Friday
To whomever;
I feel kind of pathetic, needing to come here during my 11th period class to type about a day that was just like any other day. I enjoy typing and getting it all out. Why not? I have time on my hands and thoughts to speak, I guess. Ryan doesn't work today so I'll be seeing him earlier than I had planned. I'm not sure what we'll do or where we'll go. I'm hungry again. Damn it. I keep getting so fucking hungry. Again, I feel PATHETIC! My CA meeting went very well.
I opened up, though I hadn't planned on it. We were talking about abusive relationships and the many types and all that and then sharing whether we've been in an abusive relationship and how it made us feel if we had. Everyone had been in one. Everyone had shared their story and I could tell that it was hard for all of them. I thought it would be only fair if I talked about my abusive relationship. Man, it's been nearly seven years and I still get all choked up and teary when I talk about what happened. I need to let it go. Definitely need to let it go but I just can't find the way to. I couldn't make eye contact with any of them while i told my pathetic story. I told it in about a paragraph of words, not getting into too much detail. I have found that it gets easier and easier to say what happened to me. I got all sweaty, and my palms are getting sweaty now just thinking about it.
I guess I hate it so much when someone underestimates me because David always did and I did as well. But I survived. I'm a live today because I am a survivor. A fighter. No one can take away my identity or my love of life. Well, except for me. David. Not many people know about David. I don't usually tell people because they wouldn't be able to look at him the same. David isn't, well, he's changed, he isn't the way he used to be. I still love him, though I am still afriad of him. My wonderful Marine Scout Sniper Brother Dearest. I always looked up to him, trusted him even though I knew that I shouldn't. I'm sorry, Katt, I don't remember if I told you about this or not. It's hard to keep in check in my mind who I've told.
To make the whole long story as short as possible, David almost killed me when I was eleven years old. he was upset about my dad leaving us, and was upset that mom was never home. I was the vessle in which he took out his anger. I don't want to seem like I'm complaining or trying to get attention. It wasn't that big of a deal. it was just a couple years out of my life that were full of pain. Nothing big whatsoever. So, yeah, it wasn't like the world was going to end, but I was eleven and I've always been very pathetically sensitive. David wanted a little brother, Justin wasn't there to be his little brother and so i took his place. At first it was just wrestling, pillow fights with the couch cushions, rubber band wars, which turned into him punching me and hitting me, strangling me and me running behind the safety of the only door with a lock on it after I kicked him in the balls. he would destroy my things, play mind games and all that crap. he would make me feel like a weak piece of shit, torment Theodore with a belt, chase me around the house with the belt when I tried to get Theo away from him. he broke this tiny rabbit figurine my mom gave me back in first grade for being a good student. It was my favorite of the three she gave me. he smashed it into bits. i still remember that day. i don't remember why we were fighting, but I remember that he threw it onto the kitchen floor. It was irrepareable. he would pour my bath salts and bubble bath into the toilet when i wouldn't let him have Theo. The Day that i will never forget we got into a fight over cereal. the fight over cereal led him into a power trip, and after throwing a banana at my head for the second time and letting it splatter on the floor he wanted me to pick it up. Taking back that demand, he told me to eat it. "Eat it or I wish bash your head in with the stick." the stick. I knew what the stick was. It was a piece of wood, a club, really with nine inch nails stick out all over the tip. I thought it was a game, but in the end I blamed myself for what happened. I stayed in place when he went to get the stick and I stayed in place when he swung it at my head. I never expectedhim to actually hit me with it. In a matter of speaking he didn't really. he hit the wall about my head and it rickeched and hit me in the head. Such a stupid, small cut, but it broke me. David didn't run for the ice, or try and help me up frommy low position on the floor. he just stood above me, glaring. Looking at me like I was the grossest piece of fucking shit ever to walk the planet. So stupid. So very stupid. Those days haunt me. Him locking me out of the house, shooting at me while I ran away with his paintball gun, banging on my door with the stick with all his might., banging my head into walls.
I blamed it all on myself. I took the blame for it all. I thought it was my fault. I believed it was my fault and hated myself for it. I didn't know that it was an abusive relationship till I broke down and went into the hospital in my sophomore year. It took that long for me to totally realize that it wasnt' my fault, that I wasn't to blame. How fucking stupid. That one, single day haunts me. But it keeps me strong. it keeps me from being with a guy like Adam Gasper who was forcefull and rough, or a guy like jami eads who was manipulative and a liar, or a guy like Dan bizek who didn't listen to a word I said. it keeps me from taking crap from men, but it also gives me a biased opinion of men, of males in general. I've been getting better but i still treat men differently then I do women. I can't seem to help myself. Women are strong and honest--which is far from the truth--and men are weak and are liars.
I gotta go. Sorry I took so long and wrote about all that shit. it is shit and if I don't let it go someday soon it will rule my life till the day i die. If only I could make the flash backs and fear receed. Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. I have to keep telling myself that because I know that it really wasn't that close of a call. not really, anyway. David moved away the next year. I was finally free of him and able to breathe. Distance makes the heart grow fonder.
