The Heroine of the Story
Hey, it's me again. And just so there's no more confusion I'm the heroine of this story. I've been fighting for those who've earned my loyalty my whole life. I've been protecting those I've loved my whole life even if they didn't always know it. But sometimes there's a misunderstanding about if I can take care of myself or not since I have Cerebral Palsy. (Cerebral palsy is a miscommunication between the brain and some of the muscles in the body. In my case my legs aren't strong enough, and they tend to have spasms a lot.) Because of that people sometimes think that I'm not strong enough to take care of myself. It's true my legs don't work as well as other people's, but that hardly slows me down. I mean thanks to the CP I have amazing upper body strength, maybe not superhuman strength or anything, but if I were to punch someone I could do some serious damage. My CP doesn't stop me or keep me from any of my dreams. I can do whatever I set my mind to.
I've come from a series of weird or unbelievable events. Well, it's only unbelievable to many because I came out of hell smiling. Sometimes I wonder if anyone can see the scars from my past battles. I know my fiance can, but that's because he pays attention to me. Does anyone else see the battle scars I've survived? I also imagine what it would be if all the scars I have were on the surface. Would anyone even approach me then? It's just how my mind works I guess.
Like book characters I have strengths and weaknesses, an eventful past, many secrets, and flaws. I was born with CP, and as life went on I developed depression, anxiety, and PTSD. My secrets are most of my whole life. I barely tell people anything I've ever been through as not to be judged. It's not like anyone would believe me anyway. Strength: I have a good head on my shoulders, I'm very loyal until the end, and I love to learn all I can. Weaknesses: I'm not very trusting of many, I have many insecurities that can take over, and I can be really hard on myself when I shouldn't be. In all honesty, the depression could have been avoided had my life had been different, but I wouldn't have wanted it that way. Part of who I am is my depression.
The way I got my depression was when I was eleven my mother gave up on me and my siblings. She was "in love" with a monster, so much that she was willing to forget that she had children to take care of at home. My sister and I had to fend for ourselves most days and had to take care of the motherly duties with our brother since Jane (former mother's name) was slacking so horribly. I was like a mother by the time I was eleven because I was doing everything I could do to protect my siblings. This infatuation caused our mother to rip us away from our lives to stalk the monster. When we landed in our new location, Virginia, my former mother left us home alone a lot scaring the shit out my younger sister. Every day she'd cry to me, begging me to call Jane to make sure she wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere. Every day I'd comply, as to which Jane would get tired of me calling to see if she was still coming home. Then one day she expressed her annoyance with me to her monster boytoy and told him to fix it. So he called me over and lectured me with his gun pointed at me. You've probably seen it on TV where the camera's focused on the gun, and everything behind it is left blurry then the focus switches to the background (in my case the bullets the monster left on the table). Well, if you can recall that, that's what happened to me; I saw the bullets on the table, but you never know if just one is in the gun. I didn't react with fear amazingly enough. Nothing about my body, facial expression, or tone of voice gave away that I was scared. I backed away a few steps when he was done with me then retreated down the hall where I called my father seeing if he still had a place for me at his house. As much as I wanted to stay to protect my siblings I'd be no use to them dead. So Dad would let me live with him as long as I told Jane. Jane wouldn't let me leave until summer break (I told her on Thanksgiving break, not mentioning why I was leaving her.) During the summer before I left to my dad's Jane and her monster left all the kids (his who had come to visit and hers) all alone at the house. I felt like I was in charge since I was the eldest and apparently the most mature of them. It was sad because we all felt so rejected and you could tell. All you had to do was look us in the eye. And the whole time I was stuck at Jane's waiting to move to my father's she made my life a living hell. Making sure I knew I was a monster, that I was nothing to like. Then she forced me to therapy like she actually was a caring mother when all she was was the monster no one should be left to slay alone. My years from eleven to thirteen with Jane and monster are the reasons I'm clinically depressed.
