I have been trying to (safely) get in touch with some memories and the teenage me. I read through an old diary tonight. Apparently I’ve read through it several times before. There are notes from 21 year old me written in, folded down corners from another pass through, and notes from 26 year old me (I dated all my notes).
I wanted to publish this entry here… I think it’s when I finally gave up. I’m 16, and Mr. S is the guidance counselor at my school who I am confiding in. I’ve asked my Mom if she will go meet with him with me, apparently. I remember him encouraging me to ask for what I need from her – in a calm and non accusing way. I remember asking for a lock so my brother would stop barging in my room, hitting me (apparently according to this journal), and just simply messing with my stuff. I remember saying something like “I am getting older and I would like a lock to guarantee me some privacy.”
I’m going to warn you that this isn’t the prettiest entry in the world – it may be uncomfortable solely for me, but I feel like I have to warn you just in case.
Friday, April 22, 2005
I’m these things according to my Mom
Mr. S wants to meet with both of us. I don’t want him to call her. It’s not going to make things any better… She told me just now that I’m overreacting because I asked for a lock for my bedroom door because ‘he hardly ever comes in here’.
Well.. HE SHOULDNT BE IN HERE AT ALL.
She goes “if it makes you feel better I’ll buy you a fucking lock for your door.”
IM LOSING IT. I’m losing it, I’m losing it, I give up, I’m losing it, I’m losing it, I’m losing it, I gave up, I’m giving up, I’m giving up, I’m losing it, I’m losing it, I’m giving up.
I hate her. I hate her. I hate her. I’m so mad and angry and vicious and hurt and I hurt inside, I hurt inside, make it go away… Please someone make it go away. I hurt so much I’m sad and alone and no one loves me and I hate the sarcasm and the lies the anger. I can’t get away from the hurt it’s so big I can’t do it anymore I give up I give up I give up I give up I don’t need this I can’t deal with it it’s always my fault.
GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME ALONE
I’m never happy here you don’t love me, I hate this GO AWAY.
I’m not this strong I can’t deal. I’m lonely I’m unhappy I’m depressed and no one notices no one takes the blame it’s all my fault. I’m irresponsible and rude and selfish and childish and little and you don’t care and you don’t care and you don’t care and you don’t care, you don’t care. I can’t believe you I’m sorry I’m a burden but you don’t care.
Don’t call it will make things worse it will make things worse it will it will I hate you I hate you you suck you mother fucking bitch I don’t like you you’ve made me lose feelings I don’t feel anymore. I’m so sad so sad so so so so so so so sad.
No one listens no one listens or cares about how I feel.
I FEEL TOO AND NONE OF YOU CARE.
I don’t know what to do I’m so lost and alone and scared… so scared come back mommy, come back mommy, mommy please come back. Daddy please notice Daddy please notice Daddy please take notice. <brother> be normal, <brother> be normal, please <brother> be normal.
I DONT WANT A HUG RIGHT NOW. I DONT LOVE YOU RIGHT NOW. YOU HAVE HURT ME FOR THIRTEEN YEARS AND NOBODYS EVER STOPPED YOU OR APOLOGIZED.
You can’t call for her Mr. S. She wont come.
She doesn’t really care.
After all, you’re only supposed to help me with school. That’s what she says.
“Why are you telling him family things. They’re private. He’s a guidance counselor not a therapist.”
FINE. You don’t know you STUPID BITCH.
I hate my life, my so-called friends, my absent family, and my empty heart. I want to find peace… please.
God? Is anyone ever going to listen to what I have to say?
I want someone to love me so blatantly I feel whole again… please, or I’m going to lose my mind.
PS – her idea of goodnight is telling me to not make myself miserable. Because im obviously miserable of my own accord. “It’s so fun for you to be miserable.” FUCK OFF MOM.
That is 16 (almost 17) year old me.
I read that and hear a girl in incredible pain. I forgot about Mr. S, actually. I remember him helping – or trying. Then he said my name wrong at graduation… and I was so hurt by that.
Most of what is in this journal I don’t remember. I can’t access the pain described here – but this is the time I started cutting, and I was already lying – there are intricate plans. I mention being numb, alone, missing time. There is so much in this one journal (and there are 8 more) that indicate a pretty traumatic and unstable childhood.
I can’t identify with it. I’m so separate from it. But there is no denying that this is the pain I’ve been running from for so damn long. It’s the pain I forget about over and over again.
But I can’t deny it’s existence. It’s there, in my 16 year old handwriting.
PS – I never got that lock.