Warning: This post contains different aspects of my life. Which isn’t all pretty. I’m using this as a way to vent . . . a way for my truths to be told. I made this very personal journal public because I want others who have been in these type of situations to know that they are not alone. If anyone ever needs help or wants to talk please comment or shoot me a message.
Also I want you to know that I do talk to a therapist. It’s okay to want help and/or need it. All names of people have been changed or I have used nicknames to protect myself and my family, other than that everything else in these post are true. This journal is my chance to rip off the band-aids and try to sew the cut skin back together.
There are mentions of abuse and sexual molestation, if not comfortable with these topic please don’t read. Thank you.
First please let me introduce myself. My family calls me Luna even though that’s not my given name. I am an overweight (obese) child in a semi grown body ( I’ll be 20 at the end of October). I can be cold hearted, down right hateful and cruel, but in the same respect I find myself also being to loving, forgiving and unable to let go.
I guess I should start at the beginning right? This journal is going to be my way of letting things out. My truths to be told so to speak. The entries or posts I make will be on my life, how it began, what’s going on now and hopefully a future I can look forward too.
So here goes.
I was born to woman who grew up in the sticks that got pregnant too young and was trying to be the best mother she could be to six kids. She met my father when my elder siblings were young and in the middle of a move. He was helping his cousin move a friend of his and so my parents met. They fell in love. To this day he says it’s because of her attitude, her unrelenting gift of never giving up, her strength. ( He doesn’t say it like this, but it still means the same. Dad simply puts it as because she’s a bitch.)
My sister and I were conceived before any thoughts of marriage popped up, but back then my grandparents (on my fathers side) were a lot more “Christian” then they are now. I mean don’t get me wrong they still believe in God, but they don’t have the cross stuck their ass anymore, it’s been pulled out and their feet are now touching the ground. Way more down to earth. Anyways way back then, they demanded my parents get married because Star and I were born out of wedlock. Their were a couple times growing up we were called bastards. (Great memories huh?)
So Mom and Dad got married in a little trailer park somewhere in the middle of the mitten. I still have glimpses from time to time, even remember walking into the fancy bathroom, turning toward one of my big sisters and asking about the gold and white tub.
Both Mom and Dad said they were happy for a while, but mom said she eventually fell out of love with my dad. But to be honest I can understand that. Six kids at home, mom working double shifts, little sleep, dad barely working and him trying to snort, smoke or drink all the money kind of puts a new prospective on the situation. I could understand falling out of love with him, especially if he became someone you didn’t marry.
Not to long after that mom told dad she wanted a divorce, needed to get something’s taken care of, asked if he’d take Star and I for a while until then. My dad was a different person back then, what he told us after he packed all of our things and flew up north was no where along the same lines she told him.
He told us she didn’t want us anymore. I can’t remember how old I was, but I was still at the stage where catching fish and playing dress up was shiny. Eventually when she came up to my grandparents house, Star and I were shocked. We had just gotten done going fishing down at the dock and was bringing them up to show my grandmother when she pulled into the drive. I ran to her.
Growing up I was a bit of a daddy’s girl, but I think somewhere along the lines I knew my mom was my rock. I ran to her and held onto her for dear life and cried. She told my dad that she found a house and was ready to take us home. He wanted to keep us and so the custody battles and child support feuds started.
Bet I can tell you something that you would be shocked at. Even through all the bullshit some how today my parents can speak to each other civilly.
After Mom took us with her one of my elder sisters moved up north. It was suppose to be to her dad’s home, but his wife didn’t want her living there, so she went to live with my father. Can you guess where this is going? Still to this day, they swear nothing happened when she was minor.
I found out when I was around seven or eight. My mother had given all of her children the choice weather or not we wanted to live with our fathers and I being the daddy’s girl decided why not? It’s something I regret to this day. Mom signed temporary custody over to dad and I moved into his home with himself and my half sister.
I think at first it was nice, staying up late, watching movies I shouldn’t have watched, eating junk, getting to play out past dark, blah blah blah. Normal kid stuff. But then I found out dad wanted to have the tittle of being a dad with only giving half the effort. He would rather party at the time then make sure food was in the house.
It got to the point our neighbors were feeding me, clothing me and calling my mother. Of course everything was my fault though. I went through a lot of hardships living with my father and after. One winter he had guest over smoking inside the house and I had to wait outside, because it wasn’t a child’s place to be in grown folks business. That day I got my ass busted for running off at the mouth because I couldn’t take the cold any longer waiting outside.
Being warned that what’s said or done inside the house stays in the house and always being told ” I brought you into this world I can take you out of it” made things clear that I keep my mouth shut. And I did. Not once did I ask for food when my stomach growled or hurt. I didn’t complain when I had to learn to sleep with a hat over my head and my arms pressed against my ears afraid a cockroach would enter them.
