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2002-07-20 23:12:43 (UTC)

About me

Well, Trailer says that she isn't very good at asking questions, so I will just spill evrything about myself that way she can avoid the discomfort of having to ask anymore questions. I have read her entire journal. Evrey last thing in a matter of 20 minutes. I think when she is done reading mine, she will realize that I kind of know where she is coming from when she talks about her mother and father.
Before I start spilling my guts, I would like to say that I don't like talking about my life because it always sounds like I'm complaining. That is why you will very rarely ever see me say something out of the blue about it. But if you don't want to read any further, here is a summary. Sad, pathetic and (in my opiion) very bland.
I was born in Anchorage, Alaska. When I arrived I already had a 5 year old sister, we'll call her April. My mom and dad didn't have the best marriage. In fact, around the same time I was born, one of my fathers many girlfriends had a daughter, I have never met her though. I grew up in an enviornment a psychologist would have loved to study. My father was a womanizing, abusive (sexually and physically), sick and twisted man. He liked to be very dramatic, he believed his life was like the movies he loved so much. He was the type of guy that went to a movie to hear loud noises and see flashy lights and reacted to them similar to how a new born baby reacts to the bright lights and the loud music emitted from their toys. He was a complete idiot through and through.
He had my 12 year old sister write his "books". They all involved alien abductions and large explosions. Even though my sister, who everyone considered a child prodigy at the time because of her vast intellect, helped him, his books were at about a 1st grade reading level. He would add sex scenes in the "books", which my sister would have to write for him, so that his "books" were more adult oriented. This often spilled in to his real life. He claims to have been abducted by aliens....
He had many lovers while married to my mom and never really tried very hard to conceal them. Once, my sister and I were with my father driving around town. He picked up flowers from a grocery store and went to the house of one of his girlfriends. He spent the night there, we spent the night in the car, she didn't know he had brought us. We woke up the next day and headed home from out "camping trip".
The fact that he was unfaithful throughout his marriage to my mother is bad enough, but his abusive behavior was the overkill. He constantly beat my mother, sister and I. I didn't get beat as badly as my mother and sister though, or at least I cannot remember getting beat as badly as they did by him. Watching a beating is a horrific experience though, especially at such a young age. You feel powerless. Here, stands a man that is 5'9, 160 pounds, 30 years old and in fairly good physical condition, and then you have me, 4 or 5 years old at the time, 2'2, 60 pounds. It's intimidating. If I was the size I am now, there is no doubt in my mind I would have murdered him.
Like I said before, he was very dramatic. That doesn't mix well with mental illness. The word "Psycho" is an understatement when discussing the outbursts he would have. Once, he sat outside in his car after beating my mom. He called us from his car on his cell phone with a gun to his head threatening to kill himself if my mom didn't remove the chairs that she placed in front of the doors of our house to stop him from getting inside. My mom told him to just kill himself and apperantly that wasn't the response he wanted to hear. He broke the front door open and beat my mom for the second time that day while me and my sister hid in the downstairs bathroom until he came downstairs, then it was our turns.
He would come home from work take my mother to the bedroom and demand sex. She has told me that he raped her many times. Now, some people say that since a couple is married, there is no longer such thing as rape, I don't think so. Like it or not, if the woman does not want to have sex and tries to stop the male from having sex with her, it's rape, married or unmarried.
I could probably go on for days just talking about my father, but I think you get the point. Just one last thing though, what I just told you all is rather tame, he gets worse.
My mother was a victim of my fathers abusive nature. Yes, she did get beat almost daily, but she is not just a victim, she was also an abuser. In my opinion, when I was young she was the worst of the two. She had a grudge against me because I wasn't as smart as my sister. When I was 5, the summer before starting Kigdergarden was hell. She would sit me down for the entire day and teach me my numbers and the alphebet. Harmless right? Well, her methods where different then most parents. She had a "revenque", which is a spanish horse whip, if I started doing bad at any point she would beat me with it. If I did good, she would beat me because I was too slow. Lose lose situation. I remember once when we were riding home from Kingdergarden, my friend Cody and I were in the back seat and she overheard him say that I took the longest out of the class to do the last piece of work that day. This upset her, but she couldn't beat me just yet, my friend Cody had to stay at my house until his parents got home. So, with every minute that passed she got madder and madder and I started to get extremely scared, so I started to cry, that pissed her off a bit more. Cody was still there so she just kept on reminding me in spanish that she was going to beat me, in spanish so Cody wouldn't know. Now I was terrified. When he left she tore into me like never before. She also beat my sister that day.
My sister went to the Principles Office when we got to school the next day. She told them everything and they had us show them our bruises and marks. Now, my moms revenque had the name of her country branded into it, Uraguay. Child sevices could make out the "aguay" on our backs and a couple of letter on out arms and legs. When Child Services went to observe us in our house, everything was fine, so they didn't do ANYTHING. When they left, the beating bagan again with an increased intensity. There aren't many dramatic stories with my mom, she was just all about beating back then, no filler or fluff. As I got older, the beatings kept increasing in mumber and also in severity, but I'll talk about that later on. My mother and father got divorced when I was 7. It was about time.
