My story is typical, parents divorced when I was young and I was raised with a younger sister by my mother. My father really did not try but can you blame him? My parents were young. The story continues with a little girl pining for attention and parents were too wrapped up in their own lives and arguing with each other too pay attention to her and her little sister. Heaven forbid the little sister were to commit some violation of parental rules, for then it was the eldest sisters fault. Thus was how my pre teen years unfolded. Now before my tenth year my mother got herself into some trouble with a (rumor has it married) man, 9 months later along came my beautiful littlest sister. So we became a family of four. I loved this sweet little angel but a darkness began to build inside me. A darkness I did not understand or recognize. Sometimes I would get angry and I could not control it. The baby never upset me, despite what my mother claims even to this day, however my other sister was another story. I do not understand the depression, resentment and anger that would swiftly overcome me. The moods would engulf me before I could catch my breath. It was almost as if I was outside my body watching these 'episodes'. I began to hurt myself. Just a little at a time. Falling on purpose, quickly turned into a real accident where I broke my ankle. The pain made me feel real, alive. After that I began cutting. **I have never discussed this outside of a closed therapy setting and somehow this is liberating to sit at my keyboard and type** Sometimes I would go months without hurting myself. Reliving the high feeling of feeling alive. Lying in bed at night, thinking "I bled, I am alive, I am NOT invisible!". Eventually it wouldn't be enough or I would be the subject of my mothers rage. The worst part was (and here I am jumping a bit ahead) my mother tells me I made these memories up. She says I was delusional and I hated her so much that I imagined these events. She would come home and the house would be a mess, she worked all day, we were latch key kids, and if she had a bad day she would take it out on me. It never failed. I would inevitably say or do or not do something that would set her off. She would back hand me or throw a shoe at me. Sometimes even worse she would tell me that I had upset the entire household and that everything was my fault. To this day I do not understand why a mother would do this to her child. I have a child and can not imagine hurting my child in such a way. I digress from my beginnings, back to it. Due to her behavior and my subsequent response, the darkness came more frequent for me. With the frequent depression, came the frequent cutting. The strangest part was that it became normal. It was normal for me to hide a razor blade in my books and CD cases. I would clean the cuts and keep them bandaged and cleaned regularly. Looking back as a thirteen year old girl, how did I hide this from the adults in my life? How did I hide this from my friends? Did anyone suspect? Did anyone care? If they did no one stepped forward, at least until it was too late. When I was fourteen my family moved to another city. My life was changing so fast. My mother had met another new man, she had already married and divorced in my baby sisters short life, it did not end well. Of course I was blamed for that as well. I had discovered boys and it was not a good thing, as I was developing faster physically than I could catch up emotionally. Unfortunately my mother let me spend the night at a family friends house, a family friend who had a son much older than me and allowed the teenagers to drink. I know, I know; recipe for disaster. When I was fourteen I lost my virginity. I was raped twice in one night by two men. Then reminded the next morning it was my fault, I wanted it. This was not a new phrase in my life. Everything was my fault, so why was this different? That day I went home and spent the day in bed. You know not a single person noticed? I thought What if I just disappeared, would anyone notice? The next day was a Monday and man was it a hot one here in the south. My little sisters were off to school and I received the customary "Don't miss your bus! I swear to God child!" and off my family went. I chose not to go to school. Instead I took an old family photo and a beautiful shiny new razor blade and sat on my family's back porch. I must have sat there for hours. The heat and humidity suffocating me. Just staring at the picture of my smiling parents and myself and little sister, Gosh we were little!!!! Somewhere in the neighborhood a dog barked, the sound was so loud I dropped the picture, it shattered on the ground. I started crying and could not stop. I don't know where the tears came from. I was a well of hot, salty tears and they were pouring out of me. Then they simply stopped. Thats when I realized I was still holding the shiny razor blade. Before I registered what I was doing I watched that beautiful blade glide across my ivory flesh and filet the skin. Ruby liquid flowed down, but there was no pain. I could not stop cutting. I must have blacked out because the next thing I knew I was holding the picture and had bloody glass all over me, both of my wrists were simply torn flesh from wrist to elbow and I was light headed. The last thing I remember was closing my eyes hoping that the mess wasn't going to be too bad, maybe my mom would get home and clean up before my little sister got home.
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Well dear readers thank you for taking the time to share my memories. I hope they have not offended you. If they have...stop reading! This is simply meant to be a form of therapy for me and to give hope to anyone out there who feels they are not being heard. If you are alone or feel you have no one to talk to email me. It may take me a little while to get back to you but I will try. This is only the beginning of this journey dearies. After I tell my story I have so much more to say. I want to hear what you have to say....tell me.....what do you hide behind your smile????
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