Thursday, May 31, 2012

Naked and Famous

And I quote: " deb you are the most selfish person I know. You don't let anyone in or let anyone get to know you. You hide who you are and they deserve to know. . . " Ok, I'm selfish because I hide a large chunk of time that happened to be the most informative development stage of most of our lives. I have secrets, things about me that no one understands, but you know there's something just not right. It's not like I enjoy hiding these things. I would love nothing more than to share the story and tell it to someone who would listen. I'm smart enough to know that if you are watching you'll know when to ask and it will be because you're ready. I don't find it selfish, I find it a matter of self preservation. There are somethings that can't be taken back. Pieces of facts that once known create an awkwardness almost worse than the unknown. We all know I'm a little off my rocker, a little eccentric, and I am often known to do brash things I later wish I'd held back and only thought about. Let's add this one to the list shall we? You want to know what I'm hiding; here it is. I was 16, as most of us have been, and I didn't want to have sex. He did. Things ended badly and I went looking for a mans approval that this horrible situation wasn't all that bad and I was still worth loving. A man, we'll call him the Major, showed up. Recognizing an opportunity to capitalize on a vulnerable teenager a 32 yr old man convinced a 17 yr old girl she should date him. Disaster ensues and just a hop, skip, and a jump to 23 yr old from 17 we have a girl living in a basement in Colorado praying that today is a good day and that the frying pan isn't in her future. After several months in and out of the ER "falling" and "running into doors" it's evident we're losing steam. The beating and insults just aren't working anymore. The thrill is gone. How do we remedy this? Let me tell you by asking another question; Have you ever wondered what it's like to die? I've been almost there. I've had the room go fuzzy and suddenly realize I'm probably not going to be alive much longer. Just on the verge of "giving up the ghost" I get a reprieve. Ghastly way to do things really, but this is survival we're talking about. While the rest of you were learning how to interact and be "cool" I was trying to figure out how to make the perfect roast so I could avoid having my head slammed in an oven while the gas was running, and my back side whipped with a cricket bat. Gas makes you really sick you know. There are bad people out there. I know. I survived by running away one night. After months of trying to convince my best friend she wanted to come live in Denver I had an out. I would HAVE to be left in an apartment I'd been paying for but never really lived in. I would HAVE to be given some freedom to keep up the facade of "normal healthy relationship". As much as I hate myself for having used another human being like that I could see no other way. Every phone call to the cops had been explained away and ended in another trip to an ER with an assumed name. Did you know I have 37 alias's? nifty huh. I can remember every single one, and the character's back story too. You must have a good back story if you're going to keep a nurse from checking up on it. Thankfully, when you've been sold to a guy who lives in St. Louis you don't see the same nurses as the ones in Colorado. Thankfully. Either way I figured out how to get out. Mostly. I was still so terrified I couldn't seem to get further away than an apartment with a friend. Another pawn. Not that I'm proud of it, nor that He was any better than the Major, but it was something I needed to survive and finish getting out. When you're finally allowed to have a real job and your boss is asking about the hand prints around your arms you have to think fast. I was working as fast as I could. Almost not fast enough. Long story shortened by a few years and paragraphs, I made it out. I don't really remember the details of how I ended up in the Major's bedroom. Mostly because I'd really rather not remember any of it at all, but I was there. Every time I went for the door he stepped in front of me and got another hit in. ( nice thing about being a military intel guy is you know how to ask questions and get answers without leaving visible marks. Nice tricks they learn.)I was thrown into one of those nice big floor to ceiling mirrors that covered half a wall shattering it. Then I had hands around my throat and all I could think was " yup, I'm gonna die.". Boring I know. Why couldn't I have thought something profound, or interesting, or captivating. Sorry, I'm not creative like that. As the room is going fuzzy and I'm giving up I have this sudden urge to go for the door. Don't ask me, I wasn't exactly in the best place to be thinking logically with a guy's hands around my throat more than half starved of oxygen. I went for it. Amazingly I got through it. First time in three hours I'd made it through that door when I went for it. The Major had 2 very nasty knee injuries and his stair case was one of those with a landing halfway down. I jumped, He had to take each stair individually. I jumped again and made it to the ground level. I'm doing good so far right? I throw open the garage door and get in my car. Bottom line, I was halfway to Limon Colorado before my brother-in-law convinced me I couldn't drive to Nuavoo, Il. My mother wishes he'd let me drive, I'm glad he didn't. I had blood and glass in my hair and I really needed a hospital. I called the Pawn. He picked me up and drove me back to my apartment where a couple of cop cars, and an ambulance were waiting. I didn't get out of the car and asked to be driven someplace where I wouldn't have to talk to anyone. So, avoiding the authorities ( this is a habit now and I don't really know what to do, and I'm scared as all get out. . . so no judgement on that decision) we drive to the local airport and the Pawn cleans glass and blood out of my hair and we wait for a bit. I finally go home and the first thing to greet me when I walk through the door is a roommate who say's " who the F&$% called the police?!". Peachy. I've just survived someone trying to kill me and the most important thing is that your phone call got put on hold for 10 minutes while the cops tried to figure out if I was still alive. By the way; I'm alive. I have a bad head injury, bruising and edema of the hydoid muscles, but I'm alive. Just incase you were concerned. I hate hospitals. I hate them because they remind me of having to lie to a nurse when all I wanted to do was scream for help. That there are injuries no one will ever find unless I tell them where to look. I hate being alone. I hate being alone because it reminds me of spending night after night in a cold cement basement not knowing who was coming next, and what they were going to do to me. And that everyone I've ever truly cared for has left me. I hate trying to make friends. I hate trying to make friends because you people scare the hell out of me! I hate that all I want is approval from someone. I hate wanting approval from someone because I'm too strange to get it. I hate being awkward. I hate being awkward because I don't know how else to be. I don't understand the social rules, and norms, and all the stuff I'm expected to know. I was a little busy just trying to stay alive, and figure out how to avoid another beating. I hate being strong. I hate being strong because I'm not. I survived years of that abuse. What more do you want from me? I hate being vulnerable. I hate being vulnerable because that is what got me into this mess in the first place. I am not strong. I am not confident. I am not socially acceptable, and I am most certainly NOT okay. Honestly; do you think if you'd had your head knocked around that many times you'd be okay? I know I don't always get it. I know I'm a little strange. I'm trying. I'm doing the best I can to make-up for the years I lost. I'm sorry if I cling a little too tightly. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm obsessed. I'm just terrified. NO one was nice to me for years. I don't understand "nice". I'm sorry if I had to use you to get out of that situation. I only hope you'll understand why I did it. Hopefully this wont change things too much. Then again it probably will.