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rosedust

Fixed knees

So I have not been here in several weeks and I can feel the need to vent so I make no promises as to how sane I will sound but I have no where else to turn.

    Mhmm well I guess I start with the 24th of last month, my mom had surgery on both knees. It was a quick out patient surgery, I knew she would need help with recovery so trying to be a good daughter of course I said I would be there to help her through it all. So for the past several weeks I have been driving the 30 min to her house to be there before she gets up and then staying until 11 o'clock at night, only to pack up my young child and drive the half an hour back home to hopefully get some sleep. I'm sooooo tired! But even more then the physical exhaustion my mind feels like its on a roller coaster and I can't get off. I sit here and get all wound up over things that have happened in the past and can't be changed. Like why am I taking care of her? I know to some that may sound cruel, she's my mother she gave me life and here I am complaining about making sure she gets through recovery. And yet I can't help but feel like once again I'm just the doormat that everyone uses. She never took care of me, she never made me comfortable or made sure I had everything I needed. She'd just always brush me off and tell me to get away because I might get her sick. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

     The past two days I haven't gone to help her. She's up on her own now anyways but the real reason is because I started to get this feeling in the pit of my stomach. The one right before I do something I know I'm going to regret. I had built up the courage to tell my mom some of the things I was feeling and before I could really say anything she did what she always does and started crying. And somehow the blame always comes back to me, somehow it's always my fault. So like usual I wanted a drink and I had one but instead of just having the one and letting that be that I got my phone and was about to get a fix. I have been drug free for 4 years, but 3 weeks with my mom and I was about to throw it all away. I'd be lying if I said I feel better and I haven't thought about doing it since, but truth is I've thought about how much better I would feel even if it was for a moment, to just let go and forget for an hour. 

    But instead here I am telling you all my truth for tonight. So please send me good vibes as I keep fighting this war with myself.

rosedust

Word vomit

You know that feeling you get right before you vomit, you can feel it coming but you try your hardest to hold it back because you know how uncomfortable it is. Down deep you know you'll feel better once you've got it all out, but it's instinct to fight it. That's how my childhood was, but if i didn't fight it and I let it all out, I could really hurt people.I never asked anyone to help me, I never told anyone, because that would be weakness or so I was told.Our family had a ton of secrets but there were even more in our household, and I always felt like the secret keeper. Now looking back I know he let me in on all the secrets because he was testing me, to see how much I could retain without ever telling a soul. I was a raised manipulator and I was good at it. It was like being in a play but I had to play multiple roles. Before I knew it I had a new role for each person I interacted with. And it didn't take very long for me to just go into each role without thinking. But I messed up, I told someone one, someone who actually cared, someone who said " if you don't tell an adult, I will, you don't deserve to live like that". To this day I don't know if I actually thought they'd tell or if I finally had the strength to tell because someone finally said it wasn't right.But either way I knew I had to tell someone outside of my family. The month before I confided in this person and they said I needed to tell someone, I had told my mother but she did nothing. I know she knew for years what was going on but I felt the need to finally say it out loud and as bluntly as possible. I was standing in the kitchen by the front door shirt torn, my face still bloody and now bruised and swollen. Just waiting for her to come home from a long night shift. When she walked through the door she wasn't even shocked at my appearance. When she had left the night before she knew what would happen, he was mad and was leaving for out of town work again, she knew what was going to happen and yet she left me there, but not before saying "don't fight with him, just do as your told". After she set her bag down I said "your husband is raping me", she took a deep breath and asked as if nothing was wrong "why haven't you cleaned yourself up yet?". I said it again because she must've not heard me, but then she grabbed me by the shoulders and said "stop, stop lying". She didn't let me go to school for a week because people would ask to many questions, she spent that entire week asking me why did I have to make him so mad. That following weekend when he came home they talked and he admitted he was abusing me both sexually and physically. Her answer to this was to get our pastors involved, because what could help more then the church. I was so optimistic, I loved God and I thought this is what I've been waiting for, they'll  fix my dad and we'll finally be an okay family, we can get past this. But little did I Know that I still wasn't free. They suggested that when he was home I shouldn't be present unless my mom was home, and since she worked night shift I should just go stay with friends. And that worked for about a week, but then he threatened to hurt my brothers, to hurt them like he hurt me. He knew I'd do anything to protect them so when he 'accidentally' forgot to drop me off at my friends house the following weekend and told my mom that I was fine staying home she just went with it. And just like that I was right back where I started two weeks prior. I spent the next week and half telling my mom we needed to leave and that he was hurting me again, but she just said that I was holding a grudge and that I needed to forgive him and move on. And so the following Monday I told my friend, and the boy I had been talking to. He told me I had to tell someone else or he would. And not four days later my dad was late picking me up for softball practice, so I went home with coach. We were sitting at her kitchen table when she asked "what's wrong, you seem like somethings on your mind" and just like that I let my guard down, I word vomited all over her. She was just trying to be nice and I changed her life forever. My words broke her heart and she was horrified, but she never questioned if I was telling the truth, and just like my own super hero she promised he'd never touch me again. I had finally found my voice, there was no turning back, and little did I know that saying it out loud to someone who could help wasn't the hardest part

rosedust

breaking the silence

When I finally said the words "someones hurting me and I can't stop it" , that moment I thought I had broke my silence. For a good five minutes I thought I  was free, it was all over someone was going to save me. But no, that was not the case.Why you may ask, well the villain in my story was my father and all my life I was groomed to protect him. So I made the person I told promise not to tell. And they kept my promise because we were 14 and they were also hurt by a family member so they knew how it felt to confide in someone. I had yet to learn this but I needed to save myself. I needed to stop praying that someone would come and save me. That someone was going to just come deal with everything that was to come. So yes I broke my silence, but only with a whisper, now I needed to find my real voice.

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