Little Truths..

Most who know me would say that I'm one of the nicest, sweetest and kindest people they know.. and this, to a point, is the truth.

What most of them don't know though is that I am also one of the angriest people I know. The difference between me and most is that I hold it all in and take it out on myself rather than venting or acting out in inappropriate ways - as some may. I, myself, only realized the extent of my anger recently.

I'm angry that my grandfather tried to rape my mother in front of me when I was 6, that he thought drinking and beating my grandmother and their children was appropriate behavior. I'm angry that from the outside we looked like the Jones', but inside we were a helter skelter of horror.. ruled and reigned over by a man who thought sexual relations with his daughters normal.. and beating just desserts for behavior not in sync with his demands.

I'm angry that my Mother thought that men were more important that her little girl who desperately needed her. That leaving me to fend for myself at 10 was normal, or leaving me in daycare for 12 hours a day so that her current boyfriend (wife beater no less) could have a "peaceful" life without my interference. That upon coming home I was made to go straight to my room, or go out to play until bedtime. That quality time was not as important as a child knowing she was loved and wanted. I'm angry that this pervert was allowed to have say in my life and that the life he gave me was a prison.

I'm angry that my uncle saw fit to use my body as his own personal dick receptacle. That at 10 years old I could become his own personal sex toy. And that my aunt would sit by and knowingly allow him to mold and shape me into his mistress. I am angry that no one was there to protect me, to take care of me.. I was 10 and I knew what he was doing was wrong.. that I was 10 and too young for such things. I became Little Mistress K. I am angry that he now has a pubescent daughter and is free to act these things out again.

I'm angry that my mother rather than disciplining me regularly and paying a fuckwad of attention to me, thought getting drunk and beating the shit out of me was the best way to train up a child in the way she should go. I'm angry that at 12 I was allowed to stay out for all hours and never given any rules, or protected. I'm angry that someone (an adult male) was able to take a shovel and aim it for my head threatening to kill me, and my mother never batted an eyelash.

I'm angry that my first boyfriend thought it right and good to date rape me when I said no - over and over, through tears because I was a virgin and didn’t want to lose it that way.

I'm angry that they let me waste 5 years of my life and gain 200lbs without ever intervening or trying to take care of me. I'm angry that cutting myself was not seen as bad thing but as something the weirdo did. I'm angry that I wasn't loved, not how a child should have been.

I'm angry that my sperm donating father decided that at 2 years old I had had all the fathering I would ever need in this life and took off, never speaking to me again till I was 28 - and then suffered so much guilt that he can't have a relationship with me now..

I'm angry that DH made promises to me and that we found happiness together - and then reneged on those things. I'm angry that I got back at him by sleeping with him and telling the girl he loves now. I'm angry at who I became. But I still hate him everyday for the heartache he caused me. Its been almost a year.
I'm angry that I'm angry over these petty things and so much more.. and I'm angry that I appear so nice and kind and that no one ever knows that inside I'm still suffering at times.. horribly so.

I'm angry that its Christmas and I left for home alone, and woke up alone.. and spent the day alone.. and the one person that truly cared is the one person I am desperate to push away because I love him and know he can never fulfill those 2 precious things I so desire.

I'm angry that I'm so emotional and moody.. and that I can't seem to be ok these past few days.. I am miserable.. and people know.. but know one really knows what it truly is that I'm miserable about..

Suicide.. options.. yes, but answers? No.

Though sometimes I think life would be much more livable dead.

Figure that one out.