Dear diary …
I feel as if I’m just in everyone’s way a nuisance in society.
Someday I don’t feel like this and other days it feels like there is a weight on my shoulder laying there observing watching till it makes me crumble in on myself.
Years back I had none of these worries, but still a little bit of a weight on me.
I feel as though every little though is playing rollercoaster in my mind, every little look that I receive from anyone feels as though I did something wrong to upset them. I weren’t always like this though I were ‘normal’ or as normal as any girl the age of 2 years old could be after their parents’ divorce.
Then came the INCIDENT and from there on onwards I just moved more and more in my shell: Waiting for the universe to consume me.
I were two years old at the time and didn’t know that were happening to me were not normal. You see I had an absence of a ‘normal’ father. It sounds weird to call it like that at the moment, but my father was very sick. He suffered from strokes and were only years later diagnosed with motor neuron disease – although we still weren’t sure if he actually had motor neuron disease, okay back to my story.
My mother got remarried to a guy that I assumed were very sweet and well mannered. He would buy me lots of presents, pick me up and make my mom and I laugh although he too had a bad side. He would cuss at me if I ordered food and did not eat it, he would cuss at me if I did or say something wrong towards him and then at nights he would abuse me. My mom worked late and from the absence of a father figure she too felt like I needed bonding time with a ‘real dad’: In the sense that my dad were too sick to play and run with me and take me to places – talking to me about the day. Anyways long story short My mom worked to support me and at nights she were so tired and fell asleep early then he would abuse me. He would read me Bible stories and then touch me in places no grown up man should touch a girl.
This became a routine and it continued for months on and on. I were a girl of merely 4 years old so I started experimenting too with myself and my niece one thing led to another and one day my nephew walked in on me and my niece. His eyes were huge.
“What what are you doing I’m going to tell my mom?”
My niece told him.
“Let him join”
This decision has been running from my mind through time the whole time. Why would I ask him to join?
At first I thought it was because I too were confused , but later years it clicked that I needed an escape from the abuse at home and I knew my nephew would tell my aunt.
So he did.
My aunt immediately talked to me made me record everything I told her. It was strange for me to tell someone about the abuse seeing as my stepfather told me not to tell anyone and it felt like I was disappointing him and causing trouble for my mom, but one thing led to another and I were taken away from my mother to life at my grandma’s house.
Only years later I heard that my mother and my real father were accusing one another and that my real father has met someone else. This person only made thing worse. Let’s call her Lola.
So Lola would talk for my Dad seeing as he were ill and my mom would stand up for my stepdad seeing as she didn’t know the whole story yet.
I lived with my grandma and grandpa only two years before there too came a story that I were to close to my mom ( therefore my stepdad too) and that if he could my stepdad can come abuse me there to.
So I was moved with the help of a special service for these cases to a new family, an unknown family that I didn’t even know.
There a learned how to swim, how to ride a bicycle and how to behave better, but I also climbed more into my shell. They had two children and I felt out of sorts. We were punished if one child did anything wrong and each time I would visit my mom they would tell me that I have an attitude. I felt in love with drama there. It was a way of expressing my emotions through acting: of getting the pain, the guilt for leaving my mom, the loneliness away.
Two years pasted again and I was yet again forced to leave.
My decisions were orphanage or my grandma away from town.
I knowing very well what the orphanage meant decided on my grandma.
There things went different.
It was a different lifestyle than what I were used to and a different school meaning different friends.
My grandpa and grandma were strict people and sometimes they would be too strict and sometimes not. For instance they would let me have friends over, go to parties, walk with my dog alone, but somehow they had a problem with me talking to my mom. At the time I didn’t know that Lola, my dad’s girlfriend if you can call her that had influence them to get a bad perspective off my mom.
My mom lived more than 4 hours away and because of this I didn’t get to see her as much as I would like to see her. She drove some weekend to visit me and we would have fun where I lived and shop. One day I told her exactly what happened and she immediately started crying.
“Baby why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
I just cried some more.
“I love you mom and I miss you and Bubo.”
Bubo was my brother she conceived while I was away.
I didn’t judge her for this although I know most people would I knew she also hurt and that that sick bastard abused her too.
Two years past again and my mother now divorced after 4 years could have me back at her home again.
At first it was difficult for me to adapt and now a few years later I’m finished with school studying to become a lawyer to help others. My mom has already studied for a lawyer and I look up to her for being so strong.
But now I feel like a weight is again on my shoulders …
My grandpa and dad died ….
I wouldn’t say I’m happy that my dad died but I would say I know he is not in pain anymore , but now knowing they are not there anymore makes me want more attention from other people and it feels as though people don’t always understand what I mean with this.
I crave some comfort – no not some a whole lot …
Not because of what happened …. That’s the past …. But because I can’t seem to deal with death …
What happened made me stronger I know and in a way I wouldn’t change that. But I would change the fact that I saw my mother so little and my father … I would change the fact that I feel like when I were recovering I neglected my family … i would change the fact that you can’t take back time.
Still I think it would be selfish of wishing my Dad back, he has no pain now.
It feels good to get all my emotions on paper yet I know that I need to burn this paper now for me to … escape from the emotions, but I feel it best for everyone to read my story and only mine … for now.
Ps: I know now that my Mom is strong, stronger than I could ever be. I knew when I were crying and feeling alone she were keeping her head up and staying strong not just for me, but everyone.