Bruises May Fade, But the Pain Remains...
On to the next skeleton. you would think that one could only have so much, sadly, I have too many. But like I stated before, it's all about how you take it. What you do after & how you keep yourself going is what ultimately matters most.
When you're a parent, your child/children are supposed to be your everything, your WORLD! You're supposed to have that in-explainable, undeniable, earth shattering, everlasting, & unconditional love for them NO MATTER WHAT! I know as a parent of not only one but two children this is exactly what I feel for mine. I'll never understand how other "Parents" don't. & I say parents in quotation marks because those who don't shouldn't be considered real parents. You can have a child but that doesn't make you a parent. Being there for them above & beyond does. (I could explain more but that would probably be another 3 paragraphs or so, haha.)
They always say, "Mama's boys & Daddy's girls." In my case, it's reversed. My mother was my best friend, my confidant (except when it came to partying, that was a big NO NO in mama's book lol), & most importantly my role model. It is truly because of her that I am the woman & mother that I am today. I always wonder who I would be had my Biological mother raised me or had a more influential role in my upbringing. What if her & my father would have stayed together, would I still be the strong, independent woman I am? It's crazy how things work out, fate is definitely something to be thankful for. That's why I live by the quote, "Everything happens for a reason." It truly does, you never know why things happen until later, but, eventually all the answers come together & slowly start to make sense. You may not realize right away but in time the truth always prevails & then you finally start to make sense of all the bumps & detours along the way.
So, back to what I was saying. I was a mama's girl. My father tried to make me his daddy's girl but failed each time. How do you want a "Daddy's girl" but yet abuse her at the same time??? Christina Aguilera said it best, "Bruises fade father, but the pain remains the same." For as long as I can remember my father always had anger issues. That's how it started. Him getting angry with me, raising his voice, & yelling more than he should have. What parent doesn't lose their shit with their kid? But then there's that line, the fine line between losing your shit & taking it too far. My father literally had me petrified as a kid. All my mother, or anyone for that matter, had to do was threaten to tell or get my father & I'd whip myself right into shape. When it came to him, I knew it wasn't a game that I was willing to play because I'd lose every time.
Slowly it went from anger & yelling to anger with verbal abuse. Then yelling, verbal abuse, to physical abuse. Now I'm a firm believer in getting your ass busted when necessary. With every bad action comes a consequence. But there is a huge difference from getting your ass busted after doing something you shouldn't have to getting your ass whooped. I wasn't limited to an ass whooping either. If I wasn't within his reach I'd get shit thrown at me, whatever he could reach at that moment you better believe was coming towards me at full speed; mostly aimed at my head. Bottles, his metal Zippo lighter, a remote, whatever was there. I was called a cunt before I even understood the meaning. Actually, up until a few years ago, the word would literally make me cringe because of him. I was called everything from A to Z & back again, but "Cunt" & "You little bitch" were his go to words. As I got older he had graduated to slut & whore before I had even thought of having sex yet alone actually doing it.
My best friend remembered just how much my father used to put his hands on me. We were just talking about one of the times she remembers. I was standing in the kitchen & he didn't like something I had said to him so he came to me & pushed my head as hard as he could that it hit the cabinet, the cabinet popped open, closed, then opened again. & that was from just a push. SMFH...
I remember at the end of 8th grade my father had put his hands on me yet again & then punished me on top of it. I had had it at this point. I called my biological mother for yet the second time that same year & yet again, no surprise, she told me to basically stop doing whatever it was that was pissin him off & that she just couldn't take me. Ain't that some shit? She hadn't raised me my entire life & the short period that she was in my life she kept relapsing so it was short lived. This was finally her opportunity to try to be a mother towards me & still couldn't even do it. But yet she had gotten back almost every child that she had given up, even my older brother who was put up for adoption, but yet couldn't be there for me when I was literally getting my ass whooped! So once she had let me down yet again, I decided that I was going to run away. After the fight between him & I my parents proceeded to leave for Bingo that night. I called my friend Kelly & told her what I was doing but we just asked her parents if I could stay the night. Everything went fine until the next day when my parents started calling my friends looking for me. When we saw my number come on the caller I.D we then left the phone off the hook & I had her mom take me to my Uncle Joe. Well, eventually my parents got through to Kelly's parents who then lead them straight to me & next thing I know the police are there making me go home. Way to save an abused child BCPD!
