Thursday, September 11, 2014

Don't Smile. Don't Cry. Don't Move.


 I've been called cold hearted. 
I was called a brat. I've been called ungrateful. I was told to go to hell. 

I guess I am cold hearted. Perhaps it comes from being told by my dad as a child to "Go get my friend." His friend was his belt. It didn't take much to set him off. This is a subject Wayne and I discussed and we agreed that this was a huge factor in both of our mental health issues as adults.

"What are you laughing about. Go get my friend."
 "Bend over and hold your ankles."
"You flinched, I'm giving you five more whacks."
"What are you crying for? I'll give you something to cry about."

I was taught to not display any kind of emotion around my father. We walked on egg shells, because we never knew what would set him off.  We tried so hard to please this man, who could never be pleased. Perhaps, because of that, I am cold hearted. Why show emotion? Why let people close? When you are afraid of being beaten down one more time?

Why did all three of my father's daughters marry abusive men?


I have PTSD. Therapists attribute it to the extreme physical, emotional and verbal abuse WE suffered as children. They also feel other life events attributed to it--such as Roxcy dying of SIDS and two abusive marriages.

The day that Sub-Man caught my legs and pulled me down as I ran up the stairs to escape him and then while he lay on top of me holding my wrists and yelling into my face from an inch away, I swore I would never again tolerate any sort of abuse in my life. I swore I would stand up for myself. I would fight back. And I have.

Lately there has been some name calling. Yes, some of it by me. Things were said by all of us that can never be taken back. I'm not sure how I feel about that because a lot of hurtful words were tossed at me and some wounds I thought were healing had the scabs ripped off from them. I have done nothing wrong, but I am told that I killed my brother.




I hurt so much right now.

No comments:

Post a Comment