Hey. I don’t really know where to start here. I thought I would get on the computer and write something, but then it got kind of serious and now I just really feel like I need to write my experiences. I don’t really know why, but you know, I guess it’s just one of those things. So if you’re really gonna read this, then thanks I guess. Bear with the stupid things you’re gonna see and, well, I guess I’ll start now. From the beginning.
Remember what it was like being a kid? Did you ever go outside and play with your friends, or catch bugs in the front yard? I can’t really give any more examples since my childhood wasn’t exactly like that. I’m not trying to jump onto the pity pot here, I’m just going to keep it real and tell you the truth. My childhood sucked. And I blame it on my mother.
My school days usually consisted of getting constantly bullied. I was shy and didn’t talk that often, but really, I was just afraid of getting yelled at. When the teachers called on me and I gave a wrong answer, I beat myself up over it way too much. Sometimes I even worried about whether the teacher would yell at me for making a mistake like that. There was always a voice inside my head telling me what an awful person I was. It’s all my fault. I can’t do anything right. I make everything bad. I didn’t know that wasn’t a healthy way of thinking, because I went home to the same thing.
On good days, my mother just had a crusty look on her face. Sometimes, she even looked normal. But that was when she didn’t know I was watching. When she saw me, her face would get just the slightest bit crustier. I just figured it was because of me. I was bad, of course she doesn’t like looking at me.
On bad days, I nearly died. Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, though that beer bottle came pretty close that one time. She was dangerous when she got angry, and she took it out on me. I was either screamed at or used for target practice. Let me show you what I mean.
I think I was in 3rd grade at this time. It was one of those afternoons where the sun seemed like it was right above your head. It was hot, but even more so for someone who wore a jacket all the time. Once I got off the bus, I walked towards my house really slowly like I usually did. Sometimes I considered just running away. What would happen if I just ditched this place and ran off? I could run anywhere. But I always ended up pushing that door open and bracing myself for whatever was beyond it.
It was midday. My mother had been drinking. That was nothing new though. I was just glad that she wasn’t passed out on the couch naked again. She was mumbling about something, but I didn’t want to find out what. She sounded angry. I knew that my attempt to invisibly slink away into my room had failed when I felt my mother’s eyes on my back.
“And you!” she yelled. “Yeah you! Turn the fuck around and look at me!” Oh no. “What are you doing here?”
“I… just got home from school…” I never made eye contact with her.
“No dipshit, I mean here. Ugh! I’m so tired of this!” I just kept looking at my shoes. What else was I supposed to do?
“You look at me when I’m talking to you!” She almost fell over. “You-! You know what! Fuck you!!” Trying to slide into my room was a bad idea that just made her worse.
“Come here! Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you… dipshit…” She looked a little dizzy. I was starting to feel a bit ill myself…
When I finally walked up to her, all she did was yell at me more. I never should have been born, she should have aborted me, she should have swallowed, I’m a sack of shit, I should kill myself and make everyone happier, blah blah blah you get the picture. All I wanted to do was disappear. I wanted to shrink into my jacket and become invisible for real. But that never happened, I can’t become invisible and I can’t become one centimeter tall. So what did I do? What can I do? I can cry. So I cried. And of course, that was another reason for my mother to make fun of me.
“You fucking cry baby, look at you!” She took another swig of beer and got really close to my face, forcing eye contact. “You… were a fucking mistake, kid. All you do is piss me off! Is that what you want, huh? You make mommy angry!!” I couldn’t take it anymore, this was too much for me, so I took off down the hall on my little legs. That’s when I looked back, for just a second, and saw a beer bottle an inch from my face. She missed though, by a hair. It terrified me. I stayed in my room the entire weekend.
That moment replayed in my head over and over again. I listened to the glass shatter against the wall next to my head. I listened to my heart beating in my throat. I tried not to listen to my mother shouting. Sometimes I randomly remember times like this and it only makes me more bitter towards her.
As for my father, I never saw much of him. He was usually out drinking or doing drugs. Or selling drugs. Meth, to be more specific. That’s how he ended up in prison. He was out of the picture when I was pretty young so I never knew much about him. When he did happen to be around though, he didn’t say much. He didn’t need to. His glare was terrifying enough for me.
So that’s how it was for a while. It didn’t take me too long to start self harming. It became my release. I didn’t think it was so bad, I mean, I thought anything was probably better than what I had then, and it made me feel slightly better. It was a way of punishing myself. I felt better because I was getting what I deserved. I might as well just die, right? No one would care anyway. Hell, I’d be doing them a favor, as my mother always said.
I tried to commit suicide. That’s when social services came and did the evaluations and everything was revealed. It felt good for a minute, I felt sort of relieved that I didn’t have to hide anything anymore. My mother went to prison and I went to live with my aunt and uncle and their four children. I thought that maybe, just maybe, things would get better. Maybe it really was my mother, and not me that was bad. But of course, it couldn’t be that easy, could it? Of course not. I guess I still had a lot to learn.
(Part One <Clouds> End. To be continued.)