Seven-Teenth

Dear Simone,

My mom always watched as my father hit me or kicked me out. She never did anything to defend me. He started kicking me out when I was 13yrs old. Sometimes he would threaten me with beating me more or throwing my stuff out the balcony.

Funny I wasn’t even allowed to step foot on the balcony. Not even while “friends” stood outside to talk to me. They barely let me talk on the phone. That was weird and embarrassing. Not many kids wanted to sacrifice their time to talk to me from a balcony.

When I brought up my dad kicking me out constantly to my mom, she responded with “well, why would you listen to him?” It’s kind of hard not to listen when he’s throwing things out or pushing me out or grabbing me by my hair. It seemed like he kicked me out: the week of New Year’s, my birthday, sometime in April, some time in August, November or Thanksgiving, Christmas and whatever inconvenience peaked his interest. It was random and scary and at some point I started running away because the isolation, emotional, mental and physical abuse was too much to handle. I always felt guilty for leaving my sisters behind. But I trusted he wouldn’t treat them the same as me.

Even after turning into an adult, he still kicked me out. But this time threatening to call the cops. Like why?? And my mom….well, “you shouldn’t have made him mad.” Mad because I wouldn’t buy him a HUMMER, mad because the house I was looking to purchase my ex husband’s name would be on it too, mad because Lilly’s chinchilla died and blamed me or opening the window for a couple hours, mad because I quit the job he wanted me to quit but wanted me to have a job by 2 days after and was upset I had no baby sitter and when I spent 6 months in my car or on the street, I was a disappointment because I didn’t get an apt on my own. Those were some of the reasons he kicked me out. Just because I had nowhere to stay doesn’t mean the bills stopped. Car payment, gas, food, whatever hotel I stayed at, the YMCA so we could shower, credit card payment, etc. That was the last time I ever let him have that kind of control over me.

Not too long ago, I had an argument with my dad about all of this, and he denied everything. I felt like I was 8 years old in that conversation. The next day, I felt like I was 11, then 13. Now 14. At first, I was a sad 13, and now I’m an angry 14. It’s funny how the healing process works. It’ll probably take me about 2 weeks to go thru the years until I’m mentally 31 years old again.

4 days later and I’m 17. Angry, semi-numb. I feel like something bad will happen. Probably because of the date is coming up. Tomorrow. The 17th. Is this a sign? Is life trying to tell me something? I numbered my drafts, and this happens to be the tenth rough draft. I coincidentally named this before I numbered it. One of my most horrific days with a reminder of another. July 17th. I couldnt sleep last night either.

I miss you,