Cherry Pie

I wake to an vacant, cold, and obscure room. My naked body is sprawled across an unmade and what appears to be an unclean bed. I try to lift my weak figure from the stained sheets, I cannot seem to move.

Limp, beaten, and broken. I am confused as to how I got here and to whom I was sharing these intimate moments with just prior to coming to. I thrust one arm into the air, using all force to keep it from wilting again.  I start to feel around the area, looking for clothes, blankets, anything to be able to cover my exposed body.  My fingers make contact with a cool, silky pool of liquid on the ground. I run my hand over it, patting at it lightly, I then lift it to my face to smell and identify the substance. When my hand gets close enough to my eyes I am able to make out a cherry red fluid and it’s not what I smell but what I start to feel.

Pain erupts throughout my stiff form and I begin to shriek for help. I am shaking now, tremors have broken out and I cannot hold still. I am screaming, wailing at the top of my lungs.

Is anybody there? Is anybody going to help me?

My lower half has started to really throb, my head is jumping around at the speed of light, and my eyes are sending tears out at an accelerated rate. I am able to push myself up out of the bed and snap the lights of the room on, revealing the horrific scene of virginity lost.

And then I wake up.

Do you remember when you did it for the first time? You know, IT??

 I do. I remember it all of the time; it’s not something you forget. Well, if you did lose track of that particular memory then you are way more experienced than I believe anyone should be.

But hey, no judgments…trust me I am in no place to evaluate one’s life choices.

When you lost your virginity did fireworks go off? Was it magical? Was it true love?

No, it was not for me. I wish it had been I really do. Shit, I wish it had been just a decent experience overall, maybe not even my soul mate or someone I loved; maybe if it had just been a better circumstance than I wouldn’t be sitting here today wondering what it means to give up your body and virtue to another human being.

As some of you are aware, it is a very precious thing to give yourself to someone else. I guess after some of my experiences and situations I have been put into I haven’t really taken it as seriously as I should have. I spent a lot of years controlling and pushing men around after all they had done to me. I had this misconception that love didn’t exist and people were always out to get me. So for a couple of years I took it as “me” time and I went hard on destroying men. I dated, I cheated, I lied, I used, and I manipulated them into giving me what I wanted and then I tossed them aside. I felt as though it was my gift back to the gender that tortured and abused me for years as a young girl. Take that males, you get what you give. You took my innocence and now I am showing you what a girl who lacks that feature has to offer-despair.

When I saw the blood that as some call their ‘cherry’ popped and blemished through the floor and sheets, I was devastated. The gift that I was meant to give to someone exceptional, I didn’t actually give. It was stolen, an unreturnable act. I was robbed of the only thing I had left from my childhood that wasn’t complete shit.  After everything I have been through, the roller coaster of a life that I was dished out….this….this right here was the one thing that has never been rectified in my life. Sure, the drugs and the other abuse had its justice served one way or another. Those who aided in the mistreatment as a child and teen were served their piece of karma cake. But this man, he still walks the streets. In fact, he walks them thinking he is some kind of fucking champion. I am pretty damn sure of it.

The man in question: Let’s call him Drew. Because I like metaphors, let me tell ya he drew me out a friggin path after that entire charade he had put me through. (I’m so punny, I know).

So let me tell you about Drew and all of his glory. Drew is cute, in fact he’s more than cute he’s very attractive. Athletic looking, dark curls, very blue eyes, and a perfect smile. Drooling right?

Drew is a lot older than me, I am 14 years old and he is 19. He is one of my brother’s friends who occasionally make an appearance at my house when he comes home from his Army life. (Yep, he’s in the army…..)

Anyways, he is dreamy and loves attention-therefore he is also quite cocky, he lives to flirt with any and every girl that looks his way. Doesn’t matter if you’re the ugliest, fattest, or youngest in my case, he will flash those pearly whites and make your knees give out. He knows his game, he LOVES the fame.

Man, did I ever even have a chance? I wonder that sometimes. So of course every time Drew comes over I  am acting as mature as I possibly can and wearing a bit of my mother’s make up in order to take away from the fact that my underdeveloped body and small features are a dead giveaway that I am jail bait. I never really wanted to sleep with him, I didn’t have that in my head whatsoever, I just wanted him to pay attention to me. Perhaps I just wanted anyone to pay attention to me at this point; after all I am a 14 year old girl who had already suffered plenty of loss and pain before. Maybe I thought he would be a prince charming of some sort…a rescue to my suffering? Whatever the reason I had a crush on him.  Every chance he received he would smile, touch my hand, tell me encouraging things, and sometimes he would hug me for a really long time and stroke my back very lightly. I remember one specific memory he told me I was the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life and he wished that he could be my boyfriend but he was so sure I had many other admirers knocking on my door. I almost fainted with excitement.

So naturally after hearing about him you think to yourself, was she raped or was she just crying wolf?

I want you to stand up, get your simple closed minded head out of your ass and then open your eyes to what you are about to have revealed to you.

I never asked to have sex; I never once made physical or verbally advancements that would suggest I wanted to partake in the forbidden fruit. I never asked to be so mentally fucked up and disfigured for the rest of my life.

 I DID NOT WANT THIS.

Although for years I tried to convince myself that it was my fault, I led him on and I provoked these actions. It’s always been me who is my enemy, me who beats me up. Me who makes the monsters, me who strips my confidence.

Maybe I did want it at first? Maybe I should be ashamed of myself?

No, that cannot be. Because despite my well acquaintance with sex and all that in entails from my previous encounters of being molested, I did not like sex. It scared me, it made me uncomfortable, and it caused me to remember those events that I did not wish to relive.

When Drew came into my home that day he was drunk, a little bit under the influence of some sort of substance I do not know or even care to know at this point and he grabbed me tightly in his arms. It wasn’t his normal snug hugs where he smoothly caressed my back, it was forced and aggressive. I knew right away that something was not right. Before I could speak out his mouth was covering mine and he had enveloped my body into his muscular build. Honestly, I don’t know if I was kissing him or if he was eating my face. I had never kissed anyone before and so I think he was really taking the reins on that one. When he broke away I was confused and tousled. I looked up at him and as I was about to mutter something he lifted his hand and covered my lips. He started shoving at my torso, motioning for me to move forward towards the basement.

He whispered into my ear “You want me to show you how real men love on their girlfriends? Because you’re all mine tonight. Your brother is out of sight, and I have always wanted to fuck a virgin.”

I didn’t fight back; I did not even try to squirm out of his grasp. I just let him take me.

It was agonizing at first; I thought I had been ripped into pieces. Then I turned my entire concentration off and I guess just wandered away. Something I had learned from my other experiences I suppose. They can have your body but they can’t take your mind if you don’t let them.

I wish someone had explained sex to me, I wish someone had warned me of people out there who are selfish and arrogant, the ones who are hell bent on destroying others. I wish that I had someone to talk to all of those years that I was dealing with these things.

Drew went away, my family found out about the activities that took place downstairs and I was grounded. I cleaned the blood from the carpet, washed the evidence of the crime down the sink. I don’t think any amount of soap could clean the dirty feeling I had off of me. My brother didn’t speak to me for weeks, said it was my fault and I shouldn’t have been such a slut. My mother said I was going to hell and girls like me end up with diseases or pregnant and alone. I really believed a lot of these things, I was helpless and scared but mostly I was worried I wouldn’t ever find someone to love.

After all this time and after I sought my revenge on the opposite sex, I am still left with a gaping hole in the place that should have been positive memories from my childhood. I tried to fill it with meaningless relationships, drugs, alcohol, sex, food…everything. I have never gotten over it.

