A Letter to My Mother Part 2- Teen Years

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Hello again, Mother.

This is the letter that’s going to be the hardest to write. It’s so hard because these were the years that defined a lot of my struggles, a lot of my hurt. I hate to bring them up, but these are all things that I need to talk about. While I am doing well, and am happy, there is a lot that I still have to heal from.

High school was never my favorite. Those were the years that I thought I would be able to go hang out with friends, enjoy life and experience new things! I was wrong. My only time I got to see friends was at school, and as a teenager, that was hard. I wasn’t allowed to do anything really.

My freshman year of high school was okay. It was probably the best year of high school for me. I had fun with my friends at school, did my work and did well. I was smart, and determined to get good grades. We got a new house and got to move in, and we were so happy to be moved into the city and into a nicer home. That year you and I got a lot closer, and we made most of the decisions for the family. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter much what dad said to you.

Sophomore year I had my permit to drive with you and dad. It was fun learning to do something new! I don’t remember much of this school year. I remember taking advanced classes and doing well in them, and this wasn’t a bad year for me either,aside from the birthday fiasco. The summer between sophomore and junior year was one of the best summers of my life. I was finally allowed to do something! One of my best friends had told me about this play, Broadway The Big Picture. It was a series of 6 musicals, and we took several songs or scenes from each and got to dance and sing to them. You and dad allowed me to do that. Every day for a couple months I would go to play practice for a few hours. I was in every single one. We did Caberet, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Wicked, Moulin Rouge, Evita and Hair. I was having the time of my life! I had fun roles and met new friends and ACTUALLY got to see them everyday.

I believe that it was that Christmas that began to create a rift in the whole family. You and dad “weren’t feeling well” and didn’t want to go to our family Christmas Eve party, and you wouldn’t let anyone come pick us kids up. We saw car lights pull in to the drive, and so you made us kids go hide in the basement and you wouldn’t answer the door. Our aunts and uncles had came to give us our Christmas gifts. You never answered the door, and we never got our gifts. As a kid, that was devastating. Christmas was something so magical, and it got tainted that year.

Junior year was one of the hardest for me. I will never forget that time of my life. I was in AP courses and everything was going okay. You allowed me to play tennis, then made me quit a week later. Then I met Matthew towards the end of the year. He was funny, cute, and I enjoyed being around him. We met at work, McDonald’s, and decided to go on a date after a joke was made. We began dating in March of 2012. That summer was a life changer for me. I will never forget the events that unfolded. I think that that was the summer that you made your club penguin account. While it was a children’s game, you decided to make an account. Then you met Jake. You begin to spend all of your time on your computer. Our bond was closer than ever however, as I had to keep your secrets for you. You and I would watch countless movies and go on walks together when you weren’t talking to him. You would stay up super late to talk to Jake, even though he was my age. The two of you had a relationship that was complicated, and claimed to be only a friendship. You never told him you were my mom. Instead, we were best friends from childhood and we spent a lot of time together and went to the same school. You made fake Facebook accounts, and would send him old pictures, or show him pictures of me. You hid a lot from dad regarding this, and I saw it as something that no one else did. You spent more time talking to Jake, and looking up music to show him, than spending with us. You would buy him things from toys-r-us to give him the codes for free clothes on the game. You were overly protective over your laptop. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but I thought you were my best friend.

That summer Matthew and I didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time together. You let us see each other once a week, for an hour. I was never allowed to go to his house, even if his mom was home. I didn’t understand it. You would belittle him when he wasn’t around, and tell me you thought he was ugly and not as attractive as your ex, Scott. We began to get in fights over how much time I was allowed to spend with him, and it began to hurt our friendship. That’s the thing though, you stopped acting like a mother, and more like a manipulative friend.

That summer also brought a few scarring events.

The fact that I was grounded so frequently, really sucked. I was grounded more than either of the boys. Although we were close and did everything together, I seemed to do everything wrong. I could however, bribe you to unground me, even if it was secretly. I would give you money, or buy you things that you wanted. Although I wasn’t grounded in the time that really stands out to me, I wanted to go see Matthew, and you wouldn’t let me. I begged and begged, and then eventually I told you I would give you my iPod touch that you and dad had gotten me for my 16th birthday. You accepted the bribe, and I got to see him for that measly hour.

I remember we were joking around on Chat Roulette. Some man had his penis out and started jerking off. You put the screen on me and made me watch him jerk off to me. You wanted me to “know what it looked like, so when I got older I wouldn’t be scared.” It makes me sick to my stomach to say that and repeat those words.

I remember standing in the bathroom in my bikini, getting ready to go swimming in our little pool. I was putting my hair up in a pony tail, and I will never forget the words that you said to me. “You look like you’re 6 months pregnant.” Shortly after you asked me if I wanted a new swim suit top to “cover my pregnant belly.” I was devastated, so I said yes. You brought me a tankini a few days later. I also remember you clearly telling me I had cellulite as I walked away. I was 110 pounds and 5’8. Since that day, I have been overly self conscious of my butt and my legs. After hearing those things, especially from my mother, I began to eat less. I didn’t want to be fat. I didn’t want to be what I deemed disgusting, as I already seemed to be in my own mothers eyes. I will never forget those days. Later on, when we began our vicious cycle of nasty fights, you told me that you never said those things….but I remember them so clearly. How could I even believe that, when you lied to me so much?