My grandmother from my dads side was a woman who loved to practice witchcraft and always tried to kill my mother by casting spells on her. I remember that one day I walked into my grandmothers room and found a voodoo doll of my mother. I don't remember the exact details, but my mom said that the doll had been burned and had lacerations all over it. My mother is still alive today so apperently my grandmothers spells didn't have much effect on her.
She loved me very much though and always took me and my sister in when things at home got out of control, but she died of cancer when I was 9 yeas old. I remember that I was with her the week before she died. All her hair was gone due to the Chemotherapy she had been given and she couldn't walk very well, more then likely due to the soreness of her frail bones. I know one of the last things she said to me was that I had gotten so big and that she loved me. The last thing we really did together was look at old family movies, I have never watched family movies from that day on. I don't even know if they still exist, the last one that was made was when I was 7 I think. Despite her obsession with witchcraft, she was a wonderful woman who I will always love and hold a place for in my heart.
My grandmothers husband was a man named Juan. He was probably one of the nicest human beings this planet has ever seen. Me and him had no blood relation, but he treated my like his own blood. I remember a funny story that my mother would tell me about him. Once, when I was 3 or 4, I was riding on my tricycle. Well, he told me that he was tired and that we should go in. He started walking up to me and when he would get really close I would ride off laughing, then, I would stop again, he would be out of breath and come up to me and I would ride off again laughing. Another time he was taking a nap and I wanted him to wake up. He would sleep with his mouth wide open, so I threw a penny in it to wake him up. I know a lot of this sounds mean, but it was the fact that he never complained once about it that shows just how big of a heart he had. He did the opposite of complain, he always said that he loved me and he would take me places for the day just so I wouldn't have to be around my mother and father. Juan died when I was 7 of a heart attack.
This might sound weird, but I remember the conversation the doctor had with my dad. That was the first time I ever heard the term "cardiac arrest". The doctor was telling my dad how after the third heart attack, my grandfathers lungs started to fill with fluid and that it would be hard to resusitate him the next time, so if he had another, they were going to take him off of life support. I didn't understand what was going on at the time, but the next day he died. I saw him on the bed, the room was so cold. I saw people doing a cross thing with their hands and crying. I did the cross thing too, I didn't know about religion, I was still young. I went up to the bed and touched him, I remember perfectly. I stuck my hand up and touched the side of his chest. He was already hard and cold. I don't know how long he had been dead for, but I remember that.
I feel rather ashamed when I talk about my grandmother and Juan. Here were two people who loved me dearly, cared for me, but when they died, I didn't cry for either of them. I'm not sure if it was because I was young and didn't realize what was going on, or if I was emotionally dead early on in life, either way, I feel bad about it now. Really bad. I look back on it and wish I could have told them how much I cared about them and how I appreciate all the things they did for me when they were around, but you can't change the past.
My grandmother from my moms side is the opposite of my mom. She didn't really do anything to stop my mom from beating us, instead she watched from the sidelines as they happened. Haha, about 2 years ago, she made a comment to my aunt that was revealed to me just recently. The climax of all the problems between me and my mother were reached about 2 or 3 years ago, that's when my grandmother said, "This household is crazy. I can't live here just watching this. Satan has filled this house and only God can help them now.". I just remembered that, haha, well, back to point. She moved back to Uraguay because she didn't want to watch the demise of the relationship between me and my mother. I still love her though, she did a lot for me by just talking to me after a beating, so I really thank her for that.
Last but not least, my sister "April". April and I have been though a lot together, but that doesn't mean we are really close. She is my sister, but she has done some things to me that I don't think I'll ever forget. I'll talk about those later. I did some stuff to her too, but the difference is that, when she did all these horrible things to me she was 16-21 years old. When I did the things she resents me for I was 5-10 years old. She might be smart, but her maturity level is rather low for being a "grown up". I realized I had to grow up quick and start to get things together when I was 15, I have never been the same since. She was 21 and still thinking of ways to get me in trouble. But I forgive her for all the stuff she has ever done to me.
Another reason why she harbors a bit of resentment towards me is because the fact that she was supposed to be the smart one out of the two of us, but after High School she had some kids and didn't do anything with herself career wise. Towards the end of High School her staight A's turned into D's and F's and soon after, my D's and F's started Turning into A's and B's. I took her spot and she hates it, I really don't care much for this "spot" though. Sure, I started going to College at 16, but I didn't do it for this spot. No, my reason is much more trivial, haha. I did it to spite my mother. She always rubbed in the fact that I was an "idiot" and that I would probably end up like my dad. Well, she pissed me off with that, so I just tried a bit in school and, wow, A's and B's! I still don't try in school and look were I am mom. Haha. You see, I used to get mad when I thought of all the beating and taunts my mother threw at me because I never had anything to rub in her face, well, now I do and she doesn't like it. But you see, I choose not to rub it in my moms and sisters face, why? Because I don't hang on to the past like they do. But anyways, got way off subject.
I think this is enough for today. I haven't even started talking about my life. I just gave bios, damn. This is long, I think I'll scroll up and put a warning about how long this is. Well, maybe I'll start to wrtie again tonight or maybe in and hour or two, who knows. If someone actually read this far, you now know more about me then most of my offline friends do since I don't talk much. Well, I hope I didn't bore you to much, bye bye.