Never a little girl

 

This one is more difficult, in imagine.  I was not a little girl. I was not an innocent naïve little girl with no care in the world. I have a body that I hate, that attracts attention that freezes when I need to fight.  I can understand that little 5 year old girl, afraid of the world.  Not having an understanding of what was happening to her.  Knowing that her body hurt that men could take what ever they want and leave you to clean up.  Those were the things of my life.  As a child there was nothing that I could have done to stop him from doing all of those awful terrible things.  From strattling my neck and making me hold his necklace as he raped my little body. The kissing, the touching the rude comments .  The leaving the bedroom door open like I was supposed to watch and learn, this is what a woman's body is good for. A body that wasn't made for those things.  Oh those thoughts in my head that it was ok, he just thinks I am my mom.  The thoughts its ok he will be done soon.  The thoughts when my body was in so much pain it literally felt like my guts were going to fall out. The thoughts that went to my stuffed animals, its ok we will be fine, he is almost done.  During that time, I was just a little girl with such a little understanding of what was being done, the words sex wasn't really in my vocabulary.  I knew terrible things were happening and somewhere in my mind it was just something that I was meant for just something that happened.  

Later as you grow up and there is a sense of what sex is and all those years of things being done to your little body, the things that murder your soul and make you believe that you were meant for this.  That is when that intense hate for being a girl for having parts that make you desirable to men.  To have a chest as a young girl that never goes without notice, those are the things of nightmares.  Those are the things that take away the girl and she gets replaced, and learns the way that a mans body works.  There is a problem when its a good night because your father can't get an erection.  For once you feel a sense of relief that makes you chuckle because you may not totally understand but you know that for this night the stabbing incessant pain is something that just won't happen.  These are the sentences that no daughter should have to know or ever write.  I never wanted to know how my fathers body works.  I don't want there to be relief in knowing that as he struggles, there is a sense of peace for me.  No daggers tonight, nothing to clean up I can sleep. This is the deep dark that a little girl should never understand.  This is the gross and disgusting of a little girl wise beyond her years made to do things of adult women. This is the life lived when your father is a monster.  There is this intense hate of your own body and how others use it, such pain and they still force themselves. Cries are not heard,  your too small body doesn't mater, and they will get what they want regardless.    

As I sit and write these things I get so angry,so frustrated that I bite my lip until it bleeds, and the tears stream down my face.  These things should never have to be written.  A child, an adult woman should never have to understand this . What I can say is that men have been attracted to me my entire life. I watched Patch Adams and as they sit on the porch and she says to him, "Men have been attracted me my whole life, as she tries to help him understand her heart. I felt that with my whole being. That little one so innocent doesn't know what's happening to her. There comes a day, a time when she does know and she can never ever get that innocence back. She knows the proper names and comes to understand that sex is the act and it kills a part of you that you can never get back. As you get older and understand more you are not a child anymore. 

For me somehow that innocence was lost between 10 and 13. My father was terrified I'd get pregnant, so the rapes became fewer but the oral sex was a constant. To me that was always the worst. , so personal and degrading. When your only 13, your father is on his back in your bed and you climb on your Very own bed knowing exactly what he wants that, that is the unimaginable, because I  should not have known that was expected. I , me that 13 climbed on her own bed; I am not sure I can ever forgive myself for that. A piece of me died, a piece of my life, the sad little girl climed right up like she knew what she was doing, doing her womanly job to make him happy.

So seeing that 13 year old as a child, is such a struggle. That magic of being a child or the wishing was long gone.  So you add to that, that I wanted attention, that I flirted and danced with don, that is not a child. That I kissed him, that my stomach had butterflies, that I for once felt special.......those feelings are not of a child. The first time he came to the door I realized so quickly he was not the same person. There was a look in his eyes I knew all to well. I knew his intentions and I faught, I faught with everything that I had, but it wasn't enough. This isn't what I wanted, This wasn't what I asked for but I sure accepted that attention a few weeks before. I begged,pleaded nothing worked. A child doesn't beg for it to stop. My cries were unheard, my flailing wasn't at all a deterrent. He came for sex and didn't leave until he had taken all that wasn't his.

Then again with friends, he returns. 5 of them, I was nothing not even human. I was warm and had parts. There are pieces of me that will forever remain damaged because of this day. Hour after hour turn after turn, getting lost in the blades of the fan, thinking surely this is hell. Surely this isn't the thought of a child?  Do children even have a picture of hell. Child thoughts are of laughing , friends and all things innocent living in a world where you are invincible  and can do anything. That??What is that I don't know, I imagine it would be amazing, freeing and life changing right?!! There will forever be parts of this day that remain black, devoid of anything because its just too much. I was defeated in so many ways I was treated like something with no name. At the end of the day, I wished they would have finished me off. My thoughts went to you have a gun, Why not use it to end my life instead of just inflicting more pain.