Summer kept proving itself difficult, so the sweet relief of my Senior year came. Matthew and I celebrated our 6 month anniversary that September. I don’t know how we made it that far, if I’m honest. That summer I treated him very poorly. I treated him how I thought everyone treated their spouse. I was cold, didn’t take some of the chances to see him, and I was just an all around bitch. But I loved him, and I was completely crazy about him. I realized as an adult that I treated him how I saw you treat dad. Because I was not allowed to go see my friends, I didn’t get to see how other families worked, so this was the only way that I knew. Anyway, that September he gave me my promise ring. I began wanting to see him more and more, and I fell more deeply in love with him. Then, you and I got in a fight that forever shaped the rest of my life.

I had been grounded, and wanted my phone. You took it away from me even though I had purchased it all on my own and paid for my own phone bill, as it was a prepay. I gave you 20$, and you let me have my phone in secret. You and dad were being mean to me that day, and so I was taking out my aggression on Matthew Via text message, so he called me. Well I had put my phone in my dresser, and the vibration was loud. My brother heard it, told on me, and here you came storming in. You ripped the phone out of my hand and began to text Matthew. I was bawling my eyes out. I asked you why you had to be so mean, and why you couldn’t just stay out of my relationship. Just like that, a switch flipped inside of you. You stormed off, me following closely behind. You threw my phone on the ground, it broke. You told me to get my shit and get out, that I had 30 minutes or you were calling the cops. You took my license, my key, and the ring you gave me. (Not to mention the ring you gave me to replace the one that broke that dad had given you, was one from your ex Scott.) I went to get a garbage bag and you told me I couldn’t use one because they were yours. I took what I could in my arms and had Matthew pick me up.

A few days later I left school to come check on you. Your eyes were swollen shut, and you were in bed covered with tissues. I comforted you and we agreed to work on our relationship. I still lived away from home, but I spent time with you guys. We had a talk about if I was going to come back home or not. You and dad sat at the dining room table with me, and dad cried a lot. I felt sad, but I knew that staying out of the home was what was best for me. We still had a relationship, and for Christmas that year you and dad got me an iPhone. I was paying for my bill, but you allowed me to get one. Things were going well, with me out of the home.

Things went sour, and I don’t exactly remember why or what happened. Maybe that’s when we had the talk about me coming home, I don’t remember the dates, I just remember it happening. Our relationship fell apart quickly. You were very aggressive with your words and I defended myself. The last time I had a real interaction with you, you had come to the house to see your mom or drop something of mine off. You made a rude comment and I told you you were a “fucking bitch.” You told me you couldn’t hear me in one of those sarcastic, provoking tones, so I told you again. You stormed your way up the stairs to my room. You pushed me up against my desk with your belly, and kept pushing into me. We were yelling at each other, and I told you you better not put your hands on me, which you replied with a sassy “oh I won’t.” Instead you just used your stomach. I made the mistake of leaving my iPhone on my desk. As soon as you saw it, you stole it, and ran back down the stairs. I followed, screaming after you. A few days prior to you stealing it, dad had asked for it back, and I told him no, as I was paying for it. He told me I didn’t pay for it, but the way he said it told me all I needed to know: that he knew I had. He was sent on your mission. The cops came, asked me for it, I told them no. They told you to take me to small claims court if you wanted it back. You sent me a bill asking for 800$ for a hospital bill and the cancellation of the phone.

When I followed you out on to the porch, we continued to be in each others faces. Words were exchanged. As you were walking away, I told you I hoped you died on the way home. That is something I am forever sorry about, and certainly didn’t mean. I have apologized a hundred times over for it, and you still don’t believe me, and I have accepted that.

In the following weeks I received a lot of messages from you. Telling me I wouldn’t amount to anything, I was stupid, a bitch, worthless, and that I could “have fun living off the government for the rest of my life.”

We stopped communication after that, but your torment didn’t.

I was very sick that spring. I went to the emergency room because both of my ears were draining and were very painful. The ER called you and dad answered. They asked if you would allow a doctor to see me. You told them no.

From that point forward, the school was involved with my life. They called CPS, got my my own health insurance, and made sure I was all set. You neglected me, even though I wasn’t living with you. They had to classify me as homeless, as you and dad still had guardianship over me.

I finally got my license back at 18. I had to go get a new SS card after you claimed I “lost” mine, although you never returned it to me. I never got my birth certificate as you claimed it was “yours.”

I graduated high school after a lot of traumatic things happened to me late that spring. That was a time that I really needed my parents and their support, as I was really struggling. You weren’t there, but grandma was. She stepped in as a mom.

I had a lot of support from grandparents. You and dad eventually cut all ties from family because of this.

Nick moved in that winter. You grounded him that summer when you found out he was even talking to me. You had brainwashed him to believe that I was a drug addict whore who partied all the time. I had only ever had one boyfriend. Never been to a party and never touched any drugs. All these people were coming to me telling me things they heard my family telling people I was. Yet, you didn’t even know me anymore at that point. He moved in with me because things at home weren’t good. I won’t speak on his behalf, and I certainly don’t want to cause anything, as he is lucky enough to have a relationship with his parents.