I kept quite when I was smacked, spanked (wet cloth, hand, stick, paddle, belt) or was screamed at. When Child Protective Services (CPS) came I was scared and at school. At the time, the bus that I was suppose to ride never showed up, so I walked to school though a field. One morning one of the staff saw I didn’t have any socks on and caught me in a lie about how my dad dropped me off. The snow was up to my calves and my wet hair was frozen.
Couple days later my teacher got a phone call and said I was leaving for the day. I smiled and nodded, thinking that dad got me out of school early, wouldn’t be the first time. It wasn’t my dad. CPS came and got me and took me to their office. They put warmer clothes on me and asked me a few questions that I tried to stray away from. As were walking out the door to go to a group home, my mom called. She tore them up one side and down the other. Explained the situation at my fathers was temporary and he didn’t have custody of me.
Mom had to go through hell, but I got to go home that night to her, with only the clothes on my back. I thought that everything was behind me. That I could start new, but it was only the calm before the storm.
I started living with my mom, but going to see my dad on the weekends. That lasted about a year I think. I’m not sure. After I was taken he let a young man move in. During my stays the man would ask me if I liked him. He paid attention to me, helped me with things, talked to me.
I was just at the age of starting to like boys, of thinking that they didn’t have coodies. That morning I had woke up and was trying to be quite, not to wake him. (He slept on the couch.) I turned on the TV to watch cartoons when he smiled at me. We chit chatted and watched Scooby doo help Batman catch a villain.
He asked me if I liked him. I told him yea and he asked me how did I like him. So I started naming why I liked him. He played with me, he talked to me, kept me out of trouble, helped me with my homework. No he said, do you like the way I look? I nodded, not knowing really any better at the time and not longer after we were in my bedroom with my pants off and him going down on the child me. That son of bitch didn’t get the chance to ”Rape” me, but he broke my hymned.
My mother noticed I started acting different. She got a phone call and then sat down with me and asked if he had ever touched me. At first I denied it. He was my friend. But my big brother Chewy talked to me and I admitted what he did.
Things got out of hand fast and quick. When I told Chewy that he hurt me down below, he thought of it as him having intercourse, conventional rape, but it wasn’t. I had to go get tested by a doctor to see if my hymn was intact and see a child therapist, so they could see weather ort not I knew the difference between a lie and a truth. I did. I explained to them, like I explained to Chewy what happened.
I wasn’t the only girl he touched. The man was charged and eventually had to take a lie detector test, somehow he passed mine. To this day I wonder what questions were asked. My case was dropped and my father and several other people looked at me land called me a liar.
It got the point that went I went over to my father’s house he would beat me until I would say I was lying about what that man did to me. Then he would charge my mom saying I told him that the young man never touched me. Do you know what it’s like to be afraid constantly?
When the man’s brother Bill came over my father wanted him to bring over that monster so I could apologize to him. He wanted me to apologize to the man who hurt me. My own father.
I should have given up then, but I have my mother’s heart. For a while I pushed and pushed not to go over to his house. It was completely uncomfortable and I didn’t feel safe from my father or the monsters he had lurking around.
Things moved on though little by little. I didn’t see the man for quite some time, probley because my older brother and a few of the male members of my family beat the shit out of him for what he did.
One weekend Star and I were at dads house when we had a friend over. Jay lived two houses down and it was kinda late. He was younger than me, so I asked my dad if I could walk him home. Dad said yea, but when I got back I instantly knew my mistake. He was beyond high and drunk, his concoction had him over the edge.
I walked into the house and was slammed up against the door, his hands wrapped around my throat. He screamed in my face, his spit flying across it. Trying to tell him he said I could go didn’t help, only made him tighten his hands before throwing me on to the couch. I couldn’t move my neck for days.
When Star and I went home to my moms I told her my neck hurt, but not why. I ended up on the couch in tears because of the pain with an ice pack. Not once did I say why. My mom blew up and asked what happened, how did it happened. I told her I didn’t know and begged Star not to say anything, but she told mom.
Mom took me to the hospital after another day of still not being able to move. He broke all the tendon’s in my neck and I had to go to physical therapy afterwards. My mother was pissed and pressed chargers against him for abuse and everything else that came out after Star’s flood gates opened. We went to court and my dad lost visitation and the judge sent out a P.P.O out against him.
Star and I didn’t speak to our father for five years. In those five years I lost a brother that was a little older then me, (John), lost a grandmother, a dog that we’ve had since before I was born and my mother’s fiancé. I had to grow up fast.
When we did start talking to my dad again it was slow, over the phone, which led back into visitations. Those first years were hell. He told us how we betrayed him, that we needed to apologize and how bad we hurt him for sending him to jail. Even had the audacity to say we were never abused.
Again we should have just stayed away, but he’s our father.
We stuck around and found out him and that half sister of mine got married. She was expecting and I was going to be an older sister for the first time. If I’m completely honest if it wasn’t for that baby girl, my relationship with both my father and half sister/step-mother probley wouldn’t have happened. She was the glue that brought the family back together.
Going to end here tonight. I’ll write again soon.