Don't Be Mad

I never told you, but I know who I am, and it's not the woman you know. I have been hiding this from you because I don't want to hurt you. So, if you read this please read with care and know that I warned you. You may get hurt, but I need to let it all out.

I was eight years old. When I first noticed I was being abused. When I realized I had to be the bigger person and care for my brother while HE hurt you. When HE yelled at you. When HE aimed for you. When you weren't home. I had to be the bigger person.

I was eleven years old. When I had to take my brother outside to play with the neighbors. When I was pulled from the neighbor's yard to talk to police. When I watched them take HIM away. I was eleven when I felt relief. I was eleven years old. When the greatest man in our lives started taking you on dates. When I wasn't certain if I could trust another man with you. But I found that I could trust him.

I was twelve when I was free. When I had friends. When I was figuring out who I was. I was twelve when I felt alive. I had a true father figure. I was allowed to be myself. I was learning new skills. I was ready to be happy. I was twelve when my life fell apart. When my best friend died. When I was bullied for grieving. I was twelve.

I was thirteen when you said you didn't love the man that showed me happiness. When I was taken from my friends. When I had my first crush, she was beautiful. When my crush moved. When I promised a church, I loved their god. I was thirteen when my life was unraveling.

I was fourteen when I had my first real relationship. When I felt in love for the first time in a while. When I sent my first dirty picture, when I was having intense make out sessions on the back stairs at school. When he put his hand down my pants when I said no. When he said I love you. I was fourteen when I stopped eating everything but dinner. I was fourteen when you forced us to break up. When I was being saved and didn't know it. I was ungrateful for a moment that saved me. When I was blinded by his love. I was fourteen when I had to leave my friends again, but I also left a tragedy.

I was fifteen when I was new. When I was able to start over. I was fifteen when I had to figure out my friend group in a school that was completely separated. I was fifteen when I found my friends. When I found a new crush. He loved me, he missed his bus stop for me. He walked me home, he loved me. I was fifteen, when I first started smoking weed. When I was happy again. When love fell through. When I was introduced to him. I was fifteen when I felt happiness. When I found a coping mechanism for my grief that I had been working through since I was twelve. I was fifteen when I started cutting, when I started downing Day-Quill like it was water, just to feel a high. When I started smoking weed often. When you found my weed.

I was sixteen when she broke my heart. She was my best friend, and she broke me. Now I could have easily blamed him, but she knew. I was sixteen when I hurt myself for love. When I went back to him after that incident. When I lost a friend. When I realized I could only rely on myself. When he hurt me again, but with a new girl. When I found a new crush. When she treated me like a queen. When she broke my heart and had to leave.

I was seventeen. When I heard he wrecked his car the first day of school and was hospitalized. When I was afraid, he wouldn’t make it. When he hurt me yet again. I was seventeen when I found a new crush. He made me feel love again. He made an effort. And he used me. I was seventeen, when he used me. When I let him take my virginity, because I just wanted to feel again. When I was first hospitalized. When you learned I had seen ghosts since I was eight, but you as well as the nurse and the doctors failed to believe me. When I disappeared for a weak. When my life changed drastically. I was seventeen when I realized the guy who broke my heart too many times cared about me.

I am twenty-three. And I have learned. I’ve learned that I’ve been abused and I’m traumatized because of it. I have high functioning anxiety, depression, borderline personality disorder, suicidal tendencies, and a drastic mood disorder. I have ADHD and I’m learning I might be autistic too. I am a bisexual woman. I love drinking, but I am not an alcoholic, and I smoke.

I am twenty-three and I’m still afraid to come out to you. About my sexuality, and how I’m mad at you for making me feel mentally insane.

Written by a daughter you never knew.