It still shocks me that I have two parents and a younger brother I haven’t seen in 5 years. The last time I hear from you was when you developed breast cancer. I was devastated for you. It hurt me, and it hurt that I had a mom that I didn’t even get to see, with cancer. I showed up at the house after your surgery one day. I brought flowers, a card, and your favorite candy bar. Dad shut the door in my face after a quiet “thank you.”

When I moved away from home, I realized a lot of things. Hanging out with friends is fun! I learned how people were really treated in relationships. I remember it was amazing to me that a family could be so close knit, as Matthews family was.

I am not trying to hurt you. Or myself. I just need to tell these stories. It helps me understand things, helps me move on, and helps me grow. I am still wrapping my mind around some of the things that happened. Each of these letters is a very disorganized mess, and I have so much more I could tell, but I am trying to narrow things down to what has really impacted me as a child, teen, adult, and person.

Regardless of all of this, I will always love you. I don’t hate you.

I have more to say, and there will be one last letter, explaining my feelings. I needed to write the first two to remind you of things, as it will help explain the third letter that I am going to write. I did this letter for me. I am sorry if it hurts you, I am sorry if you feel as though I am painting you in a negative light. I am just trying to tell things from my perspective, as at this point in my life, currently that’s the only one that matters to me.

I’ll talk to you soon,

Hayli.

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A Letter to My Mother: Part 1- Childhood

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Mother-

This letter is only the beginning of what I’m sure will be a few letters. There’s all too much to say in just one, so I will be spreading it out in parts. It’s easier for me to handle that way. I figured I’d start with my childhood. What I can remember of it anyway. I guess what I will consider my childhood is anything before grade 9.

So, I want to make clear that not all of my childhood is seen as a bad memory. There are plenty of good things that come to mind when I think of growing up. The problem is this: the bad was really bad. I can’t remember a whole lot of growing up. I contribute that to the fact that maybe I just don’t want to remember. The holidays are coming up quickly though….something I was always fond of when I was a kid. We’d always go to grandmas on Christmas eve and spend time with our whole family. Waking up on Christmas day there  would be “foot prints” from Santa Clause, which only added to the magic of the day. Those days were always good days.

Summers were spent out in our massive front yard kicking a ball back and forth. Or spent on our little homemade track, practicing tractor pulling. We’d make our once a summer trip to lake Michigan and play in the water and look for pretty rocks. We had our little swimming pool that we’d go swimming in almost every day. Not everything was bad. The early years were better. Maybe I was just too young to understand. Or maybe you got worse as I got older. I guess I will never really know.

I do remember though not being allowed to go to my friends’ houses. We’d get invites for birthday parties or sleepovers, or sometimes just to come over. It was never allowed. The only friend I ever got to see was Kaylee, because she lived right next door to grandma. Grandmas house was always exciting. We’d go there one night a weekend. We’d play outside all day, and grandma would make dinner that was always so delicious. Kaylee would come over and play until the sun went down. That’s the thing though-rarely were we allowed over to her house. No more than 200 feet away, and we still weren’t allowed to go over there. I still remember grandma introducing her and I. It was a winter day and she was outside building a snowman in her front yard. I am forever thankful for that day.

So, friends were hard to come by outside of school. That hurt, a lot.

You and dad fought. A lot. It didn’t matter if it was in front of us kids or not. Whenever, wherever. I remember one night hiding under the coffee table because you and dad got into it so bad and I was terrified. I cried my eyes out.

I remember the night you threw your bowl of ice cream across the room at him because he asked you if you should be eating that much ice cream.

I remember there was a hole in the bedroom door where a fist had once been thrusted into.

I remember fights over the tv, food, how he went fishing too much, or how he wanted to see his friends. Fights were stupid. I thought that that was how all families were. I didn’t know that people shouldn’t use so many harsh words and so often.

I remember that one day you got so mad at me. I am sure I was being your typical annoying kid, asking if I could play with my karaoke machine too many times. Well, that karaoke machine went flying towards me down the hallway, finding itself hitting the wall and dropping to the floor. My poor little karaoke machine.

I remember my brother stole some bubble tape from the store. You found out, and somehow it became my fault. You told me you hated me and wished I was never born, and to go to my room. Nothing hurt as much as that. I remember very clearly playing with my barbies on my bed. Crying, and not understanding what had just happened. You came into my room what must’ve been ten minutes later, and apologized.

I remember you found a “love note” I wrote in the fifth or fourth grade. You yelled and me and spanked me.

I remember running away in fifth grade. I told one of my best friends that you abused me. Never physically, but verbally. I told her all the things you said, and even wrote her mom a letter telling her all of these things. Her mom was heartbroken. I wanted so badly to be adopted. I didn’t want to be a part of the family anymore. The things I told her in those letters were never lies. That was the thing. I remember hopping on the “wrong” bus to go home with her. We were gonna play on the trampoline and drink lemonade. We didn’t get to do that at all. Instead, I ended up in the back of the principles truck with our guidance counselor. They were VERY mad at me. I waited and waited for you to come get me. You and dad cried, a lot. I went to school the next day and they kept asking me if everything was okay, they wouldn’t leave me alone. I guess I got too sassy with them because they brought me down to the office and yelled at me. You asked me later why I would lie to them. Why I would write all those lies to my friends mom. I wasn’t lying. I was no liar.

I remember getting suspended in the 6th grade for something I didn’t even do. That was the one day you had my back. You called the school to get me unsuspended, but they said there was nothing they could do about it. You were upset, but not at me. We went to the store and you let me get some rolos.

