Brace yourselves, this is gonna be a long one.
I don’t know I just don’t wanna be sad anymore. I want to smile and laugh without thinking someone bad will happen after. I don’t know what happiness is, I don’t know how to define it except that it’s pleasant and rare for me. I’ve always been jealous of people that are completely happy with their families. Those people who have had a pleasant childhood, those who grew up full of love, kisses, and hugs. I’m drowning in jealousy. I grew up with beating, shouting, and death threats to the point that I thought it was normal for parents to do that. I mean sure, the beatings but it should’ve been minimal and just for discipline. I felt like a punching bag. I wasn’t given a chance to be delicate, I had to be strong or I’ll break. Too late though, I’m already shattered on the inside. Ah also I never managed to be strong, I’m still helpless. All I could do was put up a front like everything is fine and normal when it’s really not. Maybe I’m just weak. If I were someone else then maybe I’d be happier and safer. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like dying. Maybe I wouldn’t be hurting like this if I had it in me to be what they wanted me to be but what can I do? I’m a failure. That’s all I am. Trash. Heavy baggage. Another mouth to feed. Why do I even exist when I’m so unimportant? I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be anymore, how I should be acting. I don’t know who I am and it sucks. At school I hate introductions, I hate being asked to tell something about myself, strengths and weaknesses because I don’t know or maybe I’m so ashamed of how I am that I can’t even find the right words to describe me except failure. But for appearances sake, we all know you can’t say that in school. Well if not then just me then. I remember getting beat for saying a bad quality in our family at school when I was asked so I learned the hard way to keep appearances and act like I have the best loving family ever. I already lost count on how I wish it were true.
Narcissists. I’d rather be a narcissist than the self hating degrading bastard that I am now. At least they’re full of self love. Y’know, people come and go but all you’ll have and will really stay is yourself. That’s my problem. I can’t stand myself either. I find compliments hard to believe all because I grew up hearing that I was ugly, that if they can’t stand me then no one else will, that no one will love me because of how I am. It’s hard for me to accept compliments, hard to believe how much some people treasure me because of all this. All I know that is true are these degrading statements because that’s what I grew up with. My confidence is low, so is my self-esteem. I can’t even speak up when I need to. I hate attention because every time they notice me I only get hurt, part of why I also hate how people pay attention to you when you’re in front of the class. Their stares hurt. I can hear them judge me even though it’s probably all in my head because that’s all I’ve ever known. Living life, judged every day for what I do and what I am. I can’t keep eye contact at all. Pretty sure it started when she threatened to gauge my eyes out when I did eye contact while she was scolding me before. Must’ve hated the look in my eyes. What can I say? Even if I keep my mouth shut my eyes speak for themselves apparently. Every time I say I don’t hate my parents, that I don’t hold anything against them, it’s like I say it to make myself believe that that’s a case but really, I hate them. I really do. I hate how they make me feel, I hate how miserable they make me. I have more traumatic memories with them than happy ones. Most of all I hate myself for hating them when I should be grateful like every other spawns out there. I’m ungrateful, yes but this is who I am. I just can’t appreciate abusers with the pain they’ve dealt. I hate my birthday too because not even bad things can be avoided on that supposed to be special day. Even on that day that Im supposed to love, they never fail to make me feel bad for existing.
I still have memories from when I was 3 and a half but that’s probably from trauma. My dad went to work overseas when I was younger so I got stuck with my mom and my first memory of dad was when I was 4. He’s a stranger to me. So yeah I was 3 and a half and me and my mom were living in an apartment. My Aunt’s house is just across the street, like legit in front of the apartment. I was kicked out of the apartment, screamed at and I got hit with a hanger on my legs. Reason: She was having trouble feeding me. Kids never make it easy. She told me to get out and never come back. So I was outside our door and it had another gate before going out the streets. I was too small to reach the bar that opens the gate but I really wanted out and go to my Aunt’s house. I kept on screaming her name because I thought she’d come get me like she used to. I know she could hear me but she didn’t come out. Even though I was outside, crying, she didn’t even come out to see me. I felt betrayed. That was the first time I felt so helpless. Y’know what she said to me when mom’s anger dissipated and took me back in? “Just try to understand her, she’s just stressed and she was disciplining you.” Back then yeah, I tried. I understood it was just us without Dad but really I asked her again why after 10 years and she told me she wanted to come get me but she’d get on my Mom’s bad side. I don’t get it. They’re trying so hard to understand her but they never tried putting themselves in my shoes. I truly believed I got kicked out. I was a kid. I trusted her so much cause she told me she loved and would take care of me but she never came. She didn’t even try to understand me not even one bit. Of course I just laughed it off but deep inside I couldn’t trust her anymore. That’s also because she said I could confide in her and I did when I was around 8-9 yrs old. She promised she wouldn’t tell my Mom but she did. She told mom everything. Bam, I got beat and I was scolded for saying how I feel, for letting out. After that I stopped. I kept it all in.
