This is what it’s like to be in my body. I think of all the secrets that I have that I can’t just say because it is not normal things. I think about how I have been treated. I think about how my brain has been so manipulated. I think about how my mind has been so manipulated. I think about the affects that all of the torturing has on me. I think about the fact that if my father did not rape me, if my father did not jump on me, if my father did not play with my boobs and vagina, I would not have been raped by the massage therapist in September of 2016.
I think about if my father did not take me on all the vacations and trips, if my father did not give me whatever I wanted, if my father did not say it would just be me and him and no one will know who we are, I wouldn’t have this love for him and struggle that I am always the crazy one.
I think about if my father did not tell me that he is the only one that will ever always be there for me and expects the same from me, I would have an easier time opening up to people and trusting them consistently.
I think about if my father did not burn my tongue, if my father did not lock me in two separate unfinished basements, if my father did not put me to sleep in a crib, if my father did not beat me until I couldn’t move, if my father did not use a hanger or belt, I would not feel so belittled so easily.
I think about if my father did not laugh while and after laying me down on a busy road and only let go just a little bit before a car came and I barely got up on time, I would not think that I am crazy for needing such strict boundaries.
I think about if my father did not stand over me for close to an hour and I had to decide many minutes during that hour if I should respond to a question or was it rhetorical, does he want me to answer him or not, will this minute be a minute he hits me because I responded or one where he beats me because I didn’t respond. I think about if he would just do that hour and not come back throughout the night and I wouldn’t know when or for what, I would not have had to manipulate him into having sex and I would not have the feelings that it is my fault for having sex.
I think about if I didn’t have to spend most summer nights in my room and wait to see what type of punishment I will get each time he walks by my room, I would be okay being outside and being free. I would understand what the summer is about and be okay with it, without thinking it is nice outside, he wants me inside because other people are outside and will find any reason to punish me.
I think about the amount of times I not only lied to try and keep myself out of trouble but also lied when he asked me if I did something that would get me in trouble, just so I can get over it. I think than maybe I wouldn’t think lying is a quick way out.
I think about if I wasn’t told that I was an animal or fat elephant and have to eat with no clothes on on the cement floor in the basement, I would feel like I deserve to sit and eat at a table not always on the run.
I think about if I didn’t have to wait for my father to come home to learn of the punishment was going to salt water, fire, tying to the bed and being beaten, then maybe I wouldn’t always anticipate the worse.
I think about if my father didn’t have rape me then maybe I wouldn’t have bed wetted. I think about the bed wetting and being punished In a crib and being forced to sleep in wet urinated sheets for a few days at a time. I think about how I had to sleep on top of the blanket many times so my parents wouldn’t know I bedwetted until they found out and I couldn’t sleep with any blanket. I think about how now, maybe I would feel like a cleaner person and worth it to take care of showering if I don’t have all those years of urine on me.
I think about if my father did not put his hand over my mouth and the more I tried to resist the more I couldn’t breathe so I learned to just freeze, I may be able to speak up when I need to and feel like I will die if I do.
I think about if my mother did not tell me I would have a miserable life and I am worthless and will never have success, a little bump in the road won’t be a big deal. I think about if my mother did not tell me she would be better off with me dead, I would not be so suicidal. I think about if my mother did not tell me I had no hope, I would feel hopeful.
I think about if my mother did not make me sit at a table for a few hrs until I finish eating and then go to my room for the night I would be okay actually tasting what food tastes like. I feel like if my mother did not send me to my room to wait for my father to come home if I didn’t finish eating within an hour, I would feel okay being grounded when I am eating.
I think about if my mother did not bang my head against the fire place rock wall, I would feel okay to be grounded by a bonfire and not think about how I have no power. I think about if my mother did not cut me deeply on my hand while slicing onions because I denied eating something from the freezer that I did eat, I would not be so afraid that someone can switch in a minute. I feel like if my mother did not throw me down the stairs and breaking my arm for gaining weight, I would not be afraid of people switching or turning on me because something they don’t like about me. I feel like if I did not have to wake up every Tuesday about 4 hours earlier to trial and change the scale with tape and paper towels under it because I needed to alter my weight, I would not spend hours on pleasing people.
I think about the only things I ever did wrong as a child was bed wet, change test marks or lie about not getting back tests, get under a 95 on a test, or not eat what my mother wanted me too. I think about how I am a failure no matter what because I will never be perfect.
And it goes on from here. I think about if my father did not rape me and play with my vagina maybe I would feel comfortable wearing tighter clothes.
I think about my bus rides home and all the anticipation. I think about Faigy and Leah who died. I think about Baila who committed suicide. I think about all those people I have helped. And I just keep on thinking. This is only a tad of all the pain but enough for people to understand the impact childhood abuse can have on a person.
I think about all the times I slept with my father. I think about how each time that comes into my head, has a different impact. I think about if that wasn’t the case, would I be able to talk more about the specifics. I think about would I not be so afraid that he will kill me if I finds out I gave away all our secrets.
World, I looked like a happy girl. I looked like a successful girl. World, I am a girl that keeps so much inside and needed to just explode.