Life

I just need to vomit out my life story… to feel some pity and pride. I feel as though if I write it down somewhere where no one will know it’s me or not may help.

Born in the 70s, a product of a one night stand (this comes into play later) raised by a single mother for a year until she found my stepfather. I don’t remember much until I was 5. My father liked to drink and my mother liked to bitch. One day my mom was at work and my dad was wasted, they were fighting again. He called me into the kitchen where he was seated on a chair in the middle of the kitchen, he asked me to come to him and sit on his lap… I did. He then told me that no matter how much he loved me he wasn’t my father, I was 5… this is as far back as I can remember. I was told not to tell a soul or it would break my moms heart and he would have to leave us.

I kept his secret, it was now our burden. Around the same time the beatings began, I was spanked, thrown across the room, whipped, choked, Punched and more throughout my entire life. My mother didn’t seem to care and she took part when she deemed necessary, she never tried to stop it.

Eventually my parents became foster parents, offering a safe haven for kids just like me. I figured this would be my way out, that one day they would see my bruises but they never did. In grade 7 I met a wonderful teacher. I had just come back from Christmas break and she had noticed marks on my face, I finally came clean… my mother smacked me across the face on Christmas Day with a cheese grater. I begged her not to tell, that things would get worse. Three nights later two social worker came to my Home, I was terrified. They sat my parents down and told them what I had said. I remember clear as day my moms coffee mug flying across the room with such force it would have went through me if it had connected .. instead it hit the wall and smashed everywhere.

The workers asked my foster sister to pack up her belongings and those of her baby, I ran to grab mine but I was told I was not their priority she was. My foster sister and her baby left and I remained. I ran to the shower and locked the door, not even 5 minutes later I was pulled out naked by my hair and thrown down the stairs and told to leave, I was 13.

later that same week I got my first job, it was great to be gone so often, they didn’t care and I loved it. I worked with grown adults who all thought I was older than I was. They had talked about a rental coming available, I said I wanted it… I moved out two weeks later without a word to anyone. No one called to report me missing, or to check if I had gone to school. Eventually 2 weeks later when I called my mom all she could say was I knew you’d come crawling back… I never did. I had just turned 14, working full time and going to high school… I still didn’t tell anyone, it didn’t matter no one believed me anyways.

To be continued I guess