Becoming Me
Truth Be Told
When I were around 12, I had a dying wish to meet my parents, now that I were old enough to take care of myself. Because surely now they'd want me, I wouldn't be any trouble anymore. I assumed they'd given me up because they couldn't overcome raising a child. But now we could be happy. Time had solved our past problems and everything could be alright. The few issues that may have still been there, we could figure out together. At the very least we could start seeing each other again.
Yeah. I was too freaking naive. Ignorance is bliss, I guess.
All the years I've lived in foster care (14) I've always been told that the only real problems in my family were neglect, my fathers drinking, and that he hit my mother. Now that in itself I guess would make normal people think, “That is enough to remove a child” At least I hope so. But in reality it isn't. I just didn't know that until recently
Some random normal Wednesday I was on my way home from school, when my phone rang. The caller ID said “Marianne” (which is my previous foster mother, though I do consider her my mother) I answered, of course. We hadn't talked in person for a while so she asked me if I wanted to come home so we could have a girls night. We'd never had one before, so I thought it was a little weird, until she continued, saying, “And I were thinking I could tell you the whole story of you and your siblings time from when you were placed in foster care, if you're up to it” Me being my curious self said yes, and two weeks later I was sat on our couch on a normal Friday evening.
I had no idea how to react though when she started the story off with asking, “do you have a boyfriend?” (Me: No) “Are you on the pill?” (that one I still don't understand..Me: No) “Have you ever had sex?” (Me: No) “So you really don't know if you're a virgin?” (Me: I've never had sex so yes I am?) From then on I kind of knew were the story were heading. Turns out I was sexually abused by my father as a little kid.
In some way, I guess I had a hard time connecting the facts with my feelings. Because how am I Donna feel upset about something I couldn't remember? At the time, I felt quite inhuman and insane for not reacting as I was supposed to. I didn't cry, didn't yell, didn't ask questions. I just nodded my head, looking like someone who had accepted her world for what it was.
It didn't really shock me, didn't scare me or make me feel anything. At least that's what I think. Because when I answered, my voice were shaking, my hands were twitching, and I were pinching myself. But still I don't recall any mental reaction at all. I tried my best to sound calm and collected but I guess I wasn't.
The story continued on, about how my older sister were sexually abused too, but when I were born, my fathers focus moved to me, because I was his own, as opposed to my sister whom I only share mother with. And how my other half sister were born healthy, but around the age of five were kidnapped by my grandparents for six months, and when she was found, she was mentally and physically handicapped beyond repair.
Luckily my baby brother were only just born when we were removed so he didn't have to go through anything similar to the rest of us.
On the night in October when we were brought into the orphanage/children's home, my brother was far too little for his age and hadn't developed to the expected stages like other boys his age. My oldest half sister was instantly replaced in a home for handicapped children, while me and my other sister showed severe signs of sexual abuse, but there were no doctors present at that night, so no evidence were ever collected, meaning my father is most likely still molesting little girls today. Sick bastard. Which is also why we were never told about this whole thing from our case worker. For half a year we lived there. Progressing slowly, healing, forgetting. Until changed hit again, and we were all placed into foster care.
Marianne told me that for many years I was marked by the abuse. I couldn't control my body physically when I was yelled at, I would trash and scream “no daddy no” from flashbacks when my dippers were changed, I would undress and crawl all over men when they came into the house, I had anger issues, and I couldn't do much physically. Hell my little brother showed me how to play with toys, not the other way around.
The only point where I actually reacted during our conversation was when Marianne told me that I had tired to choke my brother while we lived in the children home. She said it was a psychological reaction out of jealousy, because he was the “lucky child” that never had to suffer, and that it was a “natural reaction”. But I hated myself for it, the moment she spoke the words. I began crying hysterically, because I already felt like I had failed him, because I left him behind, when I moved foster home. And then suddenly I had tried to kill him? My own brother? I felt like a monster.
