Up to this point in my childhood I had been scared most of my life. Terrified of what was going to happen...but my anger was growing toward the situation and I am not the type of person who will sit back and allow terrible things to go unnoticed. I began to fight back. I would yell and scream, in some cases antagonize, at other times down right cause trouble. I was tired of what was happening and things were only getting worse. My world was crumbling around me.
My church, remember it was my safe-haven, was going through it's second split. This time members of the local occult had attacked our pastor, I know they did several things to him but I only remember that they had thrown hot grease in his face. Because of this event my mom withdrew our membership and with it my love for the church. I began to wonder and question about God's sovereignty and if it were true. Because if God was the God that the church and Bible proclaimed him to be why didn't He stop my dad from hitting us? Saying hurtful things? Causing so much pain? If God was the God that the Bible and church said He was, then why did He take away my safe-haven so that I had to stay day in and day out in the presence of a man whom I hated with every ounce of my being? Didn't He love me enough that I deserved better? Didn't He love me enough that I deserved a dad who hugged me, held my hand, and told me that he loved me. Didn't I deserve to be happy? My conclusion, God was not real.
So what did I believe? I believed in Evolution, but not just evolution but Theo-Evolution. What is Theo-Evolution? It is the belief that a god created the materials that allowed evolution to occur. I was a vast believer soaking in every word taught at school and very cynical toward anything related to God...because I hated God and I hated Him because He came to save the world but I felt like He forgot to save me.
My anger was deepening and hardening my heart. My tongue was like razors, my fist like hammers. I was willing to bash anything and anyone who got in my way. My internal voice was just as harsh and I was forever crucifying my self for not being good enough. My family constantly compared me to my older sister, who was a size four and perfect in their eyes...unlike the brassy, plus size girl I had become. I was never strong enough, smart enough, or fast enough...and my families (including my parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins) favoritism was verbalized as often as possible via words and actions.
It may not seem like a big thing but my sister always got birthday cakes, store bought...and I always got homemade, nothing special really just cake and frosting. As small and petty as this may seem as a child I felt like they loved her more because the cake represented how they were willing to sacrifice the money we didn't have to do something special for her and I was given the cheap homemade version.
The moment that solidified my hurt toward my parents, specifically my dad, was a night that he was in a rage. He had hit me and I had had enough. After a while I looked at my dad and said "If you ever hit me again, I am going to call CPS (child protective services) and turn you in", his reply did more damage than anyone could ever imagine to the fragile mind of a twelve year old girl, "Go ahead," he said, "and when I get out of jail I will kill you." I was paralyzed in fear because I believed him. I knew his temper, I knew his power, I knew his ability to go beyond what was right. My confidence in anything good, anything saving me, anything saying I was worthy of good happening, protection, love, had all but disappeared. In that moment, despite all of my future efforts to fight it, I became invisible. Invisible because I could not verbalize the hurts I was feeling, invisible because I was not allowed to feel anything, invisible because I was always stepped on, invisible because I was silenced, invisible because I was shoved and pushed into hiding from the truth. And thus began my long encounter with silent loneliness, trapped by my surroundings, my emotions, my hurts, my anger, my family. And with that my anger consumed me, enraged me, inflamed me and I was hateful. I wanted others to feel what I was feeling and I indulged it on a regular basis toward myself and others. I felt robbed of my innocence like I had no one that loved me, no one that wanted me, and no one to protect me but me and I wasn't even sure if I could do that for myself.
My hate at this moment in my life was the strongest it had ever been and but my hurt continued to grow. The next five years would prove to be the hardest and some of the most scaring experiences that I would endure.
(Please do not stop reading here and continue to note: do not make judgements on things until you hear my complete story. Ranging from my family to religion. It takes me a while to write one of these because it brings up old feelings so be patient but know that the whole story will be up eventually and then you will understand what I am saying.)
