This is an exercise from a while ago. I wrote it to get into the head, or point of view, of one of my OC's. Don't want to post it on my other account, this'll have to do. Enjoy, feel free to leave comments or criticism. Keep in mind that it's supposed to sound like the writing of a 15 year old girl, and so will be a little rough.
Almost a year ago, my emotionally abusive dad left me at my school. He drove off and told me that if I called my mom for a ride home, he wouldn't drive me to school next week, all because I was unintentionally and unavoidably 15 minutes late after a make-up gym class that went until 5:30. After over an hour of crying by myself in the school's stairwell, I finally called my mom. I had been 'planning' to leave his house for a while, but kept finding reasons to put it off. Finally, I texted him and said I would be staying at my mom's. Instead of apologizing or offering to talk about it, he said fine, and to not come back into his house with out an apology. Ever since then, I had been living at my mom's almost full time, and seeing him every second weekend. My brother, however, still went every second week. He's a different type of person than me, and wouldn't do anything radical against my dad because he's afraid of the outcome, and afraid of what my dad would do. He puts up with it, and pretty much ignores everything to make it seem alright. He's angry and messed up, and there's nothing I can do about it. It's gotten worse ever since I left. I haven't been there to take some of the brunt of it, or at least redirect it by yelling at my Dad for yelling at my brother. He's gotten more and more messed up, and doesn't talk about anything bad that goes on over there. I'm not usually one for touchy-feely emotional stuff, but he doesn't talk about any emotions at all. He just deludes himself into pretending that it's all okay. My Dad's been alienating him against my mom the entire time, and talking and joking with him about how women are in general horrible, money-stealing bags who bitch and nag all day, and hang onto the stupidest details, and are generally idiots with their heads in the clouds.
Finally, about two months ago, everything sort of snapped at once. My brother walked from his school to my Dad's house after the school on Friday when my mom was supposed to pick him up, and refused to come with her. He only talked to her through a crack in the window, and kept calling her a 'bitch' and told her to 'screw off' when she said she loved him. I know this probably doesn't sound like much, but compared to the person that I know my brother really is, the same person that I have seen sometimes, rarely, at my mom's house, the difference is horrible. He hasn't come back to my mom's house but once since then, and scorns every single attempt she's made to talk to him.
A week or two after he left, my mom decided to take it to court to force him to come back. I strongly objected to this, and we even got in a bit of a fight about it. I knew my brother even better than her, and the damage of being unwillingly forced back into my mom's custody would be irrepairable. After an initial hearing the judge decided to set another official court date that my dad would be at. At the second hearing, the judge (who had a history of brushing off custodial and familial issues as nonsense) ruled that my brother decided where he wanted to live until a month and a half from then, on November 23rd, where the final decision would be made after all the evidence had been fon over. A week or two after that, my mom decided to listen to me and stopped the legal process. I really wish that she'd seen some sense before she even started it, because my brother already knew what she was trying to do.
Now, it's November 14th, and my brother hasn't seen my mom since September except for one dinner, which my mom completely fucked up by yelling at him and getting pissed as soon as we sat down to eat. Her reasoning was that she wanted to make it clear that she wasn't going to let her son walk all over her, and that she was going to stand up for herself. I agree with that, but at the time when my brother was scared, nervous, and basing the next few months on her reaction? FUCKING STUPID IDEA. I yelled at her after my brother stood up without eating, called my Dad, and left. He hasn't come back or communicated with her since. I still occasionally come over for the weekend, or a day every now and then, but I usually find a reason to cancel.
I can't help but let my traitorous mind think every now and then about how this is my fault. If I stayed there, despite the damage to myself, I could've stood up for Jordan, and yelled at my Dad whenever he said blatantly sexist or homophobic things, degraded my mom, and told incriminating twisted stories about her past.
I don't usually like to talk about myself, but my dad has actually really messed me up. I didn't even really know HOW to interact socially until around Grade 7 or 8. Before then I was usually angry during class, randomnly got pissed at people for no reason, had no idea how to control my emotions or their reactions, and generally acted slightly autistic. Around late grade 7 or beginning of grade 8, I consciously began to single out everything he had screwed up, and tried to change it for the better. It was extremely hard, but I managed to keep working at it. Before my brother left, I was actually really doing well. I had done it all by myself, with out the help of psychiatrists, drugs, or anyone. I hadn't started talking to my mom about anything until about grade 9, and even then I never talked about myself. Even that was just to keep her happy most of the time, or to vent when I was ticked at my dad. I never told her about any of my many and powerful insecurities, social issues, or even possible depression at times. Luckily, I managed to mask that fact by psychoanalyzing my dad and brother with her. The point is, I managed to do all of this by myself. I never needed to talk to anyone until this September. I am so freaking proud of myself for getting all this way mentally by myself.
