You're In All the Wrong Places

Heyo! I've relocated. Yeah I know. You've got to remember a different URL. Well I made it easy for you this time.

http://lydiasamantha.tumblr.com/

There you go (:

Frustrations From a "Best Friend. . .?"

Sometimes I just want to talk to you.

Not about an ex-girlfriend.

Not about anything.

I just want to talk to you like a best friend talks to another.

I want the inside jokes and funny nicknames back.

I want to talk to you late into the night about absolutely nothing.

Sometime I just don’t want to talk about her anymore.

But at the same time, I so desperately want to be there for you.

I want to let you talk out all the hurt and the pain.

I want to wrap my arms around you and tell you

It’ll all be okay, friend, you can get through this.

I want you to call me at 3 in the morning with a breakthrough

Sometimes I feel used.

Like you only talk to me because I am willing to help you.

You only talk to me about her.

And I want to scream at you.

You can be so inconsiderate

But there is something about me

That takes it all in

I take it in and I let it wash over me

And I do the best I can to help you

I do. I do. But sometimes I just curl up and cry

Because there is so much that I want to say to you

So I’m going to say it now.

Get over her.

Just get over and get on with your life.

She hurt you.

I understand that you have to deal with it.

But it doesn’t have to occupy every second of your life.

You can’t keep living like this.

Sooner or later you’re going to drive away everyone close to you.

You’ve come so close to driving me away.

But there’s just something about you.

And God keeps telling me to wait.

So here I am.

I’m waiting.

And through all of this waiting

I will talk to you about your ex-girlfriend.

I will text you everyday

And when I say something that pisses you off,

I will retract it, I will apologize and I will wish

Every single day,

That all of this.

All of this that I’ve written

Would be known to you.

But until that day,

Everything will continue

Exactly

The

Way

It

Is.

Dang it, I’m writing poetry again.

Worry.

It's amazing how the phrase "Don't worry about me, I'll be okay" can seem so frightening, so daunting. And it never works. I mean honestly. . .how many times do people say this? And what happens? You just worry even more. And that's where I'm at. I'm so worried and scared and I feel helpless. I know. I shouldn't worry. I know my friend says they'll be okay. But I just can't help not believing them. Maybe it's because I desire to help people so much that I can't just let them go. I need to work on that. I need to work on loosening the ties I have on my friends. But at the same time I have to make sure that I don't just stop caring about them. Ha what am I talking about. . .I can't just stop caring about anyone. I feel like I'm doomed to worry about all of my friends. Maybe I worry about them because it's easier than worrying about my own problems.

The Things I Do

I just seem to drive away all the guys in my life away from me. I try so desperately to be just friends with them, but something always happens. Always. I always do something that makes them realize they can't be friends with me. I'm afraid I've done it again. But I can't lose this friend. I can't do it. It hurts too much because his friendship means too much to me.

Change?

I want to be able to miss him. I want to post on his wall and say "I miss you, friend." I want to text him and say "When are you gonna visit me?" I want him to respond by telling me how much he misses me and telling me he's going to visit me soon. But I know that none of that is ever going to happen. Honestly, I'm not even sure that I really want that anymore. I mean after everything that happened between us. . .God I just wish that nothing had changed. I wish that most of all. And that is the one thing that will always happen. Things will always change.

Summer Summer

It's a song by The Almost and I honestly just put that in the title and then I decided to look up the lyrics and I came across something I found rather interesting.

Empty streets, empty me
Just call me vagabond
Wandering in the sun
This is getting sort of old
Wandering aimlessly
Is it empty streets or empty me?

Here's the thing about this summer. Actually about here on out. I want things to be different. I caught myself doing something today. I've been finding someone I work with kind of attractive. He like country music. I hate it, but I thought about starting to listen to it just so I'd have something to talk to him about. And that's not okay. I don't need to start changing myself for people. I hate that about other people but I've realized that I do it far too often. So I began to wonder, have I ever done anything for me? Anything because I wanted to? Anything because it was my idea? I know I have, don't get me wrong, but there are just so many parts of my daily life that have become so mundane and I think to myself "Why do I do these things?" and I far too often catch myself saying "Because So-and-So. . ." and that's not okay with me. I started a journey to find myself. But how can I find myself when so much of my life is defined by other people? Where are the projects I did for me? Who are the artists I listened to for me? Where are the clothes that I wear for me? What is the hairstyle for me? Is it okay for me to base these things off of the opinion of everyone else so much so that I do it FOR them? Do I listen to this artist because HE likes it or do I keep my hair long because THEY like it?

Is it an empty campus? Or is it an empty me? I think it's neither but both at the same time.

Dear God

Daddy,

I wish that I could help people more. I want to be able to magically come up with things to say that will ease their worries. I want so badly to be able to soothe all their frustrations and to wipe away all their tears. I hate it when they calling me crying and I can't seem to do anything to help them. I want so badly to help. Dear God, please help me, help them.

Amen

Things That I Want

I want to be able to wrap my arms around someone.

I want to be able to hold hands with someone.

I want to dress up for someone.

I want someone.

I want someone that loves me for me.

I want someone that will make me laugh.

I want someone I can be crazy with.

I want someone who will know when I'm upset without me saying anything.

I want someone who loves Jesus more than anything in the world, but I'm a close second.

I want to mean so much to someone that they can't possible live without me.

I want all these things so badly that sometimes, it hurts.

And I know that I will have these things if God wills it. I know that if He wills it it will happen on His time, but sometimes I just don't want to wait.

I like to think that all I really want to do is experience it. But, honestly, the most important thing I want?

I want forever.

Nostalgia

nos·tal·gia/näˈstaljə/Noun

1. A sentimental longing for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations.

2. The evocation of these feelings or tendencies, esp. in commercialized form. More »

Wikipedia - Dictionary.com - Answers.com - Merriam-Webster

I'm feeling it. As I slowly take down everything off of my walls and pack things into a box I'm feeling nostalgic. I hate this time of the year. When things end. I know that things will start up again in another four months, but it's just so depressing. Knowing that there are friends that aren't coming back, friends that I'll never see again, I just, I hate it. It feels awful. I hate endings.I can't stand them.

Freedom

I am free.

I am free from the hurt and the pain.

I am free from the guilt.

I am free from everything that I was carrying around.

All of my questions, everything, is gone.

And it feels so wonderful. I can't even begin to tell you how amazing I feel right now. God is SO AMAZING. I feel so light and most of all I feel free. I am so free.

Thanks and Praise be to God.

Frustration

Looking at pictures

Of your smiling face

And I wonder

I wonder why

You’re face used to be

Warm

Inviting

Kind of cute

But now when I see you

It’s cold, hard

There’s a persistent shadow

No smile pointed at my direction

All I do is wonder anymore

I miss you

I want to know what’s wrong

Because something is wrong

Something had to make you act like this

You are not yourself anymore

And that’s the worst feeling ever.

I don’t understand why.

Why is such a hard question.

To ask and to answer.

Get off my facebook.

