Everything Hung In a Balance

Dear Little Sisters,

Everything hung in a balance. I was unsure of what the future would be now that the hideous truth had been revealed. For all those years that I had sat on top of my treehouse late at night wondering if there was a world in which everything that I had been through would cease to see the light of day; in one instant came undone with a simple phone call from my sister. The frightful memories that I had prayed were nightmares of my past had now become beasts of my reality infiltrating everything in my life. The darkness had arrived.

I had been hanging out at my boyfriend’s house after a long day of teaching. We were both relaxing a bit before we got into the usual routine of dinner and lesson planning for the next day when all of a sudden my phone rang. To my surprise, it was my sister and so I picked up expecting to hear something about my nephews but instead she was in tears. The moments that followed changed my life and were the beginning of a long and painful journey of healing. My sister confessed to me that when she was a teenager our brother had tried to touch her inappropriately underneath the covers. Her words made chest sink as I began to run through snapshots of all the terrible moments that I had tried to repress my entire life. I was partially in shock and partially confused… Oh fuck, my brother had actually repeatedly molested me. My flesh and blood, a person who was supposed to protect and love me had actually hurt and destroyed my childhood.  

Words cannot describe the wave of emotion and darkness that overtook my body. A dark shadow had just been cast over my entire being and I was at a loss of what to do. I went back into my boyfriend’s house and proceeded to cry uncontrollably in bed. There was nothing or no one that could soothe me. I cried the entire night; it was as if I finally began to cry for all the years and pain that I was never able to feel.

How does one even begin to process this little sister? How does one make sense of a world where someone so close to you could actually hurt you so badly, physically and emotionally? To this day there are so many things I cannot remember and I know that’s my body’s way of protecting me, thank goodness. Often times when memories slowly begin to creep into my mind, I quickly shut them out cause of scared of where they will take me. If I were to tell you what he made me do and what he did to me, you would want to see him locked away forever. My mind was a hell of memories and there was nothing that I could do to escape them.

As the days passed on I continued to be eaten alive with misery until finally a week or so later, in a moment of desperation, I cried out for help in the only way that I felt I could because no one ever taught me to share my emotions and needs. No one ever taught me that my voice mattered and that I could be heard without shouting and violence. I didn’t know that I deserved to be loved, to be listened to and to feel. I made a choice that would take me down a path of many dark years of self-sabotage but eventual reflection and healing.

It was the middle of the night and I was sitting at my kitchen table finishing up some wine while my boyfriend lay sound asleep in the bedroom. I was in tears and I didn’t know what to do. The rage, the desperation, the fear, and the loneliness was consuming me and I didn’t know how to control it all and so I got up, went to the kitchen and pulled out a knife. I stared at it as if I was staring through that tunnel of torment and shame. Tears were streaming down my face, my heart was in pieces, my soul was so lost, I was screaming inside until finally, I did it. I stabbed my wrist and my hand and screamed out loud for the world to hear. I wanted to feel the 26 years of pain and I wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything would be okay, and that I would survive and that I was worth fighting for.

Oddly enough I don’t remember the pain. I do, however, remember the warmth of the blood spilling everywhere. I was in sheer panic as my life was unraveling before my eyes. The years of perfection, the years of hiding the ugly truth of abuse and keeping my two worlds so separate had all just been ruined and as a result, I was about to be taken in an ambulance to the ER to get stitches and to then be put on a 51/50 hold. Who knew that a psychiatric ward could be so peaceful?

Love,

Espe

So not worth it, especially over a guy, I didn’t even like.

So not worth it, especially over a guy, I didn’t even like. Ugh, but I hated the rejection. I hated “to lose.” Like, you are saying no to me but I didn’t even want you in the first place? Oh, hell no. In retrospect, that was a good play. Because I wasn’t even thinking about you until you tried to let ME down easy. Yes, one night stand, fine. You were not the first. And, I was already moving on to someone else, but then, you came at me saying that we should part ways. When were our “ways” ever together? Regardless, you got into my head and my mind was weak back then. So, why am I writing about this now? Because I fucking lost and I hate losing.

Do you know how some people like to play Monopoly and win? That was me and I was cut-throat. Like, make your little-sisters-cry cut-throat. True story. I told them that they lost their money so they were out. They wanted a loan from the bank to stay in and I was like, “Nah, the real world doesn’t work like that. Sorry.” So yeah, I was the big bitch in the Monopoly board game, but couldn’t realize that someone else had bought hotels on the Broadway and Park Place of my life.

So, how did I react? Step 1: Find other random-ass guy. Step 2: Fuck him. Step 3: Three houses on Mediterranean Avenue and Baltic Avenue. Bam, motherfucker! How do you like them hotels? So, you roll the dice and hope you bypass their shit, land on GO and collect your $200. Unfortunately, I sucked at real-life Monopoly. I wanted to be the person that could make others cry, but, sadly, I was the one at home crying because I didn’t know the rules. My solution was to just find someone else new because maybe if I slept with enough people I could forget that I was bleeding out the play money.

Okay, enough Monopoly metaphors. You knew I didn’t like you. But you had to trick me because you knew that was the only way. And I was weak because any attention was better than none. Because you could tell that my little overweight disproportionate body was happy for any kind of semblance of romance. Yes, tell me you were jealous. Say you thought about buying something for me for my birthday. Why? Because no one else had ever said that. Bravo. Well done.

Fine, I see your jealousy e-mail, and I raise you: I fucked this other guy. Do you fold? Okay, no more game metaphors, I promise. So, how did this end? I threw your shit away in the trash can, even though I hate throwing away perfectly good things. I remember how you called me a “six” to my face and reminded me that your real girlfriend was a “ten.” And eight months later, I took my six ass back to Texas and learned these lessons from you: harden your heart, never hope and always be the first to walk away. So, thank you. Something good did come from this after all.