My Heart's Cry

This is the testimony of my life. I'm very private and this is written in a document because I can't talk about it much. The pain is still very real to me. I can't say the words m--- and r--- because they cause flashbacks so if this seems a little strange when I get to that part. Please bare with me. Also, this was on a website so some of the stuff might seem strange. So, bare with it.... Anyways, here goes. My family consisted of the usual, a mom, a dad, and a daughter (that'd be me). I thought we were the perfect little family as most little kids do. I didn't think much of it when Dad never came home for days/weeks/sometimes months at a time. I just thought it was the way of life. I grew older though and it wasn't normal I realized. Dad was a truck driver and he was now missing holidays: Christmas, Thanksgiving, Valentine's Day. Where was he? I kept asking myself. So Dad wasn't there for much of my life. When he was 35, I was 9, he had 2 mild heart attacks. He wasn't the same afterwards. They say when someone has a heart attack, if they were nice before, they won't be afterwards and vice versa. In case your wondering, in my case it was true...to a point. See, I also thought that being hit was normal. That when other kids got spankings it was suppose to leave a handmark or a bruise. I didn't know. I also didn't know that when you got spanked with a belt, it wasn't suppose to leave you breathless on your bedroom floor for almost 15 minutes. That stopped after the heart attacks but if I only had known what was coming. I would have rather been beat. I was 12 years old and dad had a night job. He slept all day ...gone all night. This was new since usualy he wasn't home at all. I was in school during the day so it wasn't much different. Dad came in at 6, when I was getting up. I left for school. Came home, did homework/watched tv until 4, woke Dad up, Dad got ready for work. Mom came home made supper, took Dad to work did it again. Until one day when that all changed. I was to wake Dad up at 4. I was sometime in August. I was 12 years old and had just started 6th grade at a new school. (Btw, I'm 15 and I've lived in 17 different house and gone to 5 schools.) It was 4 'o clock. I went up the stairs and walked into my parent's room."Dad, get up. Time to get ready for work. Get up, Dad" Dad woke up and said he'd get ready. He then pulled me into the bed. I was stunned and didn't know what to do. Nor what he was going to do. He began sticking his hands up my shirt and down my pants. I was stunned. I remember thinking what do I do. This isn't right. I knew it wasn't right but this was my dad what did I do? Somehow I found a way to get away. I went downstairs and my mind was racing. I didn't know what to do. Things progressed this way a couple more times. He would whisper in my ear "I love you" and "This is how you show someone you love them." One day I was home sick and he came into my room and did things. I would take showers and have the doors shut. When I got out the doors would be open and he'd be sitting there. This was my dad. There was the time he pushed me on the bed and held my hands. He was undressing me. He was trying to have sex with me. I screamed "your hurting me" and "let me go" but nothing seemed to phase him. Somehow I wiggled free from his grasp, ran downstairs and threw up. He had been telling me "don't tell, don't tell mom" I vowed I wouldn't. There was nothing that could make me. I begin enrolling in all kinds of after school programs. Mom thought it was to make new friends which I didn't have many of (still don't). I was really doing it so I wouldn't have to go home in the afternoon. That year any award a 6th grader could get for an extracirrucular activity, I got. It still didn't stop him. There was always a way. To speed this up, there was a knock on our door. The date: January 20, 2002. It was my uncle. Our family was big on get togethers. We'd had one the week before. My uncle asked if I would take my cousins upstairs so my mom and them could talk. Upstairs in my bedroom, my youngest cousin said to my older, "That officer was nice. He gave me a teddy bear." I didn't understand at that point but Philip (the older cousin) said "Shut up" and glanced at me and then down. About an hour later my uncle called the kids down and mom said, "Pack some clothes. We're going to grandma's." I was confused but did as I was told and we drove to grandma's. Later Mom came downstairs and said "We need to talk." I hated those 4 little words. She said that Lauren (younger cousin) had accused my dad of trying to touch her at the get together the week before. She said dad said to tell you everything. She asked if anything had happened to me. I shook my head and rolled over and feel alseep not knowing what to do. I went to school that week in a daze. Nothing felt right and Mom kept on with that persist question. Has anything happened to you? Has he done anything to you? My repeative answer was no. Friday, January 25, 2002. 9:30 A.M, math. I walk up to my teacher and tell her I feel sick. She says I look horrible and sends me to the nurse on a pass. I get to the nurse and she takes me temperture. 103.4. Going home. She calls my mom at work and mom says she'll be right over. 11 A.M. Mom arrives. We're driving down the road from the middle school and she asked that question one more time. I shake my head no for the thousand time that week. I want to throw up. Then she says something that sparks fear all through my body, "the doctor will find out if anything has happened. Now, has anything happened?" I froze. I'm 12 years, sick as a dog, and have no clue what to say. I'm tired and sick, I give in. I slowly nod yes. "He has?" I nod again. She goes into hysterics. She pulls off into the Bigfoot, across from the car wash. She goes through the ashtray looking for change. I hear her through the window tell grandma what I've said. I close my eyes and wish to just drift away. She gets back in the car and we drive to my house. That sits me up. She said to stay in the car. 20 minutes later she comes bursting out of the house, crying. She said he didn't say he did it, and he didn't say he didn't. We drive to the police station. I've got chills from my high fever. We park in front of the station and walk up. There's a little box inside a hallway with a big steel door and the end. Mom pushes a button on the box and tells him why we're here. A police officer comes through the door not 2 minutes later. He ushers us through and into an office on the right. He gestures to two chairs. The big steal door clangs. The noise in the station is deafening. Phones ringing, people screaming, fax machines. It seems like utter chaos. The officer asks me a bunch of question. None of which I wish to repeat here. He tell mom after half an hour or more (it seemed like days) to get me to a doctor. They