This is extremely long. But it is my life. These are things I never told anyone. And it feels good to finally let it out.
I was born in September, to my mother, who was a German immigrant and to my father, who was an Italian immigrant. My mother and father have 4 children together. I have older brothers who are twins, their names are Ryan and Bryan. I have a younger sister named Natalie. My brothers were born in Germany, where my parents met, married and settled down. My parents were young. My mom was 14 when she had my brothers. My dad was a lot older, he was 20. Although many would say that their relationship is wrong, I have yet to see a woman love a man as much as my mother loved my father. My parents came to the United States when my brothers were 2. My mom wanted to become a doctor and the U.S. Medical school system was her dream. My parents had no trouble adjusting to American life. They both were fluent in English already. My mother had an older sister who lived in Leesburg, Virginia. So this was my families first home in the U.S. My mother went to high school and graduated top of her class at 18. She was accepted into University of Virginia, Charlottesville that fall. Shortly after her acceptance they moved to Waynesboro, Virginia. A quite town relatively close to Charlottesville. She graduated as an honors student with a bachelors in Biology at 22. A few months later she gave birth to me. She had no idea. A year later she was accepted into University of California, San Francisco for med school. So there we go moving to Sausalito, CA. Both of my parents came from money. My mother never once had to take a loan out for her schooling.
During this time not only did she find out she was pregnant, she also found out I had cancer. My mother was scratching my back one night when she was tucking me in and felt 2 softball size lumps on my back. Lumps that weren’t there before. She immediately took me to the hospital were I had testing done. Shortly after my parents were told to meet with an oncologist at UCSF. That’s where they were told that their daughter had T-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. During her second year in school she gave birth to my sister Natalie. Now she had a daughter going through chemo and radiation treatments as well as a new born. This is where my father stepped up and took care of the kids while my mother struggled to balance personal life as well as school. But she did. And in her 3rd year I went into remission. My cancer was gone. And I was healthy again.
My mother graduated about 5 years after starting at UCSF. She was now a doctor, an ophthalmologist for children with retina disorders. She was a 28 year old with two 13 year olds, a 6 year old and a 3 year old. Talk about a hectic household. My mother got an offer to be a part of a group pediatric center in Memphis, Tennessee. We moved there shortly after she graduated UCSF.
I talk about my mom a lot, later it’ll make more sense. Where she worked was a 24 hour center. Since she was new, she got all the crap hours. I felt like she was never home in reality she was home from 10 to about 6am, me being so young I would usually always be sleeping. I felt lonely. I missed my mom. My brothers were in high school, playing football and other various activities. They weren’t ever home.
This is when my life changed. This is when my father started abusing, molesting and raping me. I was only 6 years old. We lived in a ranch style house. It was beautiful. We had a huge lawn with a lot of room to run and play. This is how my father explained the bruises I would have. He would say I had fell. I became the “clumsy kid”. And no one really questioned it. There were no typical child abuse signs. I never had bruises on my face. Never broke a bone as a kid. (Other than a broken finger my brother gave me when he opened his door and I was standing obvious to it). My mom believed him and I was too afraid to say anything. He would threaten another rape of i told anyone. So I didn’t. In hopes it would stop. But it didn’t. This is when my father became a hard core drug addict. Heroine, crack cocaine, pcp, ecstasy, you name it he did it, along with alcohol.
When i was 8 I had a relapse with my leukemia. This relapse lasted almost 2 years. Fast forward to when I was 10. My father still hadn’t stopped and I still never said anything. Around this time is when he started making Natalie watch. And would threaten her and say if she was a bad girl this would happen to her. I had a short relapse again wen I was 13. But it lasted about 3 months. Doctors don’t consider it a relapse but I had chemotherapy. So I count it. My mom got a full time job during the day. 7am-7pm. So I got to see her more and when she was home I was safe. She became my protector. I knew when she was home my dad wouldn’t threaten me. He would just her high and go to sleep.
