Have you ever felt like your world is caving in? Like the walls are slowly closing in on you? That's how I feel right now.
As I sit alone in my apartment I can't help but sit back as my mind wonders to all sorts of things.. I feel like no matter how much I try to look for the positive in something I always end up thinking about the most negative parts. I have a tendency to go straight to the worst case scenario. Every time. I get scared of situations that are potentially good, I don't allow myself to open up and grow because I'm scared of what others are going to think of me, or what COULD happen if I go for it.
The most frustrating part of it all is that I find myself crying for no reason, I find myself lost in some dark cold place in my mind, that was never there before, or at least, I never noticed it. I feel like I've lost my strength. I can't hide anymore.
When I was a child, my mother had a few boyfriends, which always started off nice, but when she wasn't around they were extremely abusive to me, and I didn't really express to her what was happening because I was scared. I often asked her to move away and she eventually listened, but I never truly explained how I feeling or being treated..
When I was 4, my Mom met a man, we'll call him "Wheels." He found us in Perth, and he moved us to Salisbury NB to his home. When my mother would go to work, he would lock me in my room and I wasn't aloud to come out until my mom was off work, when we would eat supper, I was only aloud to have a spoon full of whatever was being served. When he would go for a drive, he would make my mother, because he was in a wheelchair, carry him from the van, to the house. He wouldn't even get in his wheelchair and wheel himself inside. Sometimes, as my mother was carrying him into the house he would be calling her names and yelling at her. I don't understand how she did it. I couldn't. When they would go out, his son would babysit me, and molest me..
He would make me do things, and I had no idea what I was doing, I just knew it felt wrong. I want to write out everything I can remember him making me do, but I'm scared of what people will think. I know it wasn't my fault, but deep down, I am still ashamed. I often find myself thinking about it. I had blocked it from my mind for a long time, I had completely forgotten about it and him, until he tried to add me on FaceBook. I saw his name and I puked. I just got so sick, and I started to remember everything. Ever little detail. I wish I could forget it again. I try to be strong and I try to forgive him, because I don't need to waste my time hating someone for something they did. I know that he will never own up to what he did, I know this because I had messaged him about it, and he flat out denied it. That hurt. I wasn't looking for an apology, I just wanted him to acknowledge what he did and how he made me feel and how he has affected my life.. I don't know what I was expecting really.. but I wanted to tell him.
My Mom eventually left "Wheels" when I was 7 and we moved to a little apartment in town. She met a man that she worked with and started dating him. We'll call him "The Angry Giant." He was good for the first little while. He made my mom really happy, and I was glad, but as time went on, he would lose control of his anger more and more often. Eventually EVERYTHING made him angry, now I do admit that sometimes I did deserve to get yelled at, he was a little out of control. I wasn't aloud to go out and play with my friends, I wasn't aloud to have friends over, or go to their houses. Eventually, it got to the point where he would call me names, all the time, everyday, numerous times a day.
You'll never amount to anything.
You are disgusting.
You're going to die alone.
You'll never achieve anything.
No one will ever truly love you.
He made me feel like the lowest piece of shit there is out there. If I didn't clean my room fast enough he would come in with a garbage bag and throw my things out. If a piece of paper fell onto the floor and I didn't notice before he did, it was like the wrath of hell unleashed in the living room. He would always yell at my Mom. He would tell her that it was "the mothers job" to clean, and to cook, etc. My friends would notice eventually. They would show up to my house and knock on the door to see if I could come out and hang out, and "The Angry Giant" would chase them away. He used to threaten my male friends, and say extremely rude things about my female friends. There was never any pleasing him. EVER. When he would ask me a question and I gave an answer that he didn't like, I would get yelled at for hours on end. I wasn't aloud to get up and go to the bathroom. Sometimes he would yell for 4-6 hours straight. No exaggeration here. The neighbours would ask me and my Mom about it, because they would hear him yelling, and me crying.. and we would tell them it was nothing. My mom and I would go out (on the rare occasion he let us go out) and we would have to think of a lie to tell him about what we did that day, because if we said something out of place, it would lead to screaming and yelling and things being thrown around.. as time went on it escalated to him picking me up and throwing me around, he would push me, he would slap me. I never told anyone at school or my friends, or even my family, because I was embarrassed. I would lie to them. "Everything's great." "I'm super happy." "Everything's perfect."
I would put up walls. I wouldn't let anyone see what I was really feeling. It was too risky. Too scary.
Eleven years we put up with it.
Eleven years I lied and hid and tried to be invisible.
It was safe that way.
We eventually left him. I begged my mom, and got my friend to bring his truck. After "The Angry Giant" left for work on Halloween morning, my friend pulled up in his truck and we piled our stuff on. We never looked back. He eventually found us, and would park outside of our apartment complex in the early morning (3am) for a few hours, and then leave. He eventually stopped.
For too long, I have held things in, hid my feelings, and held up my walls. It's too exhausting. I can't do it anymore. I need to get it out. I have to. It's not healthy for me not to.
I might do a separate blog about being molested, because I need to get that out. I have to, and I know that there's other girls and boys even, that have been molested as a child, and could relate. I want to share my story. I want to share my life. (well, some of it any way)
I am open.
I am trusting.
I am looking for support.