My Life, in my words. All 100 % True

I was born August 16, 1989. I was born at 7 months; I was in the hospital for month after that. During the time I was in the hospital my Mom married the man that I call my Dad. I love that man with all that I have. He is not my creator but he is my father.

He was there for me when my creator was not. Though I think it was my Mom who left my creator but he still wasn’t there.

I don’t remember much of my childhood. I just remember being incredibly happy. I had a little sister and an older brother. Though my older brother who is only 8 and a half months older than me didn’t live with us, he was still my brother.

My family wasn’t the wealthiest family out there. We didn’t have money but we weren’t poor. Hell even today, we might not have money but we are happy and that is all that matters.

I remember, I think I was around seven at the time my creator came around. He was appointed every other weekend visits and to pay child support. You would suppose I would be happy about that. I was when I was seven but I learned quickly that I shouldn’t have been.

I am just going to come out and say that my creator is a bastard and he shouldn’t even be walking this earth.

I was seven years old the first time he hurt me. He didn’t hit me; he didn’t try to poison me, though sometimes I wished that is what he did to me. No, he sexually abused me. I won’t go in to details but I will tell you that it happened for two years.

Why didn’t I tell anyone? I was scared. He told me that I would get taken away from my family and that I would never see them again. I was scared of that.

See, I also have three other siblings. Timothy, Cindy, and Misty. Though I didn’t hang out with Timothy much when I was younger, I spent a lot of time with Cindy. She was around 17 at the time. I think. I didn’t much hang out with Misty, she had issues. I only came to find out what they were later after she passed away.

I remember every single time he hurt me and it makes me sick to think about it. What he didn’t realize is that he was hurting me physically and mentally. My life will never be the same again. I will always have the hurt and betrayal he bestowed up on me, leaving scars and open wounds.

I was nine years old when I finally told someone what happened. But it wasn’t until I found out that he tried to hurt my aunt, who is only a few years older than me.

I remember sitting behind my house talking to a friend, well sort of, which was considerably older than me. She was almost and adult. I told her that my ‘father’ and I use that term loosely, was hurting me. She asked what I meant and I told her and then told her not to tell anyone. She agreed.

Though I found out later she lied and for that I am thankful. She told the lady she was living with who was a friend of my Moms. Charlie, the lady, told my Mom.

My Mom came to me crying and asked me if it was true, I had already told someone so it wasn’t like I could lie. I told her it was and she literally went crazy. She was crying and threatening to kill him.

My creator is an idiot, or he just didn’t know. He came and tried to pick me up for dinner with him and his mother, my grandmother. My Mom called him out on it and he denied it. Of course he would, he didn’t think I would tell anyone.

She made him leave. I don’t really remember what happened after that. I know that my family, on his side, well the ones that I thought was my family shut me out. They didn’t believe that a church going Christian could do such a thing.

How wrong were they?

My Mom and Dad split up a little while after all of this happened. Though my Dad was still around, my mom’s boyfriend was there too. I didn’t like him, I blamed him for the reason my parents split up. I was wrong.

I was nine years old when my creator was caught after fleeting. I remember it was some time in 99; I was to take the witness stand and testify against my creator. I was scared; I thought that they wouldn’t believe me.

Everything was set, it was the day of court I think and we were getting ready to leave when we got a call. It was the prosecutors telling my Mom that my creator pleaded guilty. He was given 20 years with a chance at parole in ten, I kind of wish he didn’t take the plea and he was sentenced to 40 years, I think that is what his original sentence was going to be. I can’t be sure.

I was in therapy for about a year. Did it help? No, but I did meet other girls who were in the same boat as I was and I realized I wasn’t alone. But I was still scarred and the pain wasn’t going away.

I hid the pain for the most part and ‘graduated’ from therapy. What idiots they were, I didn’t hide the pain that well. I am a crappy actress.

Years went by and the pain was still there. I acted out and lashed out and it got me no where. All it did was cause more pain for both my family and myself.

My Mom and Dad divorced finally when I was 11, that sucked but I knew it would come. My Dad had a heart attack when I was twelve. I was so scared; in my mind my issues weren’t important anymore. The thought of losing my Dad nearly killed me. I can’t imagine not having that man in this world. I love my Dad more than I can ever love any man in this world.

I might have missed a few life changing things, not to me but to my family. My Uncle passed away at 22, leaving his wife and his little girl without their loved one. That was tough. He was one of the most amazing people ever; full of life, love, and soul.

I found out that my Grandma, ‘his’ mother passed away. Though she pushed me away, I still loved her. I later found out that one of my sisters passed away. It’s weird because I wasn’t much hurt, it could have been that I didn’t have that connection with her.

My Mom remarried in 2003, I was still twelve at the time. I didn’t want her to marry him; I still blamed him for my parent’s marriage ending. I ended up being a bridesmaid in her wedding, I didn’t want to be but I did it anyways.

My Dad slowly recovered from his surgery and then it was time to move on, he was still living with us as he recovered. We moved out of the house that we were living in and into the place we live now. The only catch, Greg and my Mom wanted to start as a family. Just them and us three kids.

My Dad ended up moving out of state, back to where he was originally from. That was what got to me most of all. I couldn’t have the one person who meant the world to me with me.

I think around the time of my Dad leaving and my thoughts of my creator coming back is when my suicidal tendencies came into play. My depression worsened. I hid it from my family again, not that they could tell anyways, but I hid it.

The cuts on my wrist slowly healed, they were always hidden. My parents didn’t have a clue as to what was going on. Not even my girlfriend, yes, I said girlfriend, knew what was going on.