I feel kind of pathetic, needing to come here during my 11th period class to type about a day that was just like any other day. I enjoy typing and getting it all out. Why not? I have time on my hands and thoughts to speak, I guess. Ryan doesn't work today so I'll be seeing him earlier than I had planned. I'm not sure what we'll do or where we'll go. I'm hungry again. Damn it. I keep getting so fucking hungry. Again, I feel PATHETIC! My CA meeting went very well.
I opened up, though I hadn't planned on it. We were talking about abusive relationships and the many types and all that and then sharing whether we've been in an abusive relationship and how it made us feel if we had. Everyone had been in one. Everyone had shared their story and I could tell that it was hard for all of them. I thought it would be only fair if I talked about my abusive relationship. Man, it's been nearly seven years and I still get all choked up and teary when I talk about what happened. I need to let it go. Definitely need to let it go but I just can't find the way to. I couldn't make eye contact with any of them while i told my pathetic story. I told it in about a paragraph of words, not getting into too much detail. I have found that it gets easier and easier to say what happened to me. I got all sweaty, and my palms are getting sweaty now just thinking about it.
I guess I hate it so much when someone underestimates me because David always did and I did as well. But I survived. I'm a live today because I am a survivor. A fighter. No one can take away my identity or my love of life. Well, except for me. David. Not many people know about David. I don't usually tell people because they wouldn't be able to look at him the same. David isn't, well, he's changed, he isn't the way he used to be. I still love him, though I am still afriad of him. My wonderful Marine Scout Sniper Brother Dearest. I always looked up to him, trusted him even though I knew that I shouldn't. I'm sorry, Katt, I don't remember if I told you about this or not. It's hard to keep in check in my mind who I've told.
To make the whole long story as short as possible, David almost killed me when I was eleven years old. he was upset about my dad leaving us, and was upset that mom was never home. I was the vessle in which he took out his anger. I don't want to seem like I'm complaining or trying to get attention. It wasn't that big of a deal. it was just a couple years out of my life that were full of pain. Nothing big whatsoever. So, yeah, it wasn't like the world was going to end, but I was eleven and I've always been very pathetically sensitive. David wanted a little brother, Justin wasn't there to be his little brother and so i took his place. At first it was just wrestling, pillow fights with the couch cushions, rubber band wars, which turned into him punching me and hitting me, strangling me and me running behind the safety of the only door with a lock on it after I kicked him in the balls. he would destroy my things, play mind games and all that crap. he would make me feel like a weak piece of shit, torment Theodore with a belt, chase me around the house with the belt when I tried to get Theo away from him. he broke this tiny rabbit figurine my mom gave me back in first grade for being a good student. It was my favorite of the three she gave me. he smashed it into bits. i still remember that day. i don't remember why we were fighting, but I remember that he threw it onto the kitchen floor. It was irrepareable. he would pour my bath salts and bubble bath into the toilet when i wouldn't let him have Theo. The Day that i will never forget we got into a fight over cereal. the fight over cereal led him into a power trip, and after throwing a banana at my head for the second time and letting it splatter on the floor he wanted me to pick it up. Taking back that demand, he told me to eat it. "Eat it or I wish bash your head in with the stick." the stick. I knew what the stick was. It was a piece of wood, a club, really with nine inch nails stick out all over the tip. I thought it was a game, but in the end I blamed myself for what happened. I stayed in place when he went to get the stick and I stayed in place when he swung it at my head. I never expectedhim to actually hit me with it. In a matter of speaking he didn't really. he hit the wall about my head and it rickeched and hit me in the head. Such a stupid, small cut, but it broke me. David didn't run for the ice, or try and help me up frommy low position on the floor. he just stood above me, glaring. Looking at me like I was the grossest piece of fucking shit ever to walk the planet. So stupid. So very stupid. Those days haunt me. Him locking me out of the house, shooting at me while I ran away with his paintball gun, banging on my door with the stick with all his might., banging my head into walls.
I blamed it all on myself. I took the blame for it all. I thought it was my fault. I believed it was my fault and hated myself for it. I didn't know that it was an abusive relationship till I broke down and went into the hospital in my sophomore year. It took that long for me to totally realize that it wasnt' my fault, that I wasn't to blame. How fucking stupid. That one, single day haunts me. But it keeps me strong. it keeps me from being with a guy like Adam Gasper who was forcefull and rough, or a guy like jami eads who was manipulative and a liar, or a guy like Dan bizek who didn't listen to a word I said. it keeps me from taking crap from men, but it also gives me a biased opinion of men, of males in general. I've been getting better but i still treat men differently then I do women. I can't seem to help myself. Women are strong and honest--which is far from the truth--and men are weak and are liars.
I gotta go. Sorry I took so long and wrote about all that shit. it is shit and if I don't let it go someday soon it will rule my life till the day i die. If only I could make the flash backs and fear receed. Doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. I have to keep telling myself that because I know that it really wasn't that close of a call. not really, anyway. David moved away the next year. I was finally free of him and able to breathe. Distance makes the heart grow fonder.