Mad as a hatter

I have recently discovered something about myself. That I feel like I should have known already. Yes, I have been through trauma, that trauma has shaped me into the person I am today. That without that trauma, I would not be me. At the same time tho, I can not let that trauma define me as a person. As a young woman. As someones other half. 

I feel the need to run. That something is pushing me to leave where I am and explore what is out there. I feel stuck and like I am standing in wet concrete that is drying around me. Or someone has placed this huge weight on my shoulders that I cannot let fall or I am a failure.

noun: failure
1. Lack of success.
"an economic policy that is doomed to failure"
2. The omission of expected or required action.
"their failure to comply with the basic rule.
oversight 
3. A lack or deficiency of a desirable quality.
"a failure of imagination"
4. The action or state of not functioning.
"symptoms of heart failure"

I dislike that word. I do not want to be a failure. 

A teacher once told me " You will be one of your parents." My father- a drug addict/ mean alcoholic or my mother- a woman who constantly needed a man to make her feel good. Both terrible parents due to lack of knowledge, choices they made, and being young when having children and getting married (16). 

My need to please has made me realize I did not get enough praise as a child. Mother always working and father always high or drunk. Now days, my mother is on her fourth marriage (we talk weekly) and father is sober but never answers my calls anymore (2 messages from him since April, did not even answer on fathers day).

I know I have daddy issues. Wanting to be loved, protected, cared for and taught because my own father did not do these things. 

I wonder if it is because I want to feel accepted or if I want to see people around me happy. 

Im looking through the looking glass.

*trigger warning* mentions R8pe and molestation.

When I was 10, my mothers second husband (we will call him J) came into my room, as I was sleeping. J molested me as I slept and I can remember waking up during it. He saw I was awake and pulled my blankets up pretending like he was tucking me in during the night. J went to living-room to smoke a cigarette. I went and told my mother what happened, she didn't believe me but still choose to report it to the police. I went to stay with my father that night. 

J went to prison and later we found out he had been touching his daughter as well. Being so bold as to grab her ass in photos at a wedding we had gone to. 

J got out of prison when I was 12, he stalked my mother and I for a year until he moved to California. 

When I was 14, my mother received a call telling her he had been killed in a car vs pedestrian accident. (Later came out he was being arrested and he ran out into traffic handcuffed) she was asked to come Identify his body. She refused to go. 

When I was 16, I ran around with people a little older than me ranging from 17- 20. One of the guys(19) and girls(18) were in a relationship. I was closer to him than her. He called me one night asking if he could talk to me as he had found out she was pregnant and wanted to get an abortion but he wanted to keep the baby. They fought and he wanted someone to talk to. I agreed and he came and picked me up in his white jeep.

He took me to a dirt road about 15 minutes out of town. He lifted the hatch and we were sitting in the back talking. Listening to him get his feelings out and trying my best to be support for him. He had stopped talking and we were sitting in silence. He was a big country boy. He was over 6' and I'm 5'4. He had a good 50 to 75 pounds on me. 

I had turned to crawl to grab my drink from up front when I felt his hands pushing me down. He was able to get my jeans off in almost no time. Forcing himself on me even tho I told him no and begged him not to. When he was finished, he told me to get dressed and he drove me back. When he got to my street, he didn't even stop, just slowed down, pushed the door open and pushed me out. 

My dad was there...he watched me be shoved out of a car and came to me asking what had happened. I told him. We went to the police. I could not go through dealing with a court case like that again. I stayed home, healing from the bruises and busted lip. Trying my best to cope.

12 weeks later, I found out the guy had herpes and he had given them to me. 

I had only been with three guys at that point in my life (includes him). I have only been with two more since. 

I make the choice to always tell any person I believe something may spark with because that choice was taken from me.

I have been broken and bruised, hit and bloodied, gaslit and abused, wanting to go but never able to leave. My heart breaks because I'm not the girl I once was.

I am now, just a broken record. 

Since I was a young teen , I felt like there was something i needed but couldn't find. I didn't know what it was. I searched. Finding a friend who seemed a bit different herself.  She introduced me into Ddlg, she being a little herself. She made me my very first collar. Babygirl pink with white lace and a little bell. (We didn't really understand still being so new. I still have it to this day. She introduced me to a whole new world. Opened my eyes to what I was missing. What I was needing. It was not just a daddy, I needed someone in control. Someone I could follow and learn from. Someone who would protect me, love me, guide me, show me, someone who could see me at my worst and still say "It's okay, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere." 

I felt like I was locked in a room, in the dark , for years. Finally able to see through the window as a teen, seeing what was possible. 

Now being an adult, now being able to open a window and feel the breeze. 

I thought I had found the man of my dreams at 16.

Only for him to turn into my nightmare. 

Maybe someday, I will find someone who can see my darkness and still find it beautiful.