A while after the conversation I started to feel the after shock of it all crashing down upon me. I had anxiety attacks, which I hadn't had for months. I couldn't figure out how to tell my foster family, or how to even feel about it. But I desperately wanted to talk. I felt so alone, and pathetic. I didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to be in school. I didn't want to have to pretend that everything was as normal as ever, or that I was still just another teenager on the bus. Because the world acted as if nothing had changed, while my world turned 180 degrees over the course of a one hour conversation.
I felt cheated, betrayed, angry, dirty, disgusting, confused, broken, defeated, disconnected, shameful, abnormal, and like I was seeing the world in a different light. I had a new understanding, but also a new pain to deal with. I felt like calling anyone or everybody, just to let it all out. I was overwhelmed and my desire for self destruction had never been stronger
"Leftover dreams turned into enjoyable screams
did your naïve self really believe
everything could go by their book
and be as easy as it seemed?
Learning that nothing in this world
is ever as beautiful as it may aper
I tripped and fell from the ladder
losing half of my climb
to the monster I thought I had left behind
I turned around, and ran from my past
finding hurtful yet welcome arms
ready to acknowledge the pain behind the mask
The cries for life burning in my eyes
I found myself almost free
from the lies that had been suffocating me
But now it's left me wondering
what's life worth bleeding on their floor?
You really should see me now daddy
for once in my pathetic life I've become
everything someone wanted me to be
broken and defeated by your hand
I'm all that you set out for me to be
Haunted hours
blending thoughts
for once all I really need
is for someone to just let me talk
You've got your target
now aim your weapon
before anyone can see
the disaster that's left of me
I find reality to be
a much to powerful world for me
But in the end I know
dreaming was were I always got hurt
This I wrote two weeks after I was told, when I finally thought I had gained back some control.
I know life is too short to be caught up in the past. I know time heal all wounds. I know that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and I know that life isn't always fair.
But I also know that people can be broken beyond repair, and that fighting doesn't always get you where you want to go. Chasing your dream doesn't always work out the way you wanted it to, and believes are only a hope to cling to in the darkness.
I'm not okay. I feel sick. My head is spinning. My world is crumbling. But the show must go on they say.
Yeah. I was too freaking naive. Ignorance is bliss, I guess.
All the years I've lived in foster care (14) I've always been told that the only real problems in my family were neglect, my fathers drinking, and that he hit my mother. Now that in itself I guess would make normal people think, “That is enough to remove a child” At least I hope so. But in reality it isn't. I just didn't know that until recently
Some random normal Wednesday I was on my way home from school, when my phone rang. The caller ID said “Marianne” (which is my previous foster mother, though I do consider her my mother) I answered, of course. We hadn't talked in person for a while so she asked me if I wanted to come home so we could have a girls night. We'd never had one before, so I thought it was a little weird, until she continued, saying, “And I were thinking I could tell you the whole story of you and your siblings time from when you were placed in foster care, if you're up to it” Me being my curious self said yes, and two weeks later I was sat on our couch on a normal Friday evening.
I had no idea how to react though when she started the story off with asking, “do you have a boyfriend?” (Me: No) “Are you on the pill?” (that one I still don't understand..Me: No) “Have you ever had sex?” (Me: No) “So you really don't know if you're a virgin?” (Me: I've never had sex so yes I am?) From then on I kind of knew were the story were heading. Turns out I was sexually abused by my father as a little kid.
In some way, I guess I had a hard time connecting the facts with my feelings. Because how am I Donna feel upset about something I couldn't remember? At the time, I felt quite inhuman and insane for not reacting as I was supposed to. I didn't cry, didn't yell, didn't ask questions. I just nodded my head, looking like someone who had accepted her world for what it was.
It didn't really shock me, didn't scare me or make me feel anything. At least that's what I think. Because when I answered, my voice were shaking, my hands were twitching, and I were pinching myself. But still I don't recall any mental reaction at all. I tried my best to sound calm and collected but I guess I wasn't.