So finally, his last occurrence. All that was to be taken was. I was barely breathing trying to make my way. You come again, WHY ? You knocked on the door, like was I supposed to invite you in for tea??? There was no spirit no fight. That was not a little girl who opened the door, She was used goods. She knew to well what was coming, she had given up and she unbuttoned her pants and laid down. He came looking for a fight, she was in survival mode. She knew what was going to be taken, still bruises of black from the time before, her body still recovering. I made the choice to undo my pants and lay down. I knowingly made that decision, and I hate myself for it. I remember the look on his face. He did it, but there was no participant, just a body on the floor. He got what he came for, kicking me and using the restroom on me on his way out. That was not a child. A child doesn't make those kinds of choices. That was something other than , truly gross and disgusting but surely not a child.

So many things I place on my own shoulders, my , responses, responsibilities. Things that children,  little girls don't know I knew them. I knew them and acted on them. I fear that my grip on my part, is a death grip, if I don't  hold on as if my life depends on it; I fear the breaking, the falling apart at the seems because maybe just maybe I was a child. Maybe just maybe I was a little girl that deserved everything, safe and kind. Maybe just maybe that little girl was worth so much more than she was given in this world

I heart your heart.

The Summer I wasn't coming home

 

That Summer was culmination of so many things that had happened that year.  I was dying inside and nothing really mattered.  I was 13 and didn't want to live anymore.  Just 13 so young with so many things on my shoulders.  I didn't have a plan to die, and jumping over the balcony seemed like a long shot, but I knew that I was done. I couldn't be hurt anymore, I didn't want to be ignored and blamed.  Looking back there there were so many things that kept me alive that week in Florida and I did go home.  

It had been a hellish year,  Don showed up ,I was shocked to see him at my door. He was no longer the nice guy that I met on that church weekend.  He was another evil doer in my so short life.  He made his way in and I was raped by him for the first time.  As everything in my life, you just keep moving I mean these are the things that happen to me, these are the things that I am good for.  I think what made it worse was that I kind of had a crush on him he smelled good, I thought he was cute.  I danced with him and kissed him that weekend.  I never imagined he would show up and do what he did. But that was my life, that was just what happens to me.  I never said a word to anyone. 

A few months later my parents were gone, they were doing a healing weekend at church; I was left home alone all weekend.  I knew it was going to be a long weekend but I was used to being left alone when they did these weekends.  I would listen to my music and watch TV.  I lived in my own world, and at least if no one was around I was safe.  So I was up early and got in the shower.  I had my boom box loud and was singing, but my music was shut off.  I looked and Don was standing there in the bathroom he had shut my music off.  I froze, I was terrified, there was a part of me that didn't understand why he was in the bathroom.  He had this smirk, and he got in the shower.  I still see it like an outsider. I was outside the shower watching, terrified.  He turned the water so hot, and pushed me against the cold shower wall and raped me,  that was the first of many that day.  He just got out of the shower and turned off the water when he was done.  I was left laying on the shower floor.  I think I was waiting to make sure that he was gone, I reached for a towel to find that he was still in the bathroom.  There are pieces of memory, him laughing he had no intention of leaving any time soon.  There were more rapes and he took me out of the bathroom and threw me on my parents bed.  That water bed the same bed that my father would abuse me on.  He did things that I didn't know could happen that were so shameful and embarrassing. I wasn't sure I was going to make it through this day.  Things often turned to black, I was couldn't even comprehend all that was happening to me.  And I remember him sitting in my parents chair, and talking to someone on the phone saying that I was a fighter and to come on over.  I was so in and out, I am not sure I understood , I just would hope that after every rape this was going to be the last one and he would leave. But him and his friends didn't leave until late that night.  It was as close to death I have ever been and still had breadth in my body .  That is a place that is unimaginable. 

I came to and there were 4 more men in the room. I didn't have a chance.  

I sit here and still don't believe I survived, death would have been a better option. I sit here remembering and I see it like it was yesterday, yet I am so very far away. So all day into the night they all took turns, one of them was at least human and helped when he could.  He wasn't as mean as the others and took care of me when he got the chance. I think Andy was the reason I survived, at least when things were the most violent he would make them stop. He saw me as a human and that made the difference.  So that is how the day went.  There were times I tried to get away, even making it down the hall but I was helpless against the 5 of them. Physically there was nothing left, emotionally I wasn't even there anymore.  I held on to the hope once again that if I can make it through one more rape they will all be done and leave.  I held on and finally late into the night they all left, the last one Don spitting on me before he left. I was nothing. 

