1st of all, I can't believe I'm writing a journal but my therapist that I started seeing; no thanks to my doctor thinks it will be good for me. So I guess here goes nothing!
No thanks to my current health problems and problems from the past, I can't or just afraid of living my life like anyone else my age.
I'm only 22 years old and I have the body of a 60 year old. I've suffered from molestation, neglect, depression, suicide, abuse (mental and physical), rape, pregnancy, miscarriage, cancer, and high blood pressure.
To remind myself again, I'm only 22 years old. Who the fuck deals with all of that at my age?!
This starting to write journal entries could not have come at a more perfect or worse time. I've still haven't deciphered that part out yet....
Tomorrow will mark the 6 year anniversary of almost being beaten to death by my ex boyfriend which resulted in me having a miscarriage at 5 months and losing my baby boy; who I was planning on naming Jude after The Beatles song. This was of course after he raped me right before my 16th birthday. Some fucking present that was.
You might be wondering why my boyfriend would rape me? I'm still asking myself that very same question to this day.
It could be due to that fact that I'm ashamed and completely embarrassed about my body. After 5 years of being taught to believe, "I'm the most hideous thing on the planet and I should just kill myself so no one would have to be forced to look at your horrendous looking face ever again." (That's a direct quote.) It might be due to my gigantic gap. I think I have heard every gap joke in the book and still at least every week I hear some comment about it. I tried to teach myself to talk with my mouth not so wide but I guess I'm always around people who are use to it so I lost the skill. I still hate smiling in picture today. I said I'd never get married until I'd be able to actually smile for my picture. Or the fact that I have legs that inherited from my mother which cause me to have hair bumps that brings the hair back 2 minutes after you shave it off. Ever since junior high i'm way too embarrassed to wear skirts or shorts because of getting picked on by it. My BO has always been a problem for me. My family is smelly and I unfortunately picked that up from them as well. I do everything I can to avoid having to deal with what I did in middle school. The worst time in my life! It was so bad that after I left Warren Lane and actually avoided successfully committing many attempts of suicide, I thought the storm was done. I guess that's why they say, never say never. Or the two components that guys are supposed to be looking forward to see when seeing their women naked, i feel most ashamed about. My saggy boobs are a start. If only I was so afraid of wearing a training bra when I was suppose to because none of the other girls did and the boys would snap my bra straps until it made my back bleed. Or my weird looking vagina that pissed Aaron off so much that he tried to tie me down and cut it with a butcher knife so I would look like all the other girls. To avoid dying at the time I knew I had to fight him off. It ended with me having a bloody nose, black eye, and a broken arm but I guess it was worth it in the end. Yeah I had to lie about running into something, but my known clutzyness has saved me from my secrets and fears being brought to life.
It could be due to the fact that I was just too afraid of having sex. I was molested from the age of 4 to 7 by my much older cousin who was living with all of us at my Gran's house. He would sneak into my room in the middle of the night, close the door, then forcefully pull off my night clothes and have his way with me. If I made even the slightest sound, I'd get hit or chocked. He would kiss me all over and start penetrating me with his fingers. Then after he had enough of "eating me out" he'd finally leave out of my room and right before he would tell me that if I ever told anyone he'd kill my entire family. He finally went to jail but not on my behalf. Stealing is what finally got him in the end. 3 strikes and you're out right?
Up until we moved out of that house in 96' I would have nightmares about seeing his face and tongue between my legs, and that evil smirk he would always have upon his face. Even now I can't sleep by myself in the dark. I HAVE to sleep with some kind of nightlight. All the doors must be closed and unless the closet is small like the one I have now, that better be closed as well. I'm refuse to take any chances on any monsters attacking me at night anymore.
