by AuthorsLegacy

Created on: August 04, 2011

There I stand...in front of the bathroom mirror...not recognizing the person looking back at me. My eyes burn for a glimpse of what can't be seen. It's the memories holding me captive that prevent me from seeing who I really am...who I deserve to be. The stories over-heard on a daily basis seem mundane compared to the ones I could share - the ones I keep silent. A fear overtakes my mind that if I share what I've endured, it makes those moments real...I don't want reality - not today. My solitude wins...my pride stays intact...my fear remains hidden.

Those of us who have endured emotional pain on a daily basis find a way to shut down...to block the outside world. It's what keeps us safe and strong - on the outside. Spending my entire life not being good enough, it finally took it's toll. I was the unwanted one for most of my family...the one who brought shame...the one who felt locked away. To keep a long story short, I was always my mother's daughter and everyone made sure I knew that. My step-mother never wanted children - and she made sure that I knew it. Being nothing more than an inconvenience to her, it was only a matter of time before I started acting out - that time was when I was 8. Statistically, I'm not sure what the "attempted" suicide rate is among 8 year olds...but, I was one of them. Back then, it wasn't something to be discussed - my father kept it from my mother...and help was only for the mentally insane. I remember that day like the back of my hand - even though I never speak of it. The one person I should have told...I never did...I'm sorry, Mom.

Emotional pain shows it's face in so many forms...through so many evils...and they all found me. There aren't many stories to share from when I was young - after all, I don't remember much of my childhood. If you don't understand why...there's no way for me to make you understand. From the time my grandmother died, it's like my life was stolen away from me. Constantly being told I will never amount to anything...I was never wanted...I'm nothing short of a family curse - that weighs on the soul of a child. My life plays back to me like flash pictures from an old movie. Only being able to catch glimpses of what was is painful...but nowhere as close as the pain of remembering. I do have flashbacks that come and go - being locked in a bedroom for hours at a time with toothpicks propped up against the outside of the door...so they knew if I left my room. I can recall being smacked off a kitchen chair

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