I have an amazing group of friends that I've know since grade 3 or 4. We weren't really close until grade 5ish-6ish, but they were all really close. One by one I had told them about my dad, spanning over 2 years, and they all knew. When my brother left and the court thing was going on, I wrote them an email saying what was happening, and even putting in a little tiny bit about myself. The first one to respond back said a nice, touching thing about how she hoped me the best, loved me, I could come over, etc. The next one to respond said 'Aw, that sucks :(' and then continued for the rest of it complimenting the first one to respond about how nice she was. That kinda discouraged me from telling them anything after that. They might care for me, but they're 15! They're not usually chock full of life experience, compassion and philosophical wisdom. One of the girls in my group has a similar situation, though. Her dad is more of just a drunk, screaming loser, but it's still horrible. She gets what's happening, and even offered advice that helped a little. However, she's become a different person lately, and I feel like a wimp talking to her. My mom is the only real option left. She would completely understand everything I'm saying, and would do everything right. In the past couple years though, I feel like I've been taking care of her emotionally instead of the other way around. She was depressed off and on for about 2+ years now, and even though she'd never let me if she knew, I've basically been trying to take everything off of her. She went to a psychologist, got medication that apparently changes the chemistry of your brain to be 'happier', sleep meds, and other stuff. I've seen her when she's depressed. It's nothing worse than what I've gone through, and I've still managed to plaster on a 'happy face' until I get into my room alone. The difference is, I have an indepency complex (if that's even a term). As a result, I've gotten a hell of a lot stronger. Anyways, I digress. I can't talk to my mom about anything because I'm trying to keep her from having any more weight on her shoulders. If anything horrible happens, I deal with it myself and smile to her face. I do the whole 'bonding through psychoanalyzing messed up dad' thing to keep her from thinking that I'm hiding something from her.
I digress. Again. After my brother left, I became really upset. It wasn't even just the one event, it was everything from years and years of my dad piling up. I didn't go to school for 3 days, faking sick (which I never do), and got into a short bout of depression that was worse than anything I thought had been bad before. I managed to cope with it, simply hiding it for over a month. It kept getting worse and worse. I'd 'be sick' every now and again and not go to school. I knew I was depressed, and made efforts to stay happy during school, and to be social. I didn't give up, of course not. I buried it, and never said anything to anyone. I was able to keep it hidden and in check for weeks. It finally escalated so much that in the last couple weeks of October, I didn't pay attention in school, missed most of my homework, hid in my room directly after school and didn't come out, and didn't talk to anyone about what was going on. I could barely stand to keep up the charade at school, and tuned out listening to music most of the time. I didn't realize it then, but for the last week or two, I'd accidentally slipped into feeling nothing to protect myself. I was basically numb for two weeks, faking happiness and other emotions most of the time, even though it seemed really bitter to me. Still, I did my best to make sure no one noticed anything. Not even my mom picked up on it. I think I used the terms 'I'm fine' and 'I'm just tired' more than I ever have in that month.
On November 4th, I think, I was having a bath in the bathroom linked to my mom's bedroom (it's the only one with a tub). I had Marianas Trench music playing on speakers. When I got out of the bathtub finally, after an hour or two of laying there with my heart and chest aching from feeling nothing, I got out of the bathtub. I grabbed a towel and was about to go back to my room when I realized that my chest hurt and my throat ached. I didn't even know that I'd drawn into dissociation until then. I sat down, listened to the music, and forced myself to start crying. At first I had to continually make myself cry, and then I gradually slipped into it, silently gasping and sobbing for 20 minutes, going to lengths to make sure my mom didn't hear me. I hadn't cried in months.
I finally stopped crying, and wanted to just lay there with my head against the wall, feeling sorry for myself, until I gave myself a mental kick in the pants. I don't really know how, but I somehow got a hell of a lot stronger than I ever had been before. I thought I was strong before, but I couldn't have imagined this. I dragged myself up, walked to my room, and got ready for bed, just making myself stand up and walk by absolute, sheer force of will. The pain was still there, and I acknowledged it, but I also made myself move and live through it and above it.
The next morning I woke up, and actually found the strength to get out of bed for once. I stood up smiling, simply happy because I was able to feel something, even if it was pain. The clenching in my chest and heart was gone, and I was able to move around while conscious of the pain, and feeling it, instead of just blocking myself off to everything, or succumbing to it and wallowing. I felt like I was twice as strong as before, and had finally broken out of my horrible depression.
It's been two weeks since that. It turns out that it's a cycle. I rode the giddy high for 3 or 4 days, and was fine for a couple more days after that. Now, this past week, I've been getting worse again. I'm still consciously making an effort to feel, but I can sense the pain going away. Not getting better, but myself getting more and more numb. I'm really trying to get out of it, but I don't know how. I'm still not talking to anyone about my issues. I can handle this on my own. Granted, it will be very lonely and I'll have to keep putting up the pretense of normalcy while I'm at school AND at home, but I can deal.