Usually this is the part where I tell you that I have turned over a new leaf and I am doing better, or that I know it wasn’t my fault and I have forgiven myself as well as Drew.

Not today my friends, I haven’t forgiven Drew and I am not sure when I will. I have in fact forgiven myself though, I do know that I have no control over it and I am not going to end up a crack whore single mom like others stated. But unfortunately it does still wear on me from time to time.

I wish that I could take back some of the things that I have done in regards to revenge for this event.

So with that, I would like to publicly and openly apologize to those guys that I had treaded on during this phase.

Justin, though we both are not perfect by any means you didn’t deserve some of the things I put you through. I am sorry for being that untrustworthy girl you will always have to remember as a huge cheating bitch.

Mike, I am sure you probably don’t even think of me and you more than likely do not care that I am saying this but I am sorry I ever pretended to like you. That sounds bad, but seriously….I did not like you, I just fabricated some facts in order to have someone to toy with; and that’s wrong on so many levels.

Phillip, you were just a pawn in my scheme of things. I used you as my good cop in the bad cop scenario; I had you on the side there to comfort me when ass holes brought me down. I told you that I liked you when I really didn’t. I am sorry that I used your genuinely friendly actions as something evil. You deserve the world and I am extremely happy you found the right person. I am sorry.

Joe, you were a huge prick but you didn’t warrant the bull shit I put you through. I am telling you now, and probably confirming your suspicions. You were just there as a means for sexual activity, I did not actually have any sort of intimate feelings for you and what we shared was very one sided. I am sorry that I never owned up to it when you asked, and I hope that I didn’t scar you too bad.

Just for the record for everyone to know, I like sex just as much as the next guy. But I actually physically, emotionally, and mentally struggle with the idea of sexual encounters. Sometimes when I am thinking of what it means to “have sex” with someone I get nervous and shut down, or sometimes I get excited and think about all the wonderful feelings it brings, and other times I have reminisces of the past and I break out into a rage. Sex isn’t the same for me as it may be for you; it holds a lot of different meanings in my book.

I guess what I am trying to say is this; I hope that one day all of the things I did sexually don’t end up tarnishing another person like they did for me. I hope that those individuals I have been with, you thoroughly enjoyed yourselves and you don’t bear a grudge me the way that I am bitter about Drew. Though I know I have never physically raped anyone, I hope I didn’t rape your minds or your hearts because to me that is just as worse.

To those who have been assaulted through sex crimes, I want you to know that you’re not alone. I want you to know that it may seem really hard right now to talk about it, but you need to. It does not matter how you talk about it, but at least get it out. I chose to write about my discomforts, you do whatever you got to in order to keep going. Because despite the wrong that was caused against you, you cannot let things like this break you. Trust me; they affect your entirety and those around you.

Don’t let any situation make you lose yourself. Speak up and find your voice, because nobody should ever have to feel insignificant and lost or let alone blame themselves for something that they shouldn’t

Then and Now

2015 is here…where did all the time go? I swear this year has honestly just flown by, I think most of the months escaped me. Everyone says that but it’s the complete truth when you dwell on it...am I right?

So it’s January now, crazy to think about all of the passionate memories and ridiculous encounters that have passed by this last 12 months. New Year, new me right? That’s what they say anyways.

Well just a recap-last year I made the New Year’s resolution to lose weight, 30 pounds to be exact. So cliché I know, but on a bright note I accomplished my goal, in fact I exceeded it and lost 35! So snaps for me I guess, goals are obtainable if you just do what you say and go about accomplishing what you set out to do. I also made another resolution; I mean come on you can’t have just one!

 I made the goal to stop letting others use me as a door matt/weed out all of the rotten people in my life. This one…hmm…well I did pretty dang decent for the most part. I struggle with this fact because I am such a deep feeling person; I have this complex where I need to save everyone else. I recently wrote a blog about my compassion for others, why I have such an endless rope for others to hold onto. Mostly I spoke on how I never had anyone there for me, nobody was able to help me through my rough situation and I wanted to make better on that and be there for everyone else. This is definitely my biggest downfall just as much as it is one of my best qualities. I am constantly doing things for others, letting them use and abuse me in various ways. It could be small things, such as always helping them with a project, buying them certain items when they cannot afford, etc.

 I don’t mean to sound arrogant or self-righteous when I tell you, I am a fantastic friend. I will be the best friend you ever have if you will let me. I will sit with you and gossip, listen when you’re having a terrible day, financially, mentally, emotionally, physically you got it. I am there! I have had people call me up in the middle of the night for different things, don’t fret I don’t sleep anyways so I will be there for you dear friend. One particular instance, I was able to benefit someone else’s life this past year by dedicating my time to their every need for weeks on end. They had a bad situation within their realm taking over and I was able to help defuse the situation. It was actually kind of rewarding for me because I realized how blessed I was not having to take on that problem alone.

Now, what goes around comes around right? So if I could just get that come back around, that’d be fucking nice. I don’t ask for much, I really don’t. I am a simple person, I honestly just enjoy helping others and bettering myself through service. However after a while, I believe it comes to just be a one sided relationship that takes a toll on you a bit. It becomes someone else using you, you’re their door matt so to speak. I am known to be a door matt, I am not sure if ya’ll just have group meetings or what but everyone seems to recognize this and use it to their advantage. 

I was sick and tired of having ‘friends’ who weren't really my friends, I was just being THEIR friend. So yeah, my new year’s resolution was to get rid of that and start surrounding myself with decent, whole hearted, honest, and LOYAL people. Do those even exist? Am I insane?

Actually, they do. I have a select few friendships that I treasure above all else and I know that should I need anything I can be the one to call at three AM in tears asking to have them come to me, I can be the one who seeks their attention whenever I need it, I can borrow money without questions asked, and if I have a daunting project/task they will be there to offer their hand in helping me. That is super wonderful, let me tell ya! However this last year I definitely had some ass holes in my presence. Can we just take a moment to recognize the sings of these particular ass holes?

My top five are.....

Number one: They always seem to have a fucking problem. Woe is me, your life is so god awful you can’t find one thing not to bitch and complain about? Seriously, you need to see a shrink because if you have that many issues, something is not right. There is plenty you can be grateful for, because I promise your life is not that hard. I don’t consider myself a saint, but damn I have conquered so much more than that alone. Wipe your tears and wipe your ass, get off the pot of depressing bull shit.

Number two:  They are always busy whenever you have something you either A) need from them B) would like to purpose to do as a hang out. WEEEIIIRRRDDD, I didn't know your life was so hectic and busy at all these perfect opportune moments. Oh wait, I help you in every aspect of life so I know you’re lying and you’re full of complete BS. Thanks for being a dishonest dick!

Number three: They always N E E D something from you. “Hey girl, I have a favor” or “Hey can you come help me out again” you should look in my text inbox, I think I have a million of these messages a week. I always oblige without hesitation and without complaint. Well, except in my mind I am going “Hmm, maybe I should ask them for help? What would they say? Would they do this for me?” Don’t worry, I know the answer. They wouldn't; none the less I am in my car driving to them to be at their every beckon. I sound like a slave, good god.

Number four: These people are jealous of your happiness, it’s like they don’t want to see you enjoying your own life. They are all about telling you this great news that happened to them and how their life is going so fucking perfect, but come time for you to share some neat news they couldn't care less. ORRRR better yet, they will get MAD. Seriously, this for real happens. You might not realize it, but it does. I personally do not have a jealous bone in my body-ask my significant other. He could be out dancing with naked girls that I am not a fan of and I would probably respond with “Don’t get aides, see ya when you get home” ….I think jealousy is a retarded emotion and also a crutch to help aid your insecurities. Get over it. Anyways, be happy for me when good things go my way in life. If you don’t, you’re an ass hole and not a real friend.

