Sobreviviré

I was thinking about writing about a wedding I recently intended but instead I got talking to some suicidal people today and decided to remind myself what I've overcome.

It means I can never associate my real name with this blog as there's certain sections of my life I would rather die than let others know about. But then, anonymity is what my brothers are all about, amirite? ;]

Perhaps this will also motivate me to achieve more, I've had it easy for too long.

I'll skim over my childhood, it wasn't as shitty as others.

Highlights reel; never knew my father until I was 8. My mother left him when I was 2 due to him coming up to me in a towel and saying "Suck daddy's dick because mummy doesn't wanna."

I often saw my mother trying to commit suicide because she hated her life. My stepfather constantly cheated on her and she'd had a very mentally and emotionally abusive childhood. She could never show affection to me, I can recount on one hands the number of times I have been hugged by her and most of them I hugged her first.

It's the shittiest feeling in the world when you're young to go up and wrap your arms around your mother only to have her ignore you completely or tell you to go away.

It fucked me up a bit emotionally until my teens and I finally acknowledged she was never going to love me.

My mother also tried to kill me and my sisters at least once.

Not actively but through neglect and abandonment. She left both my little sisters beside a river one time and drove off because she was fighting with my stepfather.

I've been left alone in a house, told I was a bad girl and didn't deserve food or to go with her on a vacation.

Luckily after crying my eyes out for a minute, I was logical and phoned a friend and told her mother what had happened and they picked me up and looked after me for a while.

To this day I still don't know what I did to be a "bad girl".

I was removed from my mothers care and placed with my nanna and grandfather for a few years.

These were okay. They were both alcoholics and of course this occasionally created problems but nothing too bad.

I think this is when my irrational fear of the dark began. My nanna liked to lock me in a dark room for no reason and not let me have a single source of light..

Eventually my mother won me back and things were okay for a few years. Not great but honestly, a lot of people go through a lot worse. I couldn't complain.

When I was 15 things were starting to go crazy and this is the start of all the trouble started.

My stepfather had left my mother again for another woman and my mother was spinning out of control.

When my grandfather died of cancer, I used this as an excuse to move in with my nanna "temporarily" to get away from the violence and screaming and fights.

Of course this meant I lost the car I had bought when I was 14 that my mother borrowed because I was too young to drive. I also lost all my clothes when she realised I wasn't coming home.

Unfortunately something had snapped in my nanna. She was fine for the first few months but then started to make weird comments, implying she wanted me to take my grandfathers place. Just stuff like wearing his bathrobe and sitting in his chair so she could pretend he was still alive.

She also got really paranoid about losing me. Often checking on me mulitple times in the night while I was sleeping and not letting me out of the house alone.

I remember one night I was getting a drink in the kitchen when she checked on me and started screaming the house down in a panic. She told me never to do that again.

Her drinking really started getting out of control around this time. She refused to admit she was an alcoholic, always had an excuse. But I remember one time she got really defensive and bitch me out for checking the time when she grabbed her first wine of the day. 

I will admit she was right, I had checked the time because it seemed earlier than usual for her to start. It was 2pm and from that day on only got earlier when she started.

She would then drink until she passed out on the couch.

I didn't mind her when she began drinking for the day or when she was getting close to being passed out. When she first started she was merry and when she was almost done, she was silent. It was a period of time between these two that I hated; when she was in the "mean eyes" stage I had to learn to recognise from childhood.

During this time she would belittle me; calling me ugly and stupid and worthless. That I had no friends, that everyone hated me and that I would never amount to anything.

I tried my hardest to ignore her, to just keep quiet. Only a few more years to go until I was 18 and could be free, I would recite to myself. A trick from childhood, counting down the years until I was 18.

She would goad me more and more bitterly as I ignored her, finally beginning to rage and shout at me until I caved. I quickly learnt that fighting back or denying her words would only prolong the torment. Sometimes into the next day while she was sober.

Eventually I just agreed with her when she started on her rants about my uselessness.

She enjoyed that, she liked me degrading myself.

I soon learnt how to agree with the perfect tone of submissive voice and calm demeanour, while secretly and silently screaming my fury and anger, trying to keep my mind apart. If the tone was the slightest bit off, sarcastic or angry sounding then a fight could rage on for 3 days about how evil and ungrateful I was.

I also learnt precisely how long I could ignore her before she started getting angry.

Its funny how your smiling lips can be mouthing one thing serenely while your mind is busy plotting, raging and crying to itself.

Funnier how that thing can be listing all the ways you don't deserve to live.

I suppose I could've done more, I could've tried to talk to her and kept her happy. I could've been a better granddaughter.

I feel a little regret but mostly I accept that I was probably too young to deal with it in the best possible way.

Things eventually came to a head over something stupid.