When I was 4, studying was hell. She’d hit me hard with a ruler if I read and spell something wrong. Sometimes it would get so bad that I’d hide under my little table and I’d tremble. I’d stay there as long as she’s angry. I also got scolded cause of my stage fright. I had a performance at school on stage. I recited the poem perfectly but I couldn’t do the actions cause I was too nervous. When we got home she ranted about why couldn’t I be like the other kids and such. Got a beating with a belt and verbal rants. At that time we were living with my grandparents. I loved my grandparents they’d stop my mom from going too far when it comes to hitting me. I felt safe in their arms. But that’s doesn’t really stop her at all. I was slow when it came to eating. She’d get mad cause I take long. Dinner time, I was eating while she watched over me. There was a pitcher of water and she poured it all on me because I was taking long. Breakfast, before school I was taking long so she dunked my face in the porridge. Lunch, she locked me in the bathroom while they went to go watch TV because I couldn’t finish my food, she put too much. I hated that place it was dark, cold, and scary. I hated the dark. While I suffered there I could hear them laughing along to some show while I was there locked up, crying to myself. I lost my love for my aunts and uncles too because they always turned a blind eye to my suffering. They didn’t even let me out after an hour. Again, the one that let me out was my grandma. When I didn’t take an afternoon nap with my cousins, they got off the hook while I had to stay behind getting hit with a hanger.
When I was 5, we moved out of my grandparent’s house but they still came to visit me and I’d cry every time I leave. I don’t know if it’s jealousy but she’d scold me for wanting to be with them more. Can’t blame them, they actually treat me better. My dad came home from Saudi, took some time off for about a month and stayed with us. Took some time getting used to, he was like a stranger to me except I did know he was my dad but he’s never around. It’s different. He obviously tried to make up for some of the time, walking me to school, spending time with me, I was warming up to him. The distance was still there though but this one incident made me think that maybe he was different from mom. Maybe he’d care for me. It was when my Mom was so mad she grabbed a knife and was about to lunge towards me and my Dad stopped her. I was a kid. It was scary but most of all, to me my dad became my hero. He was there to protect me. After that I started wishing he was around more and such, whenever mom would hit me with a hanger, belt, a wooden plank, go take your pick. But I guess time changes a person. After a few months my mom went to Dubai to work so I was left with my grandparents.
When I was 6, Dad moved to Dubai with Mom and they told me they’d pick me up after a year so we could all live and be together again. I wasn’t happy at all, I wanted to stay with my grandparents. I actually felt loved me their household and as much as my grandma would like to keep me, she told me to give my parents a chance. I didn’t really have a choice, they’d get me whether I liked it or not. It made me so sick whenever they call me saying they miss me in that sweet voice. It’s such a change of character. I started counting down a year. I cried mostly everyday when I had 3 more months left with my grandma. I tried to think positively that I’ll be fine because my Dad would be there. I tried so hard.
When I was 7 they took me. They were nice to me for a few months but after that it was back to normal, getting verbally, emotionally, and physically abused. That’s when I stared disliking my Dad. Just like my Aunt he betrayed me as well. He doesn’t do anything to help, he doesn’t even bother to look while my mother hits me, he doesn’t say anything to calm her down when she yells at me, In fact he adds remarks that makes it worst. It was 2 against 1 always. The hero I thought I would have wasn’t there. I’d get black and blue bruises here and there like it was normal and it continued till I was 9. The only time he stopped to help me again was when mom grabbed me by my uniform’s collar and threw me to the side and I hit the back of my head on the sharp corner of the table. He looked worried. I was happy. I thought that maybe just maybe he’d be on my side more now but no it was just that time. That’s when I learned not to expect. More bruises passed, big to small and mom did it freely, no one’s stopping her after all. Each year that passes he starts fading into a nobody to me. Just somebody I call Dad but had never been a correct father figure in my miserable life. They both bored me to death, they took away the TV and Internet for a year when I got home from school at 12 noon while they came home 8-10 pm. They took away the happiness of a kid when it came to cartoons. They just love to make me miserable.
When I was 8, half of the time I’d get bruises from what Mom threw towards me. I had a pet fish. Huge aquarium. Broke because Mom was being cranky In the morning and though throwing a wireless mouse towards me would help speed me up as I went and got clothes. I’m not stupid, I dodged but her aim was really off anyway and my aquarium broke, my fish died 3 days later.
