Happy? Who me???

When I was with my mom for the fifteen days after the hearing, I was happy. That might seem like not that big of a deal, but it is. I cannot remember the last time someone told me that I looked happy. But during those fifteen days I was told that repeatedly. I was shocked every time I heard that; happy and I are not used in the same sentence without a un or a not. I was laughing and it sounded real, because for the first time in three years there was not a hidden depression fighting it. I was not struggling to keep myself afloat in the quicksand of depression; I was walking on a bridge above it. I started to realize that although I was scared of the future and was worried, I was happy. This fact shocked me. I have never been a happy person. My imaginary friend committed suicide. When I was little I would stand at the top of the stairs, look down over the railing and think about how easy it would be to jump. The only thing that kept me from jumping was my mom. I knew that she would be devastated. I could never hurt her like that. Not a day goes by when I don’t think morbid thoughts of one kind or another. And yet in those fifteen days, no morbid thought entered my mind. I had no weight in my chest. I felt as light as a feather. I will look back on those days as the best fifteen days of my life, covered by fear and worry, but peaceful and happy. I have never looked back because the past was too painful the first time, why make myself live through it again, but these fifteen days I will hold in my memory forever, not look back on them but rather know that they were there and in the mist of the fire pits of hell on Earth, there is an oasis. I will always hold those days dear. I had believed that I could never be truly happy as the weight of my past would never allow it. Now I know that I was wrong and I will be able to be happy when this is over, or even sooner. I have not lost the ability to be happy.

Just when you think its going to be ok…

Of course our legal system is so corrupt and unjust you might just end up the one in jail punished for accusing the other. Your kids ripped from your arms because by trying to protecting them, you are alienating them and dangerous of course what else could be a logical conclusion? Oh and don’t forget trying the same thing that did not work three years ago again and the family is still trying to recover from it. Nevertheless, of course this time even though every aspect of it is the same, it is completely different, and it will work this time, of course. That is the difference between law and justice. THE LAW IS NOT JUST! They take kids from their caring, loving, responsible, archetype mom and give them to the abusive dad’s latest girlfriend, when the girlfriend will soon not be the girlfriend anymore. There are pictures of a naked woman on his phone. That is the “stable” environment in which they want to place the children. That is our legal system at work. Is that in anyway shape or form justice? Is taking a child, who has been following all the unjust laws, and telling her that because she does not love her father enough she cannot see or talk to her mom, justice? They have her come in to the court, sit down and then the judge starts talking; to the girl it is like a nightmare. The judge is far away and looking down on her making the decisions that will change her life. The judge starts to grow and get closer, and the girl grows slightly dizzy. She knows that any second now she will pass out unconscious in her chair. And she waits for unconsciousness to take her to a peaceful place, it never comes. Then the judge stops talking and the girl’s sister starts. Soon after that, the girl is sobbing and yelling at the judge. The sister storms out and the girl follows.  And with the step outside that room, she steps into her new life and as the door closes behind her, the possibility of turning back is sealed off forever. This story about the United States’ legal system is not uncommon. This injustice happens everyday in courts across the country. When well we step up and not take those unjust orders? Did that girl really need to go through it once to realize that it was wrong and that she could disobey the orders and try to change the system? When is injustice to much? Why don’t we protest all injustices? Why doesn’t anybody help the girl?

Cutting

A lot of people don’t understand why people cut, so let me explain.  So, you know how when you have a twisted ankle you ice it?  At first, the ice hurts a ton, but then it numbs the pain and makes it so you can use your ankle again.  Cutting is the same, sure it hurts but the pain is soon followed by a great feeling of relief and then nothing, the pain is gone.  Then the next day you can be strong and get through the day again.

“Alienation’

Just something I wrote about how “alienation” is used as an excuse not to listen to kids

“Alienation”

You say my mom alienates me

And pay no mind to me

When I’m telling you that what I say is true

My father did hurt me last night

But you don’t care at all

You shrug it off as my mom’s fault

And tell me I have to be good

My father beat my sister last night

I could hear her screams

I cried because I could not help her

And could not block the screams

When I told you this, you told me to be good

And said that I could only see my mom if I did not tell a soul

I am still haunted by my sister’s screams

But you just shrug it off

As something, that my mom told me

And pay no mind to me

Dr. Doyne

Hi, i just realised that i had never mentioned that Dr Stephen Doynehas been our evaluator for our case.  My dad chose him of course. You probably know that when his credentials were investigated, they were found fake, and a cat has the same ones. He is one of the people who have kept me from my mom.  He recommended my current physicist, Dr Squire, who even though i have told her that my dad has hurt me, told the court that i had never said anything about him hurting me.

