Archive for the ‘Friends’ Category

Returning to you all

December 15, 2014

I must admit, it feels weird to return to this.  When reading my old posts, I am struck by how much I left out, by what I decided to include, and by my apparent lack of spellcheck.  I am now a sophomore in college; it’s amazing how much time has passed since I made the first post.  I wish I could say that everything was better now that I have moved across the country and that I left my past behind, but as much as I wish that to be true, it isn’t.  I think one thing that is striking me is how different it is trying to find an open ear as a survivor instead of as a current victim.  I guess the good news update is that I got into my top choice college.  I became an EMT my first semester of college and am also an RA.  But I feel like I am digressing.  I want to update you all on all the good that is in my life now, but I feel like I’m lying when I do.  It isn’t that good hasn’t happened; it’s that the hard parts of my life now, ie coping with my past, are so hard to describe that I feel like I am painting a false picture when I go on about the good.

Honestly, I don’t know how I feel about telling people I don’t know about how I’m doing when I am not even telling many of my loved ones.  I would love to pour out all my feelings, but I am not nearly as good at that as I was in middle school when you met me.  I struggle to say what has happened to me and even typing the words “my father” is foreign and uncomfortably revealing to me now.  Thus, I will tell you this: I will try for both you and myself.  I feel that you all were there when I needed you, and you should get to see the person I have grown to be.  I also wonder if making myself type out everything will help me process it.  I am sorry this post is so vague; I figure that by reading my other posts you can probably tell what “it” is and who “he” is.  Maybe one day I will feel comfortable typing what happened to me out again, and maybe one day I will be able to say the words again without discomfort or shame.  These are my goals, and why I will type.

Happy? Who me???

February 23, 2010

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.

Shelter

July 22, 2009

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.

Cutting

May 27, 2009

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.

A Cry For Help

May 20, 2009

Friday started out like every other day, but that was not to last long.  I got drooped off at the upper school parking lot.  I walked over to my locker.  When I got to my locker I saw a man with his head in it.  The man was going through my stuff.  I ran to my locker yelling, “Get out, go!  What are you doing?”  As I got closer I realized that it was my dad.  I was so surprised.  Then I asked my dad what he was doing and he glared at me and said, “Looking for your brother’s phone.”  I told him, “It’s not in there” and “Get out!”  After that it happened so quickly I don’t remember exactly what happened.  All of a sudden my dad was dragging me by my wrist somewhere.  After all that my dad has done to me in the past I was not to keen on that idea.  I wanted to stay in a group of people.  So I started to struggle.  I tried to wiggle free, but I could not.  So I bit him on the hand he was grabbing me with to make him let go but he pulled away without letting go and jerked my arm with him.  I had my purse with me so I banged him on the head as hard as I could with it.  I then threw it behind me, so he would not steal it.  My dad then hit me on the head.  And then started yelling at me and hurting me.  I forget what happened next.  My dad picked me up and started to carry me.  A shoe fell off and my pance started to fall off.  I begged my dad to let me at least pull up my pance. But he refused.  He carried me to the office where he threw me onto the couch.  He walked to Mrs. D and I followed him.  I stood there helplessly while he twisted what happened to make it look as bad as possible to Mrs. D.  He showed her his hand.  I had left a bit mark.  All ready it was purple.  I was shocked.  I only meant to bit lightly to make him let go of me! My wrist was really sore where he grabbed it.  As soon as my dad left I started crying uncontrollably.  Ms D hugged me and let me sit on her stool.  She gave me two tissues.  Mme gave me my purse.  Mme then told me to remember mountain pose. (Stay strong, nothing can hurt you, you become stronger with every breath) two friends came in to the lost and found.  I gave them my purse and told them to hide it.  They agreed and then left.  My dad came back in and I stopped crying.  (As a rule I NEVER cry in front of my dad.  It shows weakness.)  Finally Mrs. M came.  My dad left to talk to her.  They were in there talking forever!  Finally my dad came out and I went in.  I was still kind of in “shell shock” so now I have no idea what I said.  I hope I did not sound to dumb.  All through out the day I would randomly start crying.  I got so many hugs. Some of the people that hugged me, I did not even know there names!  To protect the identity of a friend that helped me I well call here A.  During the school day A came up to me to comfort me.  I barely knew her.  She said she knew what I am going through and gave me advice.  At the end of the day I was told another friend that my dad was by my locker.  I started to panic.  I wanted to run and hid, but I knew that I could not.  I began to cry and then to hyperventilate.  A girl hugged me and yelled for someone to get Mrs. M.  I herd some one yell for someone to call the police.  I noticed my dad looking at me and on the phone.  I started hyperventilating harder and began to fell dizzy.  Mrs. M reached me a second before my dad.  My sister grabbed hold of my hand and walked me out of the protection of my friends.  Once we were out of hearing distance she stopped playing nice sister and started yelling at me, “What happened?  Why did you bite dad?”  Since my dad was there I said nothing.  My sister always picks the worst times.  On the way back his house, my dad to take me to the police and make me stay there over the weekend; I kind of liked that idea.  He then threatened to not take me to school on Monday if I “act up” over the weekend.  He then told me where I would be spending my weekend, in the downstairs bathroom.  Even to sleep!  I was not surprised.  I was in the downstairs bathroom for seven hours.  I was let out for a couple minutes to set the table for everyone else.  My dad brought me my dinner and then started to pat me down.  Always returning to my privets!   I was so shocked I did nothing for a couple seconds.  Finally I asked, “dad, why are you feeling me up?” He denied it and then said, “I’m checking for your brother’s phone” Then he left me to eat my gross diner in peace.  I was then aloud to come out of the bathroom and wash my dishes.  About one hour later I was aloud to do homework.  After I finished, had written a letter of apology, wrote “I will act appropriately” 53 times, and memorized how to spell appropriately, I was surprisingly let out.  I had been told that I would spend the whole weekend including nights in the downstairs bathroom.  I fact my dad had even already brought down my blanket, not a pillow though.  I think he let me out because he was afraid that I would call Mommy.  I just finished showering and I’m in bed.  Dreading tomorrow, another dad with my dad probably in the downstairs bathroom.