I remember as a child that I was more of a daddy’s girl. I loved fishing and tractor pulls. I loved mama too, though. The first scary movie we watched together was Freddy VS. Jason. That movie began our love for horror movies and our many nights staying up watching them.

Do you remember my fear of thunderstorms? Do you remember my OCD? That was one thing that was so hard for me. I had to have everything parallel on the coffee table and you guys would mess it up and laugh at me as I cried. Eventually that stopped and I went to other things, like routines and a fear of germs. The thunderstorms were the scariest though. I would ask you every night if it was going to rain. If it was, I had to sleep on your bedroom floor. I remember I couldn’t sleep until I told you I love you, and I had to hear you say it back. I feel bad now, because I feel as though I rarely told dad that I loved him. I know that you would get frustrated with me asking every night if it was going to rain. Sometimes you would sigh, other nights you’d just tell me. My fear was so intense that I would sweat, shake, and feel like I was going to throw up.

I remember being an angry child. I would have these outbursts, and you and dad took me to Barns and Noble to get me an anger control workbook. I don’t think it worked for me.

I wish that you would have taken me to a therapist at a young age. I don’t know if you recognized that I needed one, but I knew that something was wrong with me. It was hard for me, and I still don’t know if you knew.

I remember having a social worker come to the house. I never knew what it was for, but I was always terrified of her.

This is a bunch of jumbled up mess, but this is the best I can do. I know that I’ll remember things later, but these are the things that stand out to me the most. These are the things that shaped me as a child. These things were hurtful. Some of these things aren’t all that bad. Or maybe they don’t seem all that bad. But-these are the things that scream out to me.

This letter will probably be the shortest one. Simply because I don’t remember a whole lot. I remember most of my teen years, and those were the worst years for me. Those were the years I sunk into my lowest points.

You weren’t always someone I saw as a bad mother. Maybe that’s an awful thing to say, but maybe later you’ll understand.

Bye for now,

Hayli

A Letter To My Ex, Part 2.

Hello,

It’s me…again. I realized last night after reading through my last letter that I left out something that was very important to me.

Do you remember when I was in the hospital? I do. And I will for the rest of my life. Laying in that cold hospital bed on suicide watch, and you were nowhere to be found. You claimed to love me, and that you would get through anything with me, yet you were nowhere to be found.

Do you know who WAS there though? My ex boyfriend. I know, I know. That seems so weird. To you and probably most everyone else. He was there for me. He showed up. He cared. He was the one that understood more than anyone else what I was going through. He had witnessed everything I went through with my parents. He asked if I wanted him at the hospital, and I told him yes. He got in contact with everyone I loved most. Even you. He lent me his phone to contact you to tell you what was going on. He let me use his phone the whole time I was there, because the hospital took every last one of my belongings. He picked up my grandma. Called my grandparents. He was doing all the hard work.

I remember what you said to me.

“I can come to the hospital, if you want.”

I knew immediately that you didn’t want to come. You were at work. Yet he dropped work, school, and whatever else he had going on that day, to spend it with me to make sure I was okay. It was something a friend did. Something someone who cared did, regardless of what they were to me. You never showed up. Your feet didn’t step through that door. I told you that it was up to you if you came. I didn’t want to make you feel like I was a burden. I didn’t want to force you to do anything you didn’t want to do….funny isn’t it? How a month later you would be doing exactly that, to me. Forcing me to do something I did not want to do.

I screamed and insisted not going to the clinic they wanted to send me to. Him and my grandmother drove me all the way to Holland, just for me to yell at them to turn around. I never got out of that car. I wanted to spend the weekend with you, and my family. If I could just see you, maybe I would feel okay.

Later that night I drove all the way to kalamazoo to see you. If I recall correctly, you never even offered to drive to me. The police called me while we were sitting in my favorite coffee shop. I didn’t answer a series of phone calls, and because I was on suicide watch and never went to the clinic, the police showed up on my grandmothers doorstep. I answered the phone and told them I was okay, and everything returned to normal….as normal as things could be anyway.

I don’t even remember the rest of that night. I just remember that I tried to stay off all of social media. I tried to distance myself from my phone and from most everyone. A lot of people I considered friends showed me that they weren’t friends at all. That hurt me a lot.

That whole experience was traumatic for me. I tried to brush off everything that happened.

I still don’t think you’ll ever know what I felt like that night.

I remember we were laying in your bed one night and you had your hand on my thigh over my leggings. My thigh was swollen from the cut marks and you felt them through the cloth. You seemed shocked, but pulled me closer and told me that everything would be okay. That I didn’t have to hide them from you and that you understood. I started crying. It’s embarrassing to have someone know that you harmed yourself. I still don’t know if I should even publish that in this letter. I guess I have nothing to hide. In that moment I felt as though you truly loved me. I felt like we were real. Yet that was only a lie, and it all shattered soon after.

It hurts me to write about this. It pains my heart. Mostly I think because I don’t know how I allowed myself to be treated this way. I don’t know why I let you walk all over me like I was a damn doormat. I think that you saw my weakness as your power. You took any strength that I had and you fed on it, feeding your own agenda.

