My Mother's Hypocrisy

"ok, so you are free this weekend with the exception of bringing essa, taking liz n abi to judies friday, picking up aunt tina to pick up cookies at1045am saturday, Pick up is at Larsen Transfer on Wellhouse Loop, witch is off of welsian way near the bowling alley, take my van and you can leave them in it cuz there is only 54 cases, (i accidently ordered boxes instead of cases) making sure you lock all the doors, especially the sliding one.  then taking the twins to gma and gpas so that you and essa can go to dinner at mimis, make sure you pick them up when you say you will plz.  Luv u." 


Is the email I opened after a very long week and a very long day. This is just before finals. The conversation started with me asking her about any achievements and awards I should name for a scholarship application. Instead of naming the quite of few that I've earned this year alone, she instead says that I get good grades, but I don't do Girl Scout Bronze/Silver/Gold awards like my younger sisters. However, I have explained to her more than once that the reason I refuse is because I would not get to choose the project and have to follow her orders and nothing would be of my own freedom. I have earned no respect as a child or individual from my mother. She expects me to waste gas to do errands for her while she goes down to California for a mini vacation. 
These are the things that drive me up the wall that she does

1. Assumes that I will do things that she tells me to
2. Makes me drive a gas guzzling car to run errands and doesn't pay me
3. Assumes that I even care about what she thinks about me
4. Assumes that I don't see right through her lies, manipulation and other things that a child should not have to deal with

Rape

In my young mind, sex was okay. It was natural. However, for a six year old to believe so is not a good sign. No one ever gave me the Talk, which I guess wouldn't have mattered in the end. For years, I have had to struggle to remember the things that happened before my family moved. I was in second grade when we did. At this time, my parents were battling for custody. Too busy to care much for my sister and I, they sent us from house to house from constant accusations.
As I think about it, I was once questioned by a police officer about whether or not my father touched me inappropriately. I had said no and that was that. My dad, as a single parent, did not watch my sister and I very well. We were allowed to roam the apartment complex as we wished, which caused many problems. This apartment complex for one, was not the best place to allow your children to roam unsupervised. My early childhood is very fuzzy, but now it makes sense. I repressed being raped until two years ago.
I was friends with a boy named Cody, who was the son of a drug addict with a bad boyfriend. Secretly, Cody introduced me to sex tapes at his house, but I had seen my father's already. I went over there one day to play with Cody, but him and his mother were not home. The boyfriend was there and said I could wait for them to return. I played with those army figurines and some video games. As I was playing with one of those binoculars that had the images you click, he asked if I wanted to see his puppy. I said yes, as a six-seven year old will. He reached down his pants and put my hand on his penis. He encouraged me to stroke him and he got very excited. He touched me for a moment, like he was checking something and disappeared into his bedroom. He came back and took me into the almost pitch black room. He proceeded to take off all my clothes, then laid me on the bed. I was raped after that. It hurt so bad, I couldn't even scream. Tears were shed without me knowing, it ended rather quickly when he came. He wasn't wearing a condom and my body was so sore. I started to cry now. It hurt so bad. He got dressed and gave me a bath, cleaning me carefully making sure he got all the blood and semen he could. I was given a painkiller, while he got my clothes. It took the pain away rather quickly. I was sent home after about thirty minutes.
There are two things that I notice when you are sexually traumatized; you either liked being touched or you cannot stand it. I have noticed this. Another friend that was sexually traumatized, became a sex addict once he discovered sex felt good. He doesn't care about his partners, he just wants sex. I do not want to be like that so I conquered my fear of sex, but I am not a sex machine. I am proud that I did this on my own. My parents do not understand me and I do not want them to try to.
I did understand that it was bad before I just forgot all about it. I just thought that I messed up by not enjoying it. After I had sex again, I realized that something was wrong. Then it flooded back. I cried that day, but I was soon over it. I could not change what happened, I can just move on. However, my father had me take a psychological evaluation. I told the counselor, but when I told him of the rape, he insisted on reporting it. The police did not understand that my parents might not know about the rape and to be honest, I really didn't want them to. In the end, my parents were told that they were investigating something else about Cody. Lucky me. This was reported, but I do not hold my breath on the rapist being charged. I did not remember until I realized I was not a virgin, which I had been convinced without a doubt for so long.

