Dad (Time to get it addressed) in Writing To Escape [Open Diary Entries]

I don’t usually write for themes of the week but this one seemed depressing enough to catch my attention somewhat, so I decided that this week I’ll participate.

So let’s split the theme into its two questions and answer them individually as intended.

What would you say was the worst thing to happen to you?

For anyone reading this who is a regular reader of mine, it will comes as no surprise to you when I say that the worst thing that has ever happened to me was my childhood.

My childhood was never one like the ones most normal people experienced, instead it was quite the opposite. I didn't get chance to enjoy the beauty of youth or the innocence of being an ignorant child to all the things that go bump in the night, no my nights were filled with things that went bump in the night, usually that would entail my head going bump and then parading excuses about how silly little me fell down.

Ever since I can remember I've always had to learn to fend for myself for the most part, my father was never there to protect me because he was usually the one throwing me from one end of the room to the other slamming me off whatever he could find because it had been a crap day and he’d drunk a little too much.

Although the next day it was all apologies and promises that he’d never do that again, last night was the last time and then came the night time and all I remember then was seeing him approach me one more with that fire in his eyes.

That rest of that night is a blank. I woke up the next day on the floor, groggy and sore, it was just another typical night at home, but eventually you get used to it you get used to being used for one thing and that is for the sake of others and being their cushion for what they can’t deal with.

My school life was quieter than my home life. I would watch the other kids play whilst I sat in the corner huddling myself, the other kids didn't want me to play I wasn't the strongest player and I couldn't run around all that much, well there was no surprises there I was a little sore is all I can say, so I sat alone in my corner for years minding my own business, never interacting, never taking part, never being wanted or being acknowledged.

The kids they hung out in their 2’s and 3’s but the class never added up correctly and I was always the odd one out, but it was okay I eventually got used it. I was used to being alone. I was used to the cold, it didn't phase me as much any more, after all wasn't it just part of life being alone, some people have others and some people don’t, it’s just the way things go right?

I’ll never forget one particular moment in time though when I was at home for the typical night I was knocked down and led flat on my stomach, his knee on the back of my neck pushing my face into the ground, I struggled to breath and the pressure made my nose bleed. He took my hand and pulled it up my back slowly until I felt it slowly begin to crack and grind under the pressure, the pain became unbearable and before I passed out I remember the snap as a part of my body broke.

Now there are a lot of other things that happened in my childhood to give me enough to cry about and to keep me awake at night, you can find more about all of those in my previous entries if you wish to read more.

How did it benefit you in the end?

Although the answer to this question will not make much sense unless you have a moderate understanding of how I work, everything that happened to me as a child shaped me into the person I am today.

I learned how to shut myself off from anything and everything. I learned how to stop the pain I learned how to numb myself and with that experience I had gained I learned how to help others who I could relate too.

So I wrote a poem 3 days ago in fact, in a previous entry but I will post it here as well because it’s the only real way to answer the question of how it benefited me. Going through what I did defined my existence so here you go.

Thoughts on Why I live.

My loneliness, my hell, can other people really save me from it? Why do I understand people’s feelings so much it hurts? Why do I reach down and pull them out from their dark pit? Why does it hurt watching them give in and lay face down in the dirt?

They never deserved to go through what they did, they never chose to be the victim. These people they never had a chance and now they lay broken and beaten. What changed me? What made me care so much that I couldn't just leave them be?

What made me stand up with the strength I needed to break free? What gave me the gift of insight, foresight and being able to see? Who do I look to for setting me on my path? Should I feel good for getting those people to finally laugh?

I help them and make sure they are okay and no longer live in pain or fear. I’ll hold them until there are no more tears and then I’ll disappear. They need to feel that they are needed by someone in this world. So I move from one person to the next searching for my existence.

But I finally know the reason that I live. For all I have been through I have to help those who have nothing more to give. You’re broken and you’re down but I will never give up on you. You’re hurting and you’re sad but I will still be there for you.

The feelings of being sad, the feelings of hate will eat you alive if you let them. I won’t be a victim any more and neither will you, because together we can make it through. That is my purpose, that is why I live. To help those who think they have nothing more to give.

Last updated May 26, 2014