It Ain’t All Roses

***I need to give a warning before this post for those with sensitive eyes, who get offended easily, or have a bad taste for cursing. It’d be best for you to navigate away now from this post. I contemplated keeping this post private, but then I realized that for those of you, like me, who’ve endured abuse before (all kinds- emotional, physical), we are moving on and healing together. Sometimes, you feel guilty because you “shouldn’t” voice your hurt, keep your words to yourself, and live in silent desperation. But standing idly by would do nothing for me or for you, my readers. This post is mostly for me, if anything, to move through emotions that I’ve regurgitated lately. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to heal, and a lot of days, I’d love to give up. Thank God for people like Michael and my best girlfriends who keep me standing everyday and remind me that giving in to old behaviors (ones that I lived out for 15 years), allows me to claim that what my family and I dealt with for so long was okay. And it most definitely wasn’t. For those still with me, buckle in and hold on. I can’t promise that I can organize my thoughts into a clever, concise post that others I’ve written before, but please be patient with me. I need to ride this out…

Too many days, I spent in my bedroom, just PRAYING that you’d stop yelling at Mom or Marc about the smallest of things. You weren’t satisfied until you had everyone in fucking tears, apologizing profusely. Some days, I wish you would’ve just hit us instead. Do you realize that all of your criticism over those years still rings in my head from time to time? Most of the time, I let it rule my workout and I can conquer you and how you treated us, how you made me feel. Too many days spent, walking on eggshells. You were impossible to be around, and I couldn’t pretend to be happy or to be the Daddy’s Little Angel that you wanted me to be. I could never be her. I will never be her, either. That’s my choice. I realize that you carry so much hurt from feeling abandoned when you were little and growing up in a strict home, being sent away, but did it ever come to you that you didn’t need to pass it on? Suddenly with your new business and new business partner, whom you brought into our family life, I lost my Dad. You chose your business over your family for years. Money became everything and the years that we spent with no income, with every meal from cans and boxes that Mom thankfully saved for destruction in the future. Thank God she planned ahead, right? Mom would put herself between you and Marc when one of your frequent episodes would go down, bearing most of the burden. She lost her spouse. She lost everything she had. You put her in a place to choose between standing with her husband and protecting her young. Her heart was for us kids. I stood in the shadows, silently dying inside when the yelling would begin again. You play the victim so damn well and would go any means to make the rest of us feel like WE had caused all the problems in the family. I couldn’t help but hate you and sadly, I still do. I carried a shattered heart with me everyday to school and would put a smile on to fit in with my peers. Food became my drug all those years. I was trying so hold to control SOMETHING in my life and food was it. It started with an extra portion here and there, hiding food, and when I was old enough, binging and replacing what I’d eaten. I learned from a very young age HOW cruel men can be and with all of your abuse, I took that hurt into my old marriage and every single relationship growing up. I learned to just keep my fucking mouth shut because then, perhaps, the yelling and destruction might stop. You were always right about everything and couldn’t handle anyone standing up to you. I think the thing that hurts the most is how much you broke Mom. Within months, she had lost 50 pounds. She didn’t eat normally and any spare moment, she was out of the house, walking around the neighborhood. You didn’t even notice, though, did you? She was in the worst place imaginable- between her marriage and her kids. She would cover for Marc and I most of the time and her emotional scars are proof of that. There is SO much that you don’t know about any of us. We’ve had to lie about everything through the years just to keep some semblance of peace in the home. I remember many of those days growing up, being that little girl in my bedroom, crying and wanting to die. You know what a wuss I am when it comes to any physical pain so I know I couldn’t truly go through with it, but the want is still there from time to time. Dad, I’m finally with someone who raises me up. He knows about everything you did- I am finally with someone that I can be broken to. I didn’t even have that in my old marriage- at least not completely. Do you know how many people on the outside think you’re such a great person? I can’t count how many times I’ve heard, “Oh, you’re so lucky. Your Dad is such a great man- so generous, so funny, what a hard worker.” Whenever someone would compliment you, I felt like I was dying a little more inside because I had to feign a smile, a small laugh, and try to agree with them. I would give up EVERYTHING- the nice house, the vacation home, the cars, everything fancy growing up when your business finally started to succeed IF I could have a real Dad. If I could’ve had you at my piano recitals, ballet, soccer games, and choir concerts. When you started to travel every week with your job, Mom filled in for the things you should’ve done, should’ve been around for. We all breathed a sigh of relief when you’d have to fly out state again for business. “Life” could continue for a while and I could pretend that I had a piece of normalcy. Everyone on the outside, they didn’t get to see the REAL you, the one who didn’t lead the family, but watched over every single thing and freaked about the smallest things. Recently, I’ve been waking up with nightmares that you’re in the middle of one of your worst screaming sprees and I can’t run to Mom or Marc in time before you crush them to pieces. I can’t save them or myself. I run my hardest but I can’t move forward- I’m stuck in my dark little corner, alone, and can’t move and can’t speak. Sometimes, Mom will bring up the past to you and your reaction is remarkable to me- you won’t even confront it. You deny it ever fucking happened. Can you REALLY not remember the hell we endured? It wouldn’t clear it all away, but I’m dying to hear you say that you’re sorry. Just say you’re fucking sorry already!

This week, I’m starting therapy with a counselor and while I’m nervous to face these emotions and pain in front of another person, I know I can’t go on any longer as I am. I can’t remember what it feels like to feel alive inside. Michael has stood by, wanting to hear everything, talk me through this, and be my constant source of support. I’m finally with someone who cares enough to get into my head. He is my rock. He is my everything. He’s everything a guy could hope to be, something I never knew existed.

You’ve turned me into a fighter and I won’t let the past get the best of me anymore. I will face this. I am not to blame for any of it. I will not cope with food. I will not keep my head down.


3 thoughts on “It Ain’t All Roses

  1. What a beautifully written and emotional post… I definitely know where you are coming from but it was vice versa… my dad doing anything for the kids, and my mom doing everything to destroy any happiness… and food was how I coped… Therapy is awesome! But I loved the strength to your words… you are a fighter! =D and that’s awesome!

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