Remembrance of an innocence lost.

When Dr. L and I first met, she did this little thing on her white board to figure out where things started to fall apart in my life. We dug deep back, how far back could I remember?

3ish. I remember being 3. I remember the night my little brother was born. I remember some night, possibly nights before that. I remember boys about 10ish - 12ish staying at our house, and I remember the way they'd touch me, and they way they'd kiss me. Not things little boys are supposed to do to little girls, right? Yes, at 3 and 4 years old I can remember 'French Kissing' and being touched 'down below.' But I didn't tell my parents, I'm not sure why, I can't remember if I was told not to or not.. I just remembered not doing it..



I remembered from that first night on, which had to be around the time when my brother was born, so summer when I was 3.. always having this extreme urge to rub up against things so that I'd feel good down there. Okay, maybe not always, but it was this intense feeling and I didn't really know it was inappropriate at the time, and didn't for many years later. I still struggle with it to this day. I got caught, a couple of times as a kid and was made fun of, by my siblings.. who just didn't get what had happened and that it wasn't something that I even thought about. I was always ashamed by it.

I used the excuse "I'm just thinking!" or "I have to pee and someones in the bathroom still!" feeling just awful about my unending desire to just feel good. Yet despite the needing to do that sort of thing, I could never just do it myself with my hands, and still can't.. because it fills me with those overwhelming awful feeling. I'm not even sure what it is.

Perhaps it continued after I was three and four. I remember being allowed to spend the night with boys that were ... as usual 10-12 and I am not sure the types of things that may have happened. Maybe it was just in the time period I was born that it was okay, but these were all little boys that my biological father knew.

Of course, my biological father happens to be a bi-polar possibly psychopathic gay pedophile. Who's preferred age of boy is 10-12, sometimes a little older if they're very young and innocent looking. So, there were often boys about and I remember my fair share of kissing. Things I have noticed that none of my kids seem to have any interest in, which is obviously normal. Where as my childhood and upbringing were not.

I also explained that often my parents, biological anyway, or at least my bio-dad, aka Sperm Donor (that's all he should be declared as.. ugh), smoked weed. I believe one of the things he was put in jail for was selling or possession of drugs.. Perhaps even both. I remember that he smoked it with old soda cans, and would call us to his room and blow the smoke in his face. I was little, I had no idea what it was, I just knew that after he'd blow his smoking in our faces you'd feel really good. But then didn't really tend to remember much after it being blown in your face and just feeling pretty damn awesome. I wonder if more sexual abuse happened when I was high? I couldn't tell you, I was a little kid getting high!

Of course, all of this seemed normal, I was a spoiled little princess really. We took vacations to Disney Land, my sperm donor owned an electronics repair place so we often had things that people ditched. Lots of arcade games in our garage or in the living room. Nice beds, nice clothes, awesomely large birthday parties where we could invite our entire class and just be spoiled to the ends of the world!

SD (sperm donor) would order pizza and bring it to school for me and a few of my friends. We'd sit in class with him while all the other kids had to eat the typical school lunches. It was awesome, I was popular, my mom had the money to put us in beauty pageants and make us amazing clothes and Halloween costumes.  Aside from getting scared when dad's temper would flare and he'd blow up and like, break the patio wall with a bike or something or just be to scary that I hid in my closet. As far as I knew it was happy childhood.

I started drinking at an early age too, never very much, but really, what kind of kid is going around drinking wine coolers and having her supposed to be father but stupid abusive idiotic sperm donor of a thing getting her high and probably realizing she was being molested by the same little boys he was molesting?
Okay, it was more than a little. I would drink an entire wine cooler/flavored malt beverage thing as far back as... probably four or five.  Though blessedly I never became an alcoholic, I know that at one point HE did indeed have problems with alcohol and then went on to attempt to drink only non-alcoholic beer. I remember it vividly, a conversation about non-alcoholic beer in a parking lot. Asking him why he was drinking and he got snappy, saying it didn't have alcohol and I can picture the can, a yellowish-khaki color clearly with the words non-alcoholic on it. Of course these are memories I haven't really thought of too much until after thinking about that first appointment.

It's a miracle that somehow, I am the only one out of my siblings, and my mom who doesn't do anything like that. I mean yes, I will drink a little on occasion here and there, but I've only been drunk one time and the resulting hang over was so horrific I am sure I will never do that again. Though admittedly the attention I got after that accidental drunkenness was pretty nice. I will fully admit that I do like being taken care of and babied in ways that I was not as a child. Rub my feet? Yes please, snuggle me and stroke my hair? Yes yes yes please! Make dinner? Sure! buy me dinner? Okay! Anything to take away the burdens of responsibility. Of which I do not cope with well anymore. I did, perhaps, for a very short time cope okay with the forced responsibility of raising my younger brother and sister, but the ability to cope with things has become less and less over the years. To the point where at times I am very close to flight.

By that I mean, running away from everything in my life. My home, my state, my kids, my family, everyone.
I have no idea where I'd run away to. But I'd just run away, abandon it all. Find someplace that would take care of me. Maybe a mental hospital somewhere. Maybe some abusive relationship with someone who'd 'take care of me' in a certain extent, but I'd inevitably run away from it too.

I have no idea. I just know that my life is this spiral and it gets more out of control. I don't know if I WANT to handle it really. I don't know if I can get better or if I need to leave it and pretend that I am not anything that I've become. I often thin of, what would I do if I found a genie with a magic lamp?
What would I wish for?

1. To win the lottery. I often have financial difficulties, I'm rather... awful.
2. To be allowed to move away from here.
3. To rid the world of mental illness.

What would that do?
If I wasn't this way, who would I be?

Crap, I've gone off on an awful tangent again.
*sigh*

Anyway.. That was where we got to. At least as far as the past goes.
I got into it slightly with the Dr I had to speak with for the disability mental health evaluation thing. I cried so much, I shook, I scratched, I curled up, I wanted to just find a place to hide. I just I hated it.

Yesterday, and today I'm not feeling well. Just tired, sinus pressure, pain, trying so many things for the ringing in my ears that the doctors at the hospital don't care about. I feel like nothing will ever get fixed, and I'm lost and scared right now.

-Shattered