[The Brit's Blog]
My autobiography ( a work in progress)My Secret Storm
2007-03-20
this is the first time i've cried this much about what my father did since i told my mother back in 6th grade. over 6 years ago. i was trying to go to sleep. the longer i laid there the more and more vunerable i felt. i don't know why. but feeling vunerable begins to hurt. emotionally, mentally, and physically. and i began to think " why? shy daddy?" and i felt the tears well up and i just... i don't like to cry. i do a good bit but i don't like to. so i tried to blink away the tears and drown the thought. but the question is so loud and so persistant. and the tears just couldn't help but fall. and as they fell my body began to shake and shudder. and i held my comfort(chris) tighter. i needed him to hold me. but he lay there in his dream world. it hurtsso bad. i turned away and curled up because i felt to vunerable. i covered my breasts and pulled my legs in tight. the tears not falling in drops but spilling over like a waterfall. "how could you? why daddy? why?" over and over. i wanted him to hold me while i sobbed but he slept on. i wanted to call my mother.. but it's midnight and she's 30 minutes away and i needed to be held. i felt a surge of anger and wanted to call the bastard and finally confront him. but his wife and children are sleeping and i don't want to wake them. but i need something. i lie there shaking, trying not to cry. thinking of how tumultuous the time was. how paranoid i was. i hated my body. i was always disgusted. now i know why. when i would go clothes shopping with my mother, mom wanted to come in the fitting room with me. i would argue with her because i didn't want her in there. it wasn't that i wanted independence. it was a combination of two things. hearing my step father calling my mother a fucking dyke every night ( when they thought i was asleep) while they fought. and two was because my father couldn't keep his filthy drunken hands of me when i stayed the night with him every other weekend. i remember thinking in a Wal-Mart fitting room"why are they so obsessed with my body" after arguing once again with my mother because she wanted to come in with me. i was 10 or 11 then. i was so torn up inside. not only did i have to deal with adjusting to my everchanging body, but i that running through my head th whole time. no wonder i have a poor self- image and i'm 40 lbs overweight.
now i don't know what to do. my chest feels so tight and all i have are these thoughts doing laps around my head tripping over one another. the tears are all damned up again. but for how long before there is another flood.? it's past 1 am and i woke up @ 6 am yesterday. i have to be on the bus to school in about 5 hrs. and i don't know if i'll get any sleep. and i need him to hold me and he's still far away i his dreamland.
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