Hidden truths through the beautiful glass doors

 I haven’t posted in awhile. I think it’s a good thing because I finally focused on working on myself from within. It hurts to know how fucked up your family can really be or the trauma it puts on young teens. 

Growing up, I’ve only ever talked to a few friends about my actual “life” not the life I show to the rest of my family and the world. It isn’t sunshine and rainbows. Or a cup of coffee, like I make it out to be. 

Instead, it’s anger and pain. Those cycles repeat nearly every day for me. The stuff I’ve seen at such a young age is crazy. I tell myself maybe god wanted this for me. Maybe love isn’t real? So I’ve been in survival mode since I was young. Because I see how men betray, lie, and cheat. It sucks to not be able to feel anything. Truly it does. I’m emotionless and sometimes it’s hard for my own family to understand and for me to show my thoughts and feelings because I’ve had a wall up my entire life. It started off with physical fights. Seeing your mother cry, scream, yell and fight with your father really changes your perspective on love and life. He was the one to always start it. And he was the one to finish it. Yea it’s fucked up and sometimes I joke about it in order to cope. But as I got older I started to stand up for my mom and myself. I would and WILL NO LONGER tolerate the verbal, mental, and physical pain you put me through father. All I ever wanted from you was love and affection and a relationship. You could never do that. You never were there for me and Angelina’s sports, school events, fuck even when we got an award for something. I start to question if I’ll ever be able to escape and get help for myself since I can no longer save my mother who refuses to leave and I respect her choice. It’s hard to leave someone who gaslights you and makes you feel like you cannot survive on your own. But me, I’d rather suffer and take the hits than be with my father the rest of my life. 

Many people think I’m over dramatic about my trauma or I should just “get over it” but they don’t see how it is from inside the beautiful White House my family lives with the glass doors. They don’t see the bribery to make you happy with money and going out instead of him being a man and apologizing. They don’t see the bruises left on my mothers arm. Or the crying that happens after the fight. And the running to drive somewhere with my mom for a few hours after a fight happens just to get a break from the shit he creates. 

I’m going to change that. When I say that I mean my life. I want to explore those new feelings and heal from the shit my father put me through. I hope one day me and him will see eye to eye. And he’ll finally understand why I was the way I was. Maybe he can even heal and work on himself like I’m choosing to do right now.  

But for now I have to worry about me and my life. I have to leave the house with the glass doors and leave the life I have here.