make the examinations there. We get back in the car after the officer gives me this dopey little bear that's blue with one of those old fashioned police hats on it (a couple months I found this and gave it to my dog, glad for him to rip it into shreds). We went to the hospital and she got me something for my fever and prescribed me a prescribtion. She then said "this is gonna hurt." I already figured it would but was too sick and tired to care. It hurt but she said there was signs I was abused sexually. The police had a case. She said she would call the detective. I walked out to the waiting room only to find my worst nightmare. Everyone was there. The entire family. It was the last thing I wanted to see. Papaw and Mamaw took my to their house. Mom went and got my meds. That afternoon we went to the house and loaded everything up took it mamaw's. There was nothing left in the house. While we were at mamaw's there was a knock on the door. I was with my cousins in mamaw's bedroom doing something. Mom was back at the house getting a few other things. I noticed in the driveway there were three cop cars. At the door, three cops. Aunt Kim and Mamaw went outside. A few minutes they rushed in the house yelling for my uncles and grandparent's. "We gotta go get Ange!" My mom is Ange. They rushed out of the house leaving the kids and my Uncle Bill there. We went into my grandparent's room to watch TV. I remember thinking what's happened to mom and asking Ashley (oldest cousin) what was going on. She said she didn't know but that it was going to be okay. I hoped it would. I had been saved almost a year. Baptised three weeks before. I prayed to God everything was okay. I thought maybe Dad and come back and did something to Mom. That was far from the truth. I don't remember them coming back. I don't remember falling asleep. All I remember is waking up the next morning and the whole family was there again. It must have been about noon. Mom sat me down. "I have something to tell you" Those aren't good words either. "Dad died last night. He was in a car accident. He's with Jesus now. He's gone." Dad had been in lots of car accidents. I never expected it though. I went into shock. I'm not a crier but I felt two tears run down my face. "I have to go back funeral arrangements today. Are you okay?" I nodded. "Do you want to go with me?" I shake my head. "Okay." Aunt Kim says that I can go to her house with the girls if I want. I nod. I watch my uncle tell my little cousins. They don't understand. I got to my aunt's and we watch movies and stuff. I'm not real enthusiastic. The showing is Monday and the funeral is Tuesday. I really want to go back to school just to get my mind of things. Mom won't let me. I got back the next week. I just want to dive back into my school work. I have a memory laspe between January 28 until sometime when we bought our first house. It's a laspe of about 3 months were I don't remember anything. I know mom sent me to counseling and because I wouldn't talk I was discharged. One thing I do remember from that time is this, Dad's death was at 3:45. Driving down the road, possible destination, our church. Cross the yellow line in front of a truck. Change mind, swerve back. Look in the passangers seat, there's a note they'll find. It'll explain everything. Cross the yellow line again. Semi-truck. Collision, ejection through the windshield. Death. My dad commited suicide. He had told mom earlier if he was guilty he would. Guess he proved I wasn't lying. I thought everything was going smoothly when I passed the 1yr anniversary. Good on the 2 yr anniversary. Then things went downhill again. I'm almost done with my story but to understand where I am now, this is what happened and I'll try to make this as short as possible. In August, I started a journal on a website called Xanga www.xanga.com/alonereject is my page. I stopped eating. I was cutting. I was thinking about going deep into the viens on my wrist. I lost 20 lbs in a week. Almost 40 lbs in 2 months. I had an ED. I don't know when but sometimes during these months my mom talked to some of my online friends. They told her that I had tried to slit my wrist the week before. They gave her the website to my journal and she read it. If you go back to the beginning there's some dark pages. I was wearing a lot of black because it's "thinning". I was obsessed. I was confronted by my mom with the information she had and was yet again cornered. I was drove to a local mental institute. The wished to admit me but my mom wouldn't let them. I was being admitted for eating disorder: aneroxia nervosa and thoughts of self-harm. I had to sign a consent to safety document claiming I would not kill myself after leaving the hospital. Since Mom wouldn't let them admit me the alternative was a group therapy program at the hospital. An Tntensive Outpatient Program. 3 nights a week for 5 hours. I was discharged a couple months later. I had to go to a one-on-one counslor which I still see. I'm still dealing with cutting and there are days I have to force myself to eat. I still don't like the image of myself I see in the mirror and the scars don't help. I've been diagonesed with Post Tramautic Stress Disorder (PTSD) from the abuse. I was abused physically, verbally, and sexually. I have flashbacks of these things also. I had turned my back on God during those months. I have come back to him in December. I think turning my back on God was one of the stupidest things I have ever done. I never wish to do it again. Through God I can find the healing I need to restore my strength that I could no longer handle what was going on around me on my own. My heart was crying out for something, someone, anyone to talk. God tugged on my heart strings and said "Hey, what your looking for is me. Stop being so stubborn and let me back into your life." I released myself to him and he's changing my slowly. I'm a writer. I write poetry. Not all of my poems are the happy. A lot of them came from my depression. I'm working to turn the depression into excitment for Jesus. With some time and some guidance. God will heal me. I want my life to be all for him and nothing else. Well, this is my story. If you made it this far, your good. I hope it touched someone. Your not alone if you've experienced this. Well, I'll shut up now. Thanks for listening.

Yeah, you don't know me, but I read your story. It was a brave thing to do to admit to the world what happened. I'm glad that I read it. It yet again reminded me that there's better ways to deal with problems then trying to hurt yourself. I seem to have to be reminded that pretty often. Thanks for your help!;)

Well done Jess. Opening up and facing it is the first step to losing it.
Pray everything through. Every thought. No matter how dark. Pray first and act later.
God bless you. You are not forgotten. I love you in Christ.