I don’t want to unfriend you, but I’m sick of the constant reminders. I’m trying to write poetry and all I can think about is the fact that you don’t like my poetry and that it couldn’t even be poetry. I hate that you’re the one who encouraged me to write. And now you’re the one, unknowingly preventing me. I hate that. I can’t stand it. What have you done to me? And more importantly why?

Why?

Why do people have so much power over us?

Or I guess. . .why do we let people have so much power over us?

Why can just seeing one person make my stomach so upset that I lose my appetite and have to force myself to eat?

Why can a smile from one person completely throw someone else out of my mind?

Why? Why do I have to feel these things?

Why do people do this to other people?

I'm so confused, hurt, angry and sad. At myself and other people.

This Is A Blog. Not a Journal.

For those of you who have kept track of my blog. . .you might notice something missing. I just deleted about 20 posts. Posts about certain people that were read by certain people. And I dearly paid for it. This is a blog. And I was writing a journal. I'm done with that. I can't let something that I use to help me, harm me and the people I care about it. No more names, because I'm done talking about people and situations. I'll tell you how I feel. I'll tell you random thoughts. But I don't have a right to write about anyone besides myself. So I'm done. I'm done unknowingly hurting people. I need to stop talking about people like they don't exist and start talking about people like they are standing right next to me. I don't think I'd say half the things that come out of my mouth. I just can't get over how awful I feel. I have some major apologizing to do.

I Hurt

It's like this deep intense feeling in the pit of my chest.

I feel sick to my stomach.

I don't want to do anything.

I don't want to see anything.

I don't physically hurt.

I just know that there is something inside of me that just hurts.

Part of me wants to be angry at him.

But I know that this is kind of my fault too.

I just. I don't want to do this. I don't want to pretend that everything is okay.

That I am okay.

It hurts too much. I don't like it. I can't bear it.

I look at him and my whole perspective has changed.

His face isn't warm, inviting, attractive anymore.

It has a cold, hard, persistent shadow.

I have to believe that he is not the same as he was a week ago.

I have to believe that one day I'll be able to look back on everything we did together and be happy, but right now. Right now all I want to do is cry. I want to curl up and cry until nothing comes out of my eyes. I do not want to be strong. I do not want to do or be anything. I just want to talk to him. We don't even have to be friends. I just want to know that this is not the end. The fact that this is the end is burning in my chest. Right about where the heart is. I'm so emotionally hurt, I physically feel it. I look like crap and I feel like crap. Know that the smile on my face is probably fake. At least I have the strength to fake it. At least I have the strength to pretend. Because if I couldn't pretend and I had to walk around this campus with all of this written on my face, I can't even imagine what I would do. I just want to sleep. Sleep it all away. I don't even care if I sound like a drama queen about this. This is what I feel. Get used to it. Get over it. I should take my own advice.

Is the End in Sight?

I just don't know what to do with myself right now. Part of me wants to curl up on my bed and just cry and cry and cry. The other, stronger part of me says to land on my feet and pretend that nothing is wrong. But is that really the stronger part? Is ignoring the pain I feel being STRONG? Or is that just being a coward? Shouldn't I just bear it? Wouldn't that be the stronger thing to do? And if I am supposed to bear it than how? How do you bear the pain of a break up, when we weren't even in a relationship? Knowing that had I just left things ALONE. Something could've happened, but I couldn't just leave things alone and now. . .there's a message sitting in my inbox that I just keep staring at. I'm kind of on a cycle. Sit and stare at the message, tearing apart each and every word. Each and every line falling under my scrutiny. Then I realize what I'm doing and I put the computer down and I curl up in a ball and I cry. A little bit less each time, but I cry. Again, I realize what I'm doing and jump up ready to face anything, even him. And for those few hours, I am on cloud nine. Nothing can stop me. Oliver who? I pretend I'm fine. I pretend that nothing is wrong and that the awkward silence and concerned looks I get when I say his name don't exist. Is that okay though? I mean isn't ignoring everything, pushing it down and pretending it doesn't exist, saying "I am okay" so many times that, in a sense, it was true. . .isn't that what got me in trouble in the first place? Isn't that what has me sitting in a counselors office every week spilling my guts and getting feedback about them? So what do I do? What do I do? I'm so much at a loss. Someone help me.

"Oliver"

everything is tainted.

Syv

So I recently went on a poetry writing spree. They all focused around one person in particular and they basically give the array of emotions that I went through. I've listed the titles with the dates:

"Whore" Wednesday, April 6, 2011

"Dreaming Sleepless and Alone" Thursday, April 7, 2011

"I Am More" Friday, April 8, 2011 (2AM)

"Suicide Regrets Can't Bring Me Down" Friday, April 8, 2011 (2PM)

Let me know what you think!

Suicide Regrets Can't Bring Me Down

Words

Cloud my mind

But silence pours out

On this page

Emotions

Turn the contents of my stomach

Forming in the back of my throat

I want everything to go right

But everything is wrong.

Head in the oven

Head in the oven

I’ve got my own methods

I’m writing you letters

I’m writing down words

That somehow will tell you

Everything

That I haven’t already said

Out loud, spat at your face

I wish those words would

Crawl back into my mouth

But I don’t regret them.

Presentation

That’s what I regret

I don’t know why I write to you

You’re a critic

Journal poetry

Don’t let it rhyme

All this is

Writing thoughts

Hitting enter

New line

New line

Emotion in every word

What I feel

It’s alright.

I’ll be okay

Don’t worry about me

I’m big girl, sir

I Am More

I’m shutting this down

I’m closing it up

This book that I’ve written

This chapter I’ve read

I’m burning it to pieces

And I couldn’t be happier.

This is the end of the same old same old

Different doesn’t exist anymore

I don’t think it ever did.

I’m tearing this down

I’m ripping it up

This picture of you

And me in my head.

Look what you’ve done

I’m writing freakin poetry

Nonsense of words

That string together

And people praise it.

My eyes hurt

I rub them

And we call it poetry

And this is what you

Want to write?

Write Write!

God please write.

It’ll make you happy

Oh but wait,

Happiness is an emotion

You don’t feel those.

Sorry dude

You’re straight out of luck

I guess you’re stuck.

Oh wait?

I’m sorry

Did that just rhyme?

I’m walking right past you

I’m ignoring you straight

Because I’m worth more than

Anything you could ever give me.

And I think I’m okay with that.

Dreaming Sleepless and Alone

i've been dreaming these dreams

and you're there

with your arms wrapped around me

the catch?

you are not there

don't exist

i think i've made you up inside my head

a line

stolen

like my thoughts of you

and i've been sleeping this way

years and years

it's second nature

and now

i just can't do it

i can't pretend

that you could love me

the way i pretend

i do.

So here I am

Alone

in my head

and as i sleep

But I've only ever

ever

ever

been alone.

Whore

I am a whore of the very worst kind

Not of sex and promiscuity

A whore of my own

Creation

You come up on my radar

Latch

Seek

Destroy

And you will never know

Each and every one of my

Dead lovers

Never loved me back

Tear them up

Spit them out

Abandoned

Just like me

But I hurt

I feel emotion

Like clods of dirt

Inside my chest

Rip it open

Scream at each

Small thing

Wrong thing

I want only this

That I can never have

Curses

Plagues

Dead

Ex-lovers

Stars in their eyes

That look past my

Efforts

Hints

Advances

I am invisible

Invincible

Or so I like to think

The invisible whore

You never saw me coming

Till I cry these three tears

Drop

Drop

Drop

Two from the right

One from the left

Just like the rest

So many to name

That wouldn’t even know my

Hurt

Abandonment

What have you done to me?

