I have a family. A family I do love; two younger brothers and one younger sister. They are my children and instead of a childhood at least in return I learned what it was like to be a mother. I can’t complain about babysitting, everyone everywhere has at some point in their lives taken care of children. My brothers are my life and my sister my stressful teenage comrade but I was subjected into a life of ignorance and no freedom since my parents’ separation when I was seven. I was twelve when I was left at home with a newborn baby to take care of…and to be honest I was not stable.
I was eight years old when I first called the police. He had always been nice, he showed me games online and was always on my side to make me smile after my mother yelled at me for being not good enough. when she would make me run in place at night so I would lose some weight but then would feel bad and buy me a bunch of junk food the next day and make sure I eat a lot just to repeat the verbal abuse again the next week. He was also the man my mother made me call dad after she took me and my 4 your old sister to California to start her ‘singing career.’ I was not ready. And it was my time in California the next two that taught me I was fat, powerless, and useless…and that no one wanted me. Oddly enough, thats the phrase I heard most often from my mother since the time she took us away from my hometown. “No one would ever love you or care for you. Only your family will because they have to and your only family is me and your sister.” Over the years she added to the phrase whenever she gave birth again.
I keep going off topic but then again, this blog was made so I can just freely write. So anywayssss, that man was the second boyfriend I can muster from my memory that my mother had but the first from California. The first boyfriend was from an even earlier..funny enough I can remember him from when my mother was still with my father so as she mentally brainwashed me over the years she had me thinking my father was in the wrong for everything as I grew older, because, if you cannot trust the person who raises you then who would you believe? And when that father in question never really shows up again you cannot disprove your mothers claims that he doesn’t want you.
Back again…that man in California in time proved to be of a jealous kind. My mother did not help the situation by having so many male friends in her pursuit of gaining connections in the singing industry either. Then one night he could not hold it in anymore, he snapped her phone in half and threw a chair against the wall over her head. I was in bed and I remember it being dark and glimpses of shadows fighting…I remember the screaming well. My mother yelled at me to wake up and call 911 and I did yet from all this I cannot remember what I said into the phone nor what happened next. Only that the rooms became bright and the policemen were there. My impression of the policemen were of strength and protection but my mind darkened when two of the officers were joking. One said that the mom looked too young and pretty to have children, she was 26 at the time, and another joked lightly that he could date her. Although grateful, I never had much contact with adults and when I did I always felt like they were only into ‘relationships.’ The cops were nice but I was not entirely happy.
I end this post with this memory because I want to start my life stories from there. Once everything is out I think I can finally say what I have decided to do now that I am 21 and graduating in May of 2015. I will keep writing until I graduate and I plan to tell you the result then. Maybe think of this as my ‘Wrongful Biography?’ A place for me to whine since I cannot do it anywhere else without feeling like a burden. I will be titling all my posts in order =) And sorry but I wont be checking for grammar since I want to write it all out and not have to re-read any of this, because I never will nor will I want to. This will be my journey to healing.
gumivo 