Dad was military. So I don't really remember much of him growing up. The occasional family outing, but nothing much outside of that. My mother did the best she could. She stayed home with us until I was four. I remember being over the neighbor's house a lot.
My family didn't cuddle. No cuddling, no outwardly signs of affection. I was was taught affection was a weakness. Empathy is what makes a person.
Must like what is happening with Penn State, the truth ALWAYS COMES OUT.
When I was nine years old, I told my dad the horrors I endured in his absence. Why I was running away from my "aunt," and the beating we took "if we looked at her the wrong way." he was enraged and it was the first time I had ever seen my father mad. He confronted EVERYONE involved. I told my mother about the inappropriate touching from my "aunt's" friends. She was in disbelief.
They both decided to make us latch-key kids at the ages of 7 & 10 years old. Yes, she told all the neighbors we were home, and to keep an eye for us.
Believe me, little old ladies are brutal when tattling on you.
I have blocked out most of my childhood. I ask questions about my past very sparingly. Afraid I might uncover what my brain is so admittedly trying to shield me from.
I was a rape victim not once, but three times. I was so numb. I didn't care if I was only being used for they three minutes of pleasure. I'm still numb when I go on rape scenes.
I don't hug to often. I actually find human contact very uncomfortable.
A friend of mine was killed by a drunk driver, a LODD. At her funeral, another female collapsed in my arms and sobbed. I carried her, stone faced, coffin-side and let her husband carry her the rest of the way.
I see death as our time to leave.
I am also terrified of it.
I keeps thinking. Is this it? One go around? Is it all black after, the only one holding vigil for us is our children or friends.
I do want to try everything, but I spend most of my time in bed.
I have been emotionally beaten. There is not one ounce left to fight for.