Nothing

It is I

Only I

Want so desperately

To touch

To be touched

3 little tears come from

Within this cold hard

Clenched fist

Wetting my palm

Trying to escape

Flung at your calm

Silent face.

I want to be empty

I want to not feel this

Gift.

Emotion.

In the pit of my stomach

Back of my throat

Behind these eyes

Sick

And they fall

One

Two

Three

The time it takes to

Break

Die

Latch

Seek

Destroy

I am on a rampage

To eat each man up

Bone by bone

Flesh and blood

Thoughts and loves

Till I spew it all back out

To every person I meet

I am a whore of the very worst kind

I’ve been everywhere

Nowhere

Inside everyone

No One

You cannot pay for me.

I’m too cheap.

You do not want me

I am curse

Brought on by

Liars

Abusers

Molesters

I am the product of

A past

Mistakes

And I want you to

Make me better

But I become

Worse

Liken me please

To those on the street

Full of disease

Because I am worth

Nothing

Of your time

Energy

Nothing

And I expect

Nothing more

Than this

Agonizingly

Painful

You

Are just like

Everyone else

That I never wanted you

To be

So much more than

Dead

Ex-lovers

Death from their lips

In long streams of wire

Attached at my wrists

Ankles

Binding me

Cutting deep

Blood

Red

Stains like my shirt

Cutting me

Scarring me

Until I feel so much

Nothing

And uncountable tears

Flood cities

Destroy taverns

Come knocking

Breaking free

Again

And again

And again

And you are

The same

As those

Starry-eyed, wire binding

Dead

Ex-Lovers

So much alive

Reminding me of every

Failure

Each scar on my wrist

In the form of a name

And now you join the rest

In this shallow unmarked grave

You are alone

With them

And I will

Consume this hurt

Like a breakfast

Of nails and tacks

Each bite will puncture

The last remaining composure

Till I am nothing once again

Radar

Radar

Detecting

Latch

Seek

Destroy

All over again

The very worst kind

Decisions. Decisions.

I'm a people pleaser. Did you know this about me?

I'm a HUGE people pleaser. It shows up in almost everything I do. What I read, what I wear.

Don't get me wrong. I do this because it does please me. I want to do these things. Making other people happy make me happy. Simple as that.

Except that now I'm forced to make a decision based on ME. And only ME.

I cannot make this decision based on what other people want me to do. I need to base this decision on what I need to do. On what is best for me.

Do I go home? Or do I stay here?

I've been struggling with this because it's not like I have the normal arguments. I have someplace to live here. And getting a job won't be that difficult either.

I can't make this decision based on what my family wants me to do. I need to make this decision based on me. Part of me feels like that is selfish, but after Christmas Break. . .I think that's okay.

A wise person has just recently told me that decisions like this are Opportunities not Burdens.

I can do God's will in whatever I choose.

I guess at this point it's about actually making a definite decision. Which is probably the hardest place to be right now because I'm feeling [mostly] at peace about both outcomes.

Fragments of Abandonment

It's an interesting title isn't it?

But here's the thing.

I'm living those.

In every aspect of my life there are these little fragments of abandonment. They show up in situations and they make me re-evaluate even the tiniest detail. And I can't live like that anymore. I've got to get rid of them. And in order to get rid of them I have to first:

Recognize Them

Seems simple right? But I've been living with these issues my whole life. I'm being completely honest when I say that I don't really know what these issues look like. It's just in the last few months that I've even recognized the fact that I HAVE these issues, let alone actually finding specific examples. So for me to actually recognize specific times that my abandonment issues are coming into play is going to take a lot of work. So, after I have recognized them what's next?

Evaluate

Are the things I'm feeling "normal" or "abandonment"? And then act accordingly. If they are abandonment issues then I have to re-evaluate. Find another way to go about things. Another way to look at them. The last thing I have to do is

Live It

It's one thing to recognize it and evaluate it but that is not going to do anything for me if I don't put what I've learned into practice!

Now these three steps sound simple enough, but actually doing them, that's an entirely different story. But I'm confident that with God, the help of Brandon (my Counselor) and the help of my friends and family, I know that one day, I will be able to do this.

Overwhelmingly Grateful

Matthew 25:34-36

Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what's coming to you in this kingdom. It's been ready for you since the world's foundation. And here's why:

I was hungry and you fed me,

I was thirsty and you gave me a drink,

I was homeless and you gave me a room,

I was shivering and you gave me clothes,

I was sick and you stopped to visit,

I was in prison and you came to me.'

Let me tell my story about a boy. We'll call him Oliver. (because I don't do real names!)

I met Oliver in February of 2010. He came to IWU as an accepted senior. And while he may not remember it, this is how we met from my point of view:

I was standing off to the side with Ali when I saw him. I literally saw him all the way across the room. Just a glance. That's all. But I thought to myself. . .Well! I'm probably the same age as he is, nothing wrong with finding him attractive! He should come over and talk to us so I don't have to be the awkward freshman preying on the high schooler! Not even 10 minutes later. This boy and his friend walked over to us.

"Can we ask you a question? It's for a game. . ."

The question?

What is the hard part of a shoelace called? And me, the queen of random facts, could not think of the answer. And we told them so. They walked away.

Later that night we saw them again and went to Friday Night Live with them.

Afterwards we hung out in Evans until 1:30AM.

I almost attended Oliver's Graduation Open House, but couldn't because of work. But I sent him a card, because I was determined to see this boy again. There was just something about him. I didn't care if he had a girlfriend at the time. I wanted to get to know him. He messaged me a few times over the summer with questions on what to pack and what not to pack.

Fast-Forward to September, Freshman Orientation.

I saw him. I talked to him, I met his mother.

I told him, anytime you want to hang out, my number is on my facebook, call me, text me, whatever. And he did. We met up at my dorm to hang out at the Luau together.

We didn't end up going to the Luau. No we walked to the park and had one of the most amazing conversations I'd ever had. I'm not kidding you. There was something about this boy that was different. Unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I lost my cool, I lost my filter. I was raw and uncensored (not in the dirty way please!) I said whatever came to my mind. At the exact moment that it came to my mind. The words "You're attractive" and "I'm attracted to you" left my mouth several times. And each and every time he took it. No judgement. No patronizing. No teasing. I was so embarrassed, but it was SO REFRESHING. As we walked back from the park I distinctly remember telling him that all good boyfriend/girlfriend relationships start out as friends. I then awkwardly word vomited out that thats-not-why-i-want-to-be-your-friend-but-i-still-find-you-attractive type thing and I gave up. I sighed and I looked at him and I said "I like you Oliver" and he looked at me and said "I like you too, Lydia." And because I am me. I soared. I flew. And worst of all. I hoped.

We had other random meetings, hangout sessions. It was great. He didn't have a girlfriend anymore, but that didn't really change anything that I hadn't already felt.

