To My Room..

Here I sit, alone.

It has been snowing for days on end, Ava has been stuck in Uniontown for a very long time now. Its painful. I can't bare to post any pictures of her in this blog post, I can barely look at any. When I get her back I will do our Christmas post, with Christmas pics and let everyone know how that went. Like I said, I just can't do that right now.

I am learning a lesson in life, a huge one. At the cost of almost everything. I am learning that there is nothing easy, there is no *way out*, there is nothing easy.

You have to work hard. In order to work hard at life, you have to have a good mind set. This is what I believe anyways. Well, somewhere from the time I was born, until now...something went wrong with my *mind set* . I am going to be brutally honest here, because..well I think its time..not time that I am honest with you all, whomever might be reading this lost and forgotten blog, but honest with myself. This is calming for me. Its calming for me to write and type this all out, even if, perhaps..it makes no sense..to anyone, but myself.

Everyone has it hard. No one has it easy. Nothing is easy, remember? Everyone has hardships, everyone has problems, issues, traumas, bad days, ..I guess its the duration of the bad times, the duration of the bad days, and how long the trauma lasts ....or even how *strong* the said person is, in how the person handles things, how they are able to function in their every day life, in how they are able to live normally, and happy...

I guess I am *not* that strong one. I am not making excuses, I have never been strong ...i am the sensitive weak one. I cry when i watch movies, I break down at the least possible hint of a stressful situation. I worry, but i do nothing with that worry.

What happens, when your whole life has been one constant ...oh whats the word? One constant...cluster of ..*wrong*.....just *wrong*...

My dad is an alcoholic. They had me , and fought constantly. My dad, was ..is...indeed..abusive, not so much physically, buy more so..throwing things, couldnt sit down to dinner without plats and cups getting shattered, couldn't talk..or..it was "just missy, trying to put her two cents in..just go back to your room Melissa"...he would yell at my mom in drunken rages, push her around...I would stick up for my mom, the best way a 9..10..11 year old could, I would tell my dad to *shut up* , to * leave my mommy alone* ...to, * go away *..in turn, my mom...protecting him, despite his actions toward her, despite the holes in doors, despite the mental abuse to all four of her children, would indeed protect him...tell me to *shut up* ...to * mind my own, business *..and the best one..*you just make it all worse Melissa...*..I was trying to stick up for her, but that meant nothing to her...

Go back to my room? But of course. That was the best place to be, and I soon hardly ever came out..listening to the fights from behind my door, or just keeping my ear phones on..turning to angry music to get my through the days, nights...trying my best to wash away the memories of such things like, my drunken father coming home, out of his mind..pushing my mom, shoving me, at 9 years old down..us running away outside at 2 am, to hide under the neighbors porch for the night..watching him drive up and down the road looking for us. Or driving around all hours of the night, searching for the bar dad was out...not even sure what the point of that was. Or being a child and hearing your dad say , he wishes he never had kids, how much better life would be.

To my room? To my room is where I stayed. It where i stayed when my mom, who couldnt deal with my dad anymore ..decided to leave. Not tell anyone, and just leave me there. to just run away and disappear. To then us all get letters, and when my dads was read, it stated how she couldnt deal, and she knew * melissa hated her * are you kidding me? I was 13.

I stayed in my room.
She came back, the family, cops, everyone was involved..she walked back into the house..hair dyed...she had , indeed had enough...and tried to escape. I don't blame her. It was so easy to slam that door, and never come out.

I met someone, who i reluctantly dated. I had turned 19..never really had a boyfriend, besides...that one. Which is more complicated, and had more to do with me staying in my room. Anyways, i had met someone..that wanted to date me..from work. I would say no..no no...i even stood him up, I didnt really want to come out of my room..at all..ever.

I caved. Started meeting up with this person, he told me loved me. Huh? Yeah, ok. So on we went. Months passed, and this person said he loved me. We hung out, and had some great times. Who knew? I was staying at his house more and more...i gravitated to a *new room* and eventually moved in. Before this, I had seen an outrage in him. He loved me, but he was angry..but thats all I knew. Anger. I assumed it was normal. Every man, is angry. My sisters husbands, ex husbands..all angry, my uncle angry...my brothers, dealing with their own childhood problems, going through horrible times trying to work through their own fog...were very angry...and my dad..well we know he was one of the most angry men alive.

Thinking back, I dont remember ..or even think I was in love. I was in ...wow, i am out of my house, and this person loves me..I loved him. As a friend, as a person who was helping me escape ...my room,,and gave me a new room.

