Here`s my letter......
Oh yes, I`m at the final step in a very long journey.
A journey I`m tired of, a journey that I wish was over, I`m at the last door.
The door of validation.
I NEED to hear from somebody who "matters", that YES my life was fucked.
YES I was an innocent child of 21, I had dreams, hopes, aspirations and love........ and now, almost 20 years later, I`m nothing but a shell of those dreams, hopes, aspirations and love.....the dreams long destroyed, the hope barren, and the love twisted.
I HAVE to know that *I* did ok.
I`m still standing.
I WANT to know that it`s alright to be who I am.
I NEED that acknowledgement.
I WAS FUCKED UP, I NEED TO KNOW THAT SOMEONE UNDERSTANDS THAT.
I need someone to say how brave I was when he spat in my face, while I ironed HIS work clothes. Do you know how HARD it is to act as if NOTHING has happened when that kind of shit happens?
I need to hear how fucked it was when he hit me, while I held OUR one month old daughter in my arms. I want someone to understand how scared I was, how fast my heart was beating while he screamed at me.....how hard it was not to fall to pieces while he cut the phone line....how degrading it feels to beg someone to stop hurting you.
The submission, the humiliation, the fear, anxiety, heartbreak....the sound of YOURSELF crying and pleading.
I NEED someone to tell me that I DID OK, I need to know that I`M ok......because I know I`m not.
This life is the absolute result of me being fucked up by a sick twisted man......HE stole me from me, and then he killed her.
NOTHING will ever fix that.
I will never realise my dreams, I didn`t have the chance.....my hopes? I lost hope...and that IS the saddest place for a human being to ever visit....aspirations? forgotten.....
And love.....I love, in my own way, my children pay the price for that one, now, not me. I KNOW how I feel, I just don`t show it very well.
I showed it extremely well at the tender age of 21, I knew THE best love...Dan had just turned 1, he was my world, I loved him, I loved life and I loved living. I was an excited, outgoing, naive spunk. It was awesome to be me you know.
I soon learnt though, from "him", that the more love you show, the more vulnerable you become, the more you allow yourself to feel, the more it destroys you when it`s mutilated and twisted right in front of your eyes.
I need to know that I`m right, that I didn`t go through that shit for NOTHING....that I learnt from it...grew from it.
I NEED to know that I have.
To break it into incidences is almost impossible for me "now", the "now" me looks at the memory and thinks "toughen up princess, its got a way to go yet."
I wish I could have saved me.
Don`t get me wrong, I love who I am now, if I changed one thing I wouldn`t be who I am right now, but who I am right now is a wee bit pissed off at the me who waited TEN YEARS before saving me you know?
SHE failed ME....SHE was weak.
Not a chance would anyone pull that shit on me "now"....yet I only know MY strength because of MY weakness.
It`s a whole " chicken and the egg" thing, so I have to accept that as my Destiny......
I need to know that I wasn`t destined to be like this...that I can still build...I can still grow.
I want to admit that I need help.
I can`t and I won`t.
I find it hard to ask for anything....ten years of being laughed at and name calling helped establish that pattern.
I don`t know how to change that, it scares me and I can`t afford to be scared, THAT I don`t have the mental capacity to deal with.
I hate THAT and I can`t put myself in the position to BE there..
Xmas day, 8 years ago, my children and myself huddled in a corner while he threatened, smashed things and screamed abuse because I didn`t have towels dried, he ended his rampage by kicking a petrol tin through the window, narrowly missing all our heads, screaming that he`d burn the house down with us in it.
It was Xmas for fuck sake. I had glassand blood everywhere, screaming scared kids, I was terrified, trying to stay calm for them and stop them crying, it seemed to fuel him on when we made noise.
We sat on the front step and cried when the police came and took him away....we were crying because we knew he`d be back, nothing could stop him.
It makes me ask WHY didn`t I just dry the fucking towels? It was just a pile of wet towels......
And now *I* think, big deal. Who gives a fuck? He yelled some shit and kicked a tin through a window.......could have been ALOT worse.
It`s the shit that no-one can ever see that fucks with your head, the imagery of *that* day stays with us all, between screaming and kicking petrol tins, he`d tried to headbutt me, I`d moved out of the way and he split his forehead open on the door....him yelling and threatening with blood running down over his face was a crazy look, and it STILL gives me chills.
THAT`S what fucks you up, your own horror movie in your own head.
And the looks in your childrens eyes....the hardness....the pain...the strength.
They shouldn`t have that look in their eyes, they were, as I was at the start, innocents....now we`re all just casualties of our own war.
Our eyes tell our story and our lives reflect our pain.
But we`re tough, we`re strong, we`re warriors.....we can deal with anything if we stick together.
Truth is we`re all co-dependant fuck ups.
But we don`t know what else to do.
I can see the consequences of my choices in my children.
My son will be 18 in a little less than two months.....I should be attending his school graduation, or hearing about his job.....how good his life is.....
What an exciting moment for a parent you know, your baby will be of age...an adult.
I had so many dreams for him....what was he going to be as an adult? He wanted to be a power ranger.
NOW he reports to probation and parole once a week to meet his release conditions after being released for the second time from Juvie....he was expelled from school at 14 for dealing drugs, he`s been locked up twice for domestic violence against his girlfriend....and me. We`ve both had to have restraining orders on him.
He`s now on medication for drug induced schitzophrenia and manic depression...he`s a sedated zombie...and that`s the only way he can function in this world....
What chance did he have? He WAS A BABY.
The guilt associated with that kills me....*I* should have left earlier.....*I* could have ended this story very differently.
I hate that and THAT`S why I need "someone" to say that IT`S OK...... I NEED to know, one way or the other.
Because ultimately *I* did this to me, to my children.....*I* stayed with him, *I* made excuses for him and I loved him...
And now I hate him as much as I hate me some days.
I WANT to move on, I NEED to move on, but HOW do you move on from the guilt? When everytime I look at my son and his girlfriend I see a re inactment of mine and "his" life together?
It won`t ever end and I don`t expect it to....some things just "are", I know that.
There`s never going to be "someone" to validate my pain, I already do...I`m the outcome of that pain.
It`s who I am...it made me.
I cry for the innocence that was murdered and I mourn for the me I could have been, who my kids could have been....WHAT could have been....
Who doesn`t.
I`m no different to anyone else. pain`s pain...everyone knows it, everyone deals with it differently...I`ve dealt with it best I could with the tools I had...
My tools being prescription medication, over the counter painkillers and weed....I abuse all 3 to this day...every day of my life since I left him.
What is it you do if something fucks with you too much? You distance yourself from it yeah? What happens when said thing is your own mind?........Distance...alot of it.
And self mutilation....9 tattooes, 8 body piercings and a pink flat top later.....
I`m still weening from that behaviour, the urge is always there.
At the end of the day, I AM seriously fucked up, but I AM aware and some what in control.
I love my life and I love who I am...I can`t complain at all.
I am Blessed with beautiful, loving children...we have an amazing relationship....I have wonderful supportive friends, who really do love me and I them.....I have a weird family, but they love me too....
I know i`m loved...I have love, laughter faith and hope, every single day....I`m SO Blessed and grateful for that alone you know...
Today I`m a strong woman, I`m a peaceful woman and I`m aware...... I express myself through writing....
So now I`ll don my politest smile, my neatest hair style and my best pants........but you`ll know who I am."
