So I just remembered that
my first stepfather tried to kill me by knocking me out of my inner tube (I was very young and couldn't swim) at the wave section in a Schlitterbahn lazy river. I distinctly remember continuously dipping underwater until, somehow, I made it to the shallow part. I couldn't see him anymore as I assume he kept going with his sister, brother-in-law, and nieces for another round. My mother wasn't in the river because she is terrified of water and was probably with my younger brothers in the little kid section.
I don't know why I assume he tried to kill me, but theres a deep feeling I have that knows that was his intent.
And I'm pretty sure it was some time after that when he started coming into my bed to grope me as I slept. When I would awake, he would move his hand down to my stomach and tell me to just go back to sleep, but I knew what he was doing.
And it was sometime after that trauma that my mom came in to wake me up for something on a Saturday morning and he decided to join in and tried tickling my feet. I snapped and screamed for him to stop touching me. He got upset and stormed out of the house and my mom, confused, packed us into the van to go off looking for him.
He stormed out a lot. We went looking a lot.
I remember coming home from school to find my brothers crying and large red handprints on them, where clothes covered.
I remember my youngest brother, 3 or 4 at the time, being terrified of spiders so whenever he was "bad", he would stick him in a corner with the most spider and cobwebs as he screamed and cried.
I remember my youngest brother having to write 100 sentences as punishment, before he could even hold a pencil. I remember encouraging him and celebrating when my brother wrote a perfect "p" and showing it off, only to have him accuse me of doing it for my brother and having him start over.
I remember loving piano lessons but not being able to go anymore because of him.
I remember him being in a fit a rage and had all of us, mom included, backed up into the furthest corner of the bed that my brothers and I shared and he picked up our cat that was trying to walk out of the room and threatened to break her neck in front of us.
I remember being at his sister's house overnight because my mom worked multiple jobs while he didn't work at all, only sometimes as a tattoo artist, and screaming at us because we didn't want to eat this awful, nasty thing his sister made for dinner.
I remember seeing his naked body walking through the house when everyone should have been asleep. I was on the couch.
I remember being on that same couch on a Sunday day afternoon and we were all napping. His brother in law came by and wanted to talk to my mom and since we had been around them frequently, I let him in. And then I got to hear that guy rape my mom. The only good thing my first stepfather ever did was beat the crap out of him when he found out.
I remember hearing him and my mom have loud sex, but I know that being loud wasn't her idea. I know she was forced.
I remember him vomiting his fake meat products and accusing my mom of feeding him real meat in his sloppy joes.
I remember how he ripped the phone from the wall and broke the receiver so we couldn't call for help.
I remember when he slammed my mom against a wall. I remember how she screamed, "Why don't you just kill me right now?!" and how he dragged her, by her hair, down the hallway to their room, grabbed a sword off the wall, and pinned her against the bed, threatening to slice her throat open.
I remember screaming from their doorway and having him turn toward me with the sword.
I remember he disappeared.
I remember my mom trying to quietly tell my grandma that she found out he was doing drugs.
I remember the letters he sent from prison, asking about us, and my mom being terrified he would come back.
I remember growing up thinking I needed physical affection from boys.
I remember being so, so angry. All the time.
I remember being at home and getting so angry I would throw hard objects at my brother's head. He was the middle child. I was so mean to him. I can never take back how mean I was to him. I never considered his trauma and he has recently told me he grew up with me making him think I didn't love him, that I loved our youngest brother the most. I'm so sorry Aaron.
I remember my youngest brother being bad. He got into so much trouble from such a young age. I know now that it was trauma-based. He was basically a baby when it all happened.
My mom and now stepdad (who is so wonderful) always said I was moody and mean from the ages of 13-15. I was hurt. I was angry. I WAS mean. But I have never told them all I have seen, all that has been done to me, all that I remember. I can't. I don't want to ever make my mom feel like she failed me.
I don't blame her for a minute. She was a battered woman and I KNOW she LOVED her children. She has always worked so hard for us and she got trapped by a man nearly 2 feet taller and 150 pounds heavier than her. I'm not mad at you mom. I could never be mad at you. I remember finding your journal and you said you wanted to be dead. I never told you I found that. Mom, you were the age I am now when you were dealing with all this. Second marriage, 3 kids, and 2 jobs. I am now the age you were and I love you so much. I love you so much, mom. Thank you for not giving up, not ever.
We are all adults now. 24, 21, and 19. You raised us all so well, and you still work harder than ever. I'm so glad you found your husband and that we all merged into a family of 7. I'm so glad you're happy because you deserve it more than anyone. And I can't add to the pain I know you still feel when HE gets brought up. Forgive me for not telling you, mom. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry all the anger has constantly built up inside me and led to my breakdown last year. I'm sorry I worried you. I know I made you cry when I said I wanted to die. I know you cried when you left me at the hospital. I'm so sorry mom.
I'm sorry I still struggle with these thoughts. I'm sorry I won't tell you about them. I'm sorry if it one days causes me to go beyond the edge. I never thought I would make it to 24, mom, and that's why I'm barely starting to take my career path seriously. It wasn't because I didn't know what I wanted to do. It was because at 13 I told my best friend I didn't see myself past 23 and I really almost didn't make it.
I'm sorry he destroyed us, mom. I'm so sorry I have been sobbing as all these pent up memories come out through my fingers as I type this because he continues to destroy me.
2087
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