PART FOUR - PICKLES & PUKE

 lay on my bed crying until I had nothing left. I wanted death like I had wanted nothing else before in my life. 

As I lay on my bed drained, I realized that I couldn't remember what my dad had done to me when I was drunk. I couldn't remember a thing about the gross things except  for the bruises, the pickle seeds in my hair and the poop. Some gross noises, falling in the shower and that was it. Nothing about the rape. Nada. 

And then the realization that either God or the devil had answered my prayers. OH MY GOD. I had finally found a way to get rid of all pain and unwanted memories. And all I had to do was drink. I had been dabbling with weed and other stuff but nothing compared to the alcohol. 

Joy and happiness replaced the hopelessness that was there only moments before and I lay on my bad and laughed like a maniac. I believe I might not have been totally sane at the time. 

Sweet Victory. Another battle won by me against my father. Thanks so much for teaching  me with your OH SO infinite wisdom daddy dear. I would gladly get bruised and battered every day over the alternative. I would show my sisters the joys of alcohol and save them from their pain too. 

Maybe life could be worth living. Maybe I could go on. 

This was the true turning point in my life, the last of my innocence gone. I was done with God and My mother forever. Too tired to wait any longer for them to help us. 

When I think back to all the things I was trying to forget with my drugs and alcohol, I realize there are some things I would never forget. 

I would never forget how someone could look you in the eyes, say how much they love you, and destroy every reason you have for living. And smiling the whole time. 

I would never forget what it was like going to sleep and waking to a pillow over my face, smothering me until I passed out. 


I will never forget the sound of innocence dying, nor all the years it took to kill it. 

I would never forget waiting for God to save me, waiting for God to wake up, and unanswered prayers. Thousands of them. 

I would never forget the day I gave up on God, my mother and myself. 
I would never forget the taste of swallowed vomit. 

Or the smell of my sweet rabbits blood as it splashed on my face and body the day my father forced me to bash it to death with a pipe and then eat it. 

I would never forget the sound of fear, the sound of underware snapping, or the fear of camping trips and car rides with my father. 

I would never forget how worthless, dirty and ugly I was. 

On this day I realized no one would ever help my siblings or I . we were on our own, all alone, us against the evil that lived inside our home. 

On this day, I knew my life had changed forever. 

As I lay on my bed laughing and crying at the same time, I wondered how my life had ever gotten this crazy

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741