"When something bad happens you have three choices. You can either let it define you, let it destroy you, or let it strengthen you."
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I used to have a good life. I was spoiled, loved...wanted. Things were perfect, but then mother got sick. My parents refused to tell me what she was sick with, but I knew she took medicine. The only reason I knew was because it did bad things to her.
Mother started becoming harsher in the words she said. Each day she became less loving towards me. No longer when she tucked me into bed at night would she say," Goodnight ladybug! Sleep well and I will see you in the morning." She stopped kissing my forehead. She stopped telling me I was pretty. Instead, I became lucky if she even remembered to come in my room and murmur a goodnight to me.
On Sundays she stopped making my favorite chocolate chip pancakes, and we no longer had our Wednesday night mother-daughter dates. Six year old me did not understand why she was so cold towards me, but eventually I accepted it. I became okay with the fact I was seemingly unimportant to her now, and eventually I stopped caring.
Father on the other hand was different. He tried for me. He would work long hours, come home tell me I was beautiful and wish me the best night of sleep. In the mornings he would wake me up with a kiss on the head, wish me a good day at school and then head off to work.
Slowly though, he too started ignoring me. He was never at the house as often as he used to be. Although I was young, even I knew he couldn't always be at work. Anytime that I would ask him he would give me a menacing glare, tell me to quit being nosy and to go to my room. That is exactly what I did. I became content in the life I had. I was invisible to everybody. I despised it. I wanted to be noticed, I craved my parents attention yet never received it.
It all changed two years after mother got sick. Things shifted, and were never the same again. I thought the life that I was living was inadequate. Little did I know when I woke up on the gloomy Thursday morning, that when I put my fluffy slippers on (that 8 year old me happened to love) and when I shuffled out of my room, I was walking into a hell that I thought could only ever be imagined. I was wrong.
The oh-so gloomy Thursday was the day Father left mother and I for his new family. I didn't necessarily blame him. Mother had become so unbearable that some days I locked myself into my room and refused to come out.
When I walked out of my cream colored bedroom door that morning I was met with a slap. That day was marked as the first time mother hit me, and also the day I came to the realization that being invisible wasn't so bad. In fact, instead of longing for attention of mother, I hoped and prayed she would forget about me. I was never that lucky.
It was a slow process when mother started hitting and hurting me more, it wasn't all at once. She started off verbally abusing me more than anything. She said I was the one who pushed father away. It basically became her daily mantra to tell me:
1.) How much of a mistake I was
2.) I was the one who pushed father away
3.)That I am the complete and whole reason father wanted a new family
4.) I will never amount to anything in life
As an 8 year old hearing my own mother say that pretty much crushed my hopes and dreams. I mean if she didn't believe in me then why should I? I always believed what she said and thought that I wasn't good enough because when I went to school all the girls talked about what they did with their mothers the night before; getting their hair and nails done, gossiping, watching movies together, and cooking in the kitchen together. That was a dream for me, but I knew that dream would never come true. Mother simply was not like that.
Around the time I turned 9 (which my birthday went unnoticed like the year before, and would continue to go unnoticed for many years to come.) mother had gotten put on a heavier medication. It made everything so much worse. I didn't think that could happen, I was proved wrong once again.
I can remember the day like yesterday. I had gotten asked to stay behind after school and my teacher asked if she could keep an artwork of mine for a show. By the time we had finished talking my bus had already left the school, so I had to walk home. When I walked through the front door mother was there waiting for me. She had asked me where I had been and I told her the complete truth. Of course she didn't believe me. "Why do you lie to me hm? Your untalented. Nobody would ever want to keep your artwork." She paused and dragged me to the kitchen, only once we had made it over to the fridge had she continued on with her rant.
"Do you see this? It is empty. Would you like to know why?" Like the stupid 9 year old I was I nodded. "Because none of the artwork you do is worth showing off. It is ugly, just like it's creator. I have such a disappointment of a daughter that her artwork isn't even worth being shown off. How pathetic Sang. You can't seem to do a single thing right can you?" She didn't give me a chance to answer because the next thing I knew I was on the floor being punched and kicked endlessly.