We ended up going to Friday Night Live together and at this point I was flat-out crushing on this guy. But everything about it made sense. Every little feeling I had. It was awful and wonderful at the same time. And I had no idea how to handle it.

We ended up getting together almost once a week and have lunch. We never planned it, it just happened. And it didn't matter if I was crushing on someone else at the time. Every time I sat down at a table with him to eat, we always had the most inspiring conversations. He made me think in ways I hadn't even considered. He welcomed every new idea had and built onto them. He never judged. Yes, he may have disagreed, but even then we had some of the best arguments that always ended on good terms. It was amazing, and again, unlike anything I'd ever experienced in my life. What the hell was this boy doing to me?

My crush on him began to lessen and soon it was just simple friendship, but i still felt so much more different around him than I did anyone else and I loved it and I hated it and it confused me all at the same time.

McK happened. Collins happened. But I still had Oliver and the art shows. We agreed to go to each one whenever there was a new one. Because with him I could look at the art and I could actually TALK ABOUT THE ART. I had no one else to do this with. And it was again, wonderful and not at the same time. And then we saw these. Scroll down to the snapshots. There should be three photos each featuring a blue-haired girl. And those paintings just screamed at me. They screamed at me things from when I was sexually abused. They unsettled me. And he was there for that. He was there as I explained what each painting said to me. And he put his hand on my shoulder and he prayed for me. From there we went to the park again where I told him my life story. We played on the swings and we jumped off and then we sat in the gravel sand and we played with it and we talked about life. Just life. And can you guess? It was wonderful and I loved it and I hated it and it confused me SO MUCH. Looking back it seems so surreal. Almost like it never happened. But it did. It happened. Christmas break also happened. And even though I didn't see him I was still soaring. I was flying so far above the clouds I might as well have been in outer space. I think I even passed Pluto. And worst of all, I was still hoping. I was head over heels. Yeah, I was crushing on Collins, but I knew that Collins was going nowhere. And Oliver? He had everywhere to go. He'd already gotten the friendship stamp of approval. My friends loved him. They loved him for how he made me feel. They loved him for how God-centered he was. They loved him. And of all the guys I'd ever had a crush on, they were confident that he and I would make an excellent match.

It was at Rebash in January that I fell. I didn't just fall. I crashed. It's true really. The higher you rise the longer you fall and the more you hurt. I saw him. Following my friend Leah around like a puppy. No really. It was kind of sickening. He just followed her around while she took pictures. And I knew. I knew that something was wrong. Okay not wrong. But I knew that whatever was happening here. I wasn't going to be okay with it. And thus began Oliver and Leah. It started out as friendship and I was okay with that. I was. I mean yeah the time they spent together was unsettling at best, but I'm a pro at this heart break stuff. It didn't really change how I felt about him because once again, he was there when I needed him most and it was great. He was (and to this day) the only boy I've ever met who desires my company and has sought it out. We still got together for the art shows and we still talked about things and it was still amazing but every time I saw them together, I hurt. This sounds so cliche, but my heart actually hurt. And then it happened.

I was working at the Globe. Sitting there with some friends who were playing the ukulele when I saw them. They were holding hands. I couldn't take it. I left. I went to the bathroom and I tried. I tried so fucking hard to cry you wouldn't believe it and I could it feel it. This pain just emanating from my chest, but it wasn't physical pain. It was a type of pain that I hadn't felt in a long time. And it hurt like hell. But.I.Could.Not.Fucking.Cry. The tears welled up. But they did not fall. They did not fall. I went back to the Globe and my friends tried to make me feel better by playing me songs on the ukulele, but it didn't work. I was so messed up over this that I talked to Collins about it for advice. How's that for screwed up?

I think the worst part is that Oliver never officially mentioned anything. But I knew. I knew that things were different because the last art show that we went to. . .he went with her first and then me. I'd love to say that he did that on purpose, but I know him and that is so unlike him. No, he went to see it with me because I asked him. And he enjoys my company. We had a few chance encounters for dinner on Sunday nights. And it was so weird, because I was the only one who brought Leah up. And it was weird because she'd be in Baldwin eating with her friends and it was like they didn't even know each other and it bothered me. I can deal with them having a relationship, but whatever it is they have. . .I've never had to experience that. And I hate it. I hate it so much. There was one night when we were talking about relationships and I shared with him the revelations that I've found. And we talked about what it takes to make a relationship and things like that. And I realized during that conversation that I couldn't do this to myself. Sometimes I think I'm being selfish in these situations, but really, I'm the only one involved. I gave him up. I decided I was done. I told him that too. I told him that I'd liked him for about a year and that I finally realized that I couldn't keep holding out for him. I couldn't do it. It was too risky. He claims that it's good to get hurt in relationships and maybe he's right, but if I'm the only one getting hurt then what good is that doing for anyone else? I have enough on my plate right now I don't need this too! So I took my heart back from him. Because the careless person that I am, every conversation we'd had, every chance meal we'd shared together, every text message exchanged, I gave a little piece of my hear to him. There really is nothing wrong with that EXCEPT. He didn't want it. He didn't even know he had it. Maybe that's my fault, but then again, I accidently told him almost every time I saw him that I liked him. So maybe he really is as oblivious as he says he is. Either way, I was careless and now I had to fix it. So I stopped talking to him like I liked him and I started talking to him like my friend. But the problem is. It was the same thing. He made me so comfortable that I became myself around him. As much of myself as I can be. He saw it all. He's probably only the second guy in my entire life to see it all. And I'd venture to say he saw more.

I'm sitting here on the couch in the basement. The movie Bella is playing. There is a boy sleeping on another couch across from me. There is another boy sleeping in a bedroom down the hallway. Two parents and young girl are asleep upstairs, along with two cats, Lily and Hobbs. There is something extremely important about all these details:

This basement is not mine.

The boy sleeping across the room is not family.

The family sleeping in this house is not mine.

And neither are those cats.

And I.

I am overwhelmingly grateful.

It was at one of those Sunday dinners that we talked about Spring Break and I talked about how I couldn't go home. I just couldn't do it. Especially after what happened over Christmas Break. And do you know what he said to me?

"Come home with me."

And he was serious. He was 112% serious. I'm not going to lie I was so take aback by this statement that I blew it off and the next week I raised the subject again and he met it with the same reaction. I'll be completely honest with you and say that until he and his roommate picked me up from Evans last Friday, I still wasn't sure. But here I am. I've met his family, I've met his friends, I've hung out with him, I've teased him and he's teased me right back. Saturday we are going to Lakeview and he is going to meet my family and all of my friends. And every part of me is screaming that this is what people in relationships do. But I know. I know that all this is is friendship. Fucking friendship. And I hate it. I want to bad to get over him. To get on with my life. But I don't know how because every other time I've had to get over a boy I just cry him out of my system but how do you cry someone out of your system when your physically incapable of crying for someone? What do you do to get over them? This boy is spending a week sleeping on a COUCH. I came to him homeless and he gave me HIS room. You don't just get over that. I don't care who you are.

