Tuesday, April 19, 2011

A Moment To Reflect on My Life

Grab some popcorn, readers, because this may take a while.

What I am about to write here may be somewhat devastating, scary, funny, and (most of all) mind opening. If not, then I have failed to get my point across and you can just live your lives daily and think nothing of it.

Alright. Here we go!

Lately, I have been taking my time on working out my life and becoming rather disheartened at certain things falling through. I have spent far too much of my personal time worrying over every little detail (as I typically do) that I haven't just stopped or a single moment in MONTHS to actually look back on a few things that has gotten me through my life so far. I feel as if I am taking everything for granted here as of late, and I believe it is best for me to sit down and really reflect on my life and just be thankful for everything that has ever happened to me and be grateful that I have come out of certain situations not only alive, but unharmed (for the most part).

Shall we start with when I was a little girl? I was about four years old (God I feel like I'm writing a life changing story and reflecting on my life. Lol) I had just taken home my very first kitten. Her name was midnight. She was a beautiful black kitten and she was the highlight of my life (other than the fact that Bear was always my kitty too, but he didn't live with me till.. well.. you'll find out later if you keep reading). With the help of my biological parents I had learned how to liter train my cat and how to take care of her. She was the best ever. She was mine. I loved her just as much as Bear and I couldn't wait to keep her for the rest of my life.

Sadly, that was not the case. If my memory serves me right, and this is pretty much me guessing because my memory is a little fuzzy, we had only had midnight for about a 2 weeks before something happened to her. This something was the very beginning to the hatred I hold toward my biological mother to this day.

My kitten, who was still not fully potty trained yet, had pee'd behind the couch. She didn't know any better yet and I mean.. when you gotta go, you gotta go. My mother, who found her in the act immediately became enraged and took the broom to the kitten. breaking the cats back in six places. I can still hear the poor kittens cries of pain to this day. We rushed the kitten to the vet shortly after my mother had her episode and the kitten was put down immediately. What excuse she gave the vet, I still do not know to this day, but I know one thing is true, she didn't tell them she was what caused this horrible thing to the innocent life of a baby animal. 

I remember the car ride back home. I screamed at my mother, telling her I hated her and that she was going to hell for her crime. (I grew up in a religious household, so the word "hell" was not unfamiliar to me as I had heard it in church numerous times and knew what it meant). It was at that point that I was positive my mother was damned and I didn't care. She deserved it for killing my cat and showing no mercy in it. She wasn't sorry, and neither as I that I was sure on the fact that she was going to burn.

I hadn't always been an angry person, and still am not to this day, but even as a kid, when I was angry, it was made quite clear, and for some reason, I could harness it far too easily than I should.

Now, don't get me wrong. Until the divorce, she and I had a wonderful mother daughter relationship, from what I could remember, and I was almost always happy. I lived in a nice house, we weren't rich, but we sure weren't poor, and I had it pretty well there. We were a normal family and we loved one another as we should. We spent every Sunday and Wednesday at church and I read my mothers bible when I could. We were, for the most part, an average and happy family.

Then about the age of six, things got... weird. Moms started acting different. Saying things like my dad's Darth Vader automated coin bank with light up light saber, was made from the devil. That anything Star Wars related was the devils' work. ESPECIALLY Darth Vader. At first, that was all, but it progressed, as most weird happenings do. She became almost.. terrified and belligerent when it came to that Vader coin bank. I remember coming home from school one afternoon and seeing mom and dad fighting. Dad was pretty pissed at the fact that mom had the audacity to throw away his Vader bank. She threw it in the trash and disposed of it in the dumpster out back in the field by the gravel road. 

There were a few other things that were a bit weird, I'm sure, but I don't quite remember them as clearly as I do this next thing I'm about to write. Be warned. Things are about to become a bit graphic from here on out.

It was early fall and I was.. I want to say 7 years old. Maybe. I had spent all day in my summer night gown and had taken lots of naps throughout the day. I don't remember why I was so tired, but I was, and it was a persistent feeling I had all day. I had joke woke up from another nap late that evening, and mom was, once again, acting strange. This time, though, it was different. She seemed more terrified than ever. She greeted me in the living room by rubbing oil on my forehead and offering a "blessing" to me. Something she did weekly as a way to ward off any "evils" and to hopefully keep me from straying from the path of the lord. Or something like that. She had a big bowl of flower candles floating in water on the table and she had me sit on some pillows with her and pray. Something that wasn't out of the norm either. 

As we were praying, I could feel something just wasn't right. The tone of her voice. The things she was saying. Some of it in Spanish. She was talking really fast, and when I peeked out of the corner of my eye, she was rocking back and forth. Hands in a prayer position, eyes closed, and just.. rocking to and fro. It was kind of scary. It was like she wasn't herself at all. Shortly after she left through the back door and said that she would be right back. I had said "Okay." and started playing with the unlighted candles that were floating in the bowl. 