That’s why it will take me so long to forgive you. There is just so much that needs forgiving, Maybe you don’t even realize that you were doing these things. Maybe you do. It’s hard for me to say, because to me you’re a stranger. You’re not the person that I thought you were. I thought you were someone that I would spend all my time with, happily. And for a while it was that…until it wasn’t even close to that.

Even if I did something to hurt you, I did not deserve to be hurt back. I don’t deserve to be treated like I am nothing. No one deserves that.

I remember your brother and his girlfriend telling me that your ex was crazy. I believed it because I thought so too. Until now. I don’t think she was crazy. I think she was hurt, just like me. I think you lied to her, just like me. I think this is a sick pattern that you will follow until someone comes along and shatters you into a million pieces. Just like you did to us. I am not shattered because I miss you, or love you. Because neither of those things are true. I am shattered because you took things from me that I didn’t even offer to give to you. You essentially stole from me. I am not fond of being stolen from.

So, she was the crazy one, and I must be the lying, cheating bitch. That’s fine. I know that in my heart that isn’t true. I’m sure the next one will have a nickname, too. It’s unfortunate because your parents seem like good people. I really did like them.

I knew last night that I had more to say. I just didn’t know exactly what. There’s a lot to say when there’s a lot of damage that has been done. There’s a lot to say when someone reveals that they aren’t the person that you thought they were. I thought that I knew you through your laugh. I could make you smile and laugh with ease. More than I had ever made anyone laugh or smile. I got such warm fuzzy feelings when we were together. I thought you had them too. I thought you’d never lie or hurt me. I thought I knew you. Time tends to reveal a persons true intent, and true character. I am glad that yours came out sooner than later.

You are a stranger. I hope to keep it that way, for the rest of my life. If I see you, I promise that I will not say anything, to you or the person that you may be with. Instead I will silently pray that she is not going to experience the hurt or the damage that I have. I am sure she will beautiful, lets hope she’s just as intelligent.

I think that this is all that I have left to say. Sometimes I think that I could write a novel. You’d never read it, though. You couldn’t take the time to read my poetry either. Something that meant SO much to me. Poetry is my heart. It’s who I am.

You didn’t know me at all. I am more than coffee. More than vodka cranberries and blackberry ciders. More than fancy restaurants and drives to the beach. I am more than you allowed me to be. I will continue to grow and flourish. I will continue to be the strong, independent, beautiful woman that God intended me to be.

I am a believer that everything happens for a reason. While I am not sure that you had a place in my life, I am learning lessons from everything I have gone through. I will never forget you. I will never forget to tell my future children to stay away from people like you. People that inflict hurt for their own personal gain. Instead, I will surround my life with beautiful hearted, loving people, so that my children will learn from that and know what real love looks like.

Good bye,

Hayli

A Letter To The Ex That Scarred Me

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Hello.

This last summer I met you on one of the worst days of my entire year. My living situation was in a rocky place, as I was in quite a fight with my roommates. I decided I needed a night out with one of my girl friends to take my mind off of things. Little did I know you would come into the picture and flip my world upside down.

Sitting at Hopcat, we were enjoying the weather, and the people watching. Your drunk brother came over and started having a conversation. Earlier in the night I had spotted you across the courtyard area of the restaurant and thought that you looked quite cute. I was curious, thats for sure. As your brothers talking to us, he said that his brother wouldn’t come over, and that he’s shy. So I told him to tell you to get your ass over to us and stop being anti-social. Sometimes I wish I had never said those words.

You made your way over, introduced yourself, and then after a while you offered to buy me a drink. I declined because I felt bad, but you went and bought me one, and didn’t even get one for yourself. I drank it, and my girl friend and I decided we wanted to relocate to Shakespeares. Your brother and yourself soon followed.

Your brother got more and more drunk. He was loud. Obnoxious. Made very inappropriate comments towards me about how I “need some good dick in my life” and how you “need to get laid.” I chalked it up to the fact that he was toasted. We exchanged numbers, and you left with your wasted brother.

When you left, you also left me with his tab. I figured you had just forgotten because he was a sloppy mess and you wanted to get out of there. It was fine.

We talked, went on a date, and the date went well. Everything seemed so easy with you. You were fun, handsome, and great to talk to. Soon after we started seeing each other on a more serious note, and this is where everything started to crumble.

A few weeks in I got messages from your ex-girlfriend. You didn’t tell me that when we went on our first date, you were still dating her. She told me a lot of things. Bad things. I broke up with you. Then I rationally thought about things, talked to a few of my friends, and they said I should take you back. That she was crazy, and soon I believed she was crazy too. So we were fine. You helped me with my homework, drove an hour to see me, took me to nice dinners, and opened my car door everywhere we went. You were what I deemed perfect.

A few weeks more and you broke up with me this time. You dumped me at a bar. Left me there sitting, baffled. Life was “too much” for you and you didn’t want to drag someone else into it. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what had happened. A week later and we were back together, again.

I should’ve known that breaking up this many times already wasn’t healthy. It had only been a month. That isn’t normal. After that rocky first month, things seemed to get even more perfect. Except for that night where I got drunk, you made sure I knew you hated the fact I was drunk and having fun, and you were going to leave me at the bar we were at. You started to leave, making me chase after you. You wouldn’t stop and talk to me, you just kept walking. I had to run across four lanes of one way traffic in downtown kalamazoo just to catch up to you. When we got to the car we argued and argued. You wouldn’t even talk to me for the next few days. I felt guilty and kept apologizing. I had done something wrong it seemed, and I needed to fix it. Eventually, like always, things were fine.

