14 in 2014: Christmas Wishlist
I posted a note with this title on Facebook. I made a stand, and 2014 hasn’t even begun.
I’m Liz. You probably don’t know me because you haven’t known me all my life or seen me in my worst. Compared to all I’ve been through, I present myself quite well. My mom neglected me and would have rather had an abortion. My stepfather abused me verbally, mentally, emotionally, physically and sexually. Sometimes my mom watched him as he used me as a punching bag. Sometimes she pleaded for him to stop. Sometimes she cheered him on the same way he cheered her on whilst she was wrestling with me the night of 14 October 2007 to take away my phone because my dad had paid for it to be turned back on. That stuff happened. Time after time, I was burned by his cigarettes because I wouldn’t hug him. My actions were constantly watched by browser history via a computer spy program and a web cam. I had to act like a mouse to go into the kitchen when they were all asleep to eat because, if I didn’t do ___, I’d be grounded from food. I lived like this for the majority of my life. It’s all I remember from childhood, with the exception of a few nice memories. I constantly struggle with an eating disorder. My entire personality and life is the way it is today/because/ of my childhood. It’s not because I’m dwelling or keeping things in the front of my head. I’ve tried to confide in people close to me, but most of the time it’s failed and I was let down. And that hurts; it makes me unable to trust people, like always. Last year, what my therapist referred to as psychosis happened whilst I was driving. If I hadn’t have “snapped out of it”, I would be dead by now. I was unintentionally attempting suicide, and last year, I wouldn’t have been totally against it. I have scars on my thighs from where I’ve cut and scraped. I have family and friends still patronizing me left and right. It makes me hate myself even more.
I’m posting this because I finally feel like I have at least some kind of confidence to stand up to the people who continue to point the fingers to me. In September, my stepfather threatened me. Before that, I received threatening comments and emails. No one with a connection to my mom that I don’t trust is my friend on Facebook anymore.
To you all, “it” may be over. For me, it’s not over at all. So stop judging me. Stop telling me to “pick [myself] up and move on”. Of all the times I was knocked to the ground by either a belt, a foot, a hand, a paddle, a shove, I’ve never needed anyone to comfort and support me as much as I do right now. Because this is the present, and people /can do something now/. If I hadn’t been abused, I wouldn’t have such a huge heart. I’d be one of those people who deserves a “shame on you” statement because I’d be closed-minded.
Shame on you for patronizing me. Shame on you for making me feel like my problems are so pedestrian.
If you want me in your life, you should at least try to be understanding, even if most of you can’t fathom any of this. Otherwise, when I finally am mentally, physically, emotionally and financially able to move northeast, you’ll lose me. Although I’ve had to grow up and live on impulse decisions and actions, this move wish is not one of them. This post, however, is.
I’m done dreading Facebook because of the people who are on it. I’m done letting you guys constantly bury me into the dirt. Be patient with me. Get on my level. You don’t understand, so you really have no right to say many of the negative things you do. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I just want tolerance and patience. THAT is what I want for Christmas this year. That’s all I want. That’s the most priceless gift anyone could ever give me.
In addition, try to call me Liz. I’m not the girl who gets abused anymore whose so-called parents yell and scream “Sarah” to whenever anything and everything goes wrong. I don’t associate with it. I understand it may take some time, so I won’t push, but before the move wish happens, I’m legally changing my first name.
If you also know anyone who can give legal advice, I’d like to know how I can press charges before my twenty-third birthday.
Anyway, if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all. Don’t even acknowledge it. To the people who have been understanding: Thank you.
I’m not sure if more people will read it and say something, but my dad saw it and commented. I really hope it doesn’t backfire. I was actually so scared of what would happen after posting it, but I felt an urge to do it, and I did it.