So many people have asked me, "why aren't you married?"... And I reply, "why should I be?"
Marriage, seems such a simple word yet so complex and unexplainable it seems. My parents were married once, but that didn't last and I saw it crumble right before my eyes. What made it worse was that one of my fathers mistress was my mothers own blood, her youngest sister! Witnessed it with my own eyes. Seeing my father in his naked glory in her bedroom was the greatest betrayal of them all. I remember that I used to admire her, she was always looking so elegant and she used to visit all the time but soon I realized that all along her visits were never intended to visit US but HIM, her lover!
My father would have been a great father had he wanted to be one but being a great father I guess was also never his intention. At a very young age, he established himself as a successful businessman, had himself a great life and lived the good life, but we never experienced the good life. My parents separated when I was only 7. My mother, my brother, and I lived in a tiny room, where everywhere was a common area, no bedroom, no bathroom, and no kitchen. My brother and I went to school, wearing second hand or hand me down uniforms and where we were called in to the principals office monthly to remind us that we have to pay our tuition fee. My mother was not able to transfer us to a public or free school because this was the only way she can get support from my father even though it was evident that my mother did not have any way to support us.
So, when someone ask me again, why am I not married? This is why, marriage doesn't always mean that two people will stay together, marriage doesn't always mean that you are family. People who wants to be together will stay together and FAMILY- well, married or not, blood or not, people who does not have moral and dignity-family won't matter to them, they will betray you anyway!
I might not be married, I might not have taken the right way, but I have a family with a strong bond that no one can divide. I have a family that truly loves and respect one another. I have EVERYTHING THAT MATTERS TO ME.
Yesterday was the day for sadness, Tomorrow will be the day for new beginnings, new hopes & life of nothing but happiness, but Today is the most important day, for today leads the journey to the Tomorrow that will be full of hopes and happiness. Lets all live for Today!
Here we go again...that feeling...the feeling of being stuck, like I got nowhere to go but in that room with that man.
Another night of no sleep. I feel exhausted. I just want to cry. I am tired of feeling the same thing over and over again, crying over something that happened almost 2 decades ago. I can't shed anymore tears but still I feel like fucking crying! This feeling of being like a fucking "blah"! The same feeling that- "that man"- my own father made me feel while he did all kinds of filthy things to me.
I fucking hate this! but like I always say, this too shall pass... and yes, it shall pass but it always fucking comes back!
My
mother used to cry because she always thought my father was seeing another
woman and that he loved the other woman more. I always wanted to scream
and yell at her, "I am the other woman! I am my father's whore!"
She was too blind to see all that was happening right before her eyes.
Even
after my parents separated, my mother allowed my father to come and visit, and
they would pretend as if they were still married. On some late nights, I
still remember, my father would ask my mother to go pick up food from some late
night restaurant. As soon as she leaves, my father would come in the room
and wake me up, needless to say, I was awake the entire time anyway. He
would tell me that we only have very little time; he would do all ungodly
things to me and clean up just in time for my mother to walk through the door
with his food. He would whisper to me, "good girl, now go back to
sleep". He’ll walk out of the bedroom, my mom would serve him his food,
he'd eat, then they would pretend like they were a happy couple, and he’d act as if he was so happy to see her and
be with her.
I
would cry and pretend that I was asleep all night; I wouldn't sleep though
because I knew that sometime later in the night, when my mom was fast asleep,
he will come back to me and touch me again. He was sick and twisted; he
took every chance he got to do all kinds of things to me. He had no shame and he never felt sorry for
me. Sometimes
I even wonder how I survived all that.
Maybe it was my fighting spirit telling me that I can rise above every
pain he caused me, every shame he brought me, and every vile things he’s done
to me. I am strong and I have survived
for almost 20 years now, and I plan to keep going. There are days that I think I’ll break but I
know I can’t and I won’t, I will stay strong for me, and for my kids.
It's been 19 years since it ended, 27 years
when it first started (as far as I can recall). Every time I think I've moved
past it, the more that I realize that I will never get over it; my childhood
and innocence taken from me. I used to quietly cry every night, covering myself
tight with a blanket, praying hard "please, not tonight". Every
day I went to school, ashamed of my little secret, afraid someone would see
through me and see how dirty I felt inside; so I always tried so hard to be the
best, to not give anyone a reason to look beyond. But deep inside I wanted so
badly for someone to see through me, hoping that somehow, someone will finally
stop the monster that comes in my bed every night. Every day I hated myself for
what was happening, confused and afraid. I knew what my father was doing was
wrong but I also didn't know what was right so I couldn't speak up. Instead, I
submitted and pretended that I was transported in another place every time it
was happening.