Number five: They will get mad at you for things you don’t do or have no control over. They will get mad at everything, they will just be generally angry. It is always your fault. Everything you do is your fault; they can’t seem to take responsibility for their own actions. Oh you’re girlfriend/boyfriend/significant other is mad at you? Hmm, must be something that Leah did. Fuck off, your relationship has nothing to do with me and it’s probably you, because as all of these statements are made…YOU’RE the ass hole.

There ya go, five ways to tell if you have an ass hole on your hands or a true friend. Recognize the signs, tell them to fuck off either verbally or silently by pushing away.  You don’t need that negativity in your life. That is why it was my new year’s resolution! I am happy to say though I totally struggled with that all year long, I was able to make it a reality. I don’t have dousche bags running my life anymore. I am still a great friend (seriously, I am not that cocky) and I am still happy to help in any way that I can. Like I said, I love serving those around me. I just am able to identify when service comes into servant/slave calls. This isn't the 1700’s you can’t use people as your personal slave. Grow the hell up, get over yourself, and stop being an ass hole friend.

Those were my personal goals, I was able to achieve them by pushing myself and putting my needs first. That is something that took me a long time to learn. Some of my other accomplishments were the following:

*EAS’d from the Marine Corps! Civilian life..whoop whoop.

*Moved to a State I had never been to and didn't know a soul.

*Picked up my life and changed every little aspect about it

*Hit my two year mark with my love; this is a big deal because this is the first real relationship where I am in that I am actually totally one hundred percent happy and being treated properly.

*Began my healthy lifestyle journey (9 % body fat, wassssssuppp)

*Obtained a Job in an industry where I am treated well and have been thriving in. I am a Veteran Recruiter; I help Military members getting out get jobs in the civilian world. How cool is that? I am able to help benefit those who deserve it most!

As for 2015…It’s going to be awesome. I am going to do my best to be the best I can in every aspect that I have already made a foundation for in 2014. I have been ripped from my comfort zone and I am starting fresh, literally in a place that I just moved to with no one to help me. I will be making a name for myself and building my life from basically the bottom up. I believe you have to move out of your comfort zone in order to grow, you have to be willing to feel awkward and uncomfortable when you try something new. I mean, yes it’s going to be hard but you can’t make change complicated….you just have to begin. Though last year had some bumps and a lot of ass holes as I told you about, I am blessed to be here and be able to make it to 2015. I think that people get focused on what they were instead of what they could be. So when you see all these posts about what took place in 2014, remind yourself of what you are capable of and what COULD take place in 2015. Plan, prioritize, and set out to achieve your goals! That’s what I did, and here I am making new ones. I am going to be fucking fabulous.

My goals for this next year (or resolutions, whatever you wanna call em)

-Make a foundation for my career

-Finish school-at least the first half-I started back in 2012

-Get married to the kick ass dude sleeping next to me at night.

-Buy a house

-BE AWESOME and don’t let ass holes into my AWESOME bubble

That’s about it. I noticed this entry was full of lists and rants, but hey you read it. Be ready for greatness my friends, because I am making my come back this year. I spent so long being down in the dumps and letting others reap the benefits, it’s my turn! If you aren't happy for me and you don’t want apart in this delightful journey I am embarking on, please feel free to drown out with the others I tossed out to sea. This is something I need for myself and to be myself, you’re either with me or against me. You pick.

Don’t be an asshole. J

Real life

My demons though quiet, are never quite silenced. Calm as they may be, they wait patiently for a reason to wake, take an overdue breath, and crawl back in to my ear.

Recently I was robbed, my car was broken into and my belongings taken from me. Quite tragically it was things that I am having a hard time acquiring back. However, they are replaceable so I suppose I should look on the bright side of life…. Everyone keeps saying this; I am working towards applying that mindset. To lay this all out in black and white, someone hurt me in a way that was not physical; it was all completely mental perhaps a little bit emotional as well. How did they ‘hurt’ me do you ask? Let me rewind to a few chapters prior to this and perhaps quote a piece from one of my other blogs for you.

A little over seven years ago I was a struggling drug addict, (HA struggling addict, is there any other kind? Aren’t they all struggling? Sorry, self-stab-joke) anyways I was a druggie looking for a fix, not sure if you are aware of this but drugs cost quite a bit of money. In fact, I was running a bill of roughly 500 George Washingtons a day! So, how did my fifteen year old self obtain the means to keep the habit thriving? Well I am glad you ask…. I was a thief. I stole from countless people at innumerable locations; my specialty? 

Carjacking.

I was damn good at it too…and people leave a great deal of things in their cars….oh my, oh my…the things I would find. It amazed me, I am not even exaggerating I was actually truly baffled by some of the items. I made fantastic currency off of others personal stuff and I was able to get my fix day in and day out. Granted, I sold and bartered other things in my life but this was one thing I didn’t have to offer up my self-worth or my own dignity for. Hmm, scratch that. I do feel like I lost my dignity. It was drained from me the moment the needle hit my skin and the white creature slithered into my bloodstream. Washed away.

So there is that quick trip down memory lane for ya, and now let’s fast forward back to the present shall we? I have cleaned up, changed myself in ways I cannot even begin to express, and rewrote my entire life to become something else, something new and beautiful. A butterfly, I woven my cocoon from all of the stringy terrible depths of shit that was surrounding me and now I am flourishing in the real world letting my wings fly.

B A M, I am struck down by lightning and getting fucked up by some truth here.

I was just mugged! They took my entire identity, my life in one swoop! But do you not see? I wasn’t robbed of my things, I was robbed of myself. Here I am reprimanding these people for what they did for me when in all reality I used to do the same damn thing to others not too long ago. I think the word hypocrite is what comes to mind as you’re reading this; if not then I’ll just say that’s what comes to mine.

 I feel like a total hypocrite.

 I feel dirty, unworthy of being able to be upset, I feel deprived of the person I thought I was now and pushed back into the past of who I was then. It’s not fair, and life is not fair in general we all know this; however I am actually starting to feel like this is actually justified. I do in fact sort of warrant this in some ways. Karma is a big deal to me, I stand by it. I think that karma is a real thing and that it is dished out to those who earn it. Whether it is good or bad, you receive whatever you put out in this world. That’s part of the reason I have been trying to ‘right’ myself so to speak. I recognized the evil person that I once was and began to renovate myself into someone worthy of a life and place in this wild world.  I have had good things happen to me because of this, and I have had some pretty awful things happen to me as well. It is my goal every time something that is unpleasant takes place within my realm that I stop and ponder as to why this could have happened to me. Those of you who are religious I am not one to call on god and curse him for all of the depraved that has transpired, I begin thinking back to my long list of outlandish and heart wrenching endeavors of my being and start to connect pieces of them to now. This is the reason I do believe in karma, because if I were to make a chart of some sorts and draw lines between events that took place then and now I would be able to make sense of things. That is my beliefs, though I don’t attend a ceremony and I do not enter into designated areas or buildings with singing choirs and ugly ties, I have a belief system of my own.

