmony. I believe those three things
are what define who I am. I believe in
peace and love and a harmonious existence in the world. I will give anything to make someone happy..
or feel important.. or loved… But I will also battle to the bitter end to
defend someone that I love or care about.
I am an enigma of odd sorts… I know that… But before you judge me… Know
that we all have pasts.. and demons.. and skeletons. And I will be the last one to throw stones in
my house of glass.
