I grew up a pretty happy child. My days were filled with a huge assortment of Disney movies and crafts. My neighborhood was filled with kids my age, so I constantly had someone to play with. I was a pretty happy, bubbly, kid. When I was in third grade though my parents decided to get a divorce; but somehow my eight year old mind had come to terms with the fact that it had to happen. I would listen through the floor as my parents yelled at each other, and at some point I even heard one of them mumble the word "divorce" late at night. So when they sat me down on the couch, looked me in the eyes, I pretty much knew what was coming. I cried, of course, like any other normal child would, but I understood pretty quickly. I knew I wasn't going to get to see my dad every day, and that's a weird fact for a child to understand.
Even though I had come to terms with my parent's separation, I was having an extremely hard time expressing my feelings. I kept it all bottled up, which isn't a healthy thing for an eight year old girl. In result, soon after the divorce, my mom signed me up for counseling. Her name was Doctor Sue and she was truly the most amazing woman. She taught me how important it was for me to use my voice. She taught me that me sticking up for myself, or expressing how things make me feel to my parents will make me feel a million times better. That became my first instinct if anyone made me upset, or hurt me in any way. If I asked my father at any point to come to counseling with me to discuss an issue that had been happening, he wouldn't be happy about it, but he would come in. We'd talk through our issues, and move on, it helped our relationship grow. But then he met someone online when I was eleven, we'll call her Jamie.
Everyone's seen Cinderella right? Everyone remembers Lady Tremaine? Fantastic.
Now picture her, but with a blonde 90's haircut, acrylic nails, then on top of that throw on a cross necklace, because she's holier than thou.
Now my dad had a few girlfriends prior to meeting Jamie that were pretty great. I mean one of them had a horse and two beautiful pit bulls. She was pretty cool in my eyes. So I'm not 100% sure what grabbed dad's attention towards her, but it must be some hidden, amazing quality that I've never been blessed to experience. Whatever she had though must have really reeled him in because they were married just about a year later.
Now I'm all for people getting married when they truly believe they're ready, and they know they love each other. I do have an issue though with it when you know that it could cause harm.
Two months after my dad and her meeting, she had already begun to emotionally abuse me.
Before Jamie came into my life, I was happy with who I was. I thought I had a pretty cool personality. I thought I had alright looking skin. I also thought I dressed okay. But according to Jamie, none of this was true. According to her I had far too many zits on my face, mind you I had barely even begun puberty yet. I looked dumb when my hair was left naturally. Which is something I always found funny, because I had been told, by several people, that I had beautiful curls. My teeth were never white enough, or straight enough. Unfortunately, my looks weren't the only things she wanted to harass me about.
Most people's first reaction, while being yelled at, is to cry. It's our brains first reaction when we experience fear. Jamie would yell at me constantly. About anything she felt needed to be brought up. My mother was a hot subject for her. To add to the list she liked to talk about my grades, the friends I had, what I wanted to do with my life, and even something as small as the shows I watched. She loved to control my life with fear. I knew that if I did something, or said something she didn't agree with then I would be yelled at over and over again. She would repeat herself, and get louder as she spoke.
The more she yelled, the more I would cry, and the more I cried, the more I was told how ridiculous I was being. She told me that crying was reserved for children, which according to my therapist, and my mother, was complete bullshit. It's considered healthy to cry, it's a release for your body.
The worst part of this whole experience though was that my dad just sat and watched. Every dinner at his house he wouldn't tell her to stop. He wouldn't tell her to leave me alone. Most times he knew what she was saying was wrong, but she would even mess with his brain. She would tell him to choose me or her. In result of all of this the screaming became extremely bad one night. So bad, that my mother had to come get me and we went to the police station.
I had gotten the chance to go to the Ke$ha concert my Junior year of high school. Jamie had two daughters that are a few years older than me, and I had a few extra tickets, so I invited them to come. We got in line for shirts and I ended up being a dollar short. I asked her oldest daughter if I could borrow a dollar, and she said no. Like mother like daughter, she's kind of the worst. Unfortunately, this situation was brought up at dinner the next time I was over at their house, and of course we were around the dinner table, where the fights normally happened. I spoke my mind about how I felt about the situation. I simply explained that I didn't understand why I couldn't just borrow a dollar, even though I had brought them to the concert. Jamie reacted in a bad way, saying I was the ridiculous one for being upset, that her daughter did no wrong. Something that was such a small thing escalated into a huge deal. It got out of hand, but I took a few breaths, finished my dinner, and went upstairs.
About twenty minutes later, I heard Jamie start to talk about me. I began to record what she was saying so I could show it to my mom when I got home, something that had been recommended to me by the man that worked our case in the Friend of the Court. Maybe these recordings could finally prove to the courts that there were real reasons for me not to go to my fathers house anymore.
Her voice just kept escalating. She said things like, "if I were you I would drag her by the hair with scissors." There was also "she's killing you," or, "she's going to hell." I finally couldn't take it anymore and called my mom. Jamie was instantly enraged by this, her secret of being emotionally abusive was getting out. When I came down stairs to leave I told her I was done with her abuse. I was done being pushed around. Not a minute later she came towards me with a dog leash, like she was going to hit me, she then stopped herself. My mom finally showed up, and I left. Our next stop was the police station.
Two police officers were also sent over to my dads house to interview them and they told the cops that I was the one who started the argument. They said that I continued to scream at them, even though that wasn't the truth at all. When the police officer said this to her, my mom lost it. She was as sick of the abuse as I was.
I finally got the chance to tell my side of the story. I told the cop about the years of abuse I had been going through. I told her the things Jamie had said to me, and I told her the way my dad would just sit and watch. She began to understand the situation the more I spoke, but even though the police officer believed me, she said there was nothing that could be done. We tried to show her the recording I had of Jamie saying the things she said, and she said she couldn't listen to it. This person, a cop, couldn't do anything. Why, you ask? Because apparently there is nothing they can do if there is no physical evidence of abuse. To this day I find this absurd.
I was forced to go to my dads for another year and a half after this. I continued to be emotionally abused day after day, but there was nothing that could be done. The same things were said to me over and over again. My grades declined even more, and as a senior in high school I had already known what depression was. While kids in my high school were out having fun, and going on dates, I was home. I didn't view myself as good enough to date everyone. I didn't think I was likable enough to make any more friend. Jamie had locked this into my brain. Why would anyone want to date me, or befriend me, if all these things she says are true? I let the emotional abuse get to my head.
Graduation finally came though, and I wasn't forced to go to their house anymore. I finally was able to escape those dreaded weekends I was forced to attend. I was finally free. I was fianlly ready to rebuild myself. Now three years later i'm happier then iv'e ever been. I have finally gained back almost 100% of my confidence back, and now I know to only fill my days with people I love, and people I know love me.
The point of writing this long story is because I want people who are currently stuck in a situation, where they are being emotionally abused, to know that they are not alone. Find someone to talk to. It can really be anybody. Talk to a school counselor or a teacher you're close with. If you're an adult talk to a close friend. They know more than you think they do, and can help a lot more than you think they can. Please just know this one thing though.
You are a beautiful person.
You are much more than these people say you are. Don't view yourself as any lesser. Learn to love yourself and get as far away from the situation as you can, and I promise you, you'll feel so much better.
Don't forget. You're worth the love, and kindness, you deserve, and want in life.