Therefore, today as I am frustrated, tired, and very angry with this situation that has come about; I am understanding and open to the healing and restoration that is now to take place. I will continue to produce virtuous things throughout all aspects of myself and my life from here on out just as I have been, and I will not let this get the best of me.  This is an enormous step towards recovery because I am letting go of those who have wronged me and not continuing the vicious cycle of evil by harming them. I am not sure if you are aware of the twelve step program but that is one of the twelve steps….Forgiveness, it’s actually the one step I have been working to achieve for years now, many years. You are supposed to right yourself by forgiving all those that have hurt you, those you have caused harm to, and most importantly forgiving yourself. I am currently still on this step because I haven’t quite mastered how to forgive everyone else, but I REALLY have a tough time forgiving myself. I know that people are mean, careless and sometimes selfish, so I know how to let them ease by and forgive them no problem. It’s just the rest of it that gets me.  

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

I am pleased to announce I am currently back on track with my Alcoholics Anonymous and the twelve step program. It feels good to be back in the game, and back to working on bigger things than just withdrawal and detox recovery…myself importantly.

Here is to the next lesson that I might have to tackle and learn from, life is full of those isn’t it? Gah, love it. I am just happy to be here is all.

Wake up Call

*Disclaimer*** I am about to reveal some very troubling tales of woes on to your delightful soul, if you feel the need to reprimand me than please do so in private. I do not wish for my page to be filled with negativity, I think I have enough of that to bring forward so please don’t add any of yours. If you are easily offended, you might just want to go gander at someone else’s blog of ignorant bliss, this is not a light read. Lastly, if you could just put your judgmental and narrow minded thoughts to the side until the entire piece has been scanned by your innocent eyes than that would probably serve you better.****

Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?

Society as well as our friends and family tend to put a lot of pressure on us when we are growing up, telling us who we should be, how we should act, what we should do, what we shouldn’t do…etc. I have always and will always be a very headstrong and opinionated person. I don’t like to be told how or what I should be, I want to figure it out all on my own. Unfortunately as you have read in my past posts, some of the roads I took would have definitely been better if they had been less traveled so to speak. I made a lot of mistakes, shit I still have errors throughout a lot of aspects of my life all of the time. Guess what though? I love it. I love having slip-ups, I like to mess up it makes me feel human and it makes me feel alive. I hate having this sensation that I am a robot just put in place in civilization and doing my part to make it to the finish line. That makes me feel like I am a piece of furniture, and it doesn’t make me have any pleasure inside. I am a firm believer that you need to have those ‘screw up’ moments; otherwise you are nothing but a soulless coward who is being used as a puppet to fill a number on this earth. It’s harsh, but honestly you can’t argue that it’s not the truth.

The world tells us who we should be, how we should act, yes. Eventually I got tired of the games I was playing and I ended up conforming in one way or another. Where I come from, it is very common that when you graduate high school you immediately get married, I am not exaggerating on that either. Seriously, so many of my classmates are hitched and pooping out little versions of themselves.  There is definitely a few of them who really need to quit it otherwise they are going to end up with their own reality show….real talk… and for the record dude…genetics were not on your spawns side. Anyways, this is what is considered normal for us back home anyways.

For me? Absolutely not.

 I had no desire whatsoever to get married and have little kids crawling all over my house.  But….once again, guess what…. I became that girl. I got sucked into a relationship where I believed everything was made of candy and rainbows and nothing in this god forsaken world could ever bring our sweet love down. Did you just throw up? Yeah, me too.

Gaaaaggghhh.

So there I was, just being in love and all that garbage at age 19 and here it comes my big and revealing secret that I have told but maybe five people in my entire life. I got pregnant! Wahooo, Mormon girl living in a Mormon society with a man out of wedlock having premarital sex and getting knocked up. The cherry on top of the shit cake I have been baking up for years. I wonder what they would say in church if they knew. I wonder what my mother would think. Well, rest assured none of that matters because nobody found out. It stayed between us, and the clinic I had to be drug to in order to ‘take care’ of it. God I hate that phrase. Now, before you pull out your judgmental words and try and throw them back in my face please take the time to shove all of them up your ass. Anything you could possibly have to say to that has been spoken by my own mouth into a mirror for years. I degraded and put myself down over the whole situation for a long time. In fact, I still struggle with it. I am still playing in my mind that rotten day, and all of the feelings that I felt for the weeks following. And when I was sitting in my apartment alone that night bleeding out the life that I had created and doubled over in pain, it finally hit me how alone and scared I was on this planet. Our reaction to a situation literally has the power to change the situation itself. It took me years to get over this tragedy; however I can finally be at peace with the whole thing now that I have changed who I was. I rebuilt myself from the hideous person that I was trying to be. You can’t change what’s going on around you until you change what is going on within you. How different I had planned my life out to be originally. This was not me, and this was not how things were supposed to go for me.

I woke up one day to find that my life had not gone as planned, I wasn’t accomplishing the goals that I originally had set out to, and most of all I wasn’t happy with the direction that I was headed towards. How did I get here?  When did I stray from the path and end up dodging towards a dead ended cliff? I am teetering on the edge; with one small shove I could be gone forever.  What do you do when you don’t know what to do anymore? I was finally given a wakeup call with this quote that I read while skimming articles in the doctor’s office one day, “If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging”. It was certainly time for me to stop digging, and it was time to find someone who wouldn’t keep digging with me but would lift me up when I was slipping. The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too. I got lost when I started to adapt to what everyone thought I should be.

Leah, you can’t have a baby if you’re not married.

 Leah, you need to find someone who loves you for all of your problems.

 Leah, this is the best you can do so you better settle for it. 

Leah, you need to settle down and stop being so crazy.

How could I ever let them get to me? All of these phrases, these words, everyone was constantly telling me who or what I should be. I can’t believe that I ever listened to them in the first place.  I used to be better than that, I used to be someone who lived above the guidelines and never kowtowed to their “rules”. I was going to get back to who I once was and show them. Because waking up every day hating yourself, wanting to be out of the bubble of unhappiness you feel trapped in, is no way to exist. The greatest challenge in life is discovering who you are, the second greatest is being happy with what you find. I think that the second challenge is more important than the first. You don’t need to know who you are, you can spend a lifetime trying to figure it out, you just need to be happy with whatever journey you find yourself embarking on.

Whenever I find myself doubting how far I can go, I just remember how far I have come. I remember everything I have faced, all the battles I have won, and all the fears I have overcome. Though many people put me down for the choices I made after all of that fiasco, leaving my boyfriend, leaving my job, leaving my home, joining the military, finding a different path for myself….. I couldn’t hate myself for what I wasn’t; I had to start loving myself for what I was. I am not the perfect girl that you see strolling the streets downtown back home; I am not the flawless photogenic beaut that you see on social media updating her selfie photos from her latest cruise that her parents bought her. I’m striving for progress not perfection. I am not that girl, I have dirt under my nails from a day’s hard work, I have a heavy heart in my chest from combat and the things that I endured, I have scars from actual wounds sustained during the brutal reality of life that has variously knocked me down, and I have worry lines from fighting to keep my head above water. Everything that I am has been because I accomplished it on my own through my own hard work and effort. I stopped caring what others thought about me, I stopped letting people’s snide comments and rude comebacks get to me. I built myself from the ground up, and I did it all without the helping hand of another person or any person for that matter. Because in reality, you have nobody to count on but yourself. Sometimes you have to go through the worst to get to the best… I realized that through a lot of pain and suffering, it’s just you that’s it. So don’t ever turn your back on the person you’re meant to be, because that’s the only one who truly has your back in the first place. I love the person that I have become because I fought to become her. The strongest actions for a person is to love themselves, be themselves and shine amongst those who never believed you could. I now realize that I am stronger because of my hard times, wiser because of my mistakes, and happier because of my sad experiences. I know now, I will never sacrifice who I am for someone else or whatever the world thinks that I need to be. 

