My Childhood, Why I'm a strong person, and my dreams of being on Oprah.

Throughout my childhood I was always afraid of the dark. The pseudo satanic nightmares produced by my 3 year old subconscious left me permanently huddled in fetal position under masses of sheets and blankets, surrounded by a pillow fort and a barely soothing army of stuffed animals. Instead of sleeping, my paranoia would eventually wear me out. 

When my parents split up, staying with my dad was hell. I have never known a parent who got mad at their kid for ordering off the children's menu, but everything was about image. Unfortunately, as far as image goes, I uncannily favor my mother. That was a  fact that he didn't take lightly.
It was very clear who was and wasn't the favorite of his children, Ryann got go-karts, new furniture, unending praise, and attention. I got mental, emotional, and sexual abuse. One of the primary questions people ask when they find out you were abused as a child is "Why didn't you tell?" It's hard for people to put themselves in these situations. I didn't tell anyone for 3 years. In 7th grade, I finally broke down, I had a group of friends at the time who all cut themselves. They always compared scars and complained about how their fathers were hateful, mean, or out of the picture. They were the ones I told. Their response was utter shock. Not because of my situation, but because I had it worse than all of them and didn't cut myself. That night I went home, ran myself a bath, and took the razor I used to shave my legs and made about 26 short thin cuts along my arm. The instant uprising of emotion it brought enabled me to do anything but lay back and cry. I cried for no reason. I had been numb for so long, yet the cuts in my arm doubled as a crack in a dam. I was still scared. 

Beside the fact that I have no musical talent, I used to want to be a song writer. When I was 12 I wrote a song that I was sure could be a #1. I would hear my song on the radio and know that I meant something. I would go on Oprah and be the preteen who wrote that hit song for Alicia Keys. Then in the middle of my interview, in front of Oprah; in front of Alicia Keys; in front of all of America, including those damn racetrack people who worshiped my father; and especially including my dad; I would stand up and say "I was inspired to write this song because I am abused by my dad." This plan was shattered when Ryann found my song. God bless my little sister, she was just as scared of him as I was. She did everything she could to stay on his good side. She gave him my song and he called me in the kitchen so he could taunt me about it. What felt like hours went by as he violated everything my song meant to me. Mocking MY song, singing MY song. The faint appearance of lines on my arm proved yet again that I meant nothing. I had no Oprah or smash hit song. I had no cuts on my arm to signal my silent call for help. 

Eventually my secret got out. My school counselor called me into her office and asked me about my home life. I denied everything. Something I was best at, provided that I had done it for years. But it was too late. May of '07, approximately 4 days after that day in the counseling office, my dad killed himself. 

Learning about my dad’s death taught me a lot of things. Hold the people who matter at highest regards and don't give people who don't the slightest bit of attention. Your family is your lifeline. And never ever run away from your problems. 

Running away from my faults has never been my style. I have proven to be stronger than that. I would never choose to rewrite my life. Some people say everything happens for a reason. Maybe one day I will be sitting on a couch on Oprah, saying "I was inspired to write this book because I was abused by my dad, and I want girls to know that your spirits will heal." 

Dwell on it, my brave, brave friends. 


**This entry was posted on May 8th, the 3 year anniversary of the day I told my mom the truth. 
3 years on the dot, I Have the courage to tell my story.