When I was 9 and a half, my Dad had to go to singapore for work so it’s just me and mom In Dubai again. She got even more stressed and I became a punching bag. I experience getting punched and slapped in the face. Along with hangers, a belt and wooden stick for the body. One time, she grabbed my arm and kept hitting one place with her slipped till I got a huge black and blue bruise because I accidentally dropped my kiwi and she thought I was throwing food away. My mom’s cousins are shitty as well. They saw it happen, they saw the bruise and it only ended with them ignoring it and siding with mom. There’s nobody for me. Nobody not even the grandma that I loved so much. Before she used to support me as I cried in the phone, then mom started calling her, telling her versions of her story then after that my grandma would only tell me to be good and try to understand my mom. Again and again and again. I lost her too. I have nobody. My mom would Lock me up in the balcony for hours, saying its so she won’t hurt me much but isn’t it the same? She’s chilling in the room, air conditioned, watching TV or whatever while I was outside the balcony, locked out, it was hot. I had my hamster as my company. He heard my cries but he can’t really do shit. His presence was comforting though. Even if my Dad was around I doubt I’d get out sooner. It wasn’t the first time. He was there when it first happen, yes he let me out but that’s because Mom told him to. I hate how passive he is. Mom’s sidekick.
When I was 10 my Dad moved and worked in the Philippines as well as me to continue school there. Mom moved to Qatar at this time. I was with my grandma again but it’s just not the same anymore. I was free, yes. I could go places with my bike, almost got ran over by a car but yeah my grandma didn’t care as much. In their eyes I was a good kid but deep inside I’m probably this shitty troublemaker as mom would describe it. My dad was in another city so he would visit me at the weekends. My mom would call occasionally with her sweet voice and all saying she misses me, I say it back but I don’t mean it. No matter where I go my life is hell and it’s cause of them. I didn’t miss them at all. I don’t even enjoy my stay at my grandma’s anymore as well, I had to deal with it. I don’t have anywhere else to go to. I was getting bullied at school, they got me a tutor cause I was having trouble with some subject oh if only I knew they were gonna hold that against me in the future, calling me stupid then maybe I shouldn’t have accepted. A few months later, mom took a month off and we rented a house for a month. Things never change. They told me they wish I was never born. That they wish I wasn’t their daughter and if they had a choice they’d throw me away. That I should just die. For me that was the most painful one yet. Sure, wounds heal and scars remain but what about my aching heart? I think it actually shattered. Hearing your parents finally say they never wanted you, where does that put me? I cried that night but that was the last time I cried when they were around because after telling me how much they didn’t want me, she told me she enjoyed my suffering. Seeing me cry made her happy she said, seeing me bawl must’ve been pure bliss. I told myself I’d never give you that kind of satisfaction again. So after that I would hold everything in as much as I can and If I break, I’d lock myself somewhere and let the tears fall but it doesn’t help because I can’t even cry the way I want to cry. They’ll hear me sniffle, my nice and such. It was killing me but even though I was already bawling on the inside, I only shed my tears silently with my mouth covered, breathing ragged just so I don’t give them the satisfaction of hearing my miserable cries. Even I have trouble remembering when I let it all out. I don’t have a safe place, I don’t trust anybody anymore. I tried and I tried but they all betrayed me. I learned to keep my mouth shut and keep it all to myself.
When I was 11, mom took me and my dad was left in the Philippines. Started school in Qatar and mom and Dad would Skype daily. Still the same, she’d pull my hair, hit my head hard with her hand or with the sharp end of the comb just like when I was 7. Yep still the same. She even ruined my birthday by getting mad again, geez. We shared a bed and sometimes her and dad would discuss everything they don’t like about me, everything that’s wrong in their eyes like I wasn’t in the room. I tried my best to muffle my cries under the covers. Weakness. I cursed my tear glands, I wanted them to be dry forever but that’s not how it works. I forced myself to sleep that night just so I won’t have to listen to them bad mouth me. She’d kick me out of the room sometimes so I was forced to sleep on the sofa in the living room with no blankets or anything. She woke me up once by pouring cold water on me.
When I was 12 she threw all my clothes on the floor from the cabinet asking me to redo it and split my laptop into two, again her and her potty mouth.
When I was 13 we went back to Dubai, still me and Mom and my other Auntie joined us. I trusted her too at that time and again, betrayed, told Mom what I told her when she promised she would tell and she bad mouthed me telling shit stories to my granny. That was the last time I talked anything personal with my Aunts. Just like mom and dad, they both talked about everything They don’t like about me like I wasn’t I’m the room. Insensitive pricks. I was watching anime, I let some tears spill and pretended it was because of what I’m watching.