I think I like who I am becoming now, I think I like myself a whole lot more.

Love in the Dark

I recently came across an article called “What it’s like to be in love when you have depression”. I was intrigued by the title and naturally, curiosity took over and I began reading. I was very agreeing with a lot of the pointers laid out in the article; and I started to come up with some facts myself. What it’s like to be in love when you have depression…Well I can only share what it’s like for me to be in love when I have depression, I cannot speak for anyone else. Every single being on this planet is different, and I believe there are many types of depression/sadness etc. So bear with me as I begin to explain how I too suffer from depression and yet have still found a way to enjoy one of life’s greatest gifts, falling in love with your soul mate.

 The hardest part about being depressed is the inability to control that fact. It’s one thing when you’re sad and you can sort of turn that frown upside down so to speak, not to quote nursery songs on ya or anything but it’s sort of true in that sense. When you’re depressed, you’ve lost all capacity to be able to regulate. It literally takes over you as a person, or as I said, this is me, so that’s how it works for me. I can act like I am the happiest person in the world, a bright yellow banana, but once peeled you will see bruises and brown ripe spots. Depression for me isn’t a daily struggle; it comes and goes; however I am never aware when it will make its debut next. For that fact, I am grateful for my heaven sent partner in crime who puts up with the roller coaster of emotions that sometimes floods in and out of my existence.

Being in love is wonderful; it’s probably one of the most amazing experiences that one could ever go through in this life. I have had so much fun spending these prized moments with the person whom my soul smiles for, the one who makes butterflies flutter in my stomach. It is a thrilling, exciting journey you get to embark on with another human who you admire. I am forever indebted to my loving and understanding partner who constantly is reminding me how beautiful life can truly be. For someone who sees the world in patches of grey, it’s amazing to have another paint color into your pictures and spread light through all of the darkness.

Having someone to cherish while enduring the dreaded depths of black that surround you is all that I could have ever dreamed of. Yes, I have fits of crying and sadness that take over me for sometimes no apparent reason or explanation as to why. Yes, I sometimes don’t feel well enough to trudge out of bed in the morning or ever for that matter. Yes, I have had thoughts of ending my life at one point or another. And yes, I feel as though having someone to share my burdens and baggage with is what has kept me stable a lot of the time. Well that, and some prescriptions as well as personal therapy within. Let’s keep it real here, it is a disease and it does take medication and sometimes other methods to maintain. Having someone to hold you when you don’t feel like you are significant can’t always bring an automatic glow to your gloomy days, but it sure does help when you feel alone to get that extra squeeze to make it. I am not a person who believes in co-dependency; in fact I would consider myself the exact opposite. I am extremely independent and self-sustained in the circumstance that I don’t believe anyone really ‘needs’ a significant other to make them happy or to be there to pick up the pieces. I honestly believe that you need to be your own hero when you need help or when you are broken. I don’t want someone to save me; I want them to stand by my side as I save myself. With that being said, I do agree in the point of the matter that having someone who loves you on your team with this fight is definitely a pro in the pro’s and con’s list.  It always astounds me how the simplicity of my love being near me when I am pained with this disease that can truly help me to heal wounds. His presence brings happiness when it feels like there is none.

What is it like to be depressed? It’s like drowning, except you can see everyone around you breathing. When I plunge into the dark depths I don’t look up, I am just diving deeper into the black part of the water praying that I find my way back to the surface soon. There are days when I think about terrible things that have taken place in my life, there are days that I can’t bear to be around anyone, there are days that I don’t feel right-unexplainable feelings of misplacement, there are common plagues of irritability where I am a complete ass hole, and there are days that I wonder why I was ever created and what purpose I fill as a member of this planet. 

Depression holds no bars, it doesn’t care that I am in love with someone else. It doesn’t care that I have found an incredible person who genuinely cares, loves, and showers me with affection.  I am pleased to say I found someone who will put up with my spurts of insecurities, random freak outs, and times of solemn solace that I reach out for. This disease could give two shits about the fact that no matter what I put this man through; he will always be there for me. It still sends me through the ringer when I have moments where I don’t want to be alive, where I hate everything and everyone, and it still hovers when I am forced to think about awful events. But you know what? There my charming boyfriend is, waiting for me every time I come up for a breath from the coma of blackness.

I get scared from time to time, I am afraid he will leave me because of the trouble it must cause him to stand and watch me suffer. I am frightened that it will be too much to handle one day, he won’t be able to endure the mood swings, the crying, and the inner battle that I am fighting.  I try reassuring him that it’s definitely of no doing on his part, but I am sure you can only say that so much to someone. This burden that I carry is being partially carried by someone else. I am overjoyed by the fact that the pack I have been lugging around has lightened by his presence, however I am nervous that it soon will be too heavy for him. Anxiety gets the best of me; I wonder if he is happy when I am so unhappy at times.

The thing that keeps me going throughout all of this is the simple fact that I now understand what love really means. I get why people were so thrilled to have it in their hands and desperate to never let it go. Being in love is like having a best friend, but more. It’s the one person in the world who knows you better than anyone else. That someone who makes you a better person. No, actually they don’t make you a better person. You do that by yourself because they inspire you. Being in love is having someone carry with you forever. It’s the one person who knew you, accepted you and believed in you before anyone else did or when no one else would. And no matter what happens, you’ll always love them and nothing could ever change that. I have a hard time accepting love, because for the longest time I didn’t think that I deserved it. After lengthy late night talks, holding hands in silence while deep in thought, long car rides with no destination,  and precious moments of intimacy, I finally was able to give myself to someone who gave back to me. This gift I was granted is something that I will always treasure, I know that he will too. Because being in love means loving every single fiber of that person whether it’s tainted or not. There are days where I feel like a mess and I don’t say anything, I don’t even act like there is dimness in my soul. But I can always count on my love to be there for me when it subsides and have him to talk to about all of the grim details.

That’s what it’s like for me to be in love when I have depression. I finally realized that I wasn’t entirely broken, maybe just a little bent. I found someone who could see past all of my flaws, including the ones I was judgingly myself so harshly on.You have to remind yourself that you are worth it, and remember that other people believe you are worth it too. It’s not easy; in fact it’s a struggle to work around sometimes. But I am glad that no matter what I have to go through, he is there to help me get past it. It’s a journey for us both, so glad I found the right person to share it with.

I want to take the bits of you I love

And press them like flowers

Between the pages of my favorite book

And I want to take all of the scraps

That you dislike in yourself

And display them on my refrigerator

To show you I’m still proud

Of the person you are

And the person you are becoming

But most of all, I want to spin you like a globe

And drag my finger across till it stops

To discover the pieces of you

That you’ve yet to reveal to anyone else

I want to wrap them up in linen

And place them in an old cigar box,

I’d tuck it away safely

In the top drawer of my bedside table,

So you know I’ll never let

Those pieces of you go

Because when you share

Hidden parts of yourself

With someone else,

You’re trusting that person

To hold the secret sections

Of your heart

And to love the bits

You thought

Were unlovable.

Reconstruction

She,

In the dark,

Found light

Brighter than many ever see.

She,

Within herself,

Found lovliness,

Through the soul’s own mastery.

And now the world receives

From her dower:

The message of the strength

Of inner power.