Not much time had passed before I heard a scream, and instantly knew it was my mother's voice. I heard slamming sounds coming from the back and she had locked the back door and ran to the living room screaming that she had found a gun in the dumpster and that Satan was coming for us. (I didn't get it then, and I sure as hell don't get it now).

Next thing I know, she is telling me that we have to leave the house "right now" and there was no time for me to get dressed. She hoisted me into her arms and out the door we went. She put me down only for a moment to strip herself of all her clothes and start running through the street naked. Oh, and I forgot to mention that while she was running amok, stark naked, she was screaming that she was the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary herself. She had FINALLY lost it. I may have been seven years of age, but I was intelligent enough to tell when someone had lost their damn mind. And she definitely fit the description, far better than I liked.

A nearby neighbor who was watering her flower garden spotted her and then a terrified me who was dumb founded and unable to move because of the state of shock I was in. She tried to offer some assistance and tried to get us into her house, but my mother ran up to her, took her garden hose and began to drench herself. She claimed that she was cleansing herself of evil and that she would be pure in the eyes of the lord. (Can you see why I kind of HATE religion? Especially Christianity. I'm not saying every Christian is like this, but I have come into contact with some crazies in the past). 

The neighbor finally pulled us into her house and gave mom a towel to dry herself, and she was back on the floor, sitting on her legs and rocking back and forth yet again. She kept mumbling something under her breath. That was, until she noticed the crucifix on the lady's wall. As if she wasn't freaking out before...

My mother jolted from the floor and took the crucifix off the wall, only to THROW IT at the kind lady who was only trying to help. She said it was evil. (Wait.. WHAT?!) The lady tried placing it back on the wall, but mom grabbed it from her hand and threw it into the yard out of the house. By then, my father had been notified, called the house we were in (Other neighbors saw too..) and he was on his way home from work.

Needless to say, this was what started the divorce between my parents. My father felt it wasn't safe for either of us to live with a crazy person like her. I couldn't agree more.

This should be a movie or something, shouldn't it? Lol I've dealt with some CRAZY shit in my life. Such a shame that I'm only 20 at this point. XD 

Moving on.

It wasn't too long after this that my father had started moving out. Little did I know at the time, but mom was doing drugs by this point, such as cocaine, and I'm almost positive she was shooting heroine too. I was forced to stay with my mother, but not because my father wanted it, but because they were going through divorce and at the time, my mother had custody of me. One afternoon, though, my mother had to run out for "groceries". (I put that in quotations because I highly doubt that is what she was getting but then again, I don't remember and you're about to find out why). She left some Mexican dude to watch after me while she ran her errands.. and here is where things made a turn for the worse, yet again. (Ugh.. I'm getting sick actually thinking about it). 

*This guy, I shall call him douche bag McGee, because that is nicest way to put it without going overboard. He deserves a far more derogatory title, but yeah. Just want to get through this part now and get it done and over with.* 

Douche bag McGee decided he was going to do some weird fucked up "roleplay" bullshit and dress up in torn up short shorts, a white tank top and a towel around his shoulders like he was the Mexican gaylord version of "Superman". To top it off, why not add music that I don't even know the words to?! Sounds PERFECT! (reason for why I hate Spanish and anything to do with it. Also why I hate the Mexican half of me as my mother was Mexican and yeah you get it).

He started "dancing" around the room and next thing I know he's basically pelvic thrusting towards my face with that DISGUSTING perverted smile upon his face. I remember thinking that this wasn't going to be all fun and games and that I wanted to wipe that dirty grin off his face. He started touching me. At first it was on my arms, and I just nudge away from him. He then started touching my upper thighs, and before I know it, he's trying to get into my pants. Literally trying to undo my shorts. I was terrified. He was touching me in places that I knew he should have been touching, and I knew that things were going in a way that just.. shouldn't happen.. I tried moving away, thinking he'd get the hint, but he persisted. Rubbing his hands on my barely budding chest and in between my thighs. 

In the end, that was about as far as it went, because I proceeded to punch and kick him in the groin till he backed off. I promise you, my kicks were pretty damn powerful back then. He stopped, and when mom came home, I tried to let her know, but she didn't believe me. She said that he was probably just trying to play with me and entertain me. I fucking HATED her, and still do.

Anyways... More things happened in my life that left me scared, and devastated throughout the passing years, but I always kept my head up. Hell, I almost killed myself twice, and once almost landed myself in a hospital.

The point I am trying to get across is that no matter what awful things happen to you, remember that eventually it gets better. I have turned out to be a pretty good person, at least I'd like to think so, and I have found someone who loves me for who I am, and understands what I have gone through to achieve certain goals in my life. He is very supportive and cares for me. 

If you are going through a tough time, just stick it out and be strong. If you push through, you will find that you will be able to overcome the obstacle at hand, and it will make you a stronger person in the end.

I hope that if anyone reads this, they get the message I am trying to portray here. Best wishes to anyone and everyone.

I love you all.



  1. You're a wonderful person, and I'm glad you are who you are. <3

  2. Thank you. It means a lot. =) <3