I was diagnosed with anxiety and PTSD because of a lot. It started with my dad's passing which resulted in me losing my dad's side of the family almost instantly. I also lost a lot of friends. I pretty much lost my whole life. To keep my head up I finished school. Not to the best of my abilities, but I was kind of a little distracted by grief.
Like most characters I have passions and dreams. I have my own escapes. I get into fights. When I'm in a fight I do my best to protect myself. But if the person I'm fighting with brings up a loved one in a negative light I will fight even harder since the person I'm fighting with had no business bringing them up. I found sanctuary in music, reading, and my writing. I love that as much as I have to find sanctuary in all that I can still be well grounded into the real world. My passion is very obvious; it's writing. My writing has always helped me cope with my entire life since it took a turn for bad and ugly when I was a kid of eleven years of age. My personal demons become even more dangerous in my books, but in my own world that I create I can fight back with little to no consequence. My dream is to change the world one person at a time, but my dream isn't exactly going the way I want it to. For everyone who thinks I'm this amazing, intelligent, talented young woman five more people think I'm the most horrible person who ruins everything I touch. There's no truth to that though, but with so many people on my back about me being a horrible, truly awful person I sometimes think they're right. I shouldn't think that though because- Because the only people who think such awful things about me have warped versions of reality.
Like I have the most perfect example. This past week my brother and I got in a fight. It was a simple fight. He wanted to be a writer, but he wanted me to do all the work. I do all the work to get him famous? Puh-lease. I'm trying to be an accomplished author on my own. So I got mad that he wanted me to do all the creative work for his story. I yelled at him. If he wanted to be a writer so bad then he should have made time to write. Writing is like any other job. You need to make time for it. You need to put effort into it. But my brother never put any effort or made any time for his writing so I yelled at him then blocked him on facebook. The only reason I blocked him on facebook was because my in-laws said I needed to take a break from him and to write him a letter. Hopefully, that way the letter would sink in. But the day after I blocked him he said everything was my fault then went after my fiance, trying to rip him a new one. Well naturally my fiance defended himself and explained why he didn't like my brother one bit. Very straightforward. But my brother picked and picked until I had absolutely no patience left. So I had to scream at him. And he kept making it about me picking my fiance over him when the fight was really about him treating me like crap and thinking I would ghost write for him. At one point he just took a dive in our fight to pretend none of this happened, but in our whole fight he never called to work things out. And all I wanted was to know that he cared enough to call me, but he didn't. He ended saying that I gave up us being friends for Richard. Such a shame I had to lose him, but it's better that I don't have to deal with him anymore. He was jeopardizing my health. Not to mention, he belittled me at every turn.
Anyway, back to how I am the heroine of my own story. I'm not saying I'm perfect or anything. I'm not. I'm far from it in fact. I'm the heroine because I have always looked out for the best interest of my brother, sister, and father. I would always look out for my friends and especially the friends I see as family. I'm not like a wonder woman type of heroine. I'm not very actiony and in-your-face. I'm more of a background heroine. I definitely don't do it for the fame. More like I do it because it's right at the time. Sometimes I wish I could do more, but the truth is what I do is very strategic. So when I'm protecting someone I'm keeping them safe and staying under the monster's radar, barely. The enemies I've been up against are hardly what you'd call stupid, but they're- they've always been smart enough to know that they can't prove what I say or do. Although I have made a few mistakes trusting the wrong people with my words, I'm usually very careful of what I say in front of who. I always thought I had to protect my brother and sister from the true evil that is my used to be mother. I wanted them to love her unconditionally without knowing all of her flaws. And it seemed to work well enough. They don't resent her the way I do, and they weren't disowned by her either. And I'm glad to see it that way. I protected my father from knowing that none of us in the house got along. They were after me. They did everything to break me down and hurt me. They wanted me to leave, and it was fairly obvious. (Not that I would leave just because they threatened me. I lived there for my dad.) But Dad noticed. He felt bad a lot about what happened. He protected me when he could. I think I'm the heroine of this story because I was conditioned that way and my father was a great teacher. He taught me how to always be honorable. To always do the right thing.