When I was 14 Dad was back with us. Sigh. As always he’s passive.
When I was 15 mom poured a filled trashcan on my bed and threw a chair in my direction. It hit. Another one came and I blocked it with my hand. I think my hand healed In a weird way since I can’t fully stretch out my left hand. She threatened to Cut my hair. Pulled on it, even. I ran out of the apartment. I’ve had enough. I had nowhere to go so I just hid on the staircase and after heard of holding it in I let it out. I was alone, it was dark but they’re not around. I was able to free what I was holding in at least some of it. Dad found me, he saw what Mom did, not just on that day but all these years and as always he told me to try and understand her. What did he think I was doing all these years? It’s not fair! Mom has anger issues, we both know if and when I suggested a therapist session he got mad at me saying I was implying mom was crazy. Well she might as well be. It’s not fair. He gets mad for mom but never for me. Again I realized. He’s my dad but at the same time he’s just a nobody. He acts like it. I went back and mom just acts like nothing happened. Like always. Acting like she never hurt anyone, like she didn’t do shit and it pisses me off because it leaves me no room for my say on the matter cause it’s over. She started and ended it all one sidedly. I went home to the Philippines and enjoyed my freedom but even with the distance, being on Skype whatever the distance was like hell. The leash around my neck was tighter than ever. I wanted to die.
When I was 16 they took me back, we didn’t have money for the next enrollment and I started taking care of my brother for the meantime. It lessened but the verbal abuse got worse. She started having a hobby of kicking hard when she’s pissed.
Now I’m 17. She tried to lock me out the balcony when it was super hot out. She threatened to push me out so I can die. She threatened to stab me in my sleep. Those were all words but it was enough to get me to lose sleep at night. I got my first panic attack, I heard voices telling me I should die. It was scary, I never wanted to feel that way ever again. She punched me in the face multiple times and I punched her back once in the arm and she starts crying like she’s a victim. The nerve. She kicked me hard when she gets pissed in the morning, one time was bad I was limping for a week and she had the nerve to forget and ask why I’m limping. I only got one apology in my life for my injuries and that was when she threw me and I hit my head. The physical thing lessened but the verbal part worsened. I’m here writing this now cause they didn’t agree with me and she threw a glass my way and it hit the part under my collar bone and I wish it hit my head hard enough to kill me.
I’ve felt so much pain that I don’t ever want to inflict it on myself which is why I don’t cut but that doesn’t mean I never tried. I did but I’d chicken out, I don’t wanna hurt myself. If I had the guts I’d have given myself a favor by jumping off the balcony and believe me, for a few months I was very tempted.
Then I met Joey. I have fun whenever I’m with him. I can’t explain why he makes me happy. I don’t have the words for it, I just feel it. That’s how I role. Sure, I get upset when it’s time for goodbyes but that’s it, he never fails to make me smile and laugh the next day as well. He might find it weird, always asking me why but unlike the others, it’s genuine. I’m laughing cause I’m happy, I’m smiling cause I’m happy, I’m happy because he told me he cares about me, that he’s happy that he met me. I’m happy that he’s spending his time with someone like me, making me feel emotions that I’ve never felt before, making me feel important, needed and valuable. Telling me I’m special when I grew up feeling worthless all my life. He’s not fake and awkward with me. Most of all, what makes me the happiest that I can act as myself with him and he doesn’t seem to hate me for it. I feel vulnerable, naked even but it’s fine because he said he wouldn’t judge me or make fun of me and I believe him. It’s him that makes me happy. There’s so much I don’t know but I’m thrilled to have him with me. It hasn’t been long but he brought out some sides that I didn’t know I had in me.
I feel a lot better now letting this out. Joey’s right it’s in the past. I’ll slowly let it go but not now. While I’m under their wing my wounds are kept fresh. Just a bit more patience and I’ll be out of here and I’ll be able to tell my story without tearing up at the first sentence. That’s my goal.
If it weren’t for this I wouldn’t be the way I am which good and bad in its own way but because of this I vowed a long time ago that I’d never want to make someone sad, upset and lonely. That I’d be there for someone of they need me because I know how it feels like to be alone. Nobody deserves that. That’s why some people tend to kill themselves because nobody cared enough to notice or act when they obviously needed someone. I can’t be there for everybody, I know but if you need me I promise I’ll be there with you. Nobody deserved to be alone, not even someone as happy as you.
GOD, I AM SUCH A DRAMA QUEEN!!!