It was interesting to me, because Oliver, his mom and I were having a discussion and he began talking about how God was going to judge us and he somehow came to how privileged he was as opposed to someone else and how he had done justice to that person. And I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Who gives a care if you didn't help that person. Maybe it wasn't in God's plan for you to help that person. But you know what I know?

I was homeless and you gave me a room, I think that is just as good as doing justice to that other person.

"Come home with me."

The hard part of a shoelace is called an aglet.

Thoughts

Something that caught my eye while on StumbleUpon. And it's really interesting because I keep finding these things and I'm really not sure how to take them because I'm in a situation here that's getting kind of difficult. Click Here.

A Little Inspiration.

You need to realize that he doesn't care. And you could be missing out on someone who does.

Aglet

Sometimes I feel like closing my eyes

Shutting out the world

But the world will not be shut out

It bounces the walls of my mind.

Sometimes I feel like a stranger

To myself

Therefore a stranger to all

Yet somehow everyone knows me.

Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting

For everything

For nothing

For myself and for you.

But why should I fight for you?

Sometimes I feel like I'm not

pretty

worth it

alive

fillintheblank.

Sometimes I feel like I

really deserve everything

that's happened to me.

Or will.

Sometimes I feel like I

Should have done things differently

I never should have told you

I never should have told you

That day in the park.

That day on a walk.

I told you so may times.

Did you hear me?

Did you hear me?

Did you hear me?

Sometimes I feel like

You didn't hear me.

You listened

But you didn't hear me.

I have to believe that if you heard me

Things would be different.

Sometimes I feel like

You heard me.

But you didn't care.

You didn't believe me.

You thought I was kidding.

Sometimes I feel hurt.

When I see you and you smile at me

While you hold onto her hand.

What do you see?

What do you see?

What do you see?

Look at her at me.

What do you see?

Sometimes I wonder.

What did I do wrong.

Everyone said we'd be so right.

What did I do?

What did I do?

What did I do?

Is there anything to do?

What can I do?

Sometimes I want to know

Why?

Why everything?

Why are the tears welling up in my eyes?

Why am I here?

Why did I do this to myself?

Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy?

No good will come of this.

I've been here before.

Or so I thought

You're different

from everyone else

that has never made me feel this way

like I matter

like I'm important

Sometimes I speculate

Is it different?

Oh it is.

I've lost my filter around you

you make me

say

feel

do

things I wouldn't normally.

I can

say

feel

do

things I always think

but never say

and you accept them

you welcome them

Why?

Better question

Do you even know what you do to me?

Do you even know?

I don't think you do.

It doesn't matter if I've told you or not.

I don't think you really know.

I thought we could be something.

Maybe I'm just impatient.

I'm impatient.

I'm a hypocrite.

I can feel the tears

they are behind my eyes

threatening to well up.

But they will not fall

because i refuse to cry for you

i will not cry for you

i will not cry for you

because i do not regret this

hardship

learning experience.

it takes two

i am one.

i cannot do this

i cannot keep

wanting

pining

longing

liking

crushing

thinking

thinking

thinking

of you

I need you

out of my head

out of my heart

not that you were ever there in the first place

because you didn't want my heart

not yet?

Not ever.

I wish I would let myself cry.

because then you could be like everyone else

just another night

crying

crying

crying

till I

sleep.

But you have to be different.

I'm resigned to sleepless nights

writing

writing

writing

this nonsense of thoughts

that have been piled in my head

waiting for me to throw at you

like little daggers

but these words don't hurt you

they only hurt me

because you feel nothing

did you hear me?

what did i do?

what can i do?

thinkingwritingwhy

I want you to be the same

because then i can get over it

the same way i do everyone else

but you are not everyone else

you are different.

why are you different?

please stop.

i need you to be the same

i need you to not care

i need you to make me cry.

because the fact that

i can feel these tears

but they

will

not

f

a

l

l

.

It makes me mad

sad.

but not sad enough to

cry.

I want to cry myself to sleep

but your differentness keeps me awake.

Here Is My Story

It has occurred to me that I've had this blog for a year and I haven't told you my story. Is it okay if I tell you my story? I need you to understand that this is the way that I remember it. Every. Single. Detail. That I remember. I can't guarantee you that the small details are correct but know that the large details are all true. I'll start from the beginning and I'll do my best to keep things chronological every now and then I'll throw in my thoughts but you'll know when I do. So here it goes. My only request is that if you begin reading this, please finish. I'm sharing my story for a reason and unless you read the whole thing you won't take away from this what I need you to take away from it. So please, if you start reading, don't stop till the end.

My memory starts at the age of 3. The kitchen wall were yellow. I was in my high chair next to my sister. My mother was getting us milk. The phone rings and she puts the milk and two sippy cups on my tray then turns and answers the phone. At this point I decided to pour the milk. I ended up spilling the milk all over the tray. My mother hangs up the phone and seeing the mess that I've made she snaps. She takes me out of the high chair, throws me on the ground and proceeds to stomp on my stomach. The next thing I remember is being on a stretcher.

To you cynical ones. To be completely honest I exactly remember the color of the walls, the view of my mother above me and her foot coming down on top of me, and being on the stretcher while a lady in blue with curly blonde hair says "You're gonna be alright, honey."

From there my sister and I went to the Odren's house. They were our foster parents. They had approximately 6 children of their own. Here, if my memory serves me right, I had good times and I had horrible times, to be honest I only have very few memories of the Odren's house and they really aren't that important. To sum things up: I did not get the love and attention that a 4 year old child needs.

When I was 5 I was adopted. When I was six my older brother began sexually abusing me. I'm not going into details. I don't think that's important.

The rest of my years up to the age of 14 had been filled with parental disagreements and backstabbing friends and wonderful things like that. When I was 14 I decided that I couldn't take it anymore. I hated how I was treated at home and I hated having the constant memory of being physically and sexually abused within the first 7 years of my life. I was sick of feeling like I was everyone's after thought. I wanted once and for all to make sure that everyone knew the impact that I actually had on this life. I decided that I was going to kill myself. It would be really simple. I'd just overdose. Obviously I'm still here so you know that I didn't do it. I decided that in all reality the person that would find me would be the person I wanted to hurt the LEAST. My little sister, Annie. And I couldn't do it.

Now I'd like to tell you what all this means to me.

I'll be completely honest, until the past few months I'd never really thought about it. To be completely honest I can't really think of anyone that wants to dwell in their own past, let alone mine.

First off I want to just say that the most difficult part of living with my past is that I have absolutely no idea how to talk about it. Because for me its just so normal. In all honesty I'm so used to living with it that sometimes I assume that its not big deal to everyone but it is and I just can't understand that sometimes. I mean abuse is such a big problem in this world that it takes me by surprise when people become uncomfortable. I'm saying this because I need you to understand why sometimes when I talk about this I'm blunt and sound like I don't care. I DO care. I'm just so used to it being a part of my life that it comes naturally to talk about it like it's an everyday subject because for me it IS an everyday subject. I constantly live with a video of my brother touching me playing over and over and over again so forgive me if I talk about it flippantly and I don't talk about it like it's a huge secret.