After she was done she went to her room and that was when I truly had lost all hope in her. Life went on like this for many years. Any time I did something wrong, or even when she felt like it I would get beat. Scars littered my body by age 11, and I was still so young. My self image had gone practically non-existent.
I only ever had 2 friends, and that was when I lived in Greece.I knew them for a year and we were incredibly close. Their names were north and Silas, I always called them North Star and Superman though. They knew everything about me except for the abuse. I lost contact with both of them after a year of us being inseparable. We were supposed to meet up at the park that night, but they never showed. I went back there every night for two weeks and eventually I gave up. Neither of them had the best home lives so I always hoped they had gotten saved. There was also the chance they were dead,t that was hard to believe.I have always wanted to see them again but could never seem to find them. The day they left 2 pieces of my heart were taken with them.
When I was 13 one of the two best things in life happened to me. My little brother was born. My mother had gotten pregnant and the father didn't want any custody, so I vowed to take care of him. While I never wanted a kid to be born into a family like this, I knew the second I saw him that mother would never taint him like she had me. For the next two years I took care of his every need. It was never easy. I had to keep up with school (which I excelled in), I had to take care of Cameron while my mother was off doing whatever she pleased. For a few months I even had to get a job so that Cameron wouldn't starve.
I got more beatings than normal for the first year he was on earth. Anytime he would cry in the middle of the night, and I couldn't calm him down before he woke mother up I would be punished. Sometimes I would be so exhausted and worn down that I would forget to do normal chores, that always resulted in a beating. She said she is too good to live in grime.
This went on for two years until mother got pregnant again. She was born and the situation was the exact same as last time. This time it was a girl, and I got to name her. I chose to name her Lily because it is my favorite flower. When it was a bad night, and the beatings were worse than usual I would imagine Lilies, and always fall asleep almost immediately. Lily meant peace to me so it was perfect.
Neither of them have ever been harmed because of mother. I have made sure of it no matter the costs. Lily and Cameron are what keeps me going through life. They make every little sacrifice I make worth it. I would get beaten a million times in a row before I let that monster raise a hand to my precious brother and sister. I was forced to grow up much faster than the other kids just to take care of them meaning I only ever had one friend. It was a boy. When mother found out she didn't beat me. She held me down and carved hateful words into my back with a knife; bitch, slut, whore and many more. Then she tied me up and put me under scalding water for hours saying it was to ''Wash my impurities away." I only got out when she said the water bill would run up if she kept me there much longer. Not even one day after we moved away.
As far as health goes Cameron and Lily are in perfect health. Well besides maybe getting sick once or twice a year, but that's an ordinary kid thing. They are the appropriate weight, and height. I take them to yearly doctor appointments, and the dentist twice a year. I usually have to save money for months so that I can pay for it but I am trying to set them up to have a good life. They need to be healthy. Me...not so much. I would never have enough money for it, and I already have a strong immune system so I have always left it at that
Life for me has been no where near easy or perfect. It is a train wreck although there have been some good things. First are Cameron and Lily of course. Also since mother is gone so often nowadays I have been able to go down to libraries and teach myself more than school ever could. I have no idea if I will be able to go to college so it has been my goal to prepare myself the best I can for when I turn 18 and am no longer in high school. I know 7 different languages fluently; french, spanish, English, Russian, Greek, Japanese, and German. I know a lot about cars and music. I love cooking and running. Anytime I get the chance I'm doing one of these things. On the days that everything gets bad, they are the escape from reality that I desperately need.
I have one more year left until I can get adoption of Lily and Cameron. One year until I can be free and give my siblings the life they truly deserve. Only one year left of high school.
I'm hoping and praying I can stay invisible one year longer. I'm sure you can tell by now that luck is not on my side.