Shelter

The short virgin of what has happened recently is…

I ran away to a woman’s shelter a while ago.  Polanski’s would not take me in and they called my dad to come and pick me up even though i told them about him.  i have not seen my mom since then, it has been about a month.  my sister would run away and go to my moms during the day.  My dad called the police and the very very short virgin is that she was taken to Polanski’s.  The next day she was realised to my dad.  The police have come a countless number of times because my dad keeps calling them.  I miss my mom so much.  I’m at a friend’s house now so i can get on for a little bit.

Father’s Day

My sister and I decided with our mom’s encouragement, to spend time at our dad’s today for Father’s Day.  When we arrived he wanted to leave immediately to get a DVD player.  I went upstairs to grab the card I had made him and to find my iPod.  I could not find my iPod so I grabbed the card, went downstairs, and gave it to him.  I asked him if he had taken anything from my room, and he said no.  I went back up stairs to look again; I still could not find it.  He came into my room and promptly told me what belongings of mine he would throw away.  I was rushed downstairs and into his car.  He was rude to me and I decided that I would get out of the car and walk home to my mom’s while still on the driveway.  I tried to get out but he kept driving.  He told me that he would take me to an emergency insane asylum.  At the second stop sign I got out of the car and started walking.  I went a little ways and then I saw that my dad had pulled over on the other side of the street.  My sister got out of the car and started to walk to my mom’s house.  My first thought was that my dad had dumped her on the side of the street because I had left.  When I caught up to her I found out that she had left just as I had.  She called Dave Schulman, so she would get to tell him the truth before our dad called.  Our dad drove to our mom’s house then circled around and followed us the rest of the way.  He kept following us as we reached our mom’s house.  We sat on the curb for awhile and then sat on the front step.  We opened the garage and then went in.  The door to the house was unlocked and partially opened, which was a complete surprise because it’s never even unlocked.  We went inside and my sister called my mom and I let in our dog.  Our dad was still outside in his car.  He finally left after my sister texted him and told him to and something else.  Right after my dad left, my mom came home. 

Lawyers

Hi, I need my readers’ help. I have fired Dave Schulman, he does not get that fact but still I did, and I need a new lawyer. I would like recommendations. I trust that you all will give me nothing but good advice, and I will research them all, and try to find a good one for my situation. Thank you and I look forward to your response.

Cutting

I had been cutting off and on for over a year.  My dean just found out yesterday, May 26, 2009.  When my dad yells at and insults me I would go up to my room and cut.  I have only, ever, cut because of my dad.  I started out by scraping away at my skin with a sharp piece of metal.  I would have to do this quickly or else I would get welts and have to start over or stop and wait at least a day to cut again.  Then I went to cutting.  I would cut my skin with wire that I had sharpened.  I sharpened a knitting hook and used that as well.  Before I cut I would wipe what I would use off using my shirt.  I would cut my arm.  I would cut quickly and quickly rotate my arm the other way making it cut deeper.  I would only cut along my forearm, but then I realized that it was too noticeable, so I went to my stomach.  Whenever I could not cut I would pinch myself. The last day I cut, my dad had yelled and insulted me a ton, so I quickly and firmly cut my stomach until there were so many welts that I could not cut very well anymore.  My first ones would not be very deep, but the later ones would bleed.  I cleaned off my cuts with a wet q-tip.  The next day at school, my undershirt pulled at my scabs.  I could not bend or twist without yanking at my scabs.  My friends had been aware of my cutting for awhile, but had never told.  After that day one of my friends told my dean.  My mom now knows, and my dad was told as well.  I am with my mom tonight.  I am terrified of going back to my dad’s house tomorrow.  I wish that I could go anywhere except for there.  I mean, when I went to the nurse at school because I had a battery acid burn, my dad yelled at me and got extremely mad.  I have been scared to even go to the nurse since then.  I want to go to a friend’s house or stay at my mom’s.  I have never cut at my mom’s, or because of school, or relationships ending, or anything except for my dad.  I am scared that my dad will hurt me, yell at me, or do anything else that he has done when he is mad.

Nemesis Essay

This is a little thing I wrote for English a while ago.

I am a teenage girl wanting to fit in.  Wanting to be wanted.  Wanting to be loved.  Of course, that is easier said then done.  Especially if you have a dad like mine.

I guess it is not my dad’s fault he is abusive.  I think his dad was.  Maybe my dad was never taught to control his anger, or how to be a good parent.  He takes his anger out on people.  My family is around him.  Therefore, I guess that makes us good targets.  In addition, his dad cheated on his wife, so maybe my dad dos not realize just how wrong it is.

My dad never apologizes.  I don’t think he cares that he hurts us.  He could have paid attention during the parenting classes my mom took him to.  There is really no excuse for my dad physically and emotionally abusing me.  He could hit a pillow, not me.  He could yell at a pillow or something, not me.

I guess I could try harder not to set my dad off.  After all, he is my dad, and I’ll probably have to spend time with him until I’m eighteen.  At eighteen I’m getting a restraining order, suing him, and changing my phone and e-mail.  Therefore, I guess if my dad wants to die, alone it’s up to him and fine with me.