Stories, I have told you many of them as of late. Today I would like to share one in particular that has made a colossal influence on how I live my life now. Not to say that the other recollections in my previous writings weren’t impacting, but this specific memoir holds detailed meaning to the here and now for me. It is what drives me to be who I am and do what I do on a daily basis.

Tapping my skinny fingers on the desk that lies before me, I scan around apprehensively trying to assess the other timid teenagers; my fellow prisoners. I was admitted into a rehab facility less than 72 hours prior, and my head is throbbing, my body aches, and my brain is sprinting at a million miles per minute trying to conjure a plan out of here. Shakes have set in and my body is twitching with desire, longing for what I cannot possess while I am locked up in this institution. The metallic taste, muscle spasms, pounding headaches, nausea, and hallucinations all flood through my entirety; taking over my being as any reminisces of the white creature trickle out of my system. Detox; an unpretentious process to some, to those that endure it…it can literally rip you into fragments from the inside out. Your body honestly feels like it is being shut down and the only way to restart it, is with a simple heat up of a spoon. Something you cannot partake in anymore, recovery-that’s what they call that one.

Upon entering into such a trivial tucked away village (yes, it was like a little village in which young adults occupy in order to get well) I didn’t have the correct mindset. But in all honesty, who did? You’re forced into a place against your will, destroyed from everything you knew before, and raped of your privileges and rights as a citizen, all to make you “better”; excuse me….HEALTHY. I was (still am) an extremely headstrong and stubborn person, it took more than sealed doors and shrinks to get me to break. I was immoveable; I wouldn’t and couldn’t give up just like that.

The therapist started by asking if anyone had any issues, complaints, or this one’s cute good news to share with the group. A few arms shot up and for the next hour we listened to sob story after sob story of these children go on about what their problems were. Meanwhile my illness as I refer to it was raging through my system and causing me to panic, and turn violent. I shouted obscenities and tore others down during their speeches, I kept rubbing my eyes thinking they were bleeding but really they were uncontrollable tears that just kept gushing out, I stood up and threw things, I hurled what little food had been force fed to me before hand, and I kept shaking. SO MUCH SHAKING. One thing that I’ll never get over is the tremors; they made my bones feel like they were gradually being broken one by one. It was probably the most unbearable pain I have ever felt physically, and yes that’s including the other actual broken bones sustained from my celebrated ex who threw me out of cars, through walls, and into furniture. I would give anything not to experience tremors again; unfortunately that’s just how withdrawals work. They come, and they go, whenever they please. I wrote this poem when I was in my first stages of rehab, the draining continued and I still felt like I was being murdered a slow, painful death.

 The number one rehab killer=withdrawals

Drain this sorrow and forget my past,

Drowning deeper...how long will this last?

With a blade that longs to feel,

Open a vein, make it real.

Feel the rush, encourage the drive

Stick me with needles,

Feel so alive.

Pulsating pleasure, divine high

With all this pain,

I am ready to die.

I was taken into rehab in hopes of rectifying my behavior and cleansing my body, riding myself of any more drugs no matter what kind they were. I was there for two and a half months; I played their games and acted like I had changed. The light bulb clicked after I was apprehended for my therapy outburst, I realized what I had to do to make my break. I needed them to believe I was getting better…healthy. I needed them to think that I was going to be the perfect girl my mom thought she brought home from the hospital back in 92. I had to do what I had always done to make things work, I had to cheat, steal, and LIE. Two months of brutal group therapy sessions, family therapy, individual therapy, physical therapy, therapy, therapy, therapy. I finally was released back into the real world, my old life. Addiction will rule your entire realm if you let it, it will take over everything that you do, and it will keep you from the healing process. I think I was addicted to my own self destruction. I couldn’t escape from my past, I couldn’t move on. I had to go back, I needed to go back. Too bad that ole mommy dear didn’t know, once you get the monkey off your back the circus still hasn’t left town yet.

I was cautious at first, didn’t want to leap right back into the swing of things, they would have noticed. I waited and about a week later I was back in the arms of the demons that inspired me before. I was sitting in the basement of the apartment I first partook in my dangerous road of substance abuse and holding a flame to an old bent spoon. Relapse; oh dear good sweet relapse. It was magnificent, it was everything. My whole body was in frenzy over the rush of having the white creature ascend through me, I was airborne again. I gave up all of the things I was working on, to go flying for just one more night. Because that’s all that it took, that night and the moment I came home they all knew. By 8 AM the next morning I was hunched over in a rigid chair in the office to my rehab with my suitcases beside me. They all knew, what’s worse is I didn’t fool anyone but myself.

I lasted a week and half and I was back to square one, only this time they were going to be watching me a lot more carefully and this time withdrawals weren’t just going to be physical or mental, they were going to be emotional. I had just disappointed every single person who had tried to help me the first time. I was alone and lost by myself in an empty room without any shoes, rights, or comfort; all I had to console myself was my thoughts and sobriety. In the words of fight club, It’s only after we have lost everything are we free to do anything. I think I always wanted to be healthy even from the beginning of the first time, I just didn’t know how to go about it and how to accept help. I didn’t love myself enough to get better, which is sort of ridiculous considering how much that line is used during therapy sessions. You HAVE to love yourself to become a better person, I think you don’t need love from just yourself but you need to experience love throughout every aspect of your life. I needed it from everyone, everything, and especially myself.

My personal road to recovery went as follows:

Realizing that I was worth it.

Experiencing true happiness.

Caring about myself.

Overcoming my demons.

Validating my worth.

Eating without regret.

Relapse-it’s going to happen, it’s inevitable and that’s okay.

Yearning to live.

I had to fight like hell and fighting like hell made me who I am today. I went through a vast amount of scuffles through my life, but getting addicted to drugs and becoming sober has made me a greater human being. As insane as that may sound to some, I honest to god believe that. I believe that the most beautiful people are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These people have an appreciation, sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen. Don’t get me wrong, overcoming addiction was extremely difficult; I was challenged in many ways but in the words of the famous Socrates: “The secret to change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new.” That’s what I did; I reconstructed a whole new life from the ashes of my old one.

Whilst rebuilding, I found out so much about myself. I thought that my dependency was the thing that was always putting me back together whenever I fell apart so I clung to it until I realized that it was what was breaking me to begin with. Through sobriety I came to the realization that I had injured and devastated so many relationships with my family, friends, everyone. I couldn’t just reestablish myself, I had to restore with every single person I have ever and will ever meet. After discharge from rehab ten months later, I was a new person being released this time. I decided to live through consideration, understanding, and most of all true happiness. I was high on life this time.

I just feel like I need to save everyone to redeem myself. I need to be the best that I can be, in every aspect. I want to have friends everywhere, I want to be there when you need me, and I want to show you what love and being happy means. I think that everyone needs to experience that; everyone needs a little bit of that in their lives from someone else. When you look at a person, any person, remember that everyone has a story. Everyone has gone through something that has changed them. This changed me; I literally transformed who and what I was as a total being and made what I am today.  I am by no means perfect, I promise you that, but I really strive to be a genuinely compassionate person.  As overused as it may be, everyone deserves to feel love in some shape or form. The world just needs a little bit more love in it. (Call me silly, but it’s absolutely the truth).

There are many individuals out there struggling, just trying to survive. I want to save them all. We think that we want to disappear, but all we really want is to be found. I want to be the savior to everyone, I like being there for others. I like to help in any way possible, through any adversity that my friends and or family may be dealing with. This is who I am today, and this is why. I am trying to make better on my new life, in order for me to forgive myself of my old one I took on this silent vow inside of me. I don’t want any of my loved ones to have to go through what I did; it’s not a road anyone should have to take nor should they travel it alone.

