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Saturday, March 09, 2013

Letting It Out, Part 2: The Memories

This post is a continuation of yesterday's insanity.

I know these posts sound out of order and chaotic and sad, but I have to do it. Thank you to everyone for reading and being nice and non-judgemental.

If you have been judging me, then thank you for having a different point of view.

That's what life is about, isn't it? Experiencing things, developing a perspective, sharing it, and learning of others.

Any who, so let's start with this post...
I'm going to, again, just write without thinking. And I'm going to start from the very beginning.


I remember once, in elementary school, my dad showed up after school. I was so happy to see him. I was so excited to be with him and hang out with him. I was surprised he wanted to see me so badly, because I never ever saw him at that time. He hugged me and asked me how school was, and I told him everything that came to mind. And we stood there, looking over at my grandma. 

She looked mad.

I remember wondering if I had done something wrong. Maybe I forgot to do homework or I left the TV on again. I didn't pay much attention to it at the moment though, because my dad was there. He was there, with me.

He was smiling so much.

He was happy to see me.

I later found out that he had been upset with my mom about something. I don't remember what. But he called her and threatened to kidnap me. My mom called my grandma, who was taking care of me at the time while my mom worked, and told her to rush to the school.

When my grandma got there, she saw me with my dad.

And now I understand the big smile on my dad's face.

It wasn't a smile for me. 

It was a victory smile directed to my grandmother. 

He won.


I may skip a lot of memories. Mainly because they're too painful to really ever confront without a professional. Also because I have never found the courage to truly talk about it. But there are enough memories to show how I got to where I'm at.

I remember my dad showing me court papers as he explained how my mom was being a bitch.

I remember my dad asking me to cover for him as he cheated on his girlfriend.

I remember my dad leaving me alone at a baby shower with strangers.

I remember my dad breaking so many promises.

The way he won my love was through buying me things.

And spending time together meant going to his office and having me work for him or being on a laptop doing something.

All those birthdays at Dave & Busters, watching my mom's family and my dad's family sitting there awkwardly. Even at a young age, I could feel the tension. I was aware of it all.

I remember always being disappointed and upset and left behind.


It was Thanksgiving, and the tradition was always a brunch at my Uncle's house, and then dinner at my moms. I think that's what they had decided in court.

My dad told me he'd be there to pick me up at 10am.

I was never a morning person, but I still woke up and I was ready by 9am.

He didn't show up.

2pm comes by, and he tells me that my aunt is on her way to pick me up.

Okay. Fine.

My aunt get there and I get into the car and leave. Not even 1 minute into the drive, my mom calls and tells them to turn around and drop me off.

I walk inside the house and I hear my dad's yelling over the voicemail speaker and my mom is pacing the living room.

Apparently my dad was going to call the cops on her.

She sent me up to my room and I called my best friend, crying. I had no idea what was going on. I had no idea what I did wrong.

In the end, the cops and my dad showed up. I didn't get to spend Thanksgiving with him. And I still don't understand what was going through his head that day.

I remember, after the cops had left and all, I had to go outside to talk to him.

My grandfather stood at the window watching me, and my dad stuck his tongue out at him.

How childish.

I hated it. I hated that day.


I remember that whole family. How they treated me.

I was ugly. I was fat. I was stupid.

I wasn't an "Alvarez" I was a "Sarmiento."

Your mother this... Your mother that...

So much mocking and ridicule.

I wish I had known how to stand up to myself back then.

I wish I knew, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

They hurt me, so much.  


It was always revenge and fighting.

I remember how I had a trip planned out with my mom, but my passport was expired. My dad didn't want to sign it to be renewed.


Because my mom had won in court, and he was mad.

So he went through me to give his revenge.

But he never noticed something...

My mom was never hurt by anything he did.

I was.   


Middle school and high school were probably the worst years of my life.

I remember my parents fighting as I almost ended up in the psychward. I was taking Prozac and had gotten very depressed and suicidal.

When they told my parents that I would need to stay in the hospital for the night until they can get a psychologist to see me... My dad bitched at my mom. My mom cried and called me a disappointment.

