Message to Ed

Ed,

Wow, how do I start this? I have been so distraught about everything that I think I have given myself a permanent headache. It hurts to know that I called my mom to tell her how excited I was about you. I got the courage up to tell her about Charlie and everything that was going on and when I called she wasn’t even happy to hear my voice. She asked if I had a job yet. And asked how Charlie was. I told her straight up he was gone. She wanted to know where he was and if he was okay and what I had done to him. She told me I was worthless. That I couldn’t keep anything, a job, school, a boyfriend. Baby, that hurts. I told her I had found someone great and she was like, Ok. It hurts baby. I laid in the bathtub for 3 hours and I cannot fathom why someone would treat me like that.

I used to run track and play sports to show them I was athletic, I did academic team got good grades to show them I was smart, I did color guard, FFA, poi, dance, photography (etc) to show that I was talented, I did pageants to prove I was pretty. And every time they shot me down.

At my first pageant my mom took me backstage and told me that it was an embarrassment to see me get up there and dance because she would be the laughing stock of the city. That I was not even close to pretty enough to be in pageants. I got an offer to go to the Miss KY pageant she told me I was too fat, that my face was ugly, I had huge legs and that I would just make an idiot of myself. It hurt, but I listened and I didn’t do it. I won talent and I tried to tell her that I did well and she told me the only reason I got it is because it was the only “different” one. I tried to just ignore what she was saying. I wanted to feel good about myself. But every morning when I would get ready she would sneer at me and tell me that I looked like a dumb slut. It got to me.

When I ran track I always ran for me, I wanted to dominate. I wanted to crush and win. I wanted Dad to be proud that I was a runner too. I would come home and tell him my times. I could have run well. I didn’t run right, I ran on my toes. My calves were too thick to get good speed. He was told by Johnny Greene who was 2 places from going to the last Olympics that I had talent that with work I was going to be unstoppable. He told me I might as well quit. I didn’t but it hurt. And I always wanted him to come to ONE meet. Just to see me run. He told me he had better things to do and see. He was at home drunk.
I would come home and just go to sleep. I just let it go. Then I did tennis he came to a match I was so excited. My knee went out and I lost. It was love: love I was about to corner cut the bitch and I slammed my knee into the ground. He just walked away went to the truck and left. He didn’t come see if I was okay. I got up and played another match anyway. I was in no shape to but I needed it. I won. But he wasn’t there. It made me just want to die.

When I got a 4.0 my senior year they told me it was because I took easy classes. I told them I took EVERY AP class the school offered. That I took: AP Calc, AP English, AP Physics, and AP US History (11th grade) I took regular Calc, I took journalism/yearbook I was editor, Spanish II, and Greenhouse. I was a math tutor for 28 sophomores, I tutored seniors, and I helped out my college friends. I used to stay after school when I was off work and go into some of the classrooms where kids were struggling and tell them. It was okay talk to me about what was wrong. Tell me why they had trouble. That they stayed after because they cared they just needed to listen and try. I showed them alternate methods. The teachers loved it. I used to go to the library and help check in books and put them back. I was Academic Team Captain, I was published, I got the only distinguished portfolio in the senior class. And when I would come home, I mentioned things like that to my parents. They told me that I needed to go feed the goats, the chickens, the ducks and the dogs. And the lawn needed mowed. So I would go do it. I would grab 5 gallon buckets and haul water to them. But when I came in they told me I never did “shit” around the house. That I didn’t care about those animals that if it wasn’t for them the things would starve. I got so mad, I would go out there every day and every day they told me I didn’t do anything. I would cut wood for the wood stove, but I never got credit. I helped in the garden, but to them it was like I was never there. It eats me alive inside when I think about the credit that I never got.

I have always told myself to let it go, that in the end they would be sorry. That when I moved they would see how much help I really was. They would see I was so great. And when they came up here my house was too “messy” even though my mom has never cleaned the house in over 3 years. That it had clutter like crazy. The dishes were the only thing that got done once a week. I look at them and I hate them, but at the same time I feel like I have something to prove. I want to prove it was better that I was not an abortion. I want to prove I was worth the bankruptcy. I want to prove I am worth well anything. I bring people home for them to meet and they love them, then when I call they want to know about them. If something goes wrong it is my fault. I deserve to get hit I probably said something stupid. I deserve to be treated badly because I will never stop being a bitch.

And when I try to stop caring what they think and move past it, it backfires in my face. I call to tell them I have moved on that I have found someone amazing. All I get is well what the hell did you do to run him off!? And they tell me how the poor guy I am with now better run and get away from me. They tell me how they never want to see me with kids that they would be the most horrible, wretched things to walk this earth. That I would be a horrid mom. I ignore it and I try to tell myself they are just trying to hurt me. But I let them. I’m done. I have said this once before, and I tried but then I had a voice here at my home telling me that I was stupid that I needed to listen to them and tell them everything. I am done playing their sick mind games. This life is mine. I will make me happy. I do not give a damn if they love me. Let them love Luke, let them love Rob. Let them disown me … they already did so long ago. I never was theirs. Let God help them.

I am ready to be happy. I am ready to stop going into a slump about my life because I will never be good enough. It is hard to not be good enough if there is no one to prove myself to. I have known this, and I have tried but I need support. I have let all the things they have done go past, I did that on my last attempt. I did not forget them but I forgave them. Now it is time to get rid of my want to please them. It is pointless, it is me trying to hurt myself.

Baby … I love you. I needed to write this to get it out of my system. To see it in front of me to let you know where I am at. Do not ever think that you are not good enough. Or that you are in a competition. In my heart there is no competition there is just you. In my mind there is no competition … in my soul there is no competition. In my past there was. When I look at you I see that I am going to be happy, that I am going to be okay. I know you won’t let me forget who I am and you won’t let me beat myself up. You and I are of one mind it seems and I am glad. Thank you for being mine. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being my everything. For being the person I think of when I wake up, for being the person that makes me heart flutter, for being the person that calms me with your voice, for being the one person that can call me baby and make me smile. Thank you … for all the things I feel.

I am sorry that I have been in a bad mood and not feeling well lately it has affected my mood. And I can tell it has ticked you off. And when I see that it makes me feel horrible beyond your comprehension. I feel like I have taken a knife and stabbed myself in the heart when I know I have made you upset or made you frown. I love your smile and you. Don’t take it so personally that my parents are them … I’m not anymore.