Hi. Im new. This is some “couch time” aka vent session.
Hello. Im going to use this page to let my demons out. Ive got a lot to sort and its not going to be pretty. Ive been through a lot. This wont be easy, but it needs to be done. The problem will be some of this will be vague, for your saftey and mine. Plus some is blocked out. Ok so most is blocked out. So, here we go.
Everything went downhill when I was two. My first memory is of my parents standing over me fighting. Screaming. Angry. I dont know why. I dont really know if they did either. It wasnt long before they were done though, and before I was three they were divorced. Divorce isnt so bad when your not old enough to remember it.
Things got worse as I got older. This part Ill break into two brackets. 3–6 and 4–7. So part one takes place at my dads. He lived with his mom and stepdad. And I lived there too. It was nice. We had chickens. I got to learn and grow. But not all my lessions were good. In fact, most were harsh. My grandad and I had a game we played everyday while my grandma took her hour nap. Everyday. He would pick a spot, sometimes his room, sometimes outside. I remember one time in the chicken coup. Once in his bedroom. Once on the mattress from my crib. Ive thankfully blurred the specifics, but things got handsy. He did things no man should ever do to someone that young. It took me a while to realize things werent normal. Finally one day I asked my first grade teacher about it. Soon after I didnt live with my dad anymore. I was 6 at that time. The other bracket, 4–7, also took place because of this. I was a smart cookie growing up, see, and I knew grandpa like bigger girls. So I did something I knew would keep that from adding to the things he liked about me. Until I was 7 and finally got caught I threw up after every meal. Which affected my until I hit 13. I never weighed more than 56 lbs until 13. More on that in a bit.
So some positives (I guess) from those ages. My mom go married when I was 4. My dad remarried when I was 5. In second grade I wrote a book, and even went to a young authors competition. That was really cool. I was so proud of my book. I felt on top of the world in that crouded building full of other authors. It was an amazing feeling for someone who had already been through so much. Ive always been thankful for that teacher, who encouraged me to work and try. My mom had a daughter when I was 7 and one while I was 8. The younger called me mom for two years because she didnt know that i wasnt her mother.
As I got older things started going back downhill. At ten I “became a woman” with no clue what was going on. After hiding all day thinking I was dying my mom just laughed and told everyone she knew. She and I dont get along very well. I dont remember how old I was the first time she hit me, but i rememeber the situation. We had gone to a friends house. Mom wanted her purse out of her car. She had brought it in with her and it was on the table. Me being young couldnt hide the annoyance at being told to go get something out of the car that was right behind her. After a few pointless minutes of her demanding I go to the car (for no reason) I gave up and turned around to leave. She grabbed my ponytail, yanked me to the ground and slapped me right across the face, for “rolling my eyes”. She was standing above me checking to see if anyone saw that, when she saw her purse. Her response? “oh”. That was the first time, but by no means the last time, that she hit me.
Ok Im going to take a break now. Im 25 now, so we still have some stuff to get out. Thanks for being here with me. I couldnt do this without you.