When I was a little girl I used to think that once I escaped from the prison of my parents home things would be OK. In order to get through the severe physical and emotional abuse I would fantasize about my wedding, a wedding that would make me so very happy one day. I thought about the lovely dress that I would wear and the flowers that would be in my hair and all over the church. I thought about the type of man I would marry. I just knew that if I could just hold on this would happen to me. I blocked out the screams and abuse and the gun my father would point at my mother's chest. Block it out, block it out. One day I will grow up and be loved and be happy. I will have a big wedding. Just block it out it will be OK. God will take care of me so too will my guarding Angel. When I grow up I will be safe and not afraid anymore and life will improve and be decent--not perfect like a fairy tale but good. Well, it didn't. My naiveti allowed my to believe that life would get better once I was out on my own and in college, nobody told me that it could actually get worse.
I met a man who was a medical student. He seemed to take an interest in me. We dated. I was conservative so I did not want to get "too involved" without being engaged or married. He didn't quite see things the same way as I did. One night he had too much to drink and lets just say that he didn't take "no" for an answer. After he said that it was OK because he loved me and he would make me his wife. This was a lie. Nobody told me that anyone could be so cruel. This even paled in comparison to how abusive my father was to me. This was the beginning of the end for me, and it only gets better.
After two years of isolation and depression, I decided to return to school. School was fine and I managed to graduate in DEC. 1997 (it was a hollow victory, for I was alone without anyone to give two shits about me), my so-called friends had better things to do then to wish me a happy graduation. This hurt but life went on. I knew that I'm basically alone in the world. I only have one decent friend, the rest I can do without.
I've come to realize that there are folks out there who pretend to be your friend just to laugh at you behind your back and they enjoy your pain. If you recall in my last post I used the term "WESTERN DISMISSAL" ("you should talk to someone"). This "friend" had hurt me badly six years ago but she claimed to have learned that I was a good friend and that she was so very sorry for betraying my confidence and laughing at my pain. I stupidly accepted her apology and told her I would be a friend to her again. In the meantime she had written to me every now and then (she lives in Chicago). In 1999, I was diagnosed with aplastic anemia. To make a long story short, I felt sick and half the hair on my head fell out (and has not yet grown back). This illness has exacerbated my depression beyond fucking belief. I had always felt the ugliness of abuse and pain on the inside but I could hide it because the outside package was pretty, but now that too is gone.
I kept my feelings to myself as I did not want to burden my "friends." Finally in Oct of last year, I told my friend in Chicago (via E-mail) about my disease and what it had done to me physically and emotionally. I told her that I think it would be better if I died. She responded via E-mail several days later after the computer indicated that it had been read (I guess she was too cheap to call me ). She told me was that perhaps I should "talk to someone." Needless to say, I blew her off. I never responded and have not heard from her since.
I'm not even mad at her -- not really. I can see now that she is shallow, much like many of the shiny happy fucks who inhabit this planet. She is newly married everything is shiny...
So this, and a lot of other shit is why I'm an Asher. Now that I think about it, my first "attempt" was when I was about four. I would hold my breath and hope that the Angels would come for me and take me out of my horrible home. But as I became older, I just thought if I were a good person that good things would sometimes happen to me and, right? Buzzz, wrong answer.
I have always been on the outside looking in. When I was a little girl nobody told me that life would be so awful, nobody told me.
Last update: Thursday, February 08, 2001 21:09