A disappointment... For what? For being on pills that you put me on? For being depressed and suicidal? For feeling alone and hopeless?

I was a disappointment    


I remember how I used to think that my step-dad always hated me.

I finally learned why he's the way he is. And that justified everything. He loved me, and that's all I needed to know.

But there were some moments that I really wasn't sure... And what was wrong with my mom that she couldn't show me she loved me? She wasn't diagnosed with anything...

I remember my step-dad kicking me out of the house after a bad argument. After a stupid argument.

I got my stuff and started walking to the door.

My mom grabbed me by the neck and pushed me towards the wall and started shaking me.

I couldn't breathe as she screamed at me. I couldn't tell what she was screaming.

I pushed her off of me and ran out the door crying.

She said: "Come back here or I will call the cops and tell them you ran away."

I said: "Go ahead and call the cops. I'll tell them how you just choked me."

My mom always threatened that the child services would take me away if I said anything... And that I'd end up in a horrible place.

Now I think about it and wonder if maybe I would've ended up in a better place instead.

It was up to me to call out for help or not. And I didn't. Stupid move.


I remember in middle and high school, I was constantly bullied. There was always that one person... And it was stupid. It was like the TV shows and movies. They'd corner me and take my lunch and say nasty things and bring me down.

I'm lucky I was never beat up.

But I remember wanting to go into this program called School for Advanced Studies. It would've allowed me to go to college, and take courses, while still finishing my high school diploma. By the time I graduate, I would have a high school diploma and an Associates Degree, all paid for.

I remember studying so hard for the entrance exam.

And I remember my mom telling me how I'm not going to make it in. I shouldn't even bother. "You can't handle high school, what makes you think you could handle college."

This program had people that wanted to help. I would've been able to talk to them and tell them what's going on and they would've helped me through it. 

I wanted that so badly. But I didn't pass the College Algebra test, by one point. Each question was worth 6 points, so I had messed up in 1/6th of a problem, and that kept me from getting in... I had two more chances to take the test though.

Just having my mother constantly discouraging me... I didn't want to try it anymore. I didn't feel like I could do it. I felt stupid. I can't accomplish anything in life. I can't handle anything. I'm not fit to do anything in this world.

Though, years later, my mom has me take an IQ test and I get a high score...

"She's so smart, just very lazy."

I'm not lazy at all. I tried everything I thought would help me, and you would bring me down or discourage me or stop me from doing it.

You taught me to be this way. Not lazy. Discouraged. And you took away my confidence and self-esteem.


I remember being placed in group therapy. With a psychologist that told my mom to pull my hair... Which my mom did.

And this group therapy had all the people I spent my life trying to avoid. Especially one person, that had bullied me for the longest time. And I told my mom, get her away from me. And what does she do? Trap me for an hour with her every week.


I remember receiving a call from a friend. His girlfriend was planning to commit suicide and he didn't know what to do.

Long story, short: I called the cops and sent them to her house. The girl's mother turned it around on me and blamed me, so the cops were then questioning me.

I was stressed and scared and worried and, as always, alone.

I woke up my mom to tell her what happened, and all she did was bitch. My boyfriend came over to help me. My mom and step-dad wouldn't listen to me. They didn't know what was happening and they wouldn't listen.

That's when my mom pulled my hair and my step-dad called me a bitch.


All of these memories are very out of order. But I think about them a lot.

I can't move on with my life if I'm holding on to the past. I've tried everything to forget.

I've tried so hard to live in the present, to enjoy today. But, always at some point in the day, these memories pop up and I can't avoid it.

I hope that by writing this down and letting it out, it will help me get over it. If not now, then eventually.

And I want to find and connect with people that have had similar experiences. I've learned that I'm not alone, and I want others to learn this too.

You're not alone.

I've been following this Facebook page that posts things that are often relevant to what's going on in my life. I'm going to share one picture that I really try to incorporate into my life everyday. I hope it can help you too some how.

The Unknown; but not hidden.
Love you all.

Kat <3   


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