I have a lot of various people ask me why I let others walk all over me, or why I keep offering help to those who ‘don’t deserve it’ because one day they are going to be a magnificent person out there in this grand world. I want to help them get there, because I am indebted for those who assisted me when I was at my lowest point. If it wasn’t for my family and friends who never gave up on me, I probably wouldn’t be here today. I make it my personal goal to try and reach out to at least five people a day and try to make their lives better in some way. I like who I am now, and I like what I do. I am actually ecstatic and optimistic that I am making a positive influence on this earth. I am washing myself of who I was and I am hoping that I am doing the same for another lost soul out there.

Hardships often prepare ordinary people for an extraordinary destiny. –C.S. Lewis

Prisoner

“Many abused children cling to the hope that growing up will bring escape and freedom. 

But the personality formed in the environment of coercive control is not well adapted to adult life. The survivor is left with fundamental problems in basic trust, autonomy, and initiative. She approaches the task of early adulthood――establishing independence and intimacy――burdened by major impairments in self-care, in cognition and in memory, in identity, and in the capacity to form stable relationships. 

She is still a prisoner of her childhood; attempting to create a new life, she reencounters the trauma.” 
― Judith Lewis Herman, Trauma and Recovery

Tucked away gently in a small cubby with my braided hair, petite figure, and a self-protective attitude, I am hidden from any harm; or so my seven year old mind is led to believe anyways.  Occupying a place full of destruction and damaging people who prey on young outgoing and trusting children, you become a defensive person always looking for ways to protect yourself after one too many encounters of painful events taking place. I find solace in hiding from the chaos of children that play, cluttering the daycare that we all attend. A constant game of hide n seek, only I hope to never be found. Suddenly, the curtain on the cubby is ripped back and squatting down beside me is a group of older roughed up boys staring at me with fierce eyes and vulgar expressions. They grab my feeble arms and yank me from my place of consolation and encircle me with their larger bodies. I am surrounded by pre-teen young men who are starved for attention and damaged by god knows what that goes on in their homes. Frightened and alone, I let them take turns at teasing me and tormenting me with their ravenous hands. One of them retrieves a pocket knife from his jeans and holds it up to my delicate and exposed throat asking me if I want to taste blood. (As if anyone would even say yes to this question). I don’t utter a single word I just stand frozen, immobilized while he runs the blade across my skin gently. A young woman yells from another room signaling that lunch is ready and we are to be seated in our assigned seats immediately. The boys release their hold on me and lunge towards the lunch area to begin eating. I grudgingly follow, taking my time along the way to collect myself. Upon entering the other room I notice the other children are already feasting upon their plates laid out, I find my chair and plop myself down. Displayed in front of me there is canned beans and microwaved frozen chicken nuggets, talk about gourmet meal. I find my appetite has escaped me completely and therefore I just sit and stare at my meal. My older brother is shoveling his food into his mouth down the table and looks up only for a moment to lock eyes with mine, I motion for the food in front of me and he nods. I then push my plate down towards him and he scoops up the nuggets and beans in a quick gulp, then proceeding to shove the plate back. I stand from my chair and display my empty plate for the young woman to see that I have finished and she points towards the trash can telling me to clean up my mess. I do as directed and then proceed to ‘go play’ outside as per her orders.

I enter the playground and without any hesitation I head for the swings, they are without a doubt my favorite. After a few minutes or so I am joined by the rest of the children who are cluttering the playground. When I spot the younger woman and another young man approach me from the daycare center, I tense up.

“Hey little one, why don’t you come inside with us? I have something REALLY cool to show you.” She speaks with kindness and no sense of dishonesty. Boy, was I naïve little girl.

I follow her and the young man into the back room of the daycare, the area that the children are not allowed to venture into, also the area that the attendants spend most of their time occupying. They usually come back with glazed eyes and seem really distant, displaced from everything. They aren’t around much which is usually why the older kids tend to get their way with the younger ones. Story of my life it seems. Inside I find tipped over chairs and furniture and a disheveled mess of garbage and other items strewn around the room. There are needles and tiny bags of substances that I can’t place as to what they may be tossed on the table towards the wall, the other attendants are inside propped throughout the space, and apparently waiting on us to arrive. The woman closes the door and turns towards me, standing there in the middle of the room. I am the center of attention, the main act of today’s show. I look around shyly, confused as to why I was brought here. The woman reaches out to me and asks me to take off my clothes.

“You know when you take baths with mommy and daddy and they have you take all of your clothes off? Well just pretend you’re going to take a bath and go ahead and take your clothes off. It’s okay, really.”

Not wanting to disappoint my leaders whom I see daily after school and spend almost all of my free time with while my parents are away, I begin removing my clothing from my small body. Once completely naked they take turns taking photos of me cooing me with sayings like “you’re so pretty”, “you are like a movie star” and “this makes us very happy, you want us to be happy don’t you?”

After our mini photo shoot my body was used as a slave to the men and women who wanted to touch, poke, prod, and defile for the next hour. I was put in different positions I did not understand, and forced into sexual favors I knew nothing about. After it was all said and done they decided it was time to ask me a few questions before I leave.

“These are really fun games huh? You can only keep playing if you just don’t tell anyone about them. Because people will get jealous and want to play the games too, so make sure you never tell anyone. You’re the only special one and that’s why you get to have an extra snack at snack time today and you can also pick the book during story time. Promise you won’t tell our secret?”

“You pinky promise you won’t tell your parents either, they don’t need to know, okay?”

“You don’t’ want to upset us do you?”

All of these questions caused me to wonder whether or not it was the right thing to do, even my seven year old brain knew it didn’t feel accurate, but I didn’t want to make them angry nor did I want to make the other kids jealous. They already harassed me and treated me poorly; I couldn’t give them more of a reason to do so. I agreed and made a pinky promise to the attendants and bowed out of the adult room.

Come snack time, I got an extra cookie and I also picked out the book. The giving tree- My favorite.

Just keep giving, give it all way.

 Just keep giving, let them take it away.

 Just keep giving them everything they want, because eventually you won’t have anything left to give and they just might give up on you.

 Give, give, give, and they can keep up the take, take, take.

One day you can escape just go ahead and fake.

Let me explain, this did not start on this particular day. My nightmare began years prior to this. Ever since I was five years old I have been in therapy, ever since I was two years old I have been sexually abused and used by countless different older humans, ever since then I have been emotionally and mentally fucked up. Although I can’t put my finger on a lot of events that took place before I reached the age of five, I know that they did happen. I know because of stories that are told to me by others, I know because sometimes I have night terrors that wake me up in the night from what I assume is past recollections, and I know because sometimes I will hear something about young children being mistreated and it stirs a flashback in my mind that brings reality to my heart. They say that mental anguish always results from the avoidance of legitimate suffering. For the longest time I couldn’t fathom as to why I was so petrified of walk-in closets, they simply just frightened me; I couldn’t be inside one alone without having some form of panic attack rise within. It was frustrating and honestly sort of embarrassing. One day I woke from a dream where I was inside a walk-in closet tied up and shaking uncontrollably, I was bound by my wrists, ankles, and tape was covering my mouth. I later went to identify this as the time when our babysitter prior to daycare had locked us in there like that whenever we were “naughty”. I believe I was only three at the time. These sorts of memoirs come spilling out of me at night usually and I start to recall what abysmal things that took place years and years ago. Wanna hear more? I am full of them. Perhaps, another day I can start to unravel those threads of discomfort.

