A Letter to No One

My life- in the condensed form of a letter. All true- please tell me what you think.

 

A letter to no one,

 

     How do you start a letter like this? A letter to no one. A letter never meant to be sent. It's an auto biography of sorts to all my dearest. To all who care.

     My life started much like anyone else's in this small world we think is so vast. I was born to two loving parents who- at the time- loved me very much. On the sunniest days in the summer my parents and I were inseparable. We were well to do and I always was the cute little girl in the frilly sundresses and the stuffed cat. From the beginning I could always see thing others could not- like colors that surrounded the people around me and engulfed them. It was unusual and not until later did it have any relevance. So I didn’t mind it at all.  Yes, the beginning of my life I can clearly remember as being good.  

I wonder if that’s why the memories are so scarce. There was nothing traumatic that brought me out of that childish state for a long time. So even when the DIVORCE came I was happy. Maybe because I thought at that time that the DIVORCE was a break- not a permanent split. Maybe it didn’t bother me because I was thrown into the arms of my grandparents as my mother broke down in the background. Until recently I didn’t even know it was so hard for her. My mother was strong in my five year old eyes and nothing would change that for me at the time. She would disappear for weeks- and I would vaguely wonder if she had forgotten me. I never imagined she was suffering alone. I guess I was the child who thought parents were invincible. All I knew was that my Granny was worried- and that’s when my dad would yell into the phone when he came to visit.

But I was not really affected. It didn’t faze me as I watched Disney movies on the television, wrapped in blankets with my stuffed cat (his name was Erin if I remember now) tucked safely under one arm. Everything was comfortable in my little world. I would get letters from my mother from time to time and I would tuck them into a box under my bed where I would read them every night before bed. I knew she would come back- so there was no emotion showed on my part really. My mother loved me too much to leave me forever.

She came home after a month and a half or so- and that’s when she began running. She would run for hours and hours until she was too tired to do much other then sleep until her shift at the restaurant she worked. I didn’t see too much of her then either. It was like I was alone- but loneliness never bothered me. Looking back on it now though- that year was probably the loneliest of my entire life, thought I never saw it that way.

Things got better when we moved in with my grandparents. My mother looked alive again and though she ran a lot, we had our days in the sun from time to time again. My dad never really came around- and it was something I got used to as time went on and his absence seemed more normal then anything. When he did come around it was a rare occasion and over half the time he said he would come it was an empty promise. I never held anything he said too seriously anymore.

And with came my distrust of men. I began to believe that all men only wanted to hurt you (other then the family who didn’t get a DIVORCE) and that is was better if they never came into your life. I’m deciding weather or not that is still true today- but that will come later. My grandparents were kind souls who fed my will to learn and my yearning for knowledge as I grew. It was still a sheltered life though. I knew nothing of the outside pain and I had only just learned distrust. So school for me was not a place of enjoyment. Friends were scarce and shallow if there were any. School was the place where my dreams most often took wing.

I would sit in the back of the class with a pencil and paper and imagine the things that dreams were made of. Castles and adventures. Something outside of the California city I lived in (other then the moves which have faded into memory and are mainly forgotten) and into the rest of the world. This wide world that seemed to vast as I sat from my desk in the back of the class. I wanted the things that weren’t real. The things I was sure I would not obtain. I guess to this day I still wish for things I will never have.

Around this time my mother met a man named Jeffrey, who, within a year’s time would be my step father. I was seven by then- and I did not like this new man. Something about him, maybe the fact that he was male, struck me the wrong way and I did not like it. I would like to think my mother was too emotionally unstable at the time she married him to realize what she was doing. They seemed to get along fine in the beginning- and I sincerely wished for my mom’s happiness. She was sick from living with her parents for so long…

I just wish I could’ve stayed with them now that I look at it. It was a private ceremony- the eloped actually. No one even knew until it was over and done with. And by that point I was sick. Though I wanted my mother to smile again like she had all that time ago- I did not want to be part of a new family. I didn’t want to adjust to a new place. I was fine with Grampy in the study reading- or with Granny shopping at the plaza. I didn’t want somewhere new. But I was taught from a young age only bad children complain so I kept my mouth shut and my opinion was never asked. So there was nothing I could do but wish for my mother’s happiness.

Around two months after they were wed- we packed up our things and moved to a place I had never even heard of before. It was the small town of Milford CT- around the area where Jeffrey’s parents lived. I was eight and the idea of having to root somewhere else was a nasty idea on all accounts. But I only smiled and nodded, and when no one was around I cried until I wanted to scream- and then I screamed until I collapsed. It was overwhelming in all aspects. I almost wish I had let someone see me. Maybe Granny and Grampy could’ve saved me somehow. Maybe I would never have moved.

We moved in the summer and I dreaded the beginning of a new school. As I said friends were never something I had- and I didn’t want to be all alone in a new place. At least in California it was familiar and I could relax. And it snowed here in the winter- and the idea of snow to me sounded too cold for my liking. It was miserable there.

I began third grade with low expectations. But my elementary school years were really some of the best. I adjusted of course and made friends that I still talk to today despite the distance. The school was the least of my worries (other then my grades which will never improve) though. Something darker then proceeded to enter my life.