Sex

Most parents cringe and deny that their children will be like them and eventually have sex. Others embrace the thought and give their children "The Talk", explaining how and why to use birth control and condoms. My parents were not the best when it came to waiting for sex. Depending whom you ask, my mother was sexually active at the earliest age of 13. My father, on the other hand, loves to talk about his past and possibly future conquests. If there was a man I knew dominated by his own pleasure, it is my father.
My mother, being one of those who believes I will have sex with or without her consent or knowledge, is rather open. She was willing to take me to Planned Parenthood to get birth control, which was for my horribly painful and irregular menstrual cycle. She was the one I most avoided talking to about sex. Though she has cornered me to discuss my sex life, I tried hard not to give her any control over it.
On the other hand, my father loves to brag about his sex life. For example, he tells stories about high school. How he was able to touch his girlfriend, at the time, under their swim team parkas with a group of people sitting with them at a table. Another, is how he managed to have sex with the less than ten cases in the US, woman who have no womb or ovaries, but a vagina. He also has shared how he and my mother had "sex like rabbits" and how he'd owe the federal government just for the cost of condoms for every time. When I was driving his old car, he told me just how to have sex in the front seat, cautioning not to do it in the back seat. Recently, he made a deal with me that at an anime/scifi convention, we would rent a room, but if the do not disturb sign was up, we wouldn't enter the room, unless we really had to.
Between my parents, I became very insensitive to sex at an early age. Also, my mother chose to have a live-in boyfriend, while married to my father. This messed up how a family should be for me. I ended up deciding at a young age that I was only for few people, unlike my parents. However, around this time as well, I was introduced to pornography. My mother had refused to allow my father to watch his porn tapes in their bedroom, so they were constantly left in the VCR in the living room. When I would go in there to watch cartoons, I would watch porn. I was rather interested in it as a child. Granted, I did catch my parents in the act quite a few times. I caught my mother with my father, my mother with her boyfriend while married to my father, my father with his sixteen year old girlfriend after he divorced my mother (in the bathtub), and I could hear my father and stepmother in their room before we moved. Now that I have been sexually active, I understand how and why I was affected by this. However, this did not turn me into the sex hounds like my parents. I am committed to my partner outside sex, which is a lot for other couples my age.

Medical Habits

This isn't supposed to sound like complaining, just to be facts. My parents react to injuries differently. Mom tends to take me to the ER whenever I have an injury that she cannot take care of. I had a good ping-pong size growth under my arm, which was sliced open and drained. When it comes to medication too, she is right on top of it, making sure I had some, I got refills, my wounds got cleaned, and my inhaler stayed full. Dad, on the other hand, does not take me to the doctor unless I absolutely have to. For example, when I broke my ankle and then my foot, I went straight to the ER. However, when I had a severe cough for three months, I coughed up blood and finally went to the clinic, I had walking pneumonia. I have had one third of the breathing capacity of an adult. My father refuses to believe that I have asthma, though the doctors have tested and given me medication for it. He also refuses to believe that I am allergic to chocolate, which I have been since birth. Another thing is my menstrual cycle. I hurt so bad and my sister too. I was on birth control to help my pain and regulate it. However, he refused to help pay for the doctor's visit, so I could no longer take birth control pills. He barely even paid for that, making me take it out of my allowance.

