Have you ever thought back to when you were younger and wished you could re-live your glory days? I totally don't. I was such a mess back then that it was detrimental for someone's mental health to care about me.
This isn't really something I've blogged about but I think I'm ready to do it now... I guess. My family was very fucked up and it was fucked up because of my father. He's a douche. When I was growing up it seemed like he thrived on torturing his kids either physically or mentally. I'm not here to talk about my siblings because what they went through are their own stories to tell but I will share some of my experiences here.
I was maybe six and I saw that my mom put water in her shampoo and when I asked why she did that she responded by telling me that it was to get the last bit of soap out of the bottle so it wasn't wasted. Cool trick, I thought, so I decided to try it out on a bottle of Plax (kid Listerine). Well my sister saw me and thought it was hilarious so she went and told dad about it. Now this is all Jacky knew of this story for a long time because I don't think she really knew what was going on at the time with dad and myself (how could she? She was eight.) so she never really understood why I never wanted to talk about this story which is, by all means, kinda cute and a little bit funny.
What she didn't know was that my dad had taken to beating up on me for random stupid things. Not spanking, though he did do that and when I talk about abuse I do not include spankings. He would slap me around or hit me with the wrong end of the belt. So she ran and told him and I was fucking terrified because I knew what would happen regardless of whether or not I was in the wrong with putting water in the Plax and so I hid... Or... Tried to hide. It didn't work out well since I was pretty well petrified so he found me and beat the shit out of me.
I have many stories just like this that have made me who I am today but I also have some stories that have earned the word "torture" by one of my cousins.
So something broke in me when I was young. Some things are mending, some things will never heal but I wasn't able to understand that, when the abuse finally ended, my life would still be ruled by pain until I was finally in a position to get help. And since that was the case I ended up really hurting several people that I love(d). A lot of close friends that I had when I was about 20 took the brunt of my pain and because of that, most will never forgive me.
So long story short, it's not the abuse that makes me hesitant to relive the past but it is my own brutal attacks on my friendships. I am so sorry that I couldn't get help for myself.. That I probably wouldn't have accepted help at the time and therefore made other people suffer for it.
I wish I could kick that Me's ass.