The story continued on, about how my older sister were sexually abused too, but when I were born, my fathers focus moved to me, because I was his own, as opposed to my sister whom I only share mother with. And how my other half sister were born healthy, but around the age of five were kidnapped by my grandparents for six months, and when she was found, she was mentally and physically handicapped beyond repair.
Luckily my baby brother were only just born when we were removed so he didn't have to go through anything similar to the rest of us.
On the night in October when we were brought into the orphanage/children's home, my brother was far too little for his age and hadn't developed to the expected stages like other boys his age. My oldest half sister was instantly replaced in a home for handicapped children, while me and my other sister showed severe signs of sexual abuse, but there were no doctors present at that night, so no evidence were ever collected, meaning my father is most likely still molesting little girls today. Sick bastard. Which is also why we were never told about this whole thing from our case worker. For half a year we lived there. Progressing slowly, healing, forgetting. Until changed hit again, and we were all placed into foster care.
Marianne told me that for many years I was marked by the abuse. I couldn't control my body physically when I was yelled at, I would trash and scream “no daddy no” from flashbacks when my dippers were changed, I would undress and crawl all over men when they came into the house, I had anger issues, and I couldn't do much physically. Hell my little brother showed me how to play with toys, not the other way around.
The only point where I actually reacted during our conversation was when Marianne told me that I had tired to choke my brother while we lived in the children home. She said it was a psychological reaction out of jealousy, because he was the “lucky child” that never had to suffer, and that it was a “natural reaction”. But I hated myself for it, the moment she spoke the words. I began crying hysterically, because I already felt like I had failed him, because I left him behind, when I moved foster home. And then suddenly I had tried to kill him? My own brother? I felt like a monster.
A while after the conversation I started to feel the after shock of it all crashing down upon me. I had anxiety attacks, which I hadn't had for months. I couldn't figure out how to tell my foster family, or how to even feel about it. But I desperately wanted to talk. I felt so alone, and pathetic. I didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to be in school. I didn't want to have to pretend that everything was as normal as ever, or that I was still just another teenager on the bus. Because the world acted as if nothing had changed, while my world turned 180 degrees over the course of a one hour conversation.
I felt cheated, betrayed, angry, dirty, disgusting, confused, broken, defeated, disconnected, shameful, abnormal, and like I was seeing the world in a different light. I had a new understanding, but also a new pain to deal with. I felt like calling anyone or everybody, just to let it all out. I was overwhelmed and my desire for self destruction had never been stronger
"Leftover dreams turned into enjoyable screams
did your naïve self really believe
everything could go by their book
and be as easy as it seemed?
Learning that nothing in this world
is ever as beautiful as it may aper
I tripped and fell from the ladder
losing half of my climb
to the monster I thought I had left behind
I turned around, and ran from my past
finding hurtful yet welcome arms
ready to acknowledge the pain behind the mask
The cries for life burning in my eyes
I found myself almost free
from the lies that had been suffocating me
But now it's left me wondering
what's life worth bleeding on their floor?
You really should see me now daddy
for once in my pathetic life I've become
everything someone wanted me to be
broken and defeated by your hand
I'm all that you set out for me to be
Haunted hours
blending thoughts
for once all I really need
is for someone to just let me talk
You've got your target
now aim your weapon
before anyone can see
the disaster that's left of me
I find reality to be
a much to powerful world for me
But in the end I know
dreaming was were I always got hurt
This I wrote two weeks after I was told, when I finally thought I had gained back some control.
I know life is too short to be caught up in the past. I know time heal all wounds. I know that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and I know that life isn't always fair.
But I also know that people can be broken beyond repair, and that fighting doesn't always get you where you want to go. Chasing your dream doesn't always work out the way you wanted it to, and believes are only a hope to cling to in the darkness.
I'm not okay. I feel sick. My head is spinning. My world is crumbling. But the show must go on they say.