I started this diary back up because I wanted to learn something about myself. My life has been a struggle and I have been through hell. My intent all along was to write about it, to learn something about myself, and attemt to self-heal. I was going to privatize these entries, but I decided if one person can connect with me, then it's worth me putting it all out there.
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I was born into a household that was hell. I want to say literally, because I don't believe in a figurative hell.
I come from a long line of abuse. In fact, both my maternal and paternal grandfathers were murders. My maternal grandfather attempted to join the Italian mob (we're not even italian!) and murdered a well-respected man. He was convicted when my mother, the youngest of three daughters, was just a baby. He served a 17 year sentence, and started stalking my grandmother. I am not 100% he physically abused my grandmother, but I know he mentally abused her. I know he was a drug addict. My and my "grandfather" met once or twice. I don't remember what he even looks like.
The story of my paternal grandfather was sad. My father was also the youngest of three kids. Two boys, one girl. His father was extremely abusive. One day, he and my grandmother got into it. He killed her in front of my father. I believe he then killed himself. My father and his brother and sister went to live with their aunt. My father grew up with abuse.
When I was born, I was technically the middle child. My brother Aaron before me had died of SIDS when he was four months old. My mother had me in attempts to fill that gaping hole Aaron had left. My mother was a stay at home mom, my father was in the Air Force, and we lived on base in Oklahoma City. Later on, in 1989, my brother Vincent was born.
My father was a peice of shit. I am not going to condone his behavior the slightest by saying that he had only acted the way he should, according to statistics. My father, of course, would beat the shit out of my mother. My father was a controlling dickface, and should be shot.
My mother had told me some of the things he did to her. He would have her spread her fingers open on the wooden table and stab between them with a knife. He hit her in the head with a metal pot (about 1/4" thick) and gave her a concussion. He threw her outside naked. My mother would cook for him with nothing but an apron on, and he would bring his friends over, not allow her to cover up, and laugh at her. I remember him throwing my full grown German Shepard against a brick wall. He killed my dogs and disposed of them because they didn't listen. My mother was left with such a small grocery budget, we would eat baby food. My grown ass mother would have to eat baby food. He would cheat on her. He would let me drink the backwash of his beer and get me drunk. I was four at this time.
When my brother was born, he accused my mother of cheating. He told my mother that Vincent looked nothing like him, and kicked her out. This is when I met my grandfather. We had nowhere to go and lived with my ex-murderer grandfather in Georgia. I remember finding a big baggie of coke (not cola) in his shoe. I remember finger painting the walls. I remember the yellow walls. We eventually went back to my father.
We didn't stay long. My mother told me later in life that I was a smart little girl. She believed that I knew more than I shoud ever know at four. I would tell her not to stay, and would ask, "Why do you let Daddy hit you?" I used to help my Mom around the house, I would help fold laundry. My mother started questioning me about my day of the week panties, (I don't exactly remember what) and that is when I told my mother that my father looked at me in a way no father should look at his daughter. Not only look, but touch. I, to this day, remember exactly what he did, but I won't write about it here.
My father drove us to Arizona so we could live with my mom's stripper friend, Jennifer. My mom worked two jobs, walked everywhere in the Arizona heat, and eventually got her own apartment in the Phoenix drug infested ghetto. Anything was better than where she was. We were free.
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