You told me you loved me soon after. I believed you. For a while I thought I loved you, too. I met your parents, stayed the night with you, was intimate with you. You talked about moving in together. I wasn’t even shocked at the quickness that all this was happening because it seemed so natural. So easy.

When things fall though, they seem to fall quickly. Our relationship completely fell apart in less than a week. It started on a Thursday and ended on a sunday, our downfall that is.

That thursday I had told you that some things were bothering me, and I explained them calmly. You exploded. Left me hanging with the “I don’t know if this is going to work. I need some time to think.” Bullshit. Friday we went for a walk. You promised that you wanted to be with me for the rest of your life, and that we would work everything out.

Sunday. Sunday…..I went out to the bar with a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time. He had kissed me several times. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t lead him on. I told you about it, face to face, and was completely honest. I never lied to you. I didn’t even want to lie to you. You said that everything would be fine and that we would work through anything that came our way.

You got very pushy about having sex with me that night. I felt completely violated. I caved in because I knew you would be relentless. You begged and begged for me to give you a blow job. I said no, no, no, no, at least ten times. All I can remember is you forcefully shoving yourself into my mouth. I remember throwing up in my mouth soon after because it was too much. I know you knew but kept going. I just went with everything at that point. I didn’t know what to do. I knew that whatever I said wouldn’t be enough.

I got a text from my friend that had kissed me while this was going on. He had said that he thought we would make a cute couple. I texted him right after and had told him I agreed, and then later I had sent that wished I was with him right then. I think I agreed out of spite. I hated you. I hated you so much in those moments. The second text was not a good text to send on my part, but I think had anyone texted me, I would’ve sent the same message. I loved you but I didn’t want to be with you in those moments. I wanted to be miles and miles and miles away. I wasn’t even sure of who you were. I know that saying those things wasn’t right, and if I could take it back I’m sure that I would. I understand how it looks, but I would never cheat on someone. I’m not a person to lie, and you should know that. I told you everything. IF I even try to lie, you can see right through me. Anyways… I put my phone away and tried to get some sleep. My phone went off and I ignored it. You didn’t though. A little while late you ripped the covers off of me and told me to get the hell out. I was confused. You recited my texts, not even allowing me to explain the context, how I meant it, or why it was said. I cried and cried, and we talked outside. You drove off, and so did I. I had prayed you would’ve drove to my house.

See, even though what you did to me was so….wrong, I still felt like everything was only my fault. I still felt the need to make up for things. I still….I just didn’t know what to do.

We did have a dinner together. We also had a beer a few days before that. The beer at Shakespeares, and the dinner at Hopcat. The two places that had started our relationship in the first place. You told me that even though you believed me, that my friend wouldn’t understand that I wasn’t being romantic, and that you just couldn’t do it.

I had some health complications after we broke up. Complications I don’t feel comfortable discussing. You know what they are, because I told you. This was all a rough time for me. The breakup, what happened, and my health.

When you got angry with me, you’d tell me that I was overcompensating when I asked if you had ever cheated. I had asked you because there were a couple things that would stand out to me that seemed odd, like you were trying to hide me from someone or something. You said that I was overcompensating for the fact that I was the unfaithful one, even though that wasn’t the case.

There were things aside from what happened that night that really hurt me. Like when you made a jab at my mental illness. When you made sure I never met any of your friends, and then would ignore me all day that time we were supposed to go to their pool party. When you went on and on for a long time about how your work buddies were trying to set you up with the waitress when you went to lunch. You kept talking about her looks, like you were trying to hide the fact that she was attractive. When you took the photo of us off your phones background because your buddies kept asking who the girl in the photo was. No one knew who I was. No one knew I had existed. You told me you took it off because them asking all the time got annoying and stressful.

When I took a look at the bigger picture, I realized that your previous girlfriend wasn’t crazy. She was right. I was experiencing everything that she had messaged me about. All you wanted to do was have sex, or go to dinner. I wanted to grow with someone. I wanted to be loved and cared for. I wanted to be more.

I still struggle with what happened to me.

I can’t even think about sex sometimes. My desire to engage in that activity has dwindled to almost nothing. I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t like sexual jokes or gestures. I don’t want anyone to touch me.

I’m in a serious relationship with my ex boyfriend. The one that you had met, at the bar. The one I had problems with. He’s grown and changed, and I have fallen in love all over again, with a new him. Do you know how difficult it is to not have sex? To not want to? To be repulsed by the idea of it? I won’t let him touch me in sexual manners.

We had sex once. Him and I. I immediately wanted to burst into tears when everything was said and done. I felt faint, like I was going to pass out. I felt pain. I hate you for that.

When you would touch me, it was painful. You weren’t gentle or romantic. It felt as though you were punching me a thousand times, and you often made me bleed. I felt scared to say anything. The times I did, nothing changed. You never allowed me to reach my climax, you were very selfish. I am afraid for the next woman that you touch in any way.

These things are hard for me to talk about. They’re humiliating. I feel like lesser of a person because of everything that happened between us.

I saw someone that looked like you recently. I felt panicked. Nausea immediately swept over me. I wanted to cry.

I don’t think that I could face you again.

