Forewarning: this will be ugly.

Some things have come to light recently and I think it's time for this to happen. This will be ugly, I will not proof read it, feel free to ask any questions.

The beginning: when I as four years old my legal father was sent to prison for molesting two of my brothers. I have memories from back then of him and my mother fighting. One of those memories is one of the nightmares I have at times. They were arguing, yelling and screaming, hitting. Mostly my Mom hitting him. She said he'd never see his kids again, hoped he rotted in Hell. All sorts of stuff. It was hard to witness. Anyways, we were in the car. It was one of those old Chevelle's with the green tint to the windshield. I remember her screaming and yelling, hysterical in her own right. She just kept hitting him, over and over and over. Then he struck back. Slammed her into the hood by her throat actually. She had bruises for weeks, the perfect print of his hands...

From there things got crazy. Brothers had to testify. He went to prison. Thirteen years. He'll live with what he did to them for the rest of his life though. What he did to our entire family.

Then my brothers...one was sent to live with his grandma. We saw him every other weekend. The other stayed with us. He got angry, abusive, completely out of control. On more than one occasion he put me and my mother through walls, left us bruised and broken, scarred us. Now let me pause here to say Clay, the man who raised me, tried to help in any way he could. He was diagnosed with cancer when I was still young. Went through a drinking spell. Actually, there was one day my brother had to push open the bathroom door so I could squeeze in and get the phone. Called my mother, thought Dad was dead. Turns out he had drank himself into a stupor and passed out in the bathroom floor. Anywho, after that he quit  drinking. The sickness got to him though. Eventually he was bed ridden. We got him out in the wheelchair a few times, but it wasn't many. Mostly he enjoyed his view from his window, jeopardy and wheel of fortune. And singing. Oh, he loved to sing. I would dance as he sang and we would fall into fits of laughter...the breathing treatments were the worst though. He would have enough to yell, just once. You've never felt true fear until you've had someone's life in your hands. One step too late, not strong enough to turn the wrench, can't get the air flowing and he's gone...thankfully, we always made it. He moved into his sisters towards the end. I'll never forget that day. My brother had been put in Ten Broeck. I had just gotten out of school, and we were going to pick I'm up. Afterwards we always went to see Dad. Well, that fateful day...Mom and brother got into an argument, he ripped the four in thick door from the hinges. He broke a table. It was bad. They almost didn't let him come with us, but he calmed down. We got to the house ten minutes too late. He was already gone. So peaceful, finally resting. That's a story for another day though. This leads us back to my brother. Things got way worse after Dad passed away. Wait, wait, moving too far ahead. Almost skipped the other years, and they're kind of vital to the heart of this whole message. Clay had a son that came to live with us for a while. We called him Junior. Now this part...this will not be easy. It started with him and my brother having their own club. They would put blankets over the bunk bed and leave me to take care of our younger sister. I wanted so bad to be a part of that club. I was too naive to realize it was a ploy. One day, my brother was gone and Junior asked me how bad I wanted to be part of that club. You can guess where it went from there. From then on the abuse continued. I won't go into major details, but I will share the most prominent memories.
I had always had this feeling in me that what was going on was wrong. But I was young and didn't want to get into trouble. I've already shared the day he threatened my little sister with a knife. There's more though...that day he used his knife to cut me. I have a scar on the inside of my thigh, one on my left breast, and one on my butthole. Yep, I said it. There it is. The scars have healed. I'm all normal now, but the mark remains. Once, he tied me to the bed because I wasn't doing what he wanted me to do. That day he scarred my insides, which I didn't find out until I was literally giving birth to my child. They had to go in and manually break up the scar tissue around my cervix so I could dilate. It hurt, but my son is worth what I went through that day. Another time, he came in while I was in the shower. Daddy was sleeping after chemo, brother was at therapy. I don't know why I was stupid enough to think a lock would keep him out. That day I was thrown into the vanity and the tub before he did what he wanted to do. Still have back problems from it. Haha.
The worst was yet to come though. He got my brother into it to. I guess it was a game of who could push me farther? Not sure. Don't think I even want to know. Either way, it was a living nightmare. I remember once, and disgusting as it is I swore I'd share it all, my brother actually peed in my mouth. Disgusting right?
Now I'm done sharing all that. You all needed to know the background to understand what I'm about to explain. Oh wait, I haven't finished the rest. Z found out, saved me, Junior left. Brother wasn't allowed alone with me, I clung to Z for protection. Now, for those of you that don't know, Z is my cousin. He's my protector. He's the man I compare all others in my life too. Nobody will ever compare to him, but there are certain qualities I look for. That's besides the point though. Anywho, abuse got worse. Violence ensued. Through walls, hit with random objects, punched, etc etc. Brother was in and out of mental hospitals. Turned 18, left, the aftermath was put on me. When he left I was pinpointed for Hell, I was the only one left. I actually ended up being put in Juvi for a while because I had a "mental breakdown" and lost it. That day was horrible. Mother backhanded me with her pointy diamond ring (people wonder why I don't care for diamonds...) and I hit back. I am not proud of it, it is just part of my past.  I moved out shortly after.

And on to the rest...I have been through some things, others have been through worse. If you feel pity for me feel free to exit my life now. I am not a victim, I am a survivor. And when you survive you go through every emotion possible. The first and foremost is anger. Deep, deep anger. Hatred. Feeling betrayed, alone, used. Then you have guilt. You wonder what you did wrong, feel you deserve all you have been through, believe that you're worthless. Hopeless. Despair. Distraught. It's a dark dark place to be. BUT! If you can work through that, if you can make it through, there is hope. Sweet, beautiful, miraculous HOPE. It takes years and years, never really goes away. Life gets better though. You learn to trust again, to smile and laugh, to explore new things in life and fill the void the past has left. It is truly crazy. You have the option to become a slave to what you have been through, or to embrace what you have been through and help others learn from your experiences. I have chosen the second and I hope that is obvious. One reading this post will know why I have chosen to share this today. For you others, I pray that it touches your heart in some way. Wether it be to inspire, to give hope, anything. Know this. I was abused, I was hurt, I was broken. I'm still mending my life back together, years upon years later. But I have a heart full of love, a wisdom beyond my years, and a determination to make it through anything. You don't have to go through what I have to get those things. If I can have them, though, can't you? Can't anyone for that matter? There is good in this world. There is beauty, love, inspiration, unimaginable sights yet to be seen. Unimaginable love left to be felt. Unimaginable joy, just around the bend. Keep your hope, keep you purpose in mind. Life will move forward and with it, you will heal and learn to feel that joy. Now that may be the optimism in me. But, hey, optimism is one of my strengths :)