Dad's Divorce

In mid-September, me and my dad's family took a trip to Seaside, for a week. My dad had already had it in his mind that he was going to divorce my stepmother, if she didn't take a 180 and begin to take an interest in sex. Only weeks before, my father filed for bankruptcy, destroying both his and my stepmother's credit. During the course of a week, my father degraded my stepmother; for being a mess maker (though he and the twins made plenty themselves), for her being needy and not wanting to go anywhere alone, and not being interested in him being naked in bed with her. He started going on Match.com during the week, looking and talking to singles, before he even served her the paperwork. My father says he values communication with me, so he started telling me about these women he was interested in. I felt like it was deju vu. When he divorced my mother, he went looking for sex. He had a sixteen year old girlfriend, when he was over twenty. I looked back on how quickly he replaced my mother, degrading her to his friends and anyone else who would listen, before he served the paperwork. He repeated this again and for the same reason, neither woman was interested in sex with him after kids. He tried to turn me against my stepmother, like he did for my mother, but this did not work. Though he turned her whole family against her, I still trust and love my stepmother more.

Freshman Year

At the beginning of high school, I was screwed over by the court. Despite my mother not completing the assigned treatments and classes, she was allowed to have me and my sister every other weekend, half of all breaks,  half of all holidays, and every other two weeks over the summer. My attitude changed dramatically over the course of the school year, from being a eager-to-please, ready-to-work to a passive aggressive, emotional teen. One of my teachers was gone during most of the year and when she returned, she immediately noticed how I had changed. My other teachers, when asked to think about how I was at the beginning of school to near the end, confirmed her thoughts. When I looked back, I cried. I felt like being forced by the court to see my mother more, which was exactly what they were doing. They had never even seen me, but they felt like they could force me to be changed by a woman who had no right to be called my mother. I was constantly battered verbally, emotionally, and psychologically, but no one helped me get away. My father claimed I deserved to have a voice, but he turned against me, to become my mother's friend, to force me to see her. The court refused to help, but it had already turn their back on me.

Early School Years

I won't only put my home life on this blog, simply because that leaves a huge hole in other factors of my life out. Now. When I was in daycare, I was picked on. I was a freak of nature to the other kids ever since I was little. In Kindergarten, the staff of the daycare put me with older kids, all of whom were in late Elementary or Early Middle School. I was happy. I could relate to them a lot better than the younger kids and they stood up for me, especially when the younger children tried to pick on me in the playground. My early school years were hectic from my parents constant allegations against each other making me change from Kennewick and Richland on almost a monthly basis. My school life finally settled down when my father got major custody. I was living in Kennewick, and going to school. I was responsible enough to walk to school alone everyday, and walk back. I would normally use my bike both ways. Children hated me. I was always picked on by children my own age, and then the base started to expand to the upper grades as well. I only had two or three friends in first and the first half of second grades. My first grade teacher was an idiot and made the class sit in groups of four, instead of sitting me with my few friends and neutral peers, she sat me with the three girls who hated me the most in that class. My stuff was constantly being stolen. I was being kicked under the desk all the time. Yet, the teacher just left me with them, though she knew what they were doing. My dad ended up moving us out of town, in a minuscule collection of houses right off the high way. This as a child didn't bother me, since I had no friends to visit, but when I got older, visiting friends and family became very much as a hassle. The new school ended up being much more cruel, and the students even more so. I saw a counselor off and on, but they never stayed working at the school for long so they weren't really any help. My parents and teachers didn't do much to help with the bullying, so what I ended up with as a friend was Shelby. No one messed with me when Shelby was around. This friendship gave me hope. Shelby invited me to birthday parties, sleepovers, and her family events. Of course I didn't get to got to many of them, but it was the thought that counted to me. Shelby had a short fuse when it came to me, she wasn't afraid to beat the snot of someone you dared to pick on me when she was around. However, by late Elementary school, Shelby was moving away at the end, and the bullying got more elaborate. People would take my homework out of the turn in box and throw it away, they would tell the principal that I did something that I didn't, and they mobilized all the grades against me. By the end of Elementary school, I was a bookworm who heavily depended on books and teachers for comfort. In the end, I was the outcast, the loser, the one who didn't even have a place on the hierarchy of the students. But now, I'm glad that is how it worked out.