I was a shell of a human, completely humiliated and barely breathing.  I was a fixer, the clean up specialist and I did what I had to do and I went to bed, knowing that my parents would be home from their church meeting. I never said a word.  I was a mess, I remember that even the sheets hurt my skin. Every inch was in the most unbelievable pain.  I just said I didn't feel good and stayed in bed for a few days.  I think there are pieces that have no words and this is one.  This is just what happens to me.  

A short time later, once again my parents were gone, there was a knock on the door.  I should have known better.  I opened the door it was don.  I was still physically injured from the gang rape and I saw him and started to cry.  I knew what we was going to do, he as always had that smirk on his face. I undid my pants and laid down right there in the entry way.  I knew what he was going to do and I knew that there was no fight left.  I went far away, he got what he wanted.  I am not sure how to say this really but this was an easy rape, He didn't know what to do I didn't fight I didn't do anything, I just laid there.  I guess it was as easy as it could be he raped me and left.  The guilt I felt was unbelievable, that I didn't fight, I didn't yell I didn't say a word I just gave him access and that will always break my heart. 

I was barely living, my heart was broken my body was black and blue for a long time, physically I wasn't ok.  Emotionally I wasn't ok. The nightmares were unthinkable, school was impossible I failed 4 classes that grading period, I was called to the counselor 's office. They asked if my parents were together, I said yes and they told me to work harder on my grades.  I started getting sick , this is where things get blurry.  Things seem to be in the most pieces during this time; I was going to have a baby. I was pregnant.  I was going to be a mom and make sure that my baby was going to be safe and I was going to love that baby how I always wanted to be loved.  That seemed to be a light for me and nothing else mattered.  I still hate that I lived in this fairy tale world where we were going to live happily ever after , I was 13 years old, living under the same roof as another monster !! 

There are so many smaller parts and pieces people that didn't do their job. People that didn't notice.  I was left to figure things out.  One moment that sticks out is feeling her move.  Those little kicks, its just magnificent , feeling that little life was all that mattered. The thought about how she was conceived wasn't a thought but I wished her father was Andy at least he was human, as least he wasn't evil.  Then just like that things went terrible.  I started cramping and was bleeding really bad, I called Calvin.  Again my memory fails I remember him carrying me, and then I remember the emergency room.  I remember everything feeling as if it were in slow motion and everything was white white.  The Dr. came over to me, and he put his hand on my leg and said I am sorry you have lost her.  I remember crying like I never have and begging him that it wasn't true, that I was fine. I begged him to tell me beautiful Bella was ok. There were a few people standing around, I don't know who they were.  I remember being carried by Calvin and that one Dr. 

A part of me died. I don't know what happened next, I don't know what was done.  I don't really know anything.  And I kept dying nothing else mattered anymore.  I didn't care about anything.  And still I had to keep going to school, keep smiling keep going to youth group as the liar, that just wanted attention. There was no care for my heart and soul; my little broken body.

There was nothing left to live for. My heart was broken and I lived in this world that no one understood, my life was full of things I couldn't even talk about.   A few months later my grandmother wanted to take me to Daytona Beach. This was my chance to go away and never come back.  I didn't know how, but I was done. I didn't have any kind of plan, but this trip was a way for me to make all the hurting stop. This trip was the out that I needed in this life.  My heart was literally broken, and there was no one to hear or to share it with.  I was literally dying inside.  Sorry for this  rant, I guess all of that were the reasons I didn't want to come home. I always feel so guilty talking about this time, sometimes there is this incredible need to get it out and I feel incredibly guilty.  Sometimes it wants to burst out, because I just can't carry that awful gross and disgusting that I feel. This was the reason I didn't want to come home, because what I was carrying was far to heavy for such a little girl. I didn't want to hurt anymore, I didn't want to be sad, I wanted the ache in my heart to just stop.  I needed time to catch my breathe, I needed someone to care and for once see me.  The animals saw me,  and I made it .  I caught my breathe and made it that Summer.

So I went to Florida with a wanting and came home with some passion and a second chance.

