damik's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Historical

Well its time to get historical.

I'm not sure what I should say about myself. My parents split up when I was knee high to a grasshopper. I can't remember when exactly but I was about three or four years old. Most of my childhood I seem to have blocked out, but one of my most vivid moments was when my mother was moving in with the man that was soon to be my step-father. I got to go with them to check out the condo that he lived in. For some reason my sister wasn't able to come with me. It was a clear blue day and the room that was to be my sister's and mine over looked the roof of the garage. I went to my sister after and told her it was the coolest part of our new room. I know that memory seems insignificant, but most of my memories do.

Some time later, (I can't even remember how long) my mother eloped with him and we became an "official" family. It hurt my sister and I that we weren't even invited to the wedding. It almost hurt as much as my father moving to another state and leaving us behind. I remember worshiping my sister. And her doing everything she could to ditch me. I always wanted her to be my best-friend but time and again she betrayed me.

It bothers me that I only have sketchy memories of my childhood. I fear that I'm blocking something sinister or something. Maybe I'm being overly dramatic.

My mother and step-father were both alcoholic. But my life was good. My mother took an active interest in my sister and me. She volunteered at our school, started an after school drama club, we went on family vacations every year. It was good times. I don't remember if I was happy but I had no reason not to be. Though even then I had fantasies of death. I don't know when things went wrong, but I'd venture a guess that it was when my mom got sick. Whenever it was after my little brother was born, it seems everyone was always angry. Even today angry voices scare me. Then after my little sister was born things just fell apart. My older sis and I would find vodka bottles hidden all over the house. Our parents would leave us alone to look after the baby's for days at a stretch. The split was inevitable.

My father had remarried a few years before and my mother didn't get along with my step-mom, they still don't get along. He saw the strain and neglect we were going through, and he sought custody. I must admit I'm a chicken, all I had to do was say I wanted to live with him and it wouldn't have been all drawn out. I had to go back. My older sister got to stay. I know I disappointed him. We used to go on walks down the pier. We could talk and talk. When I left, and came back to visit we couldn't talk anymore. The night I came back to visit, the summer after I left he didn't pick me up from the airport, that night he didn't even look up from his computer when I tried to talk to him. I knew then with out a doubt I had let him down, and lost something because of it.

When I got back to my mothers, I was in eighth grade. It was the darkest time of my life. After school I would go to my room and lay there in the dark, just lay there until the next day when I would go to school and start the process over again. I lost a good part of my life to the darkness. I started taking Tylenol. I wanted it to relieve a pain it was never ment to relieve. At first it was four or five a day then it was four or five at a time. Then in ninth grade on the day of a band concert I tried to kill myself. Not consciously, during the course of the day I took more then forty pills. Then when I got home from school I took twenty more. My mom and I got in some dumb fight. When I got to school for the concert that night, I was so sick, dizzy, and nauseous, I couldn't even read the notes on my sheet music. After the concert I went home and fell asleep on the couch fully believing that I wouldn't wake up. A few hours later I awoke and puked my guts out.

The experience frightened me. When I thought of what I almost did. That year I started cutting myself. The first time I did cut it was on my way to a play at the high school I was going to attend the next year. I used a safety pin from my backpack. They were superficial cuts. But I loved the control I had. After that as I would walk home from school I would search for broken glass on the ground to cut myself with. Then one day I found a double-edged razor blade in a toolbox at home. I kept it in my backpack for the rest of that year. I would sit in my math class and stare at my teacher while I was cutting my arms under the desk. I hated math.

For two and a half years I wore long sleeved shirts. In high school I was kind of a slut. I would make out with guys wily nilly. I wouldn't go further though. Then my sophomore year I had a steady boyfriend. I loved him so much. But I hated myself more and I couldn't understand why he wanted to be with me. Thus starting my pattern of sabotaging relationships. We broke up six months later. I was still cutting, few of my friends knew about it. I started showing off the scabs, I started cutting in public. I wanted people to see the pain I was going through. I was working for a groc. store that spring. I met two of my favorite people at the time, they were my supervisors, and they let me get away with everything. Keven and Jeff were their names. We used to goof off a lot. Keven was instrumental in me getting together with my beau. Jeff was instrumental in getting me to stop cutting. My boyfriend was too. Jeff would make fun of me for cutting. He would put me down. It wasn't the reaction I wanted. He wasn't sympathetic; he was condescending. And my BF didn't make it better; he would cut himself each time I did. Under those circumstances I soon gave it up. I also met a, for lack of a better phrase, bad man. He worked there too. He had a concealed weapons permit. Always carried a gun with him. I was friendly with him. Some times flirtatious, but I was that way with every one. One day he asked me to go back to the meat dept. with him. I can't even remember why now. I went with him. He started kissing me; he took the gun from its holster, looked at it, smiled. I'll never forget his smile, unzipped his pants....

Nothing ever happened to him. I was sixteen, he was some dirty old man, and nothing ever happened to him. I felt so sick. I waited for Keven to come back from vacation. And told him what had happened.

After high school I took a semester of collage. It was being paid for by Voc. rehab. and the Americans with disabilities act. One of the conditions was I would have to chose a major that was in certain career paths. I don't know what I want to be. But I know it wasn't one of the choices I was given. Today I want to act. I know its not logical. 'A dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing and leaves the sleeper where he lie down.' I'm scared to try. Last year I thought I made a discussion. If I couldn't be an actor, I would be just as happy if I dedicated my life to helping other people. I work in the field now. Each day my life affects the lives of five other people. And for a while I was satisfied. But there is still a yearning. I want to be an actor. But... Dreams, what do you do with the ones that aren't good anymore? Also I want to be a published writer.

This November I slipped in to the darkness again. I started cutting again after three years I started cutting. My boy friend and I were fighting. We planned to get married this April, but we don't have the money. Then come December he says he wants to see other people. I hadn't felt the yearning to die so strong for the longest time. But then, I slipped. Just last month I seriously considered checking myself into a place where I wouldn't be a danger to myself.

I feel like I have emerged from the darkness now, but even typing this has almost been a trigger for me. There are so many blades in the house; he uses them for his job. But I won't think about it. When I started cutting myself again I was so disappointed in me. I felt like I had found an old friend. I found relief, but I was so disappointed. It ment I was weak. I couldn't deal with out... I won't do it tonight. I won't do it all week. Life is full of small steps.

12:04:43 - 01-18-2001
0 comments

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next