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Ever since my parents split up, I always felt the need to fill that void by being the best daughter I can be. Raising my siblings, holding the house down while my mom worked double shifts. Having to make sure my dad feels like he is doing a great job at spending time with us. Making sure my brother stays on track and that my sister has no clue as to why we have to see dad every two weeks and only every two weeks. 

Given that I had to start playing the mom role at the age of 14, my childhood just crumbled. I was no longer an innocent teen but a sacrificed child. I never got to be a kid. My dad wasn't  here to baby me. My mom never babied me. In fact, she would hit me over small things and my dad would always defend me. Oh but my brother? She treated him like a king and still does. My sister? Well, she's never been hit. Only once by my aunt when she was small but after that, she never went back over there. My sister has always lived on a very soft pillow because of me. I always figured I am giving her the lifestyle I always wanted. I guess I am proud of myself for being able to give her a better life with less trauma than me, that's for sure.

Coincidentally, every bad thing that has happened to her as been under the care of my beloved mother. At the age of 13, my sister was molested by a family friend at a party while my mom was passed out drunk. She swears on her soul that she was roofied by the same man but there was never evidence. I think she was trying to cover her tracks.  

I catch myself doing the same sometimes. Lying for no reason. About the smallest things. Sometimes I have lied about big shit but that was always in fear of losing the people I loved the most. So I lie about the people who I never gave a shit about but again, they were just there to fill the void. Or so it felt. 

Now I am a 22 year old with deep rooted childhood issues that have yet to be resolved by antidepressants, anxiety medication and the occasional zoom calls with Dr. Marci, my therapists who lets me talk and agrees and tries to validate me. Sometimes it works, other times it doesn't. My favorite doctor that I have worked with is Dr. Whale. Yes, I know, but he is a wonderful queer man who is the first person to ask for my pronouns and if I have any preferred nicknames. He makes anxiety feel small and like I have a grip on myself which is the best thing I can ask for nowadays. 

I often talk to him about how my past is definitely affecting my life now. My love life, social life and just internal conflict but we will get to that later. He often asks about my sexual assault/rape cases and how I feel when I think back to them. He reassures me with statistics that make me firmly believe I shouldn't feel bad for my reaction. Especially when I never asked for it. I mean, hey, how is a 4 year supposed to ask a grown adult to kiss certain parts of their body and stick fingers where they are not supposed to? Sorry, maybe that was too much but when you put it flat, it comes down to, they don't. Which is why it was never my fault, it was the stupid bitch's fault. 

Again! Coincidentally, I was molested the first time by a cousin in my family who is a grown woman! And now I am pan-sexual with my pronouns being she/they but I have known since I was a small child so maybe that's not really something to blame it on, especially when I am having a good time out here. 

I was again molested when I was a toddler, when my dad would visit his cousins, they were kind of scattered all throughout this house that they rented in Hawaiian Gardens at the time. A man pulled me into the room where he was watching porn and he took out his dick and I refused to look at it. My dad was calling my name and he immediately put it away and turned the volume on the TV down. After that, I never saw him again and I overheard some of my uncles talk about he moved to Mexico. I always wonder if my dad had found out about it and maybe sent him away. 

Now fast forward passed my teen years where I spent raising my siblings, pushing my feelings aside with a couple attempts at taking my life. It all spiraled down into a drain and suddenly I was doing fantastic during my junior year in high school. I started off having a 1.5 GPA during my freshman and sophomore year but my spiritual awakening allowed me to graduate high school with a mere 3.1 GPA. For me, that was a huge success, giving that I have myself the deal that if I didn't graduate high school, I would for sure kill myself since I knew I wouldn't amount to anything after that. 

Now that I think about it, I pulled myself together really well. I remember feeling so much self love and freedom. The type of freedom where I was independent as hell. No one could tell me anything. No one told me how to feel or act. And everyone still loved me and wanted to be my friend. Honestly, it was the best time of my life thus far. I just wonder how I could be to tall one chapter of my life now, I am at the lowest point ever. 

How did I get here?