It Ain't Truth If It Doesn't Hurt

LIttle Me (Part Two)

I remember one day...when I was really little...perhaps in kindergarten...when my Mom told me it was a new year. I remember running to the couch and looking outside...I fully expected to see something brand new and fantastic. This is the first time I remember being disappointed. I can remember the sun hitting the snow so very brightly. And it all looked the same. Absolutely the same as the day before. I still get so sad when I think about that day. I don't know what it is about that day and that experience that makes me want to cry every time I think about it. And now I'm here...in a school that I love. I take Spanish classes. I just finished a week creating my own life size puppet named Flora Florida, and we put on a show for the entire school. I'm in a special violin class, and we call our teachers by their first names. I love school. I wish I could stay in school all day and all night. I wish I could sleep at school. I wish I never had to go home again. Why did Keith have to leave? I hated Kansas City, but I loved Keith. We had just started calling him Dad. Me and Jason. He was a good Dad. He didn't yell or spank us unless we did something wrong. He took us fishing and to the movies. He showed us how his car worked and let us play in Foxy Lady...his special car...every now and then. Even though we fought sometimes with the kids in our neighborhood...they were our friends. I was happy there. Mom and Keith almost never fought. They never woke me up yelling. My Mom was happy there. I was happy there. I remember one time...when we were visiting Daddy in Minnesota. He hurt me really badly and scared me by throwing me in the deep end of the swimming pool so that I would learn how to swim. When I cried he told me that I couldn't swim anymore for the rest of the summer. I called my Mom the night before to tell her how he hit me with the belt and it made my arm bleed, and how he spanked me because he called me outside and I didn't hear him. And when I got out of the pool that day. I saw her car. She and Keith drove all the way from Kansas City to get us. I was so happy. We got to go home early. And on the way home. They told us that they got married. I was so happy. Keith was the best. He never made my Mom cry.

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I'm supposed to try and figure out what it is that my "inner child" is asking for every day this week (good lord I hate the whole cliche about the inner child...but hell...what do I know). And today...he's scared...and he wants to be loved...held...and hugged...a lot. I don't think there was much hugging and holding taking place at that time in my life. Man...it's a mind blower to think of how something that happened so long ago can continue to impact your life. Particularly a time period in your life that you have done your damndest to forget. I always wondered why I never blocked the memories out. You always see the adults on Montell crying because all of a sudden all these blocked memories pop up out of nowhere...but for the previous 20 years they'd lived in ignorant bliss...my brain just refused to cooperate on that score.

Little Me (Part One)....

(Please note...my therapist has required that I have a daily conversation with my inner 10 year old...so I'm going to do it via blog....I am going to write these blog entries...which will be grouped under the heading Little Me...as if I were that 10 to 12 year old...I might have a break down).

I am scared today. Really scared. I can hear Mom crying on the other side of the door. I can hear him choking her. It's dark in the hallway. And I don't know what to do. He's hurting her, and I can't move. I'm just sitting here and its dark. My little brother is asleep. I don't want him to wake up. I don't want him to hear this. I'm afraid that he's going to kill her. I'm afraid she's going to die. And I'm too little to do anything. I hate him. I hate him and the drugs he takes. I hate his pills. I hate that he won't let us play Nintendo. I hate that he hurts my Mom. I wish he would never have come back from the hospital. I wish he would go back to the hospital. I pray every night for God to make me a vampire. I promised him I would only hurt the bad people. I would hurt Dale. I would kill him for what he's doing to my Mom. He's stopped, and I can hear her crying. I'm going to kill everyone that's ever made her cry. Everyone that's ever hurt her. She thinks that we don't hear. She thinks that we don't know. But we know. I know. I always know. And I'm so angry. I'm angry with her for bringing them. I'm angry at them for hurting her. I'm angry at him for hurting her. I'm angry at him for hurting me. I hate him. And there's nothing I can do about it. I hate me because I can't stop him. All I can do is sit here in cry. Go back to my room and pretend I'm asleep. Until he leaves. Until I can see if she's ok. Until she can pretend that he didn't mean it...until she can get up the courage to take us away. Or leave us again...leave us with Daddy...and he's worse than Dale...he's the worst of all. He's the one I would kill first. If God would make me a vampire.  But I'm too little. And I can't do anything about any of it. So I'll pretend everything's ok. That my Daddy will come and take me away. He'll fly in on a jet with the rest of the airforce and drop bombs on all those people that make me cry that hurt my Mom that hurt my little brother. He's going to come and take me away to Japan and live with him and my little sisters.  He's going to come. I know he is. Some day. Some day. I never know when he's going to come. He calls and then I fly to see him. I never tell him about how they treat my Mom. I never tell him because I'm so happy when I'm there. I don't tell him because I'm too scared. I'm not supposed to know. No one is supposed to know. No one is supposed to see. They never know. They never know. He's left now. And I'm going to go and see Mom. She's crying still. I can see the marks on her neck. She pretends like nothing is wrong. She hugs me. And all I want to do is kill him. But I can't I'm too little. All I can do is cry.