When my parents separated, it was the only way we'd get
financial support from my father, by coming over to his house and he'd make me
do all kinds of things to him for hours. After I leave his house, I'd run
across the street to throw up and cry before I run back home. The touching
started when I was 7 or maybe even younger, and I lost my virginity when I was
10, he said I was ready. It was the most awful pain I've ever felt. I cried and
was scared because I couldn't stop the bleeding. I didn't know what to do but he
told me I was a good girl and that I did good, but I didn't feel good, I felt
soiled, dirty, and tainted. I remember my friends telling me about getting
their menstrual period so I wondered if that was how they got their first
period as well but I was too afraid to ask because I was afraid to know the
truth. I remember he told me it was my fault for making him love me that
much. Every night, I had nightmares and when I'd wake up all I wanted to do was
run and hide; shut out the images, block out the voices, close my mind and
imagined that I was in someone else's body and in another life. I blamed
myself, it was my fault, but I couldn't understand how it was my fault? I was
just a child.
I read somewhere that people who inflict pain on others usually
does it because someone has inflicted them greater pain. Could it be true?
Could my father have gone through the same as what he's done to me or worse? If
only he knew what he's done? If only he knew what I've been through. If only he
knew how much hate I have inside because of him. Would he have not done what
he's done, if he only knew? But if it was true that someone might have caused
him more pain, shouldn't he know better than to cause more pain to others?
There are days that I hate my father more than anything, but
there's some days that my hate towards my mother is greater than the hate I
feel towards my father. She turned a blind eye when my father was abusing me.
She went deaf when I finally told her what happened. How could she? I remember
the day I told her, she cried but she never said anything. She didn't try to
comfort me or tried to make me feel safe. Even after days have passed, we never
talked about it nor was it ever mentioned again. She pretended as if it never
happened or I never spoke of it. I still recall the one day when she finally
said something to me; she said "you have to move on". And that was
that.
I have my own family now and every night I still cry myself to
sleep, this time not for myself, but I'm afraid for my daughters. My own mother
couldn't save me then, she was too blind to see what was happening or sometimes
I think she was too afraid to admit what was happening. What if I make the same
mistake? I'm afraid to let my daughters down; I don't want to be a failure. I
want to be able to shield them from the horror I went through as a child. I
don't want them to grow up with the same hate and monster that I had inside me.
How can I live with myself if I let them down?
I thought I survived the monster that used to terrify me as a
child, the monster that sometimes still haunts me in my dreams. But sometimes,
I still feel powerless. I'm still a coward; don't know how to face the monster
that deprived me of my childhood. The monster that caused me great agony, the
monster that caused me to doubt everyone including myself, the monster that
made me thinks that I am worthless. I excelled in life but only to a point that
I believed I could. Something inside me always stopped me at my track and tells
me that I am not good enough. There are demons inside me. I dreamt of killing
the monster, over and over. It always felt good but it was useless for the
shame he brought me would never go away. But the demons inside me want to
be let free. I want to confront the monster and ask him why? Why me, his own
blood and flesh? I was helpless.
It's been 19 years since the sexual abuse ended and I still feel
every pain, I still hear the monster in my head, I'm still scared to close my
eyes and fall asleep only to be woken up by the monster by my bed. I still
tremble when I think of it, my body tense, my jaw clench, and the tears
non-stop. I feel helpless and sick, could barely move at times from this sick
feeling. When will I heal or will I ever heal? I read that forgiveness is the
way to heal. That by forgiving someone doesn't necessarily mean you're
forgetting, it simply means, you are freeing yourself of the burden. But how do
you forgive? If I forgive, will I have to then admit that it happened, the
secret and shame that I kept for so long, the memory that I tried so hard to
forget? How do I admit to something that is beyond my understanding?
My story is not a happy one. My story is sad. My story is true.
My story will cause anger and pain on some. I am not writing to please others
or to create pain or to put blame on anyone. I write to help me heal because I
am in pain; I have been in pain down to my core for as long as I can recall,
because I am angry; I have been angry for as long as I have lived. I am exhausted;
I want to be free of this misery. I thought that by now, forgiveness would have
come easily; instead, forgiveness seems beyond my reach. My sweet childhood memories
have been recently replaced by the nightmares I endured as a child. Each
painful memory flashes back in my head as if they happened just yesterday.
I am tired of pretending that I'm ok. I am broken. I feel that
my soul is beyond repair. I want to forgive. I want to be free. I need help and
I want help but again, where do I begin?
