Justice Wasn't Worth It

    I guess I'm lucky because it could have been worse...a lot worse. The reason my brother is my knight in shining armor is because he was aware of the danger of my biological dad, and he made the decision to do everything within his power to protect me from that danger. Whenever he would notice the signs of an outburst he would give me some form of an excuse to get out of the room. For example, he would tell me to go play the piano, go into my room, or something. For a while I told people that he made me a secret place in my closet with blankets and a radio to block out the noise, but it was just me exaggerating the appreciation I had for his protection.
    Another reason why I'm lucky is that I always felt like I was my biological father's favorite. I'm not sure why, and I don't think anyone can tell me why, but I didn't get the worst of the abuse. Majority of it was focused on my brother, and to this day I still have not been told the extent of it. Though, majority of my abuse was more emotional. I still have that list of names in my head like trash, worthless, and worse ones, and whenever I take a personal risk they pop into my head.
    The third reason why I'm lucky is because of my mom. She was always very positive, and she did everything to protect me as much as she could. In my childhood my mom did everything in her power to make me one of those extremely sheltered kids, and I now realize that it was her way of protecting me. I mean, if she couldn't protect me from my biological father maybe she tried to protect me from the things that was within her abilities.
    When my brother was getting ready for college he realized that once he left that I would be my biological dad's new target. All I know is that he told my mom that if she didn't get a divorce then he wasn't going to college. My mom packed the necessities that we needed, and we basically escaped. My brother stayed at his best friend's house, and my mom and I stayed at the home of her closest friend that I called my aunt.
    I do not remember exactly what I was thinking as an eight year old about the whole situation, but I do remember having nightmares. I would have horrible dreams and wake up to a wet bed, I wouldn't even walk into my biological father's closet, and I made two hospital visits due to stress. I had horrible abdomen pain, and at one point the doctors thought that my appendix was bursting before they realized it was stress. The next step after discovering that I did not have a medical condition, was what has turned into seven years of counseling.
    Through the process of getting away from my biological father, my mom had two choices. The first choice was to sue him, my biological dad, for domestic violence and child abuse. However, if my mom chose that way of escaping him she would have to put my brother and me through a painstaking trail without the promise of the trial ending in our favor because domestic abuse is extremely hard to prove without overwhelming physical evidence. In the end my mom attained a divorce along with a restraining order because the justice of a trial would not have been worth the scars that it would leave.

Love Changes

    I have learned many things from my story, and one thing in particular that I have learned is that love changes. My story begins fifteen years ago when I was born, and even though I don't remember my early years, I still know relevant pieces to my never ending puzzle. My mom was a stay at home mom, who homeschooled my brother and me. My brother is a little less then ten years older then me, and he has always been my knight in shining armor. My biological father was a P.A. for the military, and naturally we moved around a lot.

    We settled down in a city not too far from Dallas, Texas around the time I was three or four. The first house I can remember was in the semi-country, and I called it the mouse house. We lived close to this field that, in spring, would have a bunch of mice, and they would try to move into our house. It turned into a large problem, and my biological father set up a bunch of those sticky mouse traps all around the house. I remember once when I was getting ready for church I stepped on a mouse trap that was in my closet, and my mom had to pry it off.

    We moved to the second house that I can remember, and my nickname for the street was Milky Way. That name started when I heard my mom say the name of the street and I thought she said Milky Way. It had a front yard completely made of rocks instead of grass. It was in this house that I made a realization that would end my childhood innocence. First of all, I knew that my biological dad had anger problems, but I never second guessed it. I thought that it was normal for a dad to get angry, yell, threaten, insult, manipulate, and hit his family. I even thought I loved him.

    It was an instinctual love, though, and he earned my love by buying me random presents. Any shiver of love I had for him died on a Sunday. We had gone to church that morning and we went to Golden Corral for lunch, his favorite. I was too young to understand what was happening, I was around eight to be exact. I remember that my mom, brother, and he had an argument then he gave them both letters. He told me something about his leaving for good, and out of innocent instinctual love I asked my mom if I could go out and at least say goodbye.

    My mom raced me out into the parking lot and I was in tears. I screamed at him to stay with us as I approached the minivan sliding door. It was in the moment that he tried to pull me into the car saying that I was going with him that I screamed  that I hated him and wanted to stay with my mom and brother. Instead of him driving away and us never seeing him again, he looked at my mom and me and told us that he would see us at home.
    So, I'm sure we have all heard the phrase that love never dies. Although there may be someone who believes in that, I have learned that love changes. My instinctual love for my biological father changed day, and eventually ended. Just like trust, love has to be earned by those who have hurt you. I'm happy to say that he has not and never will regain my love, because there are better people for me to invest my love in.