But that's just it. They have and I'm afraid they always will. Every since I was raped, the innocence, compassion for others and forgiveness was stripped away. Yes he use to talk to me like I was the scum on the bottom of his shoe. I was constantly a fucking annoying, stupid, whiny, hideously ugly, good for nothing slutty bitch who should just die and decrease the surplus population and when he hit me I should stop being a pussy and just take it. Yes I've actually seen the bottom of his shoes way to up close and personal. Being kicked in the head is quite painful. Because of this, I felt like I'm smart as I use to be and I probably got a few brain cells damaged. It takes me a lot longer now to catch on to things and I have the hardest time figuring out the most simple things. So I apologize to anyone I frustrate with my stupidity. I've had plenty of broken bones and sore cheeks, and my hair pulled out of my head due to being pulled around and swung like a rag doll. This is probably why I don't like people touching my hair at all now. I still have my crouches from when he threw me down the stairs and I twisted my ankle and my knee snapped out of place. Cuts and bruises and insults were a daily routine but he was all I had. At least that what i was trained to believe. He made me believe that he loved me and he would never hurt me like everyone else did. He would not abandon me and make me feel like I was a useless piece of shit like everyone else did. I should have known better.
How could I though. He did everything he promised. When know one was there he was. He told me I was beautiful when I was made fun of from 8:15am-2:45pm. He was my only friend when I had none. He told how smart I was even though my grades had went from A's to D and F's and I was on the verge of getting kicked out of the magnet program just to escape my tormenting. While my stuffed animals were being thrown in the dirt along with myself. While my backpack and all it's components were being ripped up and dumped into the trashcan. He was there to give me a new one. While the spit balls went flying into my hair and the glue was constantly poured into my chair, he was there. Through all my neglect and longing to like I was good enough for my family, he was with me through it all. How could I not trust him he made me believe I was on this world on purpose and their was now reason to take my own life. How could I not believe every word he said? How could I have known that trying to make myself better for him would be my demise? The new found positive attention I received and the new found confidence in myself was not for my benefit. Every complement I received was acknowledged with a painful backlash. I became a ungrateful slut in his eyes. He said every beating I got was due to the fact that I hurt him and I deserved it. He was right after, right? How could I live with the fact that I was hurting the man that I loved and loved me. If I didn't get it together he told me he'd leave me. I couldn't afford that. He told me that no one would ever want me but him. He told me that he was the best damn thing that had every happened to me and I believed that shit... You can probably still find patches of my blood all over his house. I eventually became so numb that nothing made me feel pain anymore. I lost my voice and all my power. That was until it happened.
The day my life went straight back to hell. The day I lost my trust in everything and everyone. The day I finally saw him for the piece of shit he really was. The ONE thing he knew I was trying to cherish he took away from me. My faith in the church and the joy of seeing another year crushed to pieces like all my dreams. It was a Saturday afternoon... My Birthday was that Wednesday and I was having a joint shin-dig with my friend at the beach that upcoming Saturday. I went to his house because he told me that he would not be able to attend since he had to take care of some stuff at the church for his dad, but that I should come over and we'd celebrate together. Over joyed at the fact he'd actually seemed to care for once I rushed over. His method to celebrating anything was getting into a fight with me right before so we'd be forced to break and he would have to do shit for whatever occasion it was. When I got there he made me sit down and watch tv with him. That was fine by me since we at least both agreed that Spongebob was one of the greatest shows ever. After awhile he told me he had a present for me. Shocked that he would actually do something nice for me, I didn't say anything. He asked me why I hadn't asked him what it was and I said I was too shocked to reply. His face slowly started to turn into a frown which was never a good sign for me. He told me to close my eyes and he'd take it out. I quickly did what I was told afraid of upsetting him. He told me to open my eye and I did. What was presented in front of me had me more shocked than the fact he wanted to give me something. He was completely nude and said that this was my present and I was going to enjoy it. I don't think I have ever been so terrified in my life. I tried my hardest to protest and run away but I couldn't. He started choking me with just one hand and started punching at whatever he could. He beat until I couldn't move anymore. That's when he let me have it. As hard as he could give it. I have never been in so much pain before in my life. I wish I could have died right then but I didn't. When I could finally bring myself to speak and ask him why he did it? He told me it was because he loved the feeling of a tight pussy.