When I turned 14 I met a guy. A guy who soon became one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. He truly knew me. We began dating. And he caused me to forget my home life. When I was with him I didn’t have a care in the world. I felt like we were the only people on earth. But when I would have to go home, it was back to reality. My dad got me pregnant at 14. Due to my cancer my cycles have always been irregular. So I figured when I missed my cycle it didn’t mean anything. I didn’t know until one morning I was having extremely bad cramps. And I was bleeding a lot. I told my mom and she took me to the hospital and they told me I was 9 weeks pregnant and that I was going through a miscarriage. I’ve never seen such a look of disappointment then the look I saw on my moms face. She never asks who the father was, she assumed it wast boyfriends. And after that he wasn’t allowed in the house.
My father still didn’t stop. We moved to Virginia again for a job my mother got. My boyfriend was in college and transferred for me. Fast forward to me being 16. This was absolutely the worst year of my life. I had shoulder surgery and my mom wanted to go to the store one night. It was December and it was cold and there was snow on the ground. We were driving in a northbound lane in a Honda Accord, and we were hit head on by a truck who spun out on black ice. It launched our car into the shoulder were we must’ve rolled a few times. The car was upside down when I woke up. My mom was in front of me. She had reached over on impact to try to save me. She was pinned in front of my face. She was dying. I was too. But she was worse. There was blood everywhere. I couldn’t feel my legs, or my arms. I couldn’t breathe deep. I had blood coming from my mouth and nose. And my mom, I can’t even describe. Other than glossed over eyes. Pale skin and gasps for breath. I panicked and started screaming and crying, and all my mom could do was say “I love you.” She said it 5 times before she stopped, her stare went blank. And I knew in that moment, my protector was gone forever. She died not knowing things. And a piece of me died with her. I faded in and out of consciousness. I woke up hearing sirens and men talking. There was light shinning on the car but not at me. I heard a paramedic say there’s no point in looking for people in the car because they wouldn’t have survived, that’s when I started screaming, or at least I thought I was. But I wasn’t making much sound. The medic heard me though. And all I could say was that I’m alive and my moms dead. About 25 minutes later I got out. They had to cut the car into pieces. They took a piece off of where my chest was and I passed out. The next thing I remember is waking up in an empty hospital room, with a calendar date that was in February. I had to relearn how to walk and how to use my arms. I had no visitors while I was gone, other then my boyfriend who never left my side. He took my home and when I got there I found out my father had remarried the day after my mothers death. And my new step mother was 23 years old. I walked up 2 flights of stairs to my room and when I walked in it wasn’t my room anymore. My father had gotten rid of all my stuff. Told me he thought I should’ve died too. He let me stay for 4 days. And then I had to leave. This is when I tried to kill myself. I drank, took over 70 high dose pain pills blasted music and got a gun. I was so sick and drunk that I didn’t know where the trigger was. I had shot guns since I was 7. My brother happened to stop home and ran into my room just as I was messing with the gun. He saved my life. I was taken to the hospital and had my stomach pumped. I had surgery to clean out my intestines and stomach to make sure I didn’t die. I spent a lot of time on suicide watch. And that whole time I was just planing on what I could do next. When I got out. Luckily I had the opportunity to move in with my boyfriend. And I did and I got better. I was happy.
I could say all the other horrible things about my father. And what he has done even since then. But I feel like this has been super depressing as it is. So I will leave those things out. My boyfriend I loved so very much was killed last year. And since then I’ve broken apart. I’m still grieving. And I honestly probably will always hurt.
But I am no longer suicidal. If it wasn’t for my brother on that night I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have gotten to see my half sisters born. I wouldn’t have been able to help all you people with the same situations that I’ve lived through. My life has been hell. I am still living with cancer, I am still having to live with my fathers disgusting being. I’m on my own. And this is my story. And I will make it happy. And I will live to be happy. Just like you all should. I’ve learned how to dance even in the worst of rain.