Second I've learned since then a few extra details. My parents didn't want me. They didn't want me. My biological parents didn't want me. Sorry, sometimes I feel like the more times I say this the easier it will be to accept. Think for a moment if you can (which you probably can't, but just try) about what it would feel like if the only people in this world who's duty it is to love you no matter what you do. . .imagine if not only did they not love you, but THEY DIDN'T WANT YOU. With every friend I make and every family I meet I can feel the rejection of my parents. I can feel it in anything and everything that anyone ever tells me. Because it's not just rejection that I feel. It's distrust. It's abandonment. I feel like at any second my friends could leave me. I feel like if I don't work for the relationships that I have established, if I don't make my friends feel like I'm worth it, then I have failed. And that's not true. It's an awful way to live. I know I've been living it for the majority of my life.

Third. As much as I want to refuse to believe it. The happenings of my past do, in one way or another, define who I have become. I know that without the abandonment issues I wouldn't put my heart and soul into the relationships that I have established. I know that I wouldn't doubt almost everything that anyone ever says to me. These may seem like small issues to everyone else, but it's part of the reason I seem clingy and stalkerish.

Fourth. I know that this has all happened for a reason. And I believe that God allowed it to happen. Okay please don't misunderstand me. I don't think God WANTED it to happen. I believe that God loves everything he created and wants no harm to come to it, but Job is an excellent example of when God ALLOWS things to happen. And I firmly believe that he allowed these bad things to happen to me. I refuse to believe that everything that happened to me was just for fun. I plan to use every experience that I've ever been in to further my relationship with Christ and to further the Kingdom of God.

Over the past year I've been in counseling. I've been trying to figure out exactly how I plan to do this. So far I've discovered that it's not going to be easy. At all. And I'm prepared to work my way through the challenge of finding myself. My whole self. My whole, unbroken self. I'm slowly picking the pieces of my messed up life and putting them into a nice pretty picture. Some of the pieces are battered and destroyed. Some of the pieces are lost. Each and every day I'm working to reshape these pieces and to find the ones that I have buried deep within myself. It is not an easy task, but I thank God every day that all of this is not written on my face. I thank him that I have the option of telling my story. I don't know what I'd do if every time someone looked at me they knew something was wrong. I couldn't bear it. In some ways I am thankful that I can hide a lot of what I am feeling and thinking. I think this job would be infinitely harder if I wore my progress on my face.

Now that you've read this I want to ask you for a favor. It's actually more of a command. Do not pity me. I do not want your pity. I do not deserve your pity. There are people all over the city, state, America, WORLD. That have dealt with things that are infinitely more traumatic than I can even imagine. And the worst part, is that they haven't found the love and peace that I have found in God. Pity those people, but do not pity me, for I have found the Heavenly Father that will not reject me. And I have brothers in Christ that will never touch me inappropriately. I have a support system that will stand by me through thick and thin. And I am, in some ways, thankful for what I have been through because I know that my story, this story, has and will help someone.

My Husband Is Not On This Campus.

I've talked to a few trusted friends that know me extremely well and the consensus is this:

1. There is a strong possibility that I am only ever going to date one man.

2. He is not on this campus.

3. We are going to meet in the most random of circumstances.

Can I just say that I am more than okay with all of those things?

I seriously mean it! Let me explain.

First. I'm not even sure that I want to be married but if I did. . .

Why date a ton? Why waste time with the wrong guy?

Second. Honestly I think that I've been feeling this too. I just don't see myself getting in a relationship here at IWU. Honestly I think that there is a chance my husband could come from IWU, but I'm confident that nothing serious will happen while I'm here. Don't ask me to explain that. . .I really can't.

Third. Well come on! Have you ever met me? I mean seriously? If I didn't meet my future husband in some randomly awesome way, we'd have a problem.

So yeah for those of you that read this (which by the way I'm sure that someone is reading this because the last time I checked my blog I had 638 views and this time I had like 718. . .they weren't from me) this means that the whole Collins and McK thing? Gone. Done.

I'm not going to lie. It's not going to be easy. I'm still attracted to Collins. A lot. But I know that he's not in the position to be my future husband. So Collins is off the hook. Ain't he a lucky one?

That's Surprising. . .

So I'm sitting here and I'm supposed to be writing my Autobiography which I'm going to need to get into the Education Program. I'm trying to figure out how to incorporate why I chose teaching into this paper, when the thought suddenly occurred to me that I don't want to be a teacher. So I sat there and I cried a little. But then I thought of way to incorporate it into it. I've just been so stressed. I mean everything has been stacking up a lot and I just don't really want to deal with anything. Not to mention I've probably been really hot and cold lately. I just don't know anymore. I really don't. I'm going to go work on this Autobiography. Two pages about myself. Only two pages. Help me Jesus?

How long? Until we find our way In the dark and out of harm You can run away with me Anytime you want

So I'm supposed to be working on my personal narrative rough draft right now. . .but I've got to share something first. Last night Collins and I hung out. And by hang out I mean we sat at McConn for four hours and talked about pretty much everything. I'm not exaggerating either. Collins unknowingly answered a lot of questions I'd had about him. It was refreshing really. And did I mention that I told him I like him? And you know what. . .I'd venture to say that we are better friends now. Not just because of that, but last night we talked about everything. It's kind of weird really that you can learn so much about someone in such a short space of time. I think the weirdest part is I feel like I know his whole family too. . .If I'm being completely honest with myself, yes I do think that I like Collins a little bit more now that we've talked about so many things. . .but in reality it's okay because I don't see Collins and I getting together. . .ever really. And that's okay with me. Because I've come to the conclusion that I don't need someone to be happy. I don't need a relationship. But I'm human right? So of course I'm going to be attracted to guys every now and then. Give me a break will you? I'm only 18. . .

Okay I really have to keep working on this personal narrative. . .

Something New That I've Discovered.

1. Being Friends Is Actually Pretty Awesome.

Because it turns out that guys actually text their friends back.

And they say hi to their friends when they see them.

They make fun of their friends. And expect the same from them.

Oh and did I mention that guys talk to their friends? Like actually have real conversations with them. . .

2. Patience Works.

Because it turns out if I'm not texting a guy everyday. . .or everytime I see him. . .well sooner or later. . .he actually texts me. . .Yeah it might take forever. . .but sooner or later you get a text that says "Have you been to the art show yet?"

And you know what. . .when you hang out on HIS terms. . .things just seem to go better. . .

3. Studying=Good For Grades.

Okay. . .I don't know why it took me so long to figure this out but I think that's pretty self-explanatory. . .

4. Sleep is IMPORTANT!

So I've got a 7:50 on Tuesdays and Thursdays. . .and an 8:55 on MWF. . .so this whole being up at 2AM like I am now? Not happening any more. . .I only stay up on Friday nights.

So bed by midnight. . . .yes. Up by 7 or 8. . .unfortunately yes. . .

5. Finances Suck/Phone's Really Aren't That Important

Yeah money is disgusting. I hate it. And the lack of it. In fact because of the lack of it. . .I'll not have a phone for two weeks. . .but I mean I've been without my phone for longer than that. . .it's just a difficult adjustment. . .ya know?

Untitled.