Well back to the loss of Jude.... I still remember it like it was yesterday just like all the other heartache I've been through. Up until the day I lost him I never wanted kids. I thought they were just a hassle. Plus because of my irregular period I wouldn't be able to have one anyway so why should I let myself care. That's when I found out I was pregnant 2 months later. I was sick and more moody than I had ever been. I was already going through hell and the fact that I found out that I was carrying a life inside of me because of what happened scared the shit out of me. How could this be happening? That was all I could think of. What the hell did I do to deserve this? It happened the day I was pondering on finally telling my parents. I went to him to explain my options. None of them he apparently liked because that's when Mr. Hyde showed his true colors. He picked be up by the throat and slammed me against the wall. He said I would not be having that child if he had anything to do with it and he meant it. He dragged me across the house by my hair and slammed me into anything he could find. He started punch and kicking my stomach like a was a punching bag. The pain became so excruciating that I eventually passed out. The last thing i remember was the pile of blood that I was laying in. I eventually woke up in the hospital. Apparently Aaron had threw me in the car and drove me to the women's clinic and left me outside and some lady found me bleeding to death. After constant refusal for telling the police or calling my parents and having the mandatory abortion, I had Sam and Taylor come to pick me up. I made them drive me to the beach before they drove me home. It has always been the only place that I could truly clear my head. So for the past 5 years I have gone to the beach to remember how my life had changed within those past 5 months or could have if he didn't die so tragically.
Everyone tells me how scared I use to be of men for years. Every time they came around I would run and hide. I remember hiding under my grans glass table hoping they wouldn't see me. If I was forced to come out I'd put up a fight and have a huge fucking melt down. I guess I always knew they were no good from the start. Sometimes I wish I would have kept that mindset, it might have saved me from an eternity of pain...
No thanks to my current health problems and problems from the past, I can't or just afraid of living my life like anyone else my age.
I'm only 22 years old and I have the body of a 60 year old. I've suffered from molestation, neglect, depression, suicide, abuse (mental and physical), rape, pregnancy, miscarriage, cancer, and high blood pressure.
To remind myself again, I'm only 22 years old. Who the fuck deals with all of that at my age?!
This starting to write journal entries could not have come at a more perfect or worse time. I've still haven't deciphered that part out yet....
Tomorrow will mark the 6 year anniversary of almost being beaten to death by my ex boyfriend which resulted in me having a miscarriage at 5 months and losing my baby boy; who I was planning on naming Jude after The Beatles song. This was of course after he raped me right before my 16th birthday. Some fucking present that was.
You might be wondering why my boyfriend would rape me? I'm still asking myself that very same question to this day.
It could be due to that fact that I'm ashamed and completely embarrassed about my body. After 5 years of being taught to believe, "I'm the most hideous thing on the planet and I should just kill myself so no one would have to be forced to look at your horrendous looking face ever again." (That's a direct quote.) It might be due to my gigantic gap. I think I have heard every gap joke in the book and still at least every week I hear some comment about it. I tried to teach myself to talk with my mouth not so wide but I guess I'm always around people who are use to it so I lost the skill. I still hate smiling in picture today. I said I'd never get married until I'd be able to actually smile for my picture. Or the fact that I have legs that inherited from my mother which cause me to have hair bumps that brings the hair back 2 minutes after you shave it off. Ever since junior high i'm way too embarrassed to wear skirts or shorts because of getting picked on by it. My BO has always been a problem for me. My family is smelly and I unfortunately picked that up from them as well. I do everything I can to avoid having to deal with what I did in middle school. The worst time in my life! It was so bad that after I left Warren Lane and actually avoided successfully committing many attempts of suicide, I thought the storm was done. I guess that's why they say, never say never. Or the two components that guys are supposed to be looking forward to see when seeing their women naked, i feel most ashamed about. My saggy boobs are a start. If only I was so afraid of wearing a training bra when I was suppose to because none of the other girls did and the boys would snap my bra straps until it made my back bleed. Or my weird looking vagina that pissed Aaron off so much that he tried to tie me down and cut it with a butcher knife so I would look like all the other girls. To avoid dying at the time I knew I had to fight him off. It ended with me having a bloody nose, black eye, and a broken arm but I guess it was worth it in the end. Yeah I had to lie about running into something, but my known clutzyness has saved me from my secrets and fears being brought to life.