Back to the whole daycare fiasco, my two brothers and I went there every single day after school. We were picked up in a minivan and driven to the location a few blocks from our house. The attendants were all college age minus the woman who owned the institution was much older, a very daunting and frigid looking woman who always smelled like smoke and coffee. We stayed there until roughly six in the evening when our father would come and pick us up after work and take us home. My mother worked graveyards and slept during the day, so as not to disturb her and her rest we would go to daycare. On the weekends we were there from seven in the morning until the same time at night when either our mother or our father would arrive. All can I decently say to put this in the finest terms was it was like hell on earth. It was by far the vilest and most dismal time in my life, and as you all know I have been addicted to drugs and beaten by men who have hospitalized me. This tops all of that, by a long shot.

 I can recollect the first grade on Valentine’s Day walking out of my classroom with my Valentine’s box full of chocolates and sweets overfilling my little arms towards my brother’s big kid class, to meet him before we embarked to the minivan that awaited us outside. Upon approaching him with his Valentine collection I proposed that we skip going to daycare and walking home instead to hide in the basement while mom slept. I begged him to not go to the dreadful place and just be really quiet when we got home so as not to wake her. He agreed and together we held hands and left the building out the back way to head home. We snuck inside and kept as silent as we could downstairs in the basement while we picked at our treats and whispered about our days. My mother being the light sleeper that she is must have heard a few giggles that escaped out of our mouths and woke up. When she found us she was infuriated, she screamed and stormed off to get dressed in order to deliver us to daycare. I literally got down on my knees and pleaded for her not to, I wept so hard I thought I might burst, and I screamed for her to let us stay with her. She did not budge, she never did, ever. I cannot even begin to count how many times I have come home bruised, bleeding, scratched, and crying and she still did nothing. She didn’t even bat an eye lash. N O T H I N G.

I remember all of this, every little detail of that day in particular. Do you know why? Because it was Valentine’s Day, the day you tell someone you love them including your family. I did not love my mom that day. In fact, I started to really resent her from then on.

It’s appalling to think that I could hate my mother, the woman that gave me life; but when I rationalized it back then….what life did she really give me? Because that shit wasn’t even worth living if you ask me. I did not wish to be ‘gifted’ with life; I wished to be given a family and a home where they protected each other, a place where I didn’t have to live in fear and discomfort. Not a perfect little doll house full of statues that felt no emotion and did nothing in ways of showing us sentiment. That’s all that I wanted growing up, to feel okay with myself and not question every little detail of my existence. I can even recall putting down on one of my Christmas wish lists to Santa, “Having daycare burn to the ground.” I was fucking nine years old. I was wishing arson on what is supposed to be my ‘caregivers’ building’ instead of asking for a damn pony. Does this flash red lights to anyone else? Because I’ll be god damned if my children start writing ridiculous things like that down and I don’t take notice.

I was always labeled as this weird kid, very distraught and out of place. I was apparently ‘crazy’ and a pathological liar (that’s my mom’s words….nice right?), and disturbed….I was disturbed.

Are you kidding me???? Am I taking crazy pills? This is what people actually said about me, including my own mother! Out of all that I have been dragged through, this destroyed me. I still, to this day, have an immense issue with my relationship with my mother. Rest assured, she probably won’t read this, and if she does…..Good. She needs to. I mean yeah, we communicate, and we say I love you sometimes, (I love you is a new thing for us, sort of a huge improvement as well) and we do things for each other but nothing and I mean nothing will ever forgive and take back the years of antagonism, fury, and sting that has been built up and bottled. I have changed and reshaped myself in a lot of departments in my life, I try to be a brilliant person to everyone I meet warranted or not, but this is my vice.  My one thing that never seems to be unchanging, I can’t get over it and I am not sure if I ever will in all honesty.

“A statue stands in a shaded place
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot”

These problems went unnoticed by my parents for years; I was in that daycare along with my faithful brother (he’s like my lifeline) up until they closed it down. Why did they close it down? It was under investigation for a while, why anyone would let their children still attend a place that is under heavy investigation is beyond me…but anyways, it was shut down for drum roll please……

#1 Child molestation

#2 Narcotic trafficking

#3 Steroid and social drug use

#4 Child pornography

#5 Distributing alcohol to minors

#6 Condemned for termites, cockroaches, and mice

#7 Outdated building permits

#8 Uninsured and no medical equipment or personal available in the need of emergency

#9 Cleanliness and bacteria outbreak

Yes, all nine of those things caused the business to go under and the attendants as well as the eerie owner to be arrested and taken into custody. The building was later on torn down and rebuilt; unfortunately I can’t say the same for myself. My parents chose the option of never talking about it or even just bringing it up when it happened. They just went back to finding us babysitters instead, but of course I was still attending counseling as always for my ‘personal issues and mental breakdowns’ as they called them. Just a crazy girl in need a of a good talking to, but god forbid I mention the real issues at hand, my mother would fire that therapist so quick and find me a new one. We don’t talk about that kind of stuff, no need to fill a doctor with all of my lies….right ma?

Oh that scrape? She probably got it during recess

.

Those bruises? She likes to play rough, I mean, she has brothers ya know?

Why is she bleeding from her ass? She probably ate something bad and has diarrhea.

Yep, I am just a really poor eater who plays super rough and goes hard at recess. What can I say?

Now, before this turns into an attack on my parents (Whom I promise I do love and care about very very much) I would like to address the fact that eventually some of these matters subsided and I was able to get over them. It took immense amount of therapy from doctors, my rehab facility, my friends, other family members, and me as well as time. The saying time heals everything. You heal things yourself, through your own means and methods. Sometimes it just takes a little while to put those methods into action for some people. I don’t hate my parents nor do I blame them for everything that happened to me during that time, however yes, I do hold a little bit of bitterness inside; I could never bring myself to truly hate them. They made a mistake; it just sucked because I was affected by it so negatively. We all deal with things differently, for them they can’t bear to speak of the issue or to address it…but whatever. I addressed it myself and came to terms with it. I feel as though I am a stronger, wiser, and smarter person from it. I can now take the right steps in preserving my own children and keeping them away from some of the world’s tribulations that skulk in some of the places you would least expect.

I am a harsh person on the outside when it comes to children, I show discipline and yell at them when need be, because kids do need that. However, on the inside I just want to love every child and show them the hero/mentor that they deserve. My heart is full of nothing but comfort and love for kids of the world, sometimes I dream of owning an orphanage or daycare myself so that I can restore faith in those places and bring hope to children all over that there is decent human beings out there despite all of the evil you hear and see through the news. I even wish that I could become a supporter to those who have been affected by the same trials as me. Every child deserves to keep their innocence, to be loved in every single way, the RIGHT way. It blows my mind that today, sexual abuse, child pornography, minors addicted to alcohol, and physical abuse is still a vast concern in society. It disgusts me that there is still people who continually inflict this sort of punishment on others especially our youth. Nobody deserves to be treated that way particularly our little ones.

I am pleased to say that though I have endured some trials that I wouldn’t even wish upon my worst enemy, I am a resilient, independent, and full of life person. I look forward to continuing on this path for the rest of my life, surrounding myself with the correct people who build me up and help me whenever I am falling down. Because yes, I still trip from time to time and occasionally I stumble pretty deep. However I  keep my will/drive from ever faltering. I can’t wait until one day I have a family of my own where I can show them (especially my children) unconditional and faithful love throughout every aspect. Let it also be known, if I ever catch anyone and I mean anyone messing with my family I will ruin them.

There are only two lasting bequests we can give our children, one is roots, and the other, wings.