I work really hard at keeping a "tough girl" attitude; like I don't care what happens or who I'm with or where life is taking me. The truth is that deep down I'm the exact opposite. I'm scared; I don't want to step out of the house because of what might or might not happen. In my almost two decades of life I have experienced heartbreak like I would have never imagined, and that has made me so fearful of the world. It's not just heartbreak in a romantic sense either. I ,like many others, have had Life throw me some wicked curve-balls.
At the age of 4 years old I experienced my first heartbreak. I wasn't the only girl in my dad's life anymore. I had a relatively close relationship with my dad up until my step mom and step sister came into our lives. After that it felt like our relationship slowly deteriorated until it was just a shell of what it used to be. It got worse as I got older, too. I started being belittled and bullied by my step mother and step sister. I felt so small and invisible because of the words they would say to me. They'd make fun of me for everything from my hair to the music I listened to to the way I dressed. My step sister would make me do things by saying "if you don't do ___ I won't let you play with my toys". Of course being 5 years old you don't realize that someone 5 months older than you doesn't have that kind of possession over things.
One night when I was about 6 or 7 years old I was staying at my dad and soon-to-be step mother's house, and I fell out of the top bunk of my bed. I can recall hitting my head on the ladder that led up to it, and then my dad came in to see what had happened. Of course, being so young, I was crying. It was a frightening experience, so I can't really blame my 6/7 year old self. Well, he took me out to the living room, and sat me on the couch so he could get me juice and some medicine to help with the headache I had received. My step mother came out of their bedroom, and started yelling at my dad "shut her the hell up, she'll wake ____!" (I'm not going to use names. It's not needed.) That started an argument between the two of them, and the whole time I was thinking "Why is she saying those things? Doesn't she love me? My dad loves her daughter....". It took me a very long time after that to realize that she doesn't. She never has loved me, and she never will.
This whole emotional/mental abuse thing kept on going for years. In the 3rd grade, at the age of 8, is when all of the pent-up emotions finally started coming out. I hadn't told my mom that I hated going to my dad's because of my step-family (who weren't even my step family at the time). In the 3rd grade I told a substitute teacher of mine that I didn't feel like I deserved to be on this planet, and that I wished I could just kill myself. In the 3rd grade I went through hours upon hours of counseling because I was a "suicidal" 8 year old. Those counseling sessions my dad knew nothing about. I asked my mom not to tell him because I didn't want to hurt his feelings. My grandma, my dad's mom, finally told him a few years later. I believe it was either shortly before or shortly after he married my now-step mom.
Twelve years later I still fight myself every day. I still see the scars that that woman has left on me...
That being said throughout it all there have always been two people that have been a constant reminder that I am worthy of love; my mom and my little sister. They're my rock, and I honestly have no idea what I'd do without them. I look at them, and I see home. We argue, laugh, fight, cry, but at the end of it all the most important thing is we love. We really do. I love my mom and sister more than life itself.
The heartbreak I received from the experience I had has taught me that I need to fight for what I believe in. I need to fight for those kids who are still going through the abuse, and I need to fight for the children who will never grow old. Within the next year I am going to try my hardest to start an organization for child abuse prevention. I would also like it to be a place where victims can relay their personal stories; if they wish. There is no reason a child should feel the way I felt. I had places I could go to for support, people who held me up when I had to shed those inevitable tears, but not every child does. I would like to work on stopping child abuse all together. There is absolutely no excuse for it. Period.
Always Yours,
Megan