You claimed to be a christian. I pray that you TRULY find God, because maybe he could lead you in a better direction.

Your nice car, your money, and your smile, do not equate to a good man.

Maybe you’ll be good for someone else someday. I just hope she doesn’t face anything that I did. I hope she is stronger than I am. I hope that she is brave.

I hope mostly, that no one else goes through what I was put through.

I am growing. Learning. And trying to heal. I think that one day I can be whole again. I know that it is going to take a lot of time for me to feel comfortable, sexually. Something that was once fun, intimate, is now horrifying, painful, and saddening. I don’t want things to be that way. I don’t want you to take anything away from me, anymore.

You were everything at one point. You gave me happiness. You took more away from me than I came to you with, and that is not okay. I hope that you at least feel sorry.

I feel a lot of guilt. Like I could have done something to prevent ALL of this from happening. Like I could have done or said something differently to change the outcome. Regardless, I would not want to be with you. I was manipulated, conned, and stabbed in the heart, and even my mind.

I feel as though this letter could go on for ages. Theres just so much unresolved emotion and feeling that I don’t know what to do with. If this ever falls in your lap, I do not wish to hear from you. Just know that you hurt me. That you did severe damage.

Someday I will be able to forgive you. I am not saying that I am innocent, and I know that I did things that helped along the downfall. I shouldn’t have sent those texts. I could’ve just said no to grabbing a beer. Yet, there was still damage done. I know that one day I can forgive you and be able to move completely forward. I will be rid of the pain, but never the memories. Someday, but that day is not today.

I hope that you find your way. I hope that your demons stop haunting you. I hope that you can heal.

Goodbye,

Hayli.

A Series of Letters

I think that something that might help me heal is writing a series of letters to the people that have affected my life, mainly in a negative way. I don’t have any intentions of sending these letters, they are merely for my sense of closure and relief.

There are at least 4 people I can think of that I want to write these letters to. Now, I don’t want to say that these people that I am writing to are bad people. I just think they are bad for me, and toxic for my personal health. There has been some damage done that is taking quite some time to reverse, and I think it’s good to talk about these things. So for my next few posts, you will be reading letters. Various lengths, various people, various topics and reasons.

I think I am going to start with the most comfortable to write, not that ANY of them are comfortable to write, because they will all be painful. My parents will be the last letters I write. They will be the hardest. If you recall, the last time I tried to write a letter to my dad, I had a massive breakdown the next night. While it wasn’t entirely fueled by that, it definitely put on some extra stress. These letters will be hard, but I do find that they’re necessary.

Not So Happy Holidays

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Holidays have always been something that I find difficult for me. You think of family gathering and having a good time. Laughter, kids playing together, opening gifts and eating good food. That’s what it was like for me when I was younger. Much younger. Now I don’t see the holidays quite like I use to.

Up until I was about 15 years old, every Christmas Eve we would all gather at my grandmothers house. My parents, my brothers and I, aunts, uncles, and all of our cousins. Even my great grandmother! We would laugh, have fun. Eat tons of great food, and after we ate us kids would tear into the heaps of presents that waited under the Christmas tree. Part of the charm of all of this was my grandmas tree. Decorated in tons of homemade decorations she had collected over the years from her grandkids and her own children. Sometimes we would decorate ornaments and give them as gifts. No one ever hung them on their trees (they were hideous haha) but everyone admired the time and effort that us children had put into them. The best part of this get together wasn’t even the presents. It was the family. My family wasn’t by any means close knit, but we were all close. We were often at our cousins houses and vice versa, and we all lived in a fairly small town. Everything rapidly changed after my 16th birthday, and large family get togethers ceased to exist.

With my current parental situation, I haven’t spent a Christmas or Thanksgiving with them in 4 years. The holiday right after I got kicked out I did spend with them, but soon after that everything deteriorated. So, my first Christmas alone was, well, lonely. So was every Christmas after that. While I am surrounded by my boyfriends family and loved ones, I still feel like an outsider. I have learned to open up and communicate with them better, but I still feel as though they don’t know me, rather they know of me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know why I am there. I know that I am loved and welcomed and they get me gifts and its fun, but its not my own family. It’s not my Christmas.

This year I have been going all in for Christmas gifts. I have already purchased almost all of them, and I am really trying to put in the effort this year. Which maybe is why I find myself getting more and more emotional with each passing day. I often think of writing my parents letters for Christmas, but I would hate to ruin their holiday. I simply don’t know how to process how to feel, even after all of these years have passed. I ask myself silly questions that I find more hurtful than helpful. I wonder if they still have the ornament with my baby picture from my first Christmas, and if they still put it on the tree like every year before. I have to remind myself that that is ridiculous, and that in the big scheme of things that doesn’t have to matter.

I can’t help these feelings I am having though. Christmas, much like my birthday, bring feelings of desertion. Feelings of sadness and longing to have a family again. I wonder how this could even still be happening…Yet it is okay, and I will be okay. I always will be, and always am. There is simply nothing that I can do for the situation. I have to learn to grow, and have patience. I feel hurt for them too, as they have missed out on so much of my life already. A lot can happen in five years.

I hope they know though that I have not forgotten them. While I know they remember me, and in ways I wish they wouldn’t, I guess it’s better than not at all. You can’t always change an idea someone forms about you, regardless of if that idea is true or not.