The reason I'm writing all this is because a friend- an ex friend, showed me that some people see me as a weakling or some naive little child who needs protecting, and I just wanted to clear the air. Just because I have CP and because of the CP I have to walk with crutches doesn't mean I'm weak. In fact because my legs are weaker than most I have great upper body strength. And I wanted to prove to myself that I'm a woman who deserves everything she gets and is loved because she's a spectacular woman.
I've come from a series of weird or unbelievable events. Well, it's only unbelievable to many because I came out of hell smiling. Sometimes I wonder if anyone can see the scars from my past battles. I know my fiance can, but that's because he pays attention to me. Does anyone else see the battle scars I've survived? I also imagine what it would be if all the scars I have were on the surface. Would anyone even approach me then? It's just how my mind works I guess.
Like book characters I have strengths and weaknesses, an eventful past, many secrets, and flaws. I was born with CP, and as life went on I developed depression, anxiety, and PTSD. My secrets are most of my whole life. I barely tell people anything I've ever been through as not to be judged. It's not like anyone would believe me anyway. Strength: I have a good head on my shoulders, I'm very loyal until the end, and I love to learn all I can. Weaknesses: I'm not very trusting of many, I have many insecurities that can take over, and I can be really hard on myself when I shouldn't be. In all honesty, the depression could have been avoided had my life had been different, but I wouldn't have wanted it that way. Part of who I am is my depression.
The way I got my depression was when I was eleven my mother gave up on me and my siblings. She was "in love" with a monster, so much that she was willing to forget that she had children to take care of at home. My sister and I had to fend for ourselves most days and had to take care of the motherly duties with our brother since Jane (former mother's name) was slacking so horribly. I was like a mother by the time I was eleven because I was doing everything I could do to protect my siblings. This infatuation caused our mother to rip us away from our lives to stalk the monster. When we landed in our new location, Virginia, my former mother left us home alone a lot scaring the shit out my younger sister. Every day she'd cry to me, begging me to call Jane to make sure she wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere. Every day I'd comply, as to which Jane would get tired of me calling to see if she was still coming home. Then one day she expressed her annoyance with me to her monster boytoy and told him to fix it. So he called me over and lectured me with his gun pointed at me. You've probably seen it on TV where the camera's focused on the gun, and everything behind it is left blurry then the focus switches to the background (in my case the bullets the monster left on the table). Well, if you can recall that, that's what happened to me; I saw the bullets on the table, but you never know if just one is in the gun. I didn't react with fear amazingly enough. Nothing about my body, facial expression, or tone of voice gave away that I was scared. I backed away a few steps when he was done with me then retreated down the hall where I called my father seeing if he still had a place for me at his house. As much as I wanted to stay to protect my siblings I'd be no use to them dead. So Dad would let me live with him as long as I told Jane. Jane wouldn't let me leave until summer break (I told her on Thanksgiving break, not mentioning why I was leaving her.) During the summer before I left to my dad's Jane and her monster left all the kids (his who had come to visit and hers) all alone at the house. I felt like I was in charge since I was the eldest and apparently the most mature of them. It was sad because we all felt so rejected and you could tell. All you had to do was look us in the eye. And the whole time I was stuck at Jane's waiting to move to my father's she made my life a living hell. Making sure I knew I was a monster, that I was nothing to like. Then she forced me to therapy like she actually was a caring mother when all she was was the monster no one should be left to slay alone. My years from eleven to thirteen with Jane and monster are the reasons I'm clinically depressed.
I was diagnosed with anxiety and PTSD because of a lot. It started with my dad's passing which resulted in me losing my dad's side of the family almost instantly. I also lost a lot of friends. I pretty much lost my whole life. To keep my head up I finished school. Not to the best of my abilities, but I was kind of a little distracted by grief.