It could be due to the fact that I was just too afraid of having sex. I was molested from the age of 4 to 7 by my much older cousin who was living with all of us at my Gran's house. He would sneak into my room in the middle of the night, close the door, then forcefully pull off my night clothes and have his way with me. If I made even the slightest sound, I'd get hit or chocked. He would kiss me all over and start penetrating me with his fingers. Then after he had enough of "eating me out" he'd finally leave out of my room and right before he would tell me that if I ever told anyone he'd kill my entire family. He finally went to jail but not on my behalf. Stealing is what finally got him in the end. 3 strikes and you're out right?
Up until we moved out of that house in 96' I would have nightmares about seeing his face and tongue between my legs, and that evil smirk he would always have upon his face. Even now I can't sleep by myself in the dark. I HAVE to sleep with some kind of nightlight. All the doors must be closed and unless the closet is small like the one I have now, that better be closed as well. I'm refuse to take any chances on any monsters attacking me at night anymore.
But that's just it. They have and I'm afraid they always will. Every since I was raped, the innocence, compassion for others and forgiveness was stripped away. Yes he use to talk to me like I was the scum on the bottom of his shoe. I was constantly a fucking annoying, stupid, whiny, hideously ugly, good for nothing slutty bitch who should just die and decrease the surplus population and when he hit me I should stop being a pussy and just take it. Yes I've actually seen the bottom of his shoes way to up close and personal. Being kicked in the head is quite painful. Because of this, I felt like I'm smart as I use to be and I probably got a few brain cells damaged. It takes me a lot longer now to catch on to things and I have the hardest time figuring out the most simple things. So I apologize to anyone I frustrate with my stupidity. I've had plenty of broken bones and sore cheeks, and my hair pulled out of my head due to being pulled around and swung like a rag doll. This is probably why I don't like people touching my hair at all now. I still have my crouches from when he threw me down the stairs and I twisted my ankle and my knee snapped out of place. Cuts and bruises and insults were a daily routine but he was all I had. At least that what i was trained to believe. He made me believe that he loved me and he would never hurt me like everyone else did. He would not abandon me and make me feel like I was a useless piece of shit like everyone else did. I should have known better.
How could I though. He did everything he promised. When know one was there he was. He told me I was beautiful when I was made fun of from 8:15am-2:45pm. He was my only friend when I had none. He told how smart I was even though my grades had went from A's to D and F's and I was on the verge of getting kicked out of the magnet program just to escape my tormenting. While my stuffed animals were being thrown in the dirt along with myself. While my backpack and all it's components were being ripped up and dumped into the trashcan. He was there to give me a new one. While the spit balls went flying into my hair and the glue was constantly poured into my chair, he was there. Through all my neglect and longing to like I was good enough for my family, he was with me through it all. How could I not trust him he made me believe I was on this world on purpose and their was now reason to take my own life. How could I not believe every word he said? How could I have known that trying to make myself better for him would be my demise? The new found positive attention I received and the new found confidence in myself was not for my benefit. Every complement I received was acknowledged with a painful backlash. I became a ungrateful slut in his eyes. He said every beating I got was due to the fact that I hurt him and I deserved it. He was right after, right? How could I live with the fact that I was hurting the man that I loved and loved me. If I didn't get it together he told me he'd leave me. I couldn't afford that. He told me that no one would ever want me but him. He told me that he was the best damn thing that had every happened to me and I believed that shit... You can probably still find patches of my blood all over his house. I eventually became so numb that nothing made me feel pain anymore. I lost my voice and all my power. That was until it happened.
