18

I'm Sorry I'm a Disappointment.

Note to Reader: I... I don't know what to say. How to explain. I don't want to apologize. I do that far too often. And I don't want to trash myself for writing this because then I won't post it. All I have to say are these two things: 1.) There is an image as well as a video. The video may be triggering please do not watch it if suicide is a hard subject for you. I did not post that video to upset people or support, feed, encourage, or spread depression or upset anyone else, and, 2.) This... This is a lot. And it's an honest lot but a lot it is. But this is not all there is. Please be aware that my parents are... they can be good too. I made my decision to stick by them and I'm not changing my decision any time soon. Thank you all for the support and I hope that I do not worry you too much. Have a swell day for me since I will not be able to.

Warnings: Domestic abuse, physicality, man handling, self hate, mental abuse, cursing, helplessness, depression... self harm. Again. I'm sorry. There's a lot here. Ugh I can't even name it all. Heaven I'm sorry it's  been such a bad time for me...

—

My parents are not always bad.

I'm fact, they can be quite amazing. Moments of goodness explode in wonderful color and I cling to those moments in my memory like a starving man clings to food or a cancer patient clings to life or a single mother clings to her child when her child is all she has left.

Times full of fun and laughter and smiles and joy.

Times like when my step dad - my dad, for all intent and purpose and all that matters - and I are driving somewhere. It can be to the store. It can be driving me to school, super early in the morning, at the beginning of the year when I was on Shakespeare Team and had to be at my school super early in the morning and the only way I could was to go with him and be practically an hour early. He'd let me sit in the car as long as possible before I dashed into the cold and sat there, without a phone, desperately doing anything to pass the time. But before he dropped me off he played music and we cracked jokes. A few mornings we'd roll the windows down and let the cold sting our faces as I laughed and he turned the music up and we grinned at each other, awake beyond previously perceived ability even before the sun has risen into the sky. And then, when the sun did come up, that dark blue bursted with yellows and oranges and pinks and reds and it was a canvas of magic and beauty in the sky and it light my face up and made everything happier and brighter and a million times more wonderful.

Times like when my dad took me hiking and we both chugged our water almost gone on the way up there so that when we got on the actual five mile hike up and back, we ran out of water before even getting to our destination. It was hot and we were completely out of energy and we grew completely silent as we swayed and stepped hard and thank whatever God was listening that my mother had been genius enough to pack us each a little container of applesauce - and an extra little container as well, which we shared. A time where I thought I was going to die and my dad desperately begged me not to give out because he didn't know if he could carry me to the car. Once we got to the end of the trail we looked at each other, eyes wide, on the verge of throwing up, overheated and exhausted and coming down from a terror high where we were scraping by to survive. And we grinned. We grinned so wide it hurt and he weakly pat my back and we got in the car and drove to the nearest water source. Mom would yell at us for weeks after and she would never truly let it go... But every time we though of it it would serve as a reminder on how we'd MADE IT. Despite everything, we'd DONE IT. And we were here to tell the tale. And never until that day nor since have I been so completely and wonderfully happy to be alive, nor felt so amazing and accomplished for simply making it.

Times like when I'm breaking down and my dad comes and pulls me to my feet, holding me tightly as if I will shatter and break apart if he lets go. As if he himself alone is holding me together. He holds me long and tight and doesn't let me let go even though I feel insecure and believe that, like most people, after a few seconds he will want me to let go. But he doesn't let go. He holds on for dear life and whispers tender words of love and care into my ear.