A Simple Reason Why.

Tough love

TW: Abuse, self harm, reference to suicide, substance abuse and drugs.                                                          

11/03/2015

I had the flashbacks again today its only been a year since the abuse stopped. My dad was a person that I loved dearly but sometimes was also hard to love. He didn't understand how much he hurt me mentally and physically. Everything just kept replaying in my head. Like the time he pushed my younger sister down the stairs and suggested to my mum it was me and that I needed to be hospitalised for anger problems. The time he kicked and punched me so hard I was left with broken bones and deep wounds. I was left black and blue...if I was lucky. Sometimes it was hard because I knew if he didn't take it out on me it could be my mum, my sister or my brother. So I decided it would be better me than them. He would come home make a mess and leave it for my mum to clean after coming home from 10 hour shifts then leave again late at night it was miserable.

I was usually the one minding my siblings because he was never there and my mum was working. I had that little bit of childhood freedom. That was until my grandparents died. They always helped babysit and it would help a lot. But my grandad died when I was 6 then my grandma when I was 8. So from there on that little bit of childhood freedom was gone. It was me against the world. Or so I thought.

22/05/2018

Hey it's me again I found this old thing I lost it after awhile. I am now proud to say that after all those years of pain he's gone. No I don't mean dead my mum finally got the courage to leave that bastard. It's tough love as he would say because its hard to love someone who hurt you even if they tell you they can change. But here I am 14 now and about to start a new high school. Lets hope everything turns out okay there. Me and my family (apart from my dad) are currently living at my grandamas house ( my mums mum). To fill you in on everything so far I have been going to my the therapist 3 times every week since I last tried to commit. I can't bare looking at myself sometimes because when I do all I see is the scars and cuts on my legs and arms. It makes me want to yell at the top of my lungs. Sometimes I just sit in my room and sob. I took those pills thinking the pain would go away and it did, that was until I woke up in the hospital, my little sister had found me on the floor of my bedroom  unconscious with the bottle of pills in my hand. In all honesty if you were to ask me how I feel I wouldn't know what to tell you because I don't feel anymore. I wouldn't say I blame this all on my dad, but most of it. Why did he have to get into drugs is a question I ask myself alot. Was I not good enough? Was my loving him not enough to stop him drinking too? Maybe not because I am not enough.