The day my life went straight back to hell. The day I lost my trust in everything and everyone. The day I finally saw him for the piece of shit he really was. The ONE thing he knew I was trying to cherish he took away from me. My faith in the church and the joy of seeing another year crushed to pieces like all my dreams. It was a Saturday afternoon... My Birthday was that Wednesday and I was having a joint shin-dig with my friend at the beach that upcoming Saturday. I went to his house because he told me that he would not be able to attend since he had to take care of some stuff at the church for his dad, but that I should come over and we'd celebrate together. Over joyed at the fact he'd actually seemed to care for once I rushed over. His method to celebrating anything was getting into a fight with me right before so we'd be forced to break and he would have to do shit for whatever occasion it was. When I got there he made me sit down and watch tv with him. That was fine by me since we at least both agreed that Spongebob was one of the greatest shows ever. After awhile he told me he had a present for me. Shocked that he would actually do something nice for me, I didn't say anything. He asked me why I hadn't asked him what it was and I said I was too shocked to reply. His face slowly started to turn into a frown which was never a good sign for me. He told me to close my eyes and he'd take it out. I quickly did what I was told afraid of upsetting him. He told me to open my eye and I did. What was presented in front of me had me more shocked than the fact he wanted to give me something. He was completely nude and said that this was my present and I was going to enjoy it. I don't think I have ever been so terrified in my life. I tried my hardest to protest and run away but I couldn't. He started choking me with just one hand and started punching at whatever he could. He beat until I couldn't move anymore. That's when he let me have it. As hard as he could give it. I have never been in so much pain before in my life. I wish I could have died right then but I didn't. When I could finally bring myself to speak and ask him why he did it? He told me it was because he loved the feeling of a tight pussy.
Well back to the loss of Jude.... I still remember it like it was yesterday just like all the other heartache I've been through. Up until the day I lost him I never wanted kids. I thought they were just a hassle. Plus because of my irregular period I wouldn't be able to have one anyway so why should I let myself care. That's when I found out I was pregnant 2 months later. I was sick and more moody than I had ever been. I was already going through hell and the fact that I found out that I was carrying a life inside of me because of what happened scared the shit out of me. How could this be happening? That was all I could think of. What the hell did I do to deserve this? It happened the day I was pondering on finally telling my parents. I went to him to explain my options. None of them he apparently liked because that's when Mr. Hyde showed his true colors. He picked be up by the throat and slammed me against the wall. He said I would not be having that child if he had anything to do with it and he meant it. He dragged me across the house by my hair and slammed me into anything he could find. He started punch and kicking my stomach like a was a punching bag. The pain became so excruciating that I eventually passed out. The last thing i remember was the pile of blood that I was laying in. I eventually woke up in the hospital. Apparently Aaron had threw me in the car and drove me to the women's clinic and left me outside and some lady found me bleeding to death. After constant refusal for telling the police or calling my parents and having the mandatory abortion, I had Sam and Taylor come to pick me up. I made them drive me to the beach before they drove me home. It has always been the only place that I could truly clear my head. So for the past 5 years I have gone to the beach to remember how my life had changed within those past 5 months or could have if he didn't die so tragically.
Everyone tells me how scared I use to be of men for years. Every time they came around I would run and hide. I remember hiding under my grans glass table hoping they wouldn't see me. If I was forced to come out I'd put up a fight and have a huge fucking melt down. I guess I always knew they were no good from the start. Sometimes I wish I would have kept that mindset, it might have saved me from an eternity of pain...
No comments:
Post a Comment