Like I said, she was getting more paranoid about losing me and didn't like me going outside alone. The one time of day I had to myself was the hour long walk home. I really enjoyed it, walking nice and slow in the sun and just letting my head air out.

I did occasionally contemplate getting on a bus and riding it until my money ran out. I mainly didn't because I wasn't sure how to set up an adult life and because I only had a few months until I graduated anyway. I had been very tempted to drop out a few times anyway and just run. I'm glad now that I didn't.

The final fight began over my nanna picking me up from school. At first it was just once a week and I didn't mind, I even said thank you and acted grateful even though I knew it was that much sooner to home and I wouldn't be allowed out again for the day.

But then she began picking me up two or three times a week and I started to get angry. I tried to politely tell her a few times I liked walking home and she should relax at home or go out with friends and not worry about me but she ignored what I said.

I know it seems irrational but I felt like I was being robbed of my only alone time when I could relax.

Also; since it was just a few months before I finished school my nanna had begun talking of her plan to move back to England after I graduated and how she intended for me to come with her to take care of her. I had no choice in the matter as far as she was concerned and I was beginning to panic. I wondered if I could ever get free, it sounded like she wanted me to be her semi slave until she died.

I had confessed all this to a good friend who lived in another town. His advice had been to have a good cry and everything would seem better and I would be able to deal with things better. He reasoned since I rarely cry and value control then I probably had pent up emotion.

Unfortunately I took his advice and cried as silently as I could one night while in bed.

The next day I didn't feel any better, just sore eyes and disjointed feeling throughout the day. It was hard to concentrate and my emotions skipped wildly about.

I think this is why when my Nanna picked me up and I tried to tell her I could walk, my tone came out all wrong. She immediately leaped upon this and started asking why I was so evil and ungrateful.

I started crying and couldn't stop. She noticed and demanded to know why I was crying. I couldn't tell her and she became furious. She threatened me and said I would end up like my mother. 

A grave insult from her.

I tried to ignore her but she kept going on and on and following me around when we arrived home.

Eventually in my room I snapped.

And snapped spectacularly.

Although I am short and dark, I am descended from Saxon Berserkers. I have seen my mother lift a car partially off the ground in a fit of temper and my grandfather was always a fearsome sight when in a rage. I would go and hide for hours under bed or in a closet when he snapped.

I was full of energy that was hard to control and shaking. I kept pacing back and forth around my tiny room and demanding to be let outside, to go down to the shops for an hour by myself.

My Nanna refused and tried to talk me out of it. She had switched to pleading and trying to reason with me. Offering me whatever I wanted to just stay in the house.

All I remember is shaking my head and repeating "let me out" over and over.

On one pace past my wardrobe I lashed out with what I felt was a small kick. The heavy thing which was bigger than me, crashed onto its side.

I think that's when fear set in and she realised she had pushed me too far to control this time.

She screamed at me to pick it up before grabbing my keys and going and locking the front door.

I righted the wardrobe easily and paced a bit.

Then I could hear her dialing someone and listened in from behind my door.

She was phoning the police and requesting an ambulance, saying I had a history of mental problems like my mother and had unprovoked attacked her violently.

I remembered how one she had managed to get my mother committed to a psych ward for a month.

I thought "fuck that" and grabbed my ipod, wallet and phone. Acting on instinct I walked calmly out of my room and past hers where she was on the phone.

I went to the front door, not really thinking. A quick jerk to make sure it was truly locked and a glance around to see the keys weren't nearby.

I could hear her asking the police to wait for a moment.

A flash of insight said she probably hadn't thought to lock the back doors all day. I walked as fast as I could to them and found to my relief I was right.

Unfortunately we had a tall fence around the yard and the gate was always locked. Panicking I tried something that probably shouldn't have worked.

The place where the fence met the house wall had a small window sill maybe a metre away from the fence. I ran there and hopped up on the sill. I then jumped diagonally as hard I could at the fence and managed to scramble over with a few cuts and bruises.

I was free, but not for long I figured.

I knew she would try to come after me in the car. Unfortunately there were only two ways to get to town and both of them ended up on the main road eventually.

One way took longer to get there but had the advantage of walking through bush and not being able to be followed easily in a car and the other ended up on the main road almost immediately but I could make better time.

I took the short way and hoped I could get into town before she came after me.

I made it of course. Cried the whole way, freaking out and trying to get hold of someone, anyone with my mobile.

Eventually I got hold of my stepfather and he and his new girlfriend took me in for a while.

And this is where I end part one.

I really wanted to make this just one post and end it strongly with a reminder that I've worked so hard and coped with so much, so why let a little laziness defeat me but.... its 2am and I'm tired.

I'll finish and pump myself up tomorrow.