Wednesday, June 23, 2010

I wrote this when I was a teenager going through physical harm by one of my brothers, including having been choked, his yells even worse than that to me cus it meant no freedom when my parents weren't home and sometimes even when they were. My brother just didn't seem to care, as long as he didn't get in trouble. And he did this when my older brother was not there. I covered my bruises cus they could be covered, and I let others think it was just due to my normal clumsyness that I had cus everyone knew that I really was clumsy, so tht was easy to lie to say I just fell or walked into something. But, I had tried telling some people at some points, later on. At the time, no one helped. Some people said I was just oversensitive about the things he did to me and of that I should keep it quiet, and of that they thought I could handle it. But therapists I started asking to go see from teen age on up had diagnosed me with PTSD and said that it seemt to be from the stuff that my brother had been doing. Anyway, below is this poem that explains what it was like when he would yell so loud (nnot just for me to hear him, well enough, but also to control me amde sure I was paying attention and would do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He'd cut my hand, and I went to a nieghbor to ask her to help fix it since it wasn't too badly injured. She did for me. He choked me into unconsciousness at another point. He'd hit me so often, and he beat me often, too. He kept me in his bedroom and restrained me or hit me, sometimes, if I'd tried to leave-even at 11p.m. or 1a.m., even if I was severely tired. I wasn't allowed to stay in mine or he would grab me and hit me or beat me. Once, he even took a huge medical book my parents had in a small book shelf that was in a type of extra living room, and he pinned me to the ground and beat me with it (the book was a thick hard covered book that was also big, with a while cover and lettering on it that was of different colours. One sometimes cannot forget details situations like that that happen in violent situations. He'd take the door knob off my door so that I couldn't go into my room to escape him and close and lock my door for safety from his violence or for time alone. And dad had come around and put it back on on several different occasions. Then my brother had just taken the door knob off, again, to keep me from being able to go tino my room to escape him and his violence. And my dad would put the door knob back on, agian. But he just knew how to take that doorknob off, again. I apologise for all of this long post, but I have to get it out of my system, apparently more than I thought I'd needed to vent. Anyway, there are some things I know might upset people who know me to tell read, even if they have heard this part, before, but I want to tell a small bit about it to let people understand more on what had gone on by my younger brother on me (he is older than me, but he is the younger brother. I am the only sister in a set of three kids). Anyway, he came in one day, and he closed the door, though not all the way, but enough so that he would not be heard, and he then asked me stuff that made me feel very uncomfortable because it pertained to sex. It was one thing to have conversations with sinblings about if a sibling broke up with someone or is wanting to date someone. But when a sibling crosses a line by asking another sibling for sex, that just crosses boundaries, and he had crossed my boundaries by asking me for sex. I told him that that is wrong because that is incest, and I then asked him why he was asking me that, and he replied about that he had this girl he, liked and of that he wanted to seem experienced with her. He had wanted to practise with me to seem experiences for her. Hello?!?!?! I know that he and I were adopted and all, but he is my biolgical brother adopted with me in a pair cus DCF had wanted to keep us together when we were adopted by an adoptive family. Anyway, he didn't care. With all that had gone on, I thought that maybe even though it wasn't right to do any of this to anyone, I thought that I just had to accept it, so when my ex-boyfirned from high school contaxted me, again once he got out of the service, I got back together with him, and then later continued a relationship with him and had children by him, marrying him along the way. Well, low self-esteem and severe depression plus some giving up on life had a role to play in my giving in to him and marrying him (that plus the fact that I thought I loved him). Anyway, my kids are adopted out for their safety, and I got a protective order and divorced him. I had a couple relationships after that that were abusive, too. Now, I am currently single. I am safe, so that is what is important. Anyway, here is my poem:

Looking Up At The Sky

As I look up at the sky,
I see clouds,
I see birds,
And life pass me by

I am jealous, because
The clouds and birds cannot see
The hatred and control
That you always show me

They get to move about, freely,
At their own pace, so gracefully
While you restrain me and ask me
Where I went and where I will be

They get to move to and fro’
No care in the world
While you unleash your anger and threats
As though the devil is unfurled

I look up at the sky
And wish that that were me,
Flying in the sky, so high
And forever, so free

Free from your yelling
Free from your control, beatings, belittlements, and accusations
When will you hurt me, again?
With you, there is no way of telling

And so, I look up at the sky
Crying, silently, daily,
Wishing that I was one of those birds
Who could fly, carelessly,
and just be free to be me

Author: April Morone
**Author’s note: I had written this when I was about 14 years of age, originally.

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