You seem too happy to reveal yourself

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Ohh no, not another pity entry!

Hey there everyone. Well, school is going wonderfully, I really love it. I dyed my hair as well. I will post some pics of it if I can. It is a dark purply-reddish maroon color. I love it. Hair, school, whatever other boring shit I could post here, that is not what this entry is about. It is about feeling. About a week ago I figured something out that I hope will change the way I feel about a part of my life forever. Sorry to be so vague about it, I'll jump right in.

Ages 4 - 10: Every year we go to Georgia for Thanksgiving, I have never missed a year. For six of those twenty years that I have attended an older cousin of mine molested me. I won't go into detail, there was no rape, but still, it kinda fucked me up. I think it mostly did so because I was so terribly young. The last day we were there when I was ten, I told him to "get his fucking hand out of my pants", and if I had waited about ten seconds more my aunt would have caught him. Maybe it works out better this way.

Age 8: I have my first (consensual) sexual experience. It is with my best friend at the time, well call her Angie. I was in the second grade.

Age 9: I have my first (consensual) sexual experience with a boy. We are still friends to this day.

Age 12: I find out that my father has been cheating on my mother. I was a daddy's girl, so this was especially hard for me. Six months after the ordeal shit really started to hit the fan. My parents (mother) decided to stay together and work it out, but when my mom started to get real sad about it at times by dad would lose it. It was at this age, 12, that my father started to take out his frustrations on me. Somehow, I don't know how he did it, he got my mother to side with him. His fuck up started seven years of cruelty and emotional abuse directed at me.

Ages 12 - 19: During this time I had several eating disorders (including bulimia at one point, anorexia, and overeating) because my father would make fun of my weight and constantly tell me I was fat. When I was 12 I started cutting. I never did it that bad, and I knew I would never kill myself by doing it. It was just a release. I cut from 12 - ?, I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop. I know that I don't do it as bad as I used to, but I always find some simple way of hurting myself, nothing big, just something to kill the pain inside. During this time I became very depressed. I would cry myself to sleep every night, and wake up wishing I had died during the night the next day. Music and my journals were the only thing that kept me sane.

Age 15: My parents buy me a bass for Christmas, the best day ever (although it wasn't before my dad told me that in order to play an instrument you had to have talent, and that I had none. He then left my room laughing at me, talking about what a loser I was, but that didn't stop me). I played my little heart out and still do. I don't have a band or anything like that , but I don't need one. My bass is my other half: a friend, a lover, it makes me whole. Who could ask for more?

Age 18: Everything, for the most part, stopped as far as my ass hole dad goes. I graduated, started college, and broke up with the guy that my dad hated (and as far as Ben goes, despite what people say, that boy saved my life. He came in at the right time and stopped me from doing lots of fucked up shit to myself that I'd have done had I been alone. He was great to me and anyone who knows/enjoys me should thank him. I wouldn't be here without the bastard =) ). My dad eased up a lot.

Age 19: My dad's last 'fat' comment. He said something dumb to me and I lost it. I told him what I thought of him and his comments and he didn't enjoy it. Things have been much more peaceful since then.

Age 20: Here we are now. I am going to TWU and my life is pretty rad. I'm doing good in school, and although I still have my depressed tendencies, I know it is something I'll just have to live with.

So, this was not a Melissa pity party. I needed to get some shit off my chest and I did so. Thanks for listening/caring enough to read all this shit.

I love all of you, take it easy.

Adios.

1:44 a.m. - 2005-02-20

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