This holiday, I am just going to try and surround myself with the best people I know. The remaining family I have, and the amazing friends I know will always be considered my family. I am loved by many, and I know that I have their support in times like this. For now I am going to try and keep my head up, my eyes on the bigger picture, and remember that I am strong. The greatest gift I ever received came from all this pain: my strength and my courage to push forward.

Mirage

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You are the embodiment of everything I have ever feared.

Abusive, charming.

A manipulative liar.

A dirty soul claiming to be pure.

When you bought me that drink, you slipped something evil in there. Because after that I lost myself.

I lost my control.

I lost the love I had for myself.

I lost my independence and my confidence.

You were absolute poison for my fragile system.

You cheated the system and were always two steps ahead of the game, because you already knew how this one would end. I would lose everything that I came into your life with, and you would leave so much richer.

The thought of you now makes my stomach turn. The idea that I let something I feared most control so much of my life is a sickening thought.

I acted blind, but I saw you for everything that you were, and I somehow still accepted it.

Looking back now, I don’t think I have ever been more ignorant in my life. Such a stupid girl had taken over me.

The smile of a devil lured me in with warmth and open arms. Once inside I realized the weather there was quite cold, the heart so frigid.

I wish I could say that I hate you. Yet, the feelings I have left burn much deeper than that. I pray for the lost soul that connects with yours next. I fear that yours is simply a mirage. An empty space where only coldness grows.

 

Little Rut

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Lately I have been in this weird mood swing kind of thing. I don’t like it, I can tell you that much.

I find myself getting envious of those around me. I know that I have things that  I should appreciate and things that I am definitely thankful for, but I always see areas of my life that I am unhappy with. How do I fix this mindset?

It ranges between many things. One day its my appearance, the next my car, the next my income. I find that I am feeling like the world around me is moving forward and I am staying stationary. I fear that I won’t become successful. I have all these fears of different things, yet I have no motivation to make sure my fears don’t come true. I am seemingly leaving everything up to fate. I don’t think that this is the best way to live.

Some things I take control of, however. These things are things I have no other option than to take control of though. Things like my car breaking down.

Maybe I am just in some sort of rut. I haven’t gone to therapy in at least a month, as my therapist has been gone for health reasons. I will be seeing her soon, thank God.

I guess the only thing I can do in the meantime is try to gain some form of motivation. Try to appreciate the things I do have a little bit more. It’s hard when you get in this type of rut to stay above the water at times, but life is no fun when you’re drowning.

Mental Health

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Today is world mental health day. What an important day this is…& for many different reasons. 

Mental health is such an important thing to maintain. Not only does being healthy mentally help us live easier lives, but it helps us live healthier lives, overall. When your brain is unhealthy so is your body. 

The one thing with mental illness that sucks (aside from the illness itself) are the things society says about it. There’s such a stigma with having it. You may be looked down upon, shamed, made fun of, harassed, and bullied. It’s romanticized at times. The many illness are thrown around and abused like suddenly everyone has them. Those who DO truly suffer, like myself, hate these things. We WANT to be healthy. Some of us take steps, and some of us aren’t ready to. It took me years to finally take the steps to better myself. 

For those of you that don’t suffer from a mental illness, you are blessed. While you don’t suffer, I think it’s important to understand how things work, why they work, and how to help. Especially if a loved one suffers. Knowing triggers, signs, why the brain works that way, means a great deal to us. It shows you do care. 

Today is an important day. 

Today sheds light on a not so glorious topic. No one likes talking about depression, suicide, anxiety, bipolar, BPD, etc., but it needs to be talked about. As a society it is our job to learn and grow. It’s our job to support one another and help a neighbor in need. Today’s important because there are many brave souls that have passed. There are many brave souls who fought through the darkness and are now in the light of happiness. There are many brave souls who are still fighting. I’m still fighting my battle, knowing that one day, maybe just maybe, I will be free. 

Knowledge is power. Remember this. No matter the subject, if you’re knowledgeable, there is great power in that. Maybe teaching yourself about mental illness will help you save someone. 

If you’re out there, and you’re struggling, never be afraid to reach out. To me, to a friend, anyone. There are people like you. There are people who want to help. People who love you. People who care. Be strong. Be fierce. Be you. Be a dreamer. Be a fighter. Be hopeful even when you think you’ve no hope left. 

If you or someone you know is having suicidal thoughts, please call the national suicide prevention hotline at 1-800-273-8255

Much love. 

Agonizing

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I wish for something more than pain. 

The agony ripples through my life like a wave on a shore. Disrupting the sands of happiness.  

Pain, however, is all I’ve ever known. 

When someone writes my biography, their pen will bleed. Pages will tear. Thoughts will be hard to process. They too will glimpse my misfortune. 

Happiness has seemingly become pain that is just less painful than the usual. 

My body a canvas for scars and burns. Stab wounds and cuts. 

One look in the mirror and my fragile mind is shattered, for I see nothing more than a girl who has become all too frail. This image sweeps a new kind of sadness over my heart. 

I ask myself every day when the hurt will end. I ask myself if I acknowledge it, am I just giving it power to manifest into something bigger? Yet ignoring it only snowballs it until I break and all the hurt is unleashed in a firey fury. 

The fire leaves coals and ashes that burn slowly and deep within, preparing for the next flames that are now easier to ignite. 

But…

When will this all end?