Looking back, I remember little about my early childhood.The things I do are often tough for me to revisit. Many of my memories are not pleasant, or perhaps I have just been so focused on the bad experiences that I have not allowed myself to consider the possibility that my world did not totally revolve around pain, heartache, and turmoil. Even as I write of that possibility I am finding it tough to even consider such an idea. My entire life, in my view, has been one heart break after another. For as long as I can remember I have been filled with emotions, many of which I did not understand and I have never really learned how to manage them. Even as a child I remember feeling angry; angry at my parents, angry at God, angry at myself. I was a lonely child, lost and confused and literally terrified of the world and everyone in it. I was afraid of people, relationships and even myself. I can remember always being so emotional and I never really understood why. I remember crying myself to sleep at night more often than any little girl should have to.
My parents separated and divorced when my brothers and I were too young to know what that meant, but I do remember missing my Father like crazy. I was angry at him for a very long time. I was angry at both my Father and my Mother. I was angry that they were not more civil for the sake of us children. I remember them both voicing insults about the other in our presence. Dad would say mom was only out for the child support money and that mom would make it difficult for him to see us. Mom would talk about him too, and I hated them for putting us in between.
I was angry at my Father for not being more active in my life and for making my brothers and I feel guilty for not calling or writing more often. I was angry at him for not making the time we did have together count. I recall our visits being almost as sad for me, as it was for me not to see him. When we finally did visit I never really felt an effort by him to bond with us until we were a little older. I do not blame him now, nor do I hold any resentment in my heart. I truly believe my Father loved us with all his heart and showed it the best way he knew how, but I did not always believe that to be true. It was upsetting to me that my relationship with my Father was almost nonexistent. I had all these emotions inside and no way of knowing how to sort them all out.
I learned at a very early age how to hide my emotions and consequently the “pretending” began. I call “pretending”, putting on the “Mask”. The “mask” was usually in the form of a fake smile. I was good at acting and learned how to appear to be happy on the outside but the truth was on the inside I was crumbling. Even still I am guilty of wearing the mask, trying to “fake out” those who love and worry for me. I’m just not as good now at being able to keep up the act as I probably was back then. I remember feeling like I had to be perfect as a child and as a young woman. I felt like our life was chaotic enough and I did not want to make more trouble for my mother. I wanted to please her and to please my Father. I tried desperately to do so with good behavior, good grades and by just staying out of the way but even that came hard for me. I struggled in school but no one knew it. I found it hard to concentrate and my mind was always racing.
At elementary school age, my anxiety levels were through the roof. I remember feeling so out of place and so insecure. I didn’t know how to make friends or have relationships of any kind. I had only one friend as a child and she has remained, in my heart, my dearest friend throughout my lifetime. Our friendship is one of my fondest memories. I do not think she knew even half of what went on in my life, the pain I had experienced, or how lost I truly was but she was my best friend and that was all that mattered. Her friendship some how made everything else ok. Through her and the love I felt from her and her family alike, I was able to experience emotions beyond the anger and sadness that I was use to. When in eighth grade my mom and step father decided we were moving to a new home in a new school district I was devastated to say the least. This was a one of the pivotal moments in my lifetime. I was changed forever from our separation. We kept in contact for a while but once we started high school we eventually drifted apart. Neither of us was to blame, it just happened. We were still young but were growing up and being apart we were both changing. During this stage of my life is probably when I first experienced full blow depression. I was angry again this time for what I felt was my robbed relationship with my best friend. I hated my parents for moving us and I hated my life. Then is when I became someone I was not.
By the time I was in high school I had experienced enough pain to last a lifetime and I was tired of being the “band aide” in the family. I was sick with depression and wanted nothing more than to feel loved and needed. And so the searching began. Somehow I managed to fight through all my anxieties and made a few friends, but that was not what I was after. I needed male attention and it wasn’t hard to find. I had my first boyfriend when I was a sophomore. He was a senior. After he went off to college we split and once again I felt abandoned and let down. I loved him in all the ways a young girl could be in love. It wasn’t long after though, that I was in the next relationship and with this guy I lost my virginity. I was seventeen. I thought I was in love and thought we would be together forever. Unfortunately my childhood experiences had shaped me into a very lonely adult. I was needy, and desperate and as quick as the next guy showed me some attention I was in his arms searching yet again for love. I needed to feel needed and if I felt like I had “fixed” a guy then it was on to the next. I do not recall ever giving myself time after a break up. I feared being alone and even now I deal with many of these same issues. I hated myself for it. I was ashamed at who I have become.
I had dreams of going to college and of making something of my life and with what seemed like a blink of an eye those hopes and dreams seemed to disappear. I went from having all the encouragement in the world to make a better life for myself to not giving a damn about anything. By the end of my senior year I was beginning to like my new lifestyle. It was a way for me to escape all the pain and confusion that surrounded me. Wearing the “mask” became normal for me. I wanted nothing more than to belong somewhere and so I changed to fit in. I started to experiment with alcohol. It was fun and I was adapting quickly, however inside I was still lost and I was very much aware of it. I knew I was letting myself down but I just didn’t care anymore. My life could not have gotten any worse; at least that is how I felt.
It was sometime during this year that I found myself at the wrong place at the wrong time and was propositioned for sex by the same man who had molested me as a child. Needless to say this pretty much sent me on an even quicker spiral downhill. After bringing this to the attention of those people who should have been there for me, I wished I had kept it to myself. Although I did have the support of my Mother, there was those who were, let’s just say less than comforting. I was called a liar but then told that if it had happened then I must have asked for it. That messes with my head even today but I’ve grown enough over the years to know that none of what happened to me was my fault. I do have a relationship with those few that denied me that comfort and protection that I needed, however it was not always like that. The relationships were strained for many years, and not until I learned to forgive was I able to reopen that door. It still hurts me; I suspect it always will, but I am trying to move forward with my life and I’m doing it the best way I know how.
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