इल नेवर गेट ओवर It

First of all, I want to get this fact out of the way. Most of the world is in much more of a dire situation than I ll ever have to worry about. I, in comparison, have so much and had so many more opportunities to have a wonderful life. That said, I now will say that this blog today is about my life compared to the average American born in the 50's.
I watch something on TV that hits a button and I become sooo bitter! A Chinese girl is looking for her first house. She wants a one bedroom, because thats all she can afford on her own. Theres disagreement between her and her parents, not because they dont think she should do it, but because a one bedroom isnt good enough for their precious daughter. She must have a 2 bed/2bath!!!!! And they will give her the extra $1'000's of dollars to make that happen!!!!! I sit there and just cannot conceive of that ever have had happened to me. EVER!!!! My Dad would LITERALLY not give me a penny! He found a penny when I was small. I asked if I could have it and he hoarded it away into his pocket and changed the subject. This in a nutshell could describe my education on money and my lack of it. More importantly, how my Dad thought of me as a "precious daughter" worthy of care! Not!!!
My Mother was not any better. Her discipline level was beyond what any normal child could adhere to. Her coldness was only rivaled by the refrigerator. Her idea of me growing up spoiled and a "man lover" (her words), was idiotic at best. Anything at all that would have "stroked my ego" was not allowed and punishable. My first desire that I remember is that I wanted to be a ballerina. I wanted dancing lessons sooo bad! I entertained anyone who cared to watch and this got her so upset. She hated that as much as she hated me. I was certainly not a "precious little daughter" to her. I was the source of shame and disgust to her. "I was like my father" which was the worst thing she could say to me because they divorced when I was 3, and she hated him with a wild passion.
So the standard of care for "J" (me), was minimal, just enough to survive physically. Emotionally I was bankrupt already at 5 years old. I started having physical manifestations of my rotten life already as a baby when nightmares visited me every night. They were filled with recurring terrors like devils, being pursued by monsters, being taken away from home and I could never return no matter how much I tried. I still have these same dreams, that is why I remember them. They have never gone away. When I was 6, further physical manifestations started happening. I would be taken out of school bent over in pain so bad, doctors thought I had appendicitis. I never did. It mysteriously appeared and disappeared. Its funny how my Mother was in the disease process of dying of ulcerative colitis. I watched her suffer for over a year, bleed to death, waste away until she was nothing but skin, bones, and the colors black and blue. I was told her heart just stopped. It was then I knew my heart could just stop, and there would be no more me either. I became mentally ill in my fear of death and the uncontrollable anxiety attacks began. The attacks controlled every aspect of my life. There was no escape. There was no one to help. There was no drug that worked. And what did the judge do? He sentenced me to nearly 2 years in the the dregs of mental hospitals, Winnebago State Hospital, where the worst of the worst were. Ed Gaines was there. I feared for my life because I was the youngest and I was mercilessly picked on, terrorized, and beat up. There was even an attempted rape. My dad did nothing to help me. He didnt even come to see me. How old was I? I was 12!!!!!
I cant get over this. I just cant. Its easy enough for other people to say to me, think about good things. Or family members saying to me, just pray. I started praying since I was a small child and yet this all still unfolded for me. Praying all that while, really helped! Do you know what I would like to say to these people? No you dont want to know and I dont want to tell you because in my heart I know they mean well. But they have no God damn idea of what I went through.
This isnt all of it. Its just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe writing about it will release me from my pain. Im willing to try. There is nothing else left for me.