The first morning there I woke up to the sound of the ocean, and seeing dolphins in the distance.  I think it was the first time I felt something other than devastation.  I can remember thinking that I could just jump off the balcony but being on the 20 something floor, that was not an option.  And after that first morning, the tears began to flow and I am quite sure they lasted most of the trip.  The second morning I woke up to this pelican on my balcony.  I was a little shocked, but me being the person I am started a conversation with the bird, and he didn't fly away he was a comfort actually.  And I talked and talked to him and cried.  It was such a release, and he may have been just a bird but I felt listened to for the first time in a long time.  He heard the horrors of  that year, and stayed. The next morning, he came back and each morning after.  I believe that bird saved me that Summer.  He just listened, sat there the waves crashing below us . I was more than grateful for that pelican, there was a connection that I am not sure I will ever understand.  One of those days we went to Sea World.  I hate even writing that,  I would never ever go there but that day, I felt alive again and I hadn't felt that way in some time. We did a behind the scenes tour.  And of coarse they save the orca's for last.  And there she was right there,  they instructed everyone to stay behind the line but she was right there!!  So I stepped over and so gently I placed my hand on her nose,  there was a connection if even for a few seconds,  I must sound crazy, I felt more alive and that being alive mattered.  Of coarse staff jumped in and told me to step back I didn't care and she kept eye contact as tears rolled down my face.  I had gone to Florida to never come home, but what I got there gave me a sliver of hope in the world around me.  It was that lone whale, and that huge pelican that saved me , I truly believe that.  There was no taking back all that occurred over the last year; but with all that was lost there was that little hope that little wish that things would be ok. I had to go back to my freshman year of high school.  Things were never easy, but I came to rely on whales to get me through and somehow I survived. Whales were everything, their family structure how they took care of each other became almost an obsession, that made me believe in something again when I had lost everything. Whales are still a comfort and cover so many places in my home. Pelicans still make my heart smile as I remember that bird sitting with me listening to my story and never leaving . So yes it was always animals.  After being treated less than human, and hurt so viscously  it was the animals that saved me.  It was always the animals.  

I Heart your Heart

My eyes are raining ; The dark tunnel to 5

 Yes me again. I feel like its been a very long time since I have been able to write. I am hoping that this week, there will be some time for me and I can write and feel and get the feelings that have been smiled through out and on a page.  There are times I talk about this sad, that is a sadder than sad feeling and really I don't have a clue what to do with it.  It's difficult because I can't pin point it, I can not say this is exactly why I am sad its an overwhelming encompassing kind of sad that takes over. 

This week has not been what I had planned, there were oh so many frustrating moments and moments that I feel I could not do anything about. Moments I wanted to curl up in a ball; moments I wanted someone to tell me that everything was going to be ok and just for a moment or two I want to believe it.  I just need to get out of this sad and I am not sure how exactly to do that.  I know writing my journals but there doesn't seem time for that , or enough privacy . It seems that each and every detail of my past is weighing on my soul lately , its a soul sad right now.  Something so deep and so heavy I don't know how to reach out to let some of it go.  The heaviness of so many things past, that run through my mind, and my body. Sometimes its scary because literally my skin hurts, and I feel things no person should have to feel.  It's a burden that I am not sure I can get away from, that is more than heartbreaking.

A few weeks ago I was asked if there was a time that I felt empty or dead inside.  That was a loaded question, that I didn't expect.  That is a feeling that I don't want to admit to, even acknowledge. How can a person feel that when there are so many good things.  But there are a lot of times when empty is totally there.  I think that there is a part of me that is as close to death as a person can be and still actually be breathing.  I think that is where the blackness is, that is where that deepest sad has grown roots.  That is where that deepest sad is, that place that can't be loved can't be important or cherished.  That place of darkness is so empty.  Its a soul ache that never stops, there is a knowing that there are pieces of my life, in my head that seem more than untouchable.  Its that knife wound that remove the sword and the pain is still there, even the thought is like being stabbed all over again .  They say you've already survived, but this darkness makes you feel like you won't, and there is worse to come.  

    

I don't remember much before 5, I have pictures.  Oh yes there are pictures. I never remember a time when I wasn't afraid of him. I never remember a time when I felt loved just because.  That empty and dead feeling is so deep because as much as all those little things like the tadpoles, and the little bird in the water and the clouds and the trees in the breeze, those things were awesome and amazing but I knew that another disastrously terrible moment was never far behind.  I hate so much all the things that I do remember, and its terrifying that one of the first feelings you remember is resignation ;  this is just what happens to me.  I never remember anything different, it was always there before love before acceptance before any thought of being special there was just a resignation of the terrible awful unimaginable things that happened.  There is pieces of this puzzle that started out so dark there was never rainbows, and unicorns those were the things for worthy girls, those are the things for girls that are pretty , those are things for good girls; NOT FOR ME .  I was made to keep quiet and just do what I was told no matter the cost. I had to do what each person wanted whenever they wanted.  There was , is a feeling sometimes that I was born to be used hurt and left.  I was born to meet my fathers every need. Even the things I can't bare to remember they have all left a very empty almost dead place, that I worry will never lessen. A place where that deepest sadness comes so very close to giving up, that place where hopelessness settles in.  I fear that place; I never ever want to give up and there are pieces that totally want to. I just so need love and care and gentleness and its a fight between wanting them and knowing they are not meant for you, I am to hard to love.