I’m lkying here on omy beed and to be completely honest. I’m scared to death. I was just struck with an overwhelming sense to kill myself. I don’t know where it came from and I don’t know how to get rid of it. I’m panicking I’m freaking out. I’m hyperventilating. I don’t know what ot do Im scaring myself. The adrenaline rush is making my lip quiver and my hands are going numb and I n//fajhh;afjhg’j my back is starting to shurst and I can’t type riwkrite an I dcna’t control my legs and it’s freaking my out and I don’t knwlalkdhtod do I dontk kwhat to do I don’ know what do tod. Byug I jhave to keep ytpeing abecause if I don’t know I don’t know whats gonna happen. I really don’t . I don’t what else to do. Jesus please help me I’m almost imbobalized. I’m shaking so bad. I’vbre never felt like wretch like me I once lost but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see. I just wanna see, I’m the type of person who lets fear drive. I’m the type of guy lets it drive it. Cuz I’m addicted. I’m needy I’m lost without you. I need you. I need you. Amazing grace. How sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see. Amazing grace how sweet. It saved a wretch like me. You know I’m found. You’re amazing. You’re amazing. You are. It feels so bad when your lost. It’s amazing how God works. Shaking is down to a minimum. My face has quit vibrating. My breathing is normal. The tears are starting to subside. I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before in my life. Never. Not even when I was 14 and considered suicide. Yeah I had my share of crying sessions but NOTHING like that. I should explain. I’ve been working on Christmas presents all day and after Annie got home she started to work on her homework at the table with me. Well she’s doing like long division and long multiplication and well about an hour and a half later she’s got one PACE done and has got like 6 math problems done. Well mom and dad told her she couldn’t go to church until her homework was done and she got upset. And dad started going off on her about how if she had been doing her homework the whole time she wouldn’t be in this situation. I got pissed. Because truthfully Annie HAD been doing her homework the entire time and when she wasn’t it was MY fault because I was distracting her. And the more dad went off on her the more she protested and dad got off on her for protesting. My little sister was sitting there curled up in the chair crying her eyes out! It killed me that dad didn’t care! That she was getting in trouble for it! Who the fuck continues to berate their child while they are curled up in a ball crying? Who the fuck does that? It’s an honest question. He didn’t even get off his ass to look her face when he was doing it either. He just sat in the living room and yelled at her to stop crying and to do her homework because it was her fault she had to do in the first place. No sense of pity. Nothing. I wanted to scream. But I knew that would work. So I said to Annie in a quiet voice to ignore him and just work on her homework. And dad heard me. WHAT THE HELL WAS I SUPPOSED TO SAY TO HER!? WAS I SUPPOSED TO IGNORE HER? I HAD TO COMFORT HER IN SOMEWAY OR ANOTHER. And my dad says. Do NOT tell my child to ignore me. And then starts mumbling about things he has to do because of me but he doesn’t actually mention they are all indirect jabs. And you know what. I told Annie to ignore him because in all honesty, it works. If you just tune out what he is saying. Just tune it out and focus on anything else. ANYTHING ELSE. Sooner or later he’ll shut up. He’ll stop. I know it’s an awful thing to say to someone. But it works. If you just don’t focus on what he’s saying then you don’t talk back to him. And then he runs out of things to say. I didn’t mean for her to ignore him all the time. Just in that instant. When she was so distraught at the accusations that he was throwing at her. Dad let her go to church. And it got me thinking of all the things I’d like to say. And the next thought in my mind was. You can write them all a letter. A separate one for dad. A separate one for mom. And a separate one for the chillens. And when you die. You can leave them there to find along with your body. My immediate reaction to these thoughts was I don’t want to kill myself. Look at what I have. Do you know what that voice said? You’re telling me to look at what you have. Honey I’ve looked at what you have. And it ain’t worth it. You’ve got parents who don’t know how to show their love to you or your siblings, they treat their other kids better than they treat you. You’re failing at college and if you don’t fail out then you’ll probably drop out because you can’t pay for it. Your parents aren’t helping you. You’ve been crushing on Caleb for the past 4 or 5 months. And you’re STILL holding out hope? You don’t even know what friend to call because lets face it. You don’t think any of them could handle it. You don’t think they could deal with it. You have to deal with everything yourself. You can’t honestly tell me that living till God knows when doing things entirely on your own is WORTH IT? Just end it now. Trust me it’ll be so much easier than this. So much easier. I flipped out. I started hyperventilating. I turned on my computer and I started playing The Almost. And then I started typing this. Abbey came down and told me mom said that it was my turn to do dishes. I asked her to tell mom that I would do them, but right now, I couldn’t. I need to change. I can’t ever let that happen again. This is the first thing I’m talking to Brandon about. Because I need help. I need to know how to change it. I’m going to start by asking for prayer. Then I’m going to do the dishes. And then I’m probably going to write some more.

I’m going to work through this.

I sent 10 people this message at 6:33pm

“I need you to pray for me. Pray really hard. I really need it. It has nothing to do with my Grandpa. And I can’t explain it right now. Just please. Pray for me.”

In less than 30 minutes I got 9 replies:

Aleshia 6:34pm—Will do. Love ya hun.

Stephanie 6:35pm—Okay, im praying. Right now L I hope youre okay. I love you!

Faith 6:35pm—Ok Lydia, I will!

Jessica 6:36pm—Are you ok baby?

Ana 6:40pm—Praying! And whatever is going on just focus. Focus on Christ and remain in constant prayer. Do this with faith! James 1:6! And remove yourself from any potentially sinful situation. I love you very much J

Liz 6:44pm—Are you alright?

Caleb 6:47pm—Ya sure no problem.

Bailey 6:56pm—I will darling. Love you

Ellen 6:57pm—Of course dear! Praying praying! Let me know if I can do anything for you!!

That voice is wrong. I quit doing things on my own a while ago. Yeah sometimes I think that I can do things alone but quite quickly I realize that I can’t do it. Those are only 9 of the numerous people I could have texted. I am not alone. And I know that those 9 people would be only a fraction of the people I would affect if I killed myself. It’s not even an option and I have no idea where it came from. But I’m not going to let it happen again. I’m not ever going to let myself get that low. STUPID VOICE IN THE BACK OF MY HEAD WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!? It’s just sitting back there. Repeating it over and over and over again Just kill yourself JustkillyourselfJustkillyourselfjustkillyourselfjustkillyourself. AND IT WON’T SHUT UP. I’m not going to fucking kill myself! First things first. I really am going to write those letters. I’m going to get everything out there, but I’m not going to give the letters to them. So here goes the first one:

