Right now its not OK, I am really angry. I am angry that my story didn't matter to people. I am angry that I didn't matter to people. I am angry that I was always such an inconvenience. People said I was lying, that I was just asking for attention when I wanted to keep it quiet, I never wanted to tell anyone, but yet I am the one that wanted attention !!! In what world does that make sense?!? No one ever cared to ask me what happened, how many there were, NOTHING ! When i withdrew from everything and everyone; I was only made fun of, I can remember peoples conversations to others saying it was puberty, and that I was just on a roller coaster of emotions! They didn't have a clue and didn't care to find out. Every person turned from the truth and talked about me but not too me. My heart was broken, I wanted someone to tell me that everything was going to be OK. That what happened to me wasn't my fault, that I couldn't have done anything different.
Everyone just wanted to sweep me and everything that happened to me under the carpet. They wanted me to pretend that it was all over and that everything was fine. And I tried believe me I tried but the harder I tried to hide it, the more ways that it came out. I would have bruises all over my legs from the nightmares and fighting in my sleep. There were scratches all over my arms, looked like I was in some kind of cat fight. And I ate to be ugly, I ate so that no one could blame my looks. I ate to be ugly so I wouldn't be hurt anymore. I think back and there were so many signs that no one ever saw. After i lost Bella i Lost a lot of weight in a short period of time no one said a word, the loss was so strong so severe so heartbreaking that I just wanted to die. Again no one noticed no one said a thing and I suffered in silence. My heart was broken in two and yet everyone pretended that I was fine.
I can not honestly say what I think my mother knew. In my heart things that she has said she knew more than I would like to think. How can you not ?!? Having to go to bed with him at night, her waking up at night he is in my room and no questions are asked. Times I would cry uncontrollably, no one noticed, or made me feel better. I couldn't read until third grade, no one asked questions ? I was exhausted ALL THE TIME.....nothing.....I stayed to myself all the time.....nothing no questions no caring, no nothing, I was on my own. I hate that I never opened my mouth and never said anything but there were signs, there were many red flags and no one wanted to see and acknowledge the truth. So I was sweeped under the carpet, I was just different, moody, weird. Only I wasn't I was just being terribly hurt all the time and no one did a thing.
With Albert, I was left alone with him all the time. He took me places all the time. I never wanted to go no one asked why, I would cry no one cared. I would run into the house screaming, no one said a word. I was alone. And that is not an exaggeration. No one was keeping me safe, caring for my heart. There was the time with Albert when I think my friend saw me, but then again, Albert was over me and maybe he didn't. For him I am glad that he didn't. For me I wish that he did and helped. This was my life, no one noticed a thing, and I was labeled with so many terrible names.
One of the only normal kid things that I remember was my little red and white stripped record player. I loved that thing and I can remember playing Oh mickey on it over and over and over, that is one time that I remember feeling like the weight of the world wasn't on my shoulders. I laid on the floor for hours and listened to that song, that little 45 record made me feel normal, that is the only comfort that I had. One of the only things I remember that was good and pure and innocent.
When my mother was told about the gang rape at 13, she gave my still achy body a hug, I stood there I felt nothing she cried. My father was taken for a ride and told and he acted like an idiot, it was not about me. For two days things were difficult, strange, It was like I was in the middle of a tornado and in my world it was silent, everyone else was talking on the phone and making appointments. There were words spoken that I can never unhear. The call from Joan not even 24 hours after I told, She just isn't showing enough emotion, she is lying, she just wants attention who would do that to her, she is the chubby unpopular kid. And there were no words that stood up for me, that was taking care of my heart in any way.
There was the first counseling appointment of many. They got me a happy meal before the session, which is so ironic a happy meal. I laid in the back of the car, sitting was still painful, and I ate a chicken nugget. I still felt nothing I am not sure that I spoke more than 10 words those first few days. Word count 2, Thank you. I thanked them for lunch. The place was empty, there were kid pictures all over the wall. It was friends of the family, though they were not my friend. My father screamed and berated me, that I didn't fight enough, that I must have left the door unlocked, that it didn't look like anything happened. He screamed and cried and carried on, he stood towering over me the entire session, pointing screaming. It was all about him, and the counselor let him scream and carry on and then at the end, she said maybe we need to do this separately ! I didn't say one word. My truth didn't matter, I was nothing, I was a disruption to their perfect little world. I felt that with every bone in my body and I shut down.
There was another appointment with my fathers therapist, yea who's grand idea was that! Again same thing, the counselor at least asked how many I said 5 word count for the day: 3. I remember him sitting there talking to my parents. He was old, his legs crossed taking notes. I was in another world. I had to sit on the couch between my parents, I couldn't stand to be sitting that close to them , my skin still hurt. I just wanted to close my eyes make it go away, make it all go away. I can remember my father talking the entire time, crying, all about him and he called me an "entity unto myself" and I remember thinking what the fuck ? Like this was nothing new he had been doing it since I was 5 and they couldn't understand why I felt nothing!!!!! The guy, Gary Carpenter was his name, asked me something else, I don't remember what it was but I said no. Word count for the day 4.
We went home, I went to bed, I just wanted to lay down, close my eyes. I mean what was the point, they should be the ones going to all these appointments, nobody was talking to me anyway, it was their feelings that mattered not mine.
Then there was the Dr. appointment. If felt like it took forever to get there. Just my mom took me. This was the only time that I was nervous, that I was scared, I didn't want him to see what I looked like physically. I felt it was my fault and thought he would be able to see that. That is the closest that I came to crying in those two days. Again I had to sit in those hard chairs. My mother went and talked to him in his office, then I was called back. I laid on the table waiting, my heart was racing, I was scared he was going to be berating me too. I was scared he was going to say the words to my face, that everyone else was thinking, I was a slut, who would want to do this to me, it must have been my fault. He came in and touched my shoulder, I jumped. He said that he was sorry He was always kind, he had known me since I was little. He was kind, he was talking to me, asking me questions, I couldn't answer but I mattered. I remember him saying that I couldn't keep it all bottled up inside. I remember him talking for what seemed like forever , but at least he was talking to me, caring about me. He said that he wanted to make sure that I was OK. He asked if he could do an exam. The terror in my head, I said please please don't . Word count for the day 7. He said that he understood. He told me things to watch out for, what to be concerned about. I was grateful. He stood up to leave, he put his hand on my knee and patted it, it was kind, he was sorry and there was an understanding, I was grateful , I said thank you as he left. Word count ; 9.
I was grateful he listened, grateful for someone talking to me, in hindsight I wish that he saw my body; so then people would believe what had happened to me and he could have helped but I am not sure I could have handled it, not sure what the outcome would have been. I was more than thankful.
We got home, there was lots of screaming, lots of yelling again my father making accusations, pointing fingers, he was furious I didn't have an exam. I am sure all for his own protection nothing about my safety or well being. I was such a mess, I didn't matter; what happened to me didn't matter and that is part of the sadness today, nothing mattered, nothing was done different and my heart was crushed in the process, People can't handle the truth. People are scared of my truth and the things that I have lived through. Then I was an inconvenient truth I ruin what people think about the world so I am left alone. There are a few that stay that still care for my heart and those people become so very important, they know and they understand and STILL care, and that means more than the world. My heart still hurts because what happened to me mattered and I have to figure out what that means. I mattered and people should have seen that. What happened to me mattered it was big and people ignored and I have paid the price. Its time I stop paying .
Satriani : I Believe <3
Those that made me feel that I matter, that my story Matters I heart your heart. I will keep going until I believe , until I truly believe that my story matters. .
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