He read it.
He LEARNED from it.
He said that the author of the book was nothing but a pansy. He was going to teach me not to be one. He made me take shots of liquid dish soap, tablespoons full of salt, snort sugar. He loved slamming my calves & shins with broom handles. I spent at least 4 weekends locked in the bathroom- twice with a bath tub full of bleach & ammonia... he timed me to see how long I would pass out and when I woke up my stomach hurt like hell. I'm not sure but I think he cracked one of my ribs because it didn't stop hurting for weeks.
My step-mom wasn't any better. She in an evil bitch and I despise her with every bone in my body. She egged him on. One of my first memories of her is her yanking me awake out of the top bunk by my hair on one of my weekend visits and beating me mercilessly with a fly swatter. (She swore I had been talking.)
She also encouraged him to lock me on the balcony overnight just weeks before I told my therapist about what was really happening at home. He had held me by my ankle over the railing for a full minute, my nightgown slipping up over my head revealing my young body to the dead night, before tossing me to the balcony floor and laughing. I remember thanking God there was no snow that Christmas.
I remember one time when my dad was serving one of his several jail sentences, I was forced to go for the weekend. (They told my mom he was 'working'.) I had pneumonia and really did not want to go. Since I was sick she sent my step-brother to spend the night with a friend and confined me to the couch. Imagine my surprise when I woke up in the middle of the night to her returning from the bar with a guy- who was not my dad. He spent the next 2 nights until she took me to meet my mom. I never mentioned her affair to anyone but her son.
My father was a brilliant man. (Both he and my mother both!) I'm not sure my dad ever lost at Jeopardy or Chess. He could remember almost any fact he ever heard and had one hell of an ear for music. But he used his intelligence for the wrong reasons: How to NOT get caught. He hit me in places he knew would be hidden by my clothing- and if it wasn't? I had to change my outfit. He knew when to keep his voice down- he didn't parade around shrieking for the neighborhood to hear (unless it was a drunken argument with his wife, but not ever with me). My father used to say, "Don't worry about me when I'm being loud... get worried when I go quiet." That could not be more true. My biggest fear during those years was the silence before an attack.
He played mind games constantly. Try to convince me that everything was fine and then snap at the last second, trying to catch me off guard. The first couple of times I actually caught myself thinking maybe it was all ending... maybe I would have an actual dad after all. But he always snapped. So I stayed busy. I was rarely home. No one ever came to my house. I was dropped off down the street so that people wouldn't even know which house was mine. No one knew my phone number. I never had a boyfriend.
"I didn't take a class in college called PARENTING 101"
No, really? I hated when he said this to me. Now that I'm raising a hyperactive toddler, I do see where he was coming from. But let's have some common sense Buddy. While I understand no one tells you HOW to be a parent, you should know there are certain things you just don't do!
He did everything in his power to break me. And I hope he's happy to know he succeeded. I hate who I am. I cannot stand the woman I've become. I see my parents in everything I do and that disgusts me. I don't want to be like them. I want to prove them WRONG. But everyday I fail more & more. And... I don't know how to fix it.
Life with my father was impossible. I did nothing right. If I brought home a 95% on a test, he wanted to know why it wasn't 100%. He called me a freak for having no friends and a slut for never being home. I was forced into a wardrobe of his approval, hair & make up to his discretion. When I could finally talk him into taking me to get my hair cut, he picked the cut. The only make up I was allowed to wear came from what HE bought. Yeah, I was one fly teenage girl.
I have always been a little heavy. No, not 'obese'. I'm short. If I grew a couple inches it would even out but at 5'3 my 170lbs looks more like 200lbs. My father limited what I ate. I was on the grapefruit diet for almost 3 yrs- I fucking hate grape fruit. I was not given lunch money many weeks to 'save calories'. I was forced into many activities to 'whip my ass into shape' and soon began joining whatever I could to simply beat him to making me do it.
I hated myself. I still do. I hate my body. One of my fathers favorite 'games' was making me stand in front of the mirror and scream everything I disliked about myself at my reflection. For hours. It was during one of these sessions that he snuck up behind me and chopped my pony tail for mentioning I didn't like my hair.
"Better?"
How do you please a man that isn't happy with himself? You can't. My father was a miserable man. He would not rest until everyone around him was just as miserable. Now, yesars later I still battle with that misery... the insecurity... the self loathing. It's not even so much I hate ME. I see him in me and I hate HIM.
The GED tests you on the same sort of subjects as a traditional school. Math, science, reading, writing, and social studies are all on it. The whole test takes about seven hours to complete. Don’t faint! You are allowed to take the test in pieces if you want. The gist of the GED is more about thinking critically than memorization. It will test your ability to figure things out, not recite facts. It will also ask you to apply your knowledge to different situations to achieve a solution.
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