Inside The Box

My Twisted Journey

I had everything taken from me way too young. No love, connection, support, good example. At the time, what I knew was right because that was all I knew. It was normal to be forced to undress and be hosed down outside, it was normal to be fed soap, it was normal to be touched by someone else even though it didn't feel right. Normal to me was being smacked with ringed hands, spanked with wooden cooking spoons, and being held firmly by the arm or by the chin. No matter how much I cried because it hurt, bled, or bruised, it was normal to me. My nose bled in school quite often, and I would be sent home to frustrated parents. I would come home and throw up almost daily, but it must've just been something I ate. Regardless, I was forced to sit at the dinner table and finish my entire plate. I would be sitting on top of a box because I was too short and wearing my adjustable bottoms because even the smallest of sizes were too big on me. My plate was about as full as my parents' and if I didn't finish it by the time everyone else had cleaned up, I would have to eat it in the morning, cold. I can't remember how many times I had to get up to go to the bathroom because I was sick to my stomach. I would cry the entire time, trying to spit as much as I could get away with in my napkin. My dad would often take bites of my food when mom wasn't looking to help. It would take me 3 hours to finish a plate. Most times that I didn't finish, I was sent to my room and that was that. I was sent to my room often. When I started to be uncomfortable in my "girly" clothes, things changed quite a bit. I couldn't explain why I didn't like them anymore, I just knew I didn't feel comfortable wearing them. When I had disagreed with anything I was told to do, I was grounded. I wasn't allowed to voice how I felt. I was never given a chance. I was told that I make everything difficult, that I caused our family problems, that I was dragging them on this rollercoaster. I was told that I make people not want to be around me and that I was the reason mom was always cranky. When mom was cranky, everyone was cranky. Since I wasn't allowed to speak, I started "shutting down" because I thought if I was quiet it would make it better. I was wrong for that because then I wasn't responding when I was told and I was being a brat. Every time I would shut down, my mind would grow darker and darker. With each argument, each uncomfortable situation, I grew angrier and more resentful. I would be thinking about a million ways to hurt the people around me. After time, the urges to hurt myself started to grow. I was wrong for being who I was and I was wrong for wanting to hurt the people that made me feel that way so instead of hurting them, I had to hurt myself. It was much easier to take all of that internal pain and feel it on the outside physically. I wasn't allowed to voice how I felt, so self harm became my self expression. I thought that I was doing what I was supposed to do because I wanted to hurt the bad people, but I was constantly being told or shown that I was bad. When my family started to notice, I was getting in trouble and I was being deprived of any and all privacy. I didn't understand why, I felt like I was being punished. Nothing I did was right. I felt so uncomfortable all of the time because I had no idea how to be myself without being wrong. When I was in school, I could be whoever I wanted. I started out as this energetic and loud kid with her skirts and peace sign earrings just to turn into this quiet, sweatshirts and skinny jeans type of person. I became who I wanted, I became the "weird edgy kid" because that's how I felt. I liked that I became unpredictable and intimidating. As I experienced more trauma, I fell harder into that lifestyle. By the time I had graduated high school, I had figured out that I liked girls more than I liked guys, I had turned into a pothead, pill popper, and a drinker. What started as an independent riot turned into a full fledged addiction. Suddenly weed and painkillers became powders and hallucinogens. A water bottle full of various liquors turned into fifths in my glove compartment and handles under my bed. My life became consumed by substances. I was giving my money, body, and soul away to anyone that wanted access. Especially when I knew that I didn't want to. I never learned to say no or to speak up. I learned to keep my mouth shut and give it away before it could be taken. Suddenly I could understand the way that I grew up. I wasn't the only one in that house who was consumed by substances. I wasn't the only one doing things I never thought I would. Nobody gets a handbook for life and we sure as hell don't get a break. We live in such a twisted environment and we're expected to be different but how do you expect someone to go against what they've been doing or experiencing their entire life? You can't improve your life in less time that it took to destroy. It's a lot easier to wreck a life than to build one. I don't blame anyone that would give up, but I can't. I have to do my best to rewire and relearn all of the things I should've known. I have to break myself down again in order to put myself back together but it's going to be worth it because when I'm done, I get to prove that it can be done. I get to prove you wrong.