I guess I was a better actress than I thought.

Years went by and it wasn’t until I was fifteen that my sister found my suicide note. I was going to kill myself. The pain was eating at me every single day and I didn’t think I could live with it anymore.

I tried to kill myself numerous times, in different ways. Though my Mom doesn’t know that and I know she’s going to end up reading this and going to talk to me about it.

My sister gave the note to my Mom. It took my Mom crying and telling me that that she needed me in this world and that she loved me and couldn’t stand to lose me. I believed her.

Though the thoughts were only at bay. They would resurface again, and quick.

I don’t remember exactly what brought them on but they came back. I didn’t want them but there was nothing that could control the demon inside my head telling me that I was nothing and that was the reason my creator hurt me or that my father left me here.

I remember sitting in the middle of the living room holding a razor blade that I took from the pouch it was in. It was one of those ones that are used in box cutters. I was sitting there; I had music playing throughout the living room.

I was home alone at the time, perfect for what I had planned. Mom was at work, brother was with his friend, little sister still in school, perfect. I remember placing the blade right about the vein that I knew from research would bleed the most when… this is going to sound lame… but I heard words flow through the speakers, “seize the day, or die regretting the time you lost, it’s empty and cold without you here, too many people to ache over.” I dropped the blade and stared in wonderment at the video that was playing on my television.

I listened to the words and I knew what I was doing was stupid and wrong. I thank God every day for that song coming on and for my favorite band in the whole world for saving my life.

I can’t tell you that if that song didn’t come on if I would be here or not cause I really don’t know. The me now would say I would still be here but the me then probably would have told you no.

I was in therapy again, this time school appointed therapy. It helped me cope. I could spill my demons to her and she wouldn’t judge me. I could also talk to my grandfather, may he rest in peace, that man was another savior. No matter what I was going through or what I was feeling he would listen to me.

I miss that man every single day and I hate God for taking him away from me, and my whole family. He didn’t deserve to die so young. He was 46; that was way too young.

I think I was at the end of my senior year in high school when my grandmother told me that one of my family members from ‘his’ side wanted to get in touch with me and that he wanted to talk to me.

I was against it at first but I needed closure, I didn’t want to have the thoughts in the back of my head, I didn’t want to have the nightmares that tormented me. I didn’t want any of it.

So I agreed, I got the address to the prison that he is still in and wrote him. My letter was full of hate. I don’t think I have ever written something with so much hate. I cringed after reading it back to myself. All of my feelings, betrayal, hurt, anger, all of it was in that letter.

He wrote me back. Funny, because all he was doing was telling me he loved me. Ha, you don’t hurt someone the way he did if you love them. He blamed what he was doing on drugs. Claimed that he was on cocaine or something like that. That isn’t an excuse. There is no excuse.

He proceeded to write me, I wrote back sometimes, words still full of hate. I hated him then and I still do. I can’t forgive him for what he did to me. I may now be able to live with it but I can’t forgive him.

He would send me cards and things; he would tell me he loved me. Then he told me that he was dying. Good Riddance, I think. I am not a cruel and heartless person but I don’t have any sympathy for him.

I met my sister again after I turned 18; it was the day after Thanksgiving. Ironically I found her on myspace. It was a spur of the moment; I wonder if kind of thing and I am glad I did. I found out that I had four nieces that I never knew I had.

I love them little girls so much, I don’t see them often as I wish I could but work and school keep my schedule busy.

I think that I went a year without hearing anything from my creator. I wasn’t having nightmares anymore. I wasn’t having thoughts of suicide anymore. I was happy for once in my life but something always disrupts my happiness.

My grandmother told me that I should talk to him again that he didn’t have anyone. Well if he didn’t do what he did then he might have someone in his life. He doesn’t deserve for me or anyone else to talk to him.

But like an idiot I wrote him, simply to let him know I wasn’t dead. He replied back, I expected him to but again with the words, I love you, you’re my daughter. I…blah, blah, blah.

I don’t want to hear that from him. I am still waiting for the truth as to why he hurt me. Forget the drugs; forget him telling me his father did the same thing to him. They don’t matter. He shouldn’t have done it anyways.

I ignored the letter. The nightmares came back. I hated falling asleep whenever, not knowing when they would come back. My family thinks that while I was in the darkness of my room that I was sleeping all the time. How wrong they were, I was awake 90% of the time. Most times I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing his face.

I still remember what he looks like. Ten years won’t change that.

Now to present day.

I have dealt with demons for so long, that most of my family doesn’t even know about. I don’t talk about them.

I can safely say that I helped myself overcome my demons. I don’t have thoughts of suicide anymore. I don’t think I am nothing in this world. I have a family who loves me and I love them.

I still have nightmares sometimes but I have been able to push them away for the most part. I love the life I have now.

It took me years and years to finally over come the darkness that consumed me.

I am happy now and I don’t think anything can change that.

I think the point of me writing this is to let people know they aren’t alone and that no matter what, they can over come whatever is happening to them.

I may not be a firm believe in God but I thank him, I could tell you it was a band who saved me but I am sure that it was someone looking down on me. I don’t know who but who ever it was, I am eternally grateful.

My message to girls or even guys who have gone through any of the things I have is talk to someone. Try to come to terms with what happened to you. Don’t do like I did. Don’t let it eat at you and get to you until it is almost too late.

Live, laugh, love, just be happy while doing it

With that said, I am out, this has been extremely hard for me to write and I hope that it helps someone. If not, then I have a huge weight lifted off my chest.

Until next time,

XOXO Amiee.