After my run away attempt, I stayed with my Grandmother for the summer. 10th grade was the second time I ran away, only this time it worked. My curfew during the week was dark. I lived in Fox Ridge & was at one of my friend's house on the other side of the bridge so I knew when I needed to leave in order to be home on time. That day I left the same time as I normally would & ran into 2 of my friends while on the bridge. While we were on our way home 2 guys we had went to school with decided to stop us & the proceeded to rob us. I only had about $5 on me but still. So they stole my money & they winded up taking my friends CD player & Cd's & because of that, I was late. When I got home my father was livid. I told him what had happened but he didn't believe me. He put his hands on me, tried to throw my bed with me on it which resulted in him breaking it, & then he threw a radio at me. Luckily, he just missed me by like a centimeter & put a hole in the wall instead. Of course, because I was late & "Lying" I was punished again. So when I went to school the next day I saw one of the guys from the night before & he had my friends CD player. So I went up to him trying to get it back & when he wouldn't give it to me I punched him in the face. I got sent to ISS (in school suspension) for the rest of the day. When my Guidance Counselor asked me why I hit him I told her everything that happened & she then went & got our school Social Worker. When I got home, needless to say, all hell broke loose! My room was trashed, I got my ass beat again, & I was punished for even longer. By then I had had it! After my parents fell asleep that night, I climbed out the window, & finally I was gone! I managed to be gone for 3 & a half months. I only went back because I figured maybe things would change. At first they did, until they didn't.
Another time my best friend remembered when my father put his hands on me is the last time I ever let him again. I had watched my friend's son & was waiting for him to get picked up. Before my father left to go get my mother he told me to do my chores, I told him I would once the baby got picked up. So right after he got picked up I was getting my clothes out so that I could take a shower once I was done my chores. Only I never got to getting that shower yet alone getting my chores done because he had gotten home & started screaming at me as soon as he seen that they weren't done yet. He didn't believe that the baby had just left or anything I had said for that matter. So we were screaming at one another & I yelled, "I hate you!" he then proceeded to run up the steps while saying, "Oh you hate me, you're really gonna hate me now!" The he pushed me down to where I was laying on my back, climbed on top of me, & began punching me. This was the final straw, I FINALLY fought back. My best friend was standing there the entire time screaming for him to get off of me but couldn't intervene because she had been pregnant. When I finally broke free I went downstairs & was crying & hyperventilating. We continued screaming at one another then he decided to cover my mouth to where I couldn't breathe. That's when my mother finally stepped in by pulling him while screaming, "You're gonna fucking kill her, get off! That's when he said, "I don't fucking care!" I'll never forget that moment, I really thought that he was going to kill me! My best friend left & called the cops for me then came back & waited with me until they came. By the time they showed up my father had left. I had bruises all over me & my shirt had been ripped, the crime lab had even came to take pictures of how I looked.
Once the police left I was done, I packed my shit & left, but right before I walked out the door my mother broke my heart, she took my keys & said that this was it I wasn't coming back. So at just 15 I moved out of my parents house & on my own. It was scary, but in all honesty, I felt liberated; I was finally free!
If you're wondering what happened with the cops, NOTHING. They didn't arrest him, there was no court date, social services didn't intervene or anything. The system fucked me, that's what happened! SMFH
Because of my childhood is exactly why I am pursuing my education in Social Sciences so that I can become a social worker. I am also considering being some kind of counselor too, I just haven't figured out what kind yet. I want to be able to take children from broken homes. I want to share my experiences with them so that they know that they aren't alone, that someone else understands what they are going through.