Like most characters I have passions and dreams. I have my own escapes. I get into fights. When I'm in a fight I do my best to protect myself. But if the person I'm fighting with brings up a loved one in a negative light I will fight even harder since the person I'm fighting with had no business bringing them up. I found sanctuary in music, reading, and my writing. I love that as much as I have to find sanctuary in all that I can still be well grounded into the real world. My passion is very obvious; it's writing. My writing has always helped me cope with my entire life since it took a turn for bad and ugly when I was a kid of eleven years of age. My personal demons become even more dangerous in my books, but in my own world that I create I can fight back with little to no consequence. My dream is to change the world one person at a time, but my dream isn't exactly going the way I want it to. For everyone who thinks I'm this amazing, intelligent, talented young woman five more people think I'm the most horrible person who ruins everything I touch. There's no truth to that though, but with so many people on my back about me being a horrible, truly awful person I sometimes think they're right. I shouldn't think that though because- Because the only people who think such awful things about me have warped versions of reality.
Like I have the most perfect example. This past week my brother and I got in a fight. It was a simple fight. He wanted to be a writer, but he wanted me to do all the work. I do all the work to get him famous? Puh-lease. I'm trying to be an accomplished author on my own. So I got mad that he wanted me to do all the creative work for his story. I yelled at him. If he wanted to be a writer so bad then he should have made time to write. Writing is like any other job. You need to make time for it. You need to put effort into it. But my brother never put any effort or made any time for his writing so I yelled at him then blocked him on facebook. The only reason I blocked him on facebook was because my in-laws said I needed to take a break from him and to write him a letter. Hopefully, that way the letter would sink in. But the day after I blocked him he said everything was my fault then went after my fiance, trying to rip him a new one. Well naturally my fiance defended himself and explained why he didn't like my brother one bit. Very straightforward. But my brother picked and picked until I had absolutely no patience left. So I had to scream at him. And he kept making it about me picking my fiance over him when the fight was really about him treating me like crap and thinking I would ghost write for him. At one point he just took a dive in our fight to pretend none of this happened, but in our whole fight he never called to work things out. And all I wanted was to know that he cared enough to call me, but he didn't. He ended saying that I gave up us being friends for Richard. Such a shame I had to lose him, but it's better that I don't have to deal with him anymore. He was jeopardizing my health. Not to mention, he belittled me at every turn.
Anyway, back to how I am the heroine of my own story. I'm not saying I'm perfect or anything. I'm not. I'm far from it in fact. I'm the heroine because I have always looked out for the best interest of my brother, sister, and father. I would always look out for my friends and especially the friends I see as family. I'm not like a wonder woman type of heroine. I'm not very actiony and in-your-face. I'm more of a background heroine. I definitely don't do it for the fame. More like I do it because it's right at the time. Sometimes I wish I could do more, but the truth is what I do is very strategic. So when I'm protecting someone I'm keeping them safe and staying under the monster's radar, barely. The enemies I've been up against are hardly what you'd call stupid, but they're- they've always been smart enough to know that they can't prove what I say or do. Although I have made a few mistakes trusting the wrong people with my words, I'm usually very careful of what I say in front of who. I always thought I had to protect my brother and sister from the true evil that is my used to be mother. I wanted them to love her unconditionally without knowing all of her flaws. And it seemed to work well enough. They don't resent her the way I do, and they weren't disowned by her either. And I'm glad to see it that way. I protected my father from knowing that none of us in the house got along. They were after me. They did everything to break me down and hurt me. They wanted me to leave, and it was fairly obvious. (Not that I would leave just because they threatened me. I lived there for my dad.) But Dad noticed. He felt bad a lot about what happened. He protected me when he could. I think I'm the heroine of this story because I was conditioned that way and my father was a great teacher. He taught me how to always be honorable. To always do the right thing.
The reason I'm writing all this is because a friend- an ex friend, showed me that some people see me as a weakling or some naive little child who needs protecting, and I just wanted to clear the air. Just because I have CP and because of the CP I have to walk with crutches doesn't mean I'm weak. In fact because my legs are weaker than most I have great upper body strength. And I wanted to prove to myself that I'm a woman who deserves everything she gets and is loved because she's a spectacular woman.
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