That room, was starting to not be peaceful. Like i said, that anger was showing...another angry man, throwing..punching holes in the wall, scaring me to pieces. But, i was promised...* i dont break things I love..ok? * ..uhm..*ok, but it still scares me...i mean, the loud crash, the hole sall through the walls, and doors broken off hinges , remotes and phones crushed to pieces....it does scare me..* This room was not so peaceful. But I had no worries. Because , he didnt break things he loved...

Unless it was never love. Unless it was something, that I just cant understand..but this man was angry, perhaps even more angry than my own father. Soon, it was if i made a peep and it affected him in what he was doing, *my* things would be broken, my water colors, the phone, things would get taken away from me...i kept making the same mistakes over and over again. Soon it was indeed me, getting cans of pop dumped on me, getting my things broken..things taken off me if i made the wrong move, said the wrong thing. This is what I now know, and hate to admit...and can barely say, because some people probably think its bull..was mental abuse. It was wrecking my mind, I was soon...not good enough, fat...ugly..stupid..couldn't cook, couldnt clean good, ate too much..did too little..said all the wrong things..was afraid to breathe...how embarrassing.

And soon, in my room..he must have stopped loving me, because he started breaking me. Breaking my soul apart, worse than my dad ever did. My already fragile ( insert pity part here please ) soul..was being torn apart , bit by bit. He was also, starting to break me...physically. I didn't understand, and still don't..I still blame myself, I am still not sure if I deserved what went on in that room. It took me 8 years and a good friend talking major sense into me, that made me leave..that room. In all this mess, we had a baby. My precious little girl..that did not deserve to see her things get smashed, she did not deserve to have to be afraid.

So, I was abused. Mentally, Physically...and any other way possible.

Saying that on here, is very hard. Sometimes I don't believe it, but obviously something is wrong, was wrong..is wrong...

I had a friend from, forever ago. That talked to me, talked sense into me and was there for me ..through a lot.

I fell in real true love with this friend. We were best friends first, and I fell head over heels in love. I can honestly tell you, that I have never...ever...felt this kind of love before, and have never felt more loved.

This love is perfect. I can stare into his peaceful, quiet eyes..forever. I can lay in his arms all night, and all day. I am slowly learning not to be afraid of this love, of him....his love. I am taken care of, I am never scorned, I wait for it..i look for it, i look for his anger in every move he makes. There is none. This is a man without anger. This is a man, who has had just as a rough life as anyone, and has no anger. I have never seen a man without anger.

The room. His room. He doesn't understand, why i feel comfortable, staying in his room. Its what I know. But this room is peaceful. There is no yelling outside the door, there is no drunk man outside punching holes all through the wall. There is no man, inside the room..breaking my things, yelling at me, breaking me, breaking my heart, my soul...there is nothing but peace. I am left alone. I like being alone. Perhaps that is not a good thing. But its what I know...

I am struggling. While I have found the most perfect, happy, peaceful love in the world...my mind has issues from my past. Why? I don't know. Perhaps in writing this, I can begin to heal. I can have some closure, or not be embarrassed to write out my feelings, when I am having memories of the past, and things are re running over and over in my head, causing me to become near lifeless, and drowning in my tears while everyone sleeps.

I over compensate to this love, I give it my all..and I want to give this man my all. He says to back off a bit. Where is the line? Its a fine line. I want to do it all, I dont want to slack..i want to do it all. I want to take care of this man and my baby to my best ability .

My ability is not very much. While I am so loved, and so happy with this love. I am failing as a person. Failing this love, failing my baby. I want it to stop, but not sure how. I want our own place, I cant keep failing like this. I will get a job, make money and give us a house. Where, we can each have our own rooms to escape to.

I want to heal. I want to have goals, and dreams. I want to pick up my camera and be that photographer that I know I am in my heart. I need to take care of my love and my baby, both of my loves.

Please, dont read this wrong and think..wow this girl can never be happy. I am happy. Its very hard being a single mom, i was a stay at home mom, and now i am just thrown out there...I am learning...I need to make money, work hard, make something out of this..these are hard times..but I am happy and thankful that I am having this opportunity to heal my mind, i am so blessed. I am so so very blessed, that this man loves me..for me. He makes me feel like most loved person in the world..

After all..this is all I ever wanted..was someone to love me.

And now its time to heal. I am going to heal, I am going to move on. I am going to make the best out of whats left of my life.