The failing to cope

I believe that everyone has a right to be heard. I also believe that no one should have to keep quiet for fear of making someone else mad. Fact is this: If you did nothing wrong, there would not be a need to make someone stay quiet.

There was a constant need for me to keep quiet, and mostly, it was so the world would not know what was happening behind our family doors. I didnt really appreciate my own voice until I was long grown and on my own. I believed for so long, I was just going to be considered a liar, and when I tried to reach out, I was held back by that string of fear. I just kept to myself, and stuck to the outside walls in my own heart. I would close my eyes, and sit all alone anywhere I could, just to sing. I sang all the time. Everywhere. Music really was my only friend. It never hurt me, it never failed me, it seemed to always cheer me up.

After Tony was arrested, my mother relocated my brothers and I to Pennsylvania. I later found out she was court ordered to seek counseling for me, my assumption was to prevent me opening my mouth about the physical abuse. During the years of the direct sexual abuse, I found myself unable to be alone with ANY males. Teachers, friends of my brothers, relatives, etc. I could not do it. I requested female teachers, and never developed normal crushes until I was about 17. Even if I found myself attracted to a boy, I would never be alone with them. I was just terrified of the thought of just being in the same room with a man, let alone any other contact. I was the lonliest shell of a girl I could have ever been. I had no friends, and was picked on by even my own brothers. Until I was 15, I was severely depressed, and during my freshmen year in high school, attempted to kill myself on mulitple occasions. Looking back, my attempts would have never gotten me anymore then just mildly ill, however, feeling that low and alone, and no one seemed to notice? I mean for fuck sake I was failing out of all my classes? I was getting beat for failing but no one wondered why? You see, there was another predator in that home, someone whom even after saw first hand what I went through day after day, took it upon themself to add insult to injury, and push the envelope further with the abuse. The sexual abuse he bestowed upon me was so graphic, I can not bring myself to endure the details of it. However, I did not tell a soul about the years this person took from me, until I met one girl. She, I beleived in my heart, would be my best friend forever. I was wrong. After confiding in her ALL the abuse I had gone through, she was my rock. Until she married the abuser years later, denying ever knowing anything, and actually going out of her way to mock me regarding it.
The only humor I find in that chapter of my life, is that the abuser in this case, was actually the one who came forward to admit the details of what he had done to me. When confronted by my mother, I actually denied it until she put her arms around me and told me he had come to her to admit his guilt. That was the first time I felt like my mother saw me. The abuse was never reported, and I was asked to not ever talk about it again. When I turned 19, I broke that word, and did talk about it. I thought I was doing the right thing by warning a mother of a 6 year old girl. I admitted what had happened to me, and wanted to make sure it did not happen again. All hell broke loose, and one night I was standing in the kitchen surrounded by a group of “family and friends” screaming at me calling me a liar, when all of a sudden my mother comes barreling into the kitchen towards me, and pushes me up against the sink, as a shield, and began screaming back that it was all true. That the abuser themself came forward NOT ME. No one said a word, they just disappeared. My mother turned to me crying and hugged me for the longest time. End of relationship with the final abuser. To this day, no relationship, and I am ok with that.

You see, I never was allowed to talk about it. I was never allowed to heal. I was forced to act like life was normal, and nothing had ever happened. Maybe out of embarrisment, maybe out of fear, or maybe because abuse seemed to be such a part of this family that no one knew how to deal with it. This fear did continue with me. I was always afraid of my capabilty. I was afraid of men. I believed I was a trouble maker and incapable of love. I somehow believed that maybe I just made it all up in my head and none of it really happened. If that was true, why was I so afraid of everyone? The effect of not healing caused so many wornd paths in my early adulthood.

When I turned 19, I wanted a new start, and moved to Tombstone Arizona. The invisible quality I seemed to hold, no longer exsisted here. You see, EVERYONE noticed me. The worst part, I liked being noticed. I was a woman now. I still had yet to have a real relationship with a man, but I was becoming increasingly aware of my attractiveness. I was still very shy, but my body was changing and I was starting to look at men differently. I never trusted them, but wanted to explore that area. Enter first real problem with never coping.

April of 2000, I met a military boy. I fell very hard, very fast. As did he. We were inseperable. For the first time in my life, I knew what an “appropriate” male/female relationship was. I fell in love with him. I wanted him to be my first. We talked about it, and planned it out for my 20th birthday. The day before we were going to…you know….he called me. This was the call that set me over the edge. He was a robot. He was cold. He told me he didnt like me, and never did. He stated he just wanted to get into my pants, then told me to leave him alone. I instantly went into a severe depression. I, who was a good girl, began drinking, and partying with people I didnt know. I lost my virgnity in a trailer, with a guy I met that day, completely drunk. After that I couldnt stop. I never knew how to say “no”. I slept with a dozen men within a few months. I began hating myself even more. I didnt even want to sleep with them, but didnt know how to stop. One day, I met a man, whom I really liked. We went out, and for the first time I called it a night, and left. That moment was empowering. A baby step. I was learning how to establish trust…with myself.

After that night, I changed my whole self again. I stopped putting myself in the postitions that led me to having to say no. I began seeking more serious men, looking for substance. Enter issue two.

The men I found myself attracted to were older. Not just a little, several years (me-20 them-40ish). Shortly after I turned 20, I met my 2nd fiance. The first one didnt count as it was not a relationship so much as two kids who passed each other in the hall in school. Anyway, the man I found, was too good to be true.
Long story short, he entered my life, asked my father for my hand in marriage, met all my friends and family, fooled everyone into believing he was my someone…..just to admit to me the a month before our wedding(after convincing me to move back in with my parents while planning the wedding, and designing our future home) that he was not only already married, but had two children and couldnt have anymore. He went on to ask if I would continue our relationship. I was very calm, and asked him to take me home. After in which, I told him to lose my information. My trust issues were just NOT getting any better.

Enter issue three: Going against my intuition. Up until I turned 23, I ignored my intuition, believing the bad men were good and the good men were bad. I kept finding myself, no matter how hard I tried, attracted to men that were unattainable to me. That sabatoged me. That tried to control me. I finally, at age 23, sought out professional help. You see, by this time, I had been married, divorced, lossed 3 babies, beaten my the now ex husband, cheated on, and now, in jail for a crime I didnt commit, but was aware of. I was deseperate for help.

I found more then I hoped for…..