As my 47th birthday approaches, (it is now over) I am remembering an OLD birthday. (Also a conversation with some women on Facebook about abuse and what we went through and survived.)
The house we lived in was at the bottom of "snob hill" in that town. The rich people lived further up the hill, along with the girls from my school who were so cruel.
I waited ALL day for somone to recognize that it was my birthday. My 16th birthday,
Every girls 16 birthday is a milestone, and I thought it was going to be a special day.
I waited all day. NOTHING. Nobody cared. At the end of the day I was sitting on my bed, knees pulled up to my chin rocking back and forth, like I did every time my father beat me up. I wished over and over again that I had never been born so I wouldn't have had to go through this.
My eye caught the vanity table to my left, and the glass that was broken on top of that table....years later, this is the song I wrote... https://youtu.be/iJAB_z23sNQ
Don't end it now.
They treated me like I was stupid and when I talked I was ignored, because to my entire family, nothing I said was worth listening to.
It reminds me so much of when I was growing up and in school.
It is literally a miracle that I survived. But I am here! I made it. And being in the world, finally feeling love and peace and serenity, fleeting as it may feel sometimes is what it is like to be a human.
As Andy Andy Dufresne said in “The Shawshank Redemption. “ Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”