I'm not completely sure if that's the best thing to do, though. As stupid, naive, and fangirl-ish as it sounds, Josh Ramsay and Marianas Trench has gotten me through all of this, and recently, Josh said that (from what he's learned from his experiences) "If you have a problem, keeping it a secret makes it so much stronger." "For anybody out there who's struggling with anything don't be afraid to tell some one about it." It got me thinking, and even though I've thought about it before, I still managed to think of a few new things. That's sort of what led to this excessively long, slightly melodramatic, and corny journal. I forced myself to wonder why I didn't want to talk to anybody.
It's kind of sad, then, that even when I asked myself that and made myself write it all out to see if there was someone I was just scared to talk to, that there actually wasn't anyone. I admit, I am scared of opening up to someone, but basically, my close friends and mom are all out. My friends won't understand and most have the depth of a kiddy pool, and my mom...as stupidly chivalrous as it might seem, I don't want to burden her with any of my issues when she's still obsessed with her own. I get that she's going through a really rough time right now. Your son refusing to talk to you and live with you? Yeah. I get it. It's horrible. I know you must feel like shit. I do too. Probably not for the exact same issues, but for other ones, like how my Dad must have reacted when he read the journal excerpt that I wrote during last summer that you put in the court documents, not to mention all the points in documents about how 'The daughter feels her Dad is emotionally abusive to both her and her brother. 'The daughter has witnessed acts of blah blah blah.' I know he's an asshole, but he's an oblivious asshole who is completely clueless when it comes to other's feelings. Therefore, everything like that comes as a shock to him, and he rationalizes everything so that it's not his fault. He may do it subconsciously, but it always ends up twisted like 'She's been brainwashed by her mom'. He's not afraid to say it, either. I heard that all the time over there. I was brainwashed by my mom into quoting her, I was acting like a 'bag', I was constantly degrading and yelling at my brother (not true, when my brother complained about normal sibling stuff my Dad was already skeptical of me, and so he made it into a big deal), I was selfish, I had no respect for how hard he worked, I had no sense of compassion, I didn't take responsibility for anything, I was too much of a fucking 'girlie-girl' (I don't wear make-up, don't do anything with my hair, wear jeans and a tshirt, play ice hockey, want to go bungee jumping, and had the most fun I've ever had in gym while doing tackling in the mud for our rugby unit. Go screw yourself.), I was a wimp, I was more of a wimp than my brother (when I sprained my ankle during hockey, I had to get my skate off, and for that semi-minor of an injury there wasn't really shock. I basically bit my fucking lip off and refused to scream or cry or anything. I was breathing shakily, but I refused to whine for the entire. Fucking. Time.) because I cried and whined (Eff you.), while when my brother broke his arm during sledding he didn't even notice and went back to class for an hour (he didn't even feel it for a fucking hour. As soon as it was beginning to hurt, he arrived at the clinic and got pain meds.) he didn't complain. Of course, he whined at every opportunity for the next few weeks. My dad says a ton of shit about me, and it fucking sucks to have to constantly be on my guard while I'm over there. It's easier to sit back and let him degrade me while being passive, but I refuse to fucking do that ever again.
I forgot to mention this before. I've had 3 or 4 panic attacks recently. They're not triggered by anything in particular, just random situations where I'm under stress or anxious. My theory is that they're something to do with the constant stress, paranoia, and anxiety that I've had to keep up whenever I'm at my Dad's, and then eventually, while I'm monitoring how I interact with the rest of the world. It's put a ton of, well, stress on me, and it's all piled up. Since I had the worst one (and latest one) when my aunt, cousin, brother, and mom were around (we were in a car, I managed to keep it secret until we got to the restaraunt. It was a fucking hell for me. Worst hour or two of my life. At the restaraunt I asked her to take a walk with me outside, and cried for a second, then explained what was going on and when it had happened before) I had to tell my mom, and she now knows about them. Her theory is that I've been repressing so much emotion and stress from such a young age that it had to come out now. Both theories explain why there wasn't a specific catalyst for the three or four different panic attacks. I am certain on one thing, however. They are a direct response to my dad.
He's an unintentionally emotionally abusive sexist homophobic possibly-autistic intelligent self-righteous ass. Why the hell can't I stop myself from sort of listening to what he says? Everything he does still affects me, even though I've tried so hard to tell myself that he's not right, and that he doesn't know me. He alienated my brother against both me and my mom, and I will hate him forever for that, but I still care about what he thinks of me, and can't stop myself from going over there. It's really sick, dark, and depressing.
I don't know if I'll ever get up the nerve to ever show or send this to anyone. I'm not sure what my intentions are as of now. Whenever I show my mom something about what goes on at my dads that's even slightly emotional, I get extreme pity from her (which I HATE) and she gets even more worked up and upset. My friends...maybe. It depends.
For now, I guess I'll suffer in silence. As the song goes, I won't say anything at all.