The point of this blog was to be more honest and more revealing. I know I cannot do this without this post. I've been intentionally avoiding it, but I need to do it. So, without further adieu, the worst moments of my life:
Watching my mom in the hospital hooked up to tubes barely able to breathe and wondering if she was going to make it another few hours. She pulled through, thank God! Meanwhile, my dad was out partying and didn't know where I or my two younger sisters were the entire time.
The night my father hit me across the face so hard, it left me with a swollen lip and my mouth bleeding. He then proceeded to call me a little girl. I went to school the next day like that and no one asked. I doubt anyone knew.
The night I heard my dad threaten to (and he tried) to kill my mom and instead of trying to save my mom, I left her to die and took my sisters to my friend's house. He tried to throw her off a balcony and to choke her to death that night. He failed. I always felt guilty for leaving her. She's always told me I did right with getting my sisters out. I know I did, but I felt like a coward and still have a bit of guilt over it.
Every single time I watched my dad beat my mom. Countless nights that is what my home life consisted of.
Losing everything we had to my father's drinking. No money, very very little food, lost two houses, and worst of all, I lost my sense of security.
When my dad skipped town and I realized I had to stay strong while everyone else broke down.
November 17th 2006. The day my 9 month nervous breakdown began. I remember it because it was on the anniversary of my grandpa's death. I just sobbed uncontrolably for an entire night and day then entered a horrible depression where I drove people away and couldn't face life. During this time, I gave up my will to live. I never thought I'd be happy again.
Having to stay at a friend's house for 3 weeks because I was scared to go home to my dad. Every night wishing my mom would chose me instead of him. At the end of the 3 weeks, she chose him, and I ended up having to move back in. Later, after another tirade, I lived in our other house in West Point for seveal months with no fridge, furniture, money, or transportation. What's ironic is I felt safe and at peace there and for that time, I was happy.
These are the darkest moments of my life. There are many more, but these are the ones that still haunt me today. They don't hurt as badly as they did before and I've dealt with them as best I know how. I think given time, they will hurt less and less, but always carry a bit of a sting.