|
|
I felt weak. So weak that I couldn’t be happy, be free, be myself. I was so weak that I turned to the blade. Inside, I felt like I had no power, like I could not control anything. Everything seemed out of control. Life was passing me by as I was trapped in nothing.
The way the blade made me feel, gliding across my flesh. The stinging sensation brought empowerment. Finally there was something I could control! When my life seemed to have nothing, I found something. Self-mutilation. I could bring the sting, the blood. I was tough on the outside, yet fragile on the inside. Every inch of me craved the empowerment.
Each time I took the blade in my hand, I knew what I would feel. I would feel the cold metal, the sharpness of the blade, glide across my flesh. In a way, it was refreshing. So refreshing that it soon empowered me to cut every night. Each inch that I would cut brought joy. In my mind, I felt like it was my best friend. It was not to harm me, or to kill me. It was there to help me, to feel like I could control something.
Soon I would cut over fifty times per night. My body looked like I had just came out of a horror show. My mind had been clouded over for so long. I couldn’t help the way I felt! No one understood, no one saw my pain. To everyone I was just a freak, trying to die. Inside, I was just a little girl, hiding from everyone. My mind knew that it was wrong, yet it craved for more. It craved to feel the sting of the metal one more time.
“That’s it! This is the last time I will do this!” How many times I said that, I will never know. After a while, I knew that I couldn’t beat this alone. It was my way to cope, to feel something real. Many times I tried to stop, to just kill the addiction. Each time I would fail, falling hopelessly to the floor, crawling for the blade.
My mother found out. She made fits about it. I was almost sent to an institution. If that would have helped, I have no clue. The last night that she found out about it, she started calling places to send me. She wanted to send me away! I understand now that it was to help me. That night, I felt like she couldn’t live with me anymore, like she wanted to forget that she had another daughter.
I sat on the back porch with Marty, my old step-dad, for a while. He sat there, listening. The one thing that I needed the most. I didn’t need my mother hitting things and calling up mental institutions! I needed someone to listen to me, to lend an ear while I told them my problems.
The next day I met Sharon. That day, I learned so much about my mother. The way her childhood was so similar to mine, the way that I hurt her, the way that she cared so much about me. I was empowered again that day. I was empowered by change. All that I had been through, wasn’t even close to what my mother had been through. She loved me and she wanted me better. | | |
| Xanga premium. <3
Well, lets see where I can start this for today.
One day, this would have been when I was about 14, my mom, sister, and I were at Wal-mart. I was smelling Axe. I was smelling Voodoo, I think. Voodoo is the best smelling one. lol
I told my mom to smell it. She told me that I wasn't a dyke. She said that in the STORE really LOUD!
Well about a week or two later, I told my mom I had something to tell her. I reminded her about that night. I told her she was only half right. I told her I was bisexual. She was all pissed off, but actually took it pretty well. She told me not to tell my step-dad.
Every time I would mention my girlfriends, she would act like it was disgusting. One night I asked her if she would wear an "I'm proud of my bisexual daughter" pin and she said no. It hurt me.
My best friend, Brittney, ended up making a shirt that said "I'm proud of my bisexual friend". It made me feel super good, knowing I had someone who cared so much about me.
On Super-bowl sunday, Marty, my old step-dad, was talking about "faggots" I just wanted to come out to him. It hurt me so much.
She ended up telling him because she was PISSED at me. I should have been able to come out to him. She shouldn't have outed me! She was the one who told ME not to come out to him. | | |
| That layout fits perfectly for this site. The song is "Because of You" by Kelly Clarkson. Soon you will realize why I dedicate it to my mother. *sigh*
Well Melissa, my sister, was mentioning Lee today. Lee doesn't talk to me anymore. I'll get into that later. I almost started crying. She said that she saw him, that they made eye contact.
I'm not sure how old I was, but I remember that Lee was working on the roof at his mother's house. He ended up having a heartache. I remember everyone racing around. A helicopter came, took him away. I didn't know what was happening. No one ever told me. Just a few years ago I figured out what happened.
When I was in the 5th grade(2001) Lee sent me an e-mail on V-day. You would think it would be "Oh I love you" but no. It was the opposite. He told me that he no longer loved me, that he wanted nothing to do with me. The only person I knew as a father!
I remember Nathan, my old step-brother, going to get my mother. She didn't come right away. I went out of the computer room and ran straight into Marty's arms. He just stroked my hair, told me that he loved me and that he was sorry.
I used to hold so much resentment to Marty. That night, I let him into my life. My mother wasn't even there right away. All she told me, when she finally got there, was I'm sorry. I needed to cry in her arms. I NEEDED my mother!
What did I get? A step-dad. Don't take this the wrong way, I love Marty and am very grateful, but I had just been hurt by a guy. I didn't want to get hurt again.
I'm afriad of love. Terrified really. My heart couldn't take anything more.
I miss Lee. He'll always be in my heart. I go outside and the wind blows, I think of him. Every flower I see blooming, I think of him. Everytime my mother makes fish(YUCK) I always think of the times we went fishing. He would take us out on his Skeeter boat. Go swimming. | | |
| Well, lets start back to as early as I can remember. I was maybe five years old. I am not sure how I got into the hospital, but all I really remember is the doctors telling me I needed to drink this orange liquid. Me being the stubburn little girl I am, was refusing. Lee, the person I still know as a father to this day, told me that he would leave me there if I didn't take it. After he told me that, I drank it.
I found out a few months ago that the reason why I was there was because I had had a concussion.
_________________________________________
Around the age of six, my mother divorced Lee. I was devastated. My mother, leaving the person I knew as a father. She ended up throwing a scre-driver, right by me, which ended up hitting a picture.
I can never forget that, I mean I was six. No child forgets something like that.
I went up to visit him around 2001. He never knew what happened to that photo. It was still hanging in the same spot, with the same glass and frame. The marks of the impact, just laying there, reminding me of the horror I had seen that day.
_________________________________________
Things never got any better for me. When I was around the age of seven, my mother started to go out to the bars. No baby-sitter, no numbers to call. I barely knew to call 911. Something could have happened to me, when she was out getting drunk and getting hit on by some guys!
She would stay out till early morning. Sometimes she would be home around 1, other times 4. All in the morning.
I remember trying to stay up until she returned. I would get so wrapped up in all the noises, I couldn't sleep. Many times I would lay down, and then hear something, so I would jump up. My heart was constantly beating fast.
I still freak out when I am left alone. Who could possible blame me? Being left alone at such a young age will haunt you the rest of your life. | | |
| I am starting this site to let the ones I love know me better. I am warning you though, things may not be in order so everytime I write an entry I will put my age(or close to it)
My story isn't easy to tell. I have kept it in all my life, yet if I am ever going to be able to be in a relationship with Levi(or anyone else for that matter) my story needs to be told. | | |
|