Dear Dad,

I don’t even know what to say to you right now. So I’m just going to say everything that I’ve wanted to say for a while. Just stop it. Stop with your little mumblings about how we never listen to you and how “you just live here” Shut up. Okay. We love you. I don’t know why. Honestly with the way you act sometimes I really don’t know why we love you. But we do. Can’t you just remember that? Do you have to guilt us all the time? Oh and stop with your bipolarness. REALLY. You don’t flip-flop that fast? You do too! One second your yelling at your kids at the top of your lungs and two seconds later your trying to get on our good side. I know the little kids don’t realize it. But I do. You’re not teaching us anything good. Go ahead and blame your mom and your many father figures. I don’t care who you blame you still do it. You act on impulse and once you’ve had time to think you try to do nice things to help us forget. I know you think that I’m just some teenager spouting off about stuff I don’t understand. But here are the facts. What you are doing to use. It’s abuse. It’s verbal. It’s emotional. And I don’t think you realize it. The way you sat there and refused to believe. Literally refused to believe. Like you said the words “I refuse to believe” that Annie sat there and did her homework and proceeded to yell at her when she was crying her eyes out. Don’t tell me that’s right and that its just parenting. I don’t need to be a parent to know that you have to at least LISTEN to your children before passing judgment on them. . .or is that just how you’re supposed to treat everyone else? Are you supposed to treat your children like crap? And do you know how emotionally scarring it is for us to say “I love you Dad” and you to say “You do not.” Seriously? You talk about impressionable. How impressionable we all are. What the hell is that going to impress on us. That we don’t know what we feel? Forgive me if I’m seeing a trend. You yell at the kids. You take a second to think. Then you be extra nice to them. Sound right? Don’t deny it. It’s true. Okay so the kids yell at you or mom. They take a second to think. Then they say I Love You. Do you see it or am I being crazy. Because what I see is that you taught them that. They followed your example. Don’t EVER tell a child that they don’t love you. EVER. I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done for us. NEVER. EVER. EVER. Tell a child in a condescending tone “you do not” after they say “I love you” it is probably the lowest you could get. I’d honestly rather you hit us. I know that sounds terrible but it’s true. I walk around claiming that while, I’m sure my parents love me, I get the feeling that they don’t like me. And you know what. I STICK UP FOR YOU. You and all the shit that you do and say that makes us kids feel like crap. I STICK UP FOR YOU. It’s a case of battered child if I ever saw one. Do you know why I stick up for you? Because I Love You Daddy. I still freaking call you daddy. I stick up for you because I love you. I ignore you because I love you. I tell you these things because I love you. I want you to know how I feel. I want you to know that while, yeah your parenting sucks balls sometimes, if I could go back and tell my younger self yes or no to this family. I would tell them yes. I’d do this all over again. Maybe the second time around I’d stick up for my sibling more than I already do. You’d love that wouldn’t you? I understand that you had a really bad childhood growing up. I do. I’m living my life with rejection and abandonment issues that you couldn’t imagine. I know what it’s like to think “If only I would just die, then everything would be okay” do you remember when you told me about that? That on the way home from work you saw all those trees and thought about hitting each and every one of them. You said you thought if you died then we could pay the bills off and we would all be okay. Do you remember what I said? Because I remember it as clear as day. I said four words. “But we wouldn’t be” and you didn’t say anything back. We love you dad. No matter what we do that tells you we don’t. Even if we actually say the words “I don’t love you” we do. We really do. I wish you’d remember that. I wish you’d be aware of that. I wish you’d realize how the things you say and do affect us. I wish you’d think before you act. I know that I sound like an ornery teenager but please, for like the 5^th time actually LISTEN and COMPREHEND something SERIOUS that I’M telling YOU. Please.

Well there we have it. My letter to my father. And now onto mom. . .this is gonna be. . .interesting.

Dear Mom,

I think you love Nathan more than me. There I said it. Go ahead and deny it. I know you want to so go ahead and do it to make yourself feel better. Are you ready? Okay I think you love Abbey, Raymond and Annie more than me. Not as much as Nathan, but more than me. You can deny this too. But I’m just telling you now, it’s not just me that thinks it. Dad has even noticed your favoritism towards Nathan and all your brothers and sister and their kids have noticed it too. So you can live in denial for as long as you want but that is what everyone says or thinks about you. I have a few regrets in our relationship. I wish that you’d actually ask me questions. Instead of just assuming because in all honesty every single time you voiced an assumption about me it was usually wrong. You may have been on the right track but your initial statement was wrong. And I used to fight you on it. Your assumptions really did make an ass out of you and me. I think we would have fought a lot less if instead of saying “Lydia is mad because of. . . .” you had waited a couple minutes and came to me and asked “What was wrong just then?” You could even ask “Lydia, are you mad?” I feel like if you had just made the effort to actually talk to me that I wouldn’t have to tell you the truth: I can’t talk to you. I can’t talk to you because I’m afraid of how you’ll take it. I’m afraid of your reactions. And quite frankly I don’t think I can deal with your assumptions. And please don’t say that you don’t make assumptions. Because I’m going to be completely honest, the majority of the times that you said “Lydia is mad because. . .” I wasn’t mad. I really wasn’t. Or if I was, it wasn’t for that reason. And many times I said “I am not mad” or “That’s not why I’m mad” do you know what you did? You argued with me. And THAT made me mad. It still does. Whenever anyone TELLS me how I’m feeling it pisses me off. Because you really don’t know me. You don’t know what goes on inside of my head. And maybe that’s my fault but it’s the truth. As much as you think you know what goes on in my head you have no fucking clue. Because let’s face it, you’re first memory is not your mother stomping on your stomach. You don’t have recollections of a shitty foster home. You don’t have a little black box in the back of your head with a little TV inside that is permanently tuned to the Sexual Abuse channel. I appreciate the fact that when I was older you tried to empathize with me but being almost raped on the way from school by your brother’s friend that one time is NOT the same as being consistently molested by your brother. And you need to realize something. What Jim did to me, it’s not your fault. I know that thought has crossed your mind at least once. I don’t blame you. I’ve never blamed you for that. But it’s hard to talk about it, especially to you. I’m sorry. It’s the truth. I don’t want to talk about it with you because I’m afraid you’ll tell me I’m wrong. That that’s not what really happened. I wish you’d stop doing that. Telling me that I don’t really feel something. It taught me something that has seriously hurt me. It taught me that with enough denial, things appear to go away. My fear of talking to you because I feared your reaction is what drove me to push down every emotional problem I ever had. Those came exploding out my freshman year. And you know what. When I was sitting in Brandon’s office and he explained to me that because I was underage he was obligated to tell my parents if anything seriously concerned him I BEGGED him not to. Because you and dad where the source of a lot of problems. And I’m not trying to put all the blame on you, I absolutely could have handled myself way differently, but here we are in the now. And we have to deal with it. I don’t know how how but we need to. I just have a few more things to say. First off, you’ll never got all your scrapbooking projects done so quit saving stuff for that one page that you were going to do with those pictures from 75 years ago. Oh and no matter how much I stick up for you and dad. A lot of my friends are convinced that you don’t love me based on your actions. I had a lot of offers to go to my friends’ houses. And please, don’t ever do anything to make me apologize for you again. It was not Aaron’s fault. If you had decided to put YOUR DAUGHTER over PLAY PRACTICE you would have saved a lot of people a lot of stress. It wasn’t fair to me and it wasn’t fair to Aaron and Aleshia. But I still love you. I do. And I’ll stick up for you until the day I die. Because I love you. I know that I don’t act like it sometimes, but I really do.

I don’t think I need to write a letter to my siblings. That was enough therapy for now. Tomorrow I’m going to look into more. And dive into Word. And thank some friends.