Molestation, a word to this day I despise. A word that haunts me in my sleep. It was something that was unavoidable. My step-father had gone to school to pursue a culinary field and something he and my mother enjoyed and continue to enjoy is food and drink. And lots of the drink part. Alcoholism is the word I use for it to be honest. My step-father was. He would get drunk and that’s when I would get hurt. It started as nothing more then a few slaps here and there. And that was manageable. I could take a hit. But it was one night when I woke to a start with warm yet strangely cold hands under my long nightshirt in places hands should never be I fell. I fell to a place where I could not get out. I could lose patches of memory and wake in pain as blood mixed with sweat and tears would obscure my vision. I don’t know over half the things he did to me and I would rather not know to be a hundred percent honest. I know terrible things were done- and I remember vaguely some of them but they are not for your ears dear one. They are for my mind alone.

I lived with it until I was thirteen. I was sick of being asked where the bruises were coming from. I was sick of hurting. I confided in a few close friends and the school counselor. Of course- the police were contacted. I felt free. Sense I had entered middle school I had felt this ever persisting dark cloud that had followed me- and with this was my one chance of escape. In the fair world I had created I thought escape was in view. But once again I was wrong.

By this time I had a little brother- he was three at the time this occurred. It didn’t occur to me my mother would side with my step-father to avoid DIVORSE. That word again. She didn’t want my brother to experience it- and told the police about all my previous medical history and how I was prone to seeing things. Remember I mentioned the colors I saw from before? Since I was a small child?  A doctor classified me schizophrenic, and everything I said from that point on held no weight in the investigation.

My ideas of justice were gone as I sunk back into despair. I had not only lost the battle- I had lost my parents trust completely. Even my real father didn’t hold anything I said to be true though he often said he did. He never fought for me. He never was willing to support me. Not the way I needed him too. My step-father was allowed back and depression set in. I don’t think there has ever been a time I was more heavily medicated in my life. After two suicide attempts I was placed on enough medication to kill me told to suck it up. ‘Only bad girls complain’ my mother reminded me as I cried alone.

I was distant then. Nothing mattered. Friends, writing, drawing, reading… Everything fell into a void. I didn’t want to have anything to do with it. All the friends who had believed me before turned against me and I found myself so alone.

Nothing got better until high school- my freshman year was wonderful. I made new friends and I even had a boyfriend for the first time in my life who I loved more then anything in the world. I had places to go that weren’t at my house so the violent attacks lessened. I was free… Until another dreaded word came back into play.

Moving. We were moving back to California. I wanted to scream again- I wanted to throw things and stomp around until I died. I had to leave comfort again in order to go to a place where I did not want to return. Sure, I missed Grampy and Granny but… This wasn’t what I wanted. Nothing is ever what I want- keep that in mind as you continue. Nothing ever goes my way. I live with the man I hate- with my mother who is clueless to my continued pain… Nothing is ever right.

So one lonely may day I said goodbye to my home of seven years… I was fourteen then. We drove to the small town of Windsor California where we set our roots again and we still live here. My sophomore year consisted of more suicide attempts and an effort to get out of this place… But after I visited my old town to find my old boyfriend different and my friends gone I have grown to like this place very much.

In this- my junior year of high school I live. I live and I continue. This year has been difficult though… Love, have I really fallen in love again? I wish I could answer no because now it is the poison that kills me. Love is… difficult for me to say the least. I do not trust- so to love I have to let someone inside to a place where I am not sure they should be. I have made so many mistakes in this love that I almost wish I had not fallen in love. It has wounded my heart… But I continue. Now- my life has not been easy. It will never be. I will continue to face hardships- the time of the sundress is over and I am to grow.

Though that is scary in itself. Growing has included trying new things- new addictions. New everything that you can think of. I grow day by day as I try and undo mistakes and fix what can be saved. Right now my love is on hold as I wait for him to heal me again. I will not sleep well until my life is settled. But that is unavoidable and I don’t know what else to say but don’t worry. I will turn out okay. I will live- I have lived through everything so far. All my past- and this is no different. Though my alcohol addiction has taken a hold on me- I will drop it. I will move on.

I cannot give you a clear reason why I wrote this letter. I cannot say what you will think when you read it. My life, most of it at least, has been laid before you to read and do with it what you wish. It is not a story for you to learn- it is not a moral story. It has no clear ending because I am still alive to write it. That means the book is not finished- but it will continue. I hope it goes in my favor though. And to you, my most dear ones who read this with curiosity and wonder do not feel pity for me. I have long gotten past feeling bad for myself. It gets me no where.

But to you. I owe you everything. For you have helped me in ways I cannot explain in any other way.

Thank you.

And peace to you

 

Sincerely,

Miss Nana Carmine

Author's Note

please tell me what you think

Reviews

[DreamWalker]

Initially, I am rendered almost speechless - the emotions: sadness, empathy, pity, anger, et al, this brings to me are overwhelming. And then I remember to breath. Well written, and clearly expressed. It takes great courage to open your soul to the anonymity and capriciousness of others. Thank you and from the reviews, remember that there are those of us that do care.

"And peace to you!" if I may quote.

[JLMatthews]

Crimany....that was really powerful. I love the way it was written and everything, it was really fantastic...but more than anything this just makes me want to help you feel better... I hope you heal, from everything you've been put through. You're a great friend. Feel better.

[ah]

i really enjoyed reading this, thank you for being able to share this information, if you haven't already, i think u might want to look at one of my writings called confession... this is an amazing piece and holds a ton of emotion and many different emotions... keep your word and keep continuing on, i hope to read the second and third parts of this story someday... thanx again

[.]

Holy S**t! That was...woh, just a story that i will just never forget. Im like wow, right now. I just want to hug u so much right now hehe. Very amazing write hun. Very amazing.

Mikey

[NJ Schneider]

Wren, I love you.


~Caine.