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Wednesday, August 28, 2019

A Little Bit Of Pain Never Hurt Anyone.,, Right?

As a child I used to think high school would be the worst thing I was ever going to have
to do. Although that's not saying much, because up until I turned 15 I thought that
the world was flat and the Government choose our jobs for us. Boy was I wrong.
You see I'm adopted.I was one of the 'lucky ones', but I've never been very lucky.
My biological father was severely abusive, my foster parents were pricks who
never fed us, and my adoptive parents were the overbearing Catholic prejudice
assholes (pardon my language we don't get along very well). I was taught, by
them, that:
  • Being bisexual,gay, or lesbian was a sin and should be persecuted
(I'm bisexual and waited till 19 to tell them. We do not speak anymore)
  • Sex was only allowed after 30 years old
  • Computers, the internet, and Television was the devil spawn incarnate
  • All unmarried people below the age of 40 should have a chaperone on
all dates
  • Movies should only be made and watched if they are pg
  • Studying was required for 4 hours a day
  • Cell phone was only for homework,band, which I was required to practice
for for at least 45 minutes per instrument (I played 3/6 regularly by my senior
year), and track
  • Cell phone was handed in after a 6pm dinner 
  • Bedtime all year long was 8:30 pm from the age of 13 past the age of 18
(Even in my first months of college where my last class was 6pm and it was a 3
hour drive home) 
  • No friends were allowed to stay the night and I, myself, was not allowed to
sleep over anywhere unless I wrote a 3-10 page essay on why I should be allowed
to go
  • Exercise was a form of punishment 100-500 situps per fuck up all done at
the end of the day before bed, supervised
  • I wasn't allowed to use the stove to cook
  • I was never allowed to be home alone
  • No soda, candy, sugar, etc. Halloween after 14 was not allowed
  • Mass was required anywhere from 1-3 times a week
  • I was forced to join the church choir
  • Youth group was a must
  • Anyone under the age of 30 were not allowed to whisper under any
circumstances because it was impolite 
  • Children should be seen and not heard
  • Only allowed a savings account
  • Car was only for school, work, and forced
  • choir practice unless approved 1 month in advance
  • I was not allowed to work until after I graduated highschool
Needless to say, I moved out of my parents about 4 months after turning 18.
My funds were very limited because of their strict rules and I personally had no
clue how to pay Bill's or schedule my own doctors appointments. I moved in
with coworkers who taught me that people can be cruel. I Was stripped for their
own amusement and nothing more, Thus i learned that adulting sucks and that
the school I went to taught me nothing of the real world. I worked 2-3 jobs at a
time just to survive. 
A few months passed and I found my way out of my coworkers and in with a
male acquaintance for relatively cheap, only to end up living with a man who
beat and berated me. I suffered in silence, terrified that if I spoke up, if I didn't
cover the black eyes or reset that broken nose, that I may not live to see the
next day. 
Life got hard when I was forced to quit my job to stay alive because he felt it best
I be a housewife (*cough* slave). Death threats and threats of severe beatings
scared me into compliance.
 My brother caught on after I asked the man I was staying with if I could go to
easter service at my brother's church. Thankfully he agreed. 
That day I purposefully made my makeup too light to cover the bruise in hope
that when he arrived to take me to church he would notice. Fortunately for me
he did notice and I was moved to a friends house to crash until I managed to
get on my feet. Thrice in a year had I moved. I decided it was time to change. 
I  didn't date for a while after that. I barely talked. I was terrified it would happen
again. I was disgusted with myself. Time passed and I managed to accept my past.
I forgave myself and then the thing I was most scared of happened. I actually fell
in love. No games, no pain, just love. The butterflies in your stomach type and it
scared me. We moved slow. I was skittish. 8 months later I finally felt comfortable
enough to tell him of my past. He didn't judge, just listened. 
So I guess in a way I am very lucky to have met him even though the circumstances
could have been better. And yes, I am still with him. It's been a little over a year
now and we are inseparable. I am constantly told I am loved instead of threatened
and kissed instead of bruised. I am happy when I'm with him. Less reserved. I can
be me again. 
Time has a way of making things okay again. I've gone through some shit. I've
changed and I've grown more cautious but I'm me. I am strong! I am a fighter!
I will not give up!
This is only the beginning. My life is my own again and I am no longer a slave to
my past. The past doesn't define me as weak. It tells me I am strong.


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