Posted on September 10, 2008


I escaped every summer when I was young, I stayed w/ my grand-mom & grand-daddy and I had my mom’s cousin I stayed w/ too. Those few weeks in the summer gave me a chance to not think about what he did to me and just be a kid. Looking back I am glad I had that time. It always seemed so hard to come home after my wonderful summers. I see now that I was depressed to be home. It took me a few days to cope w/ being back home and I hated I was sort of forced into it. He (the abuser) would always get mad at me for the way I acted when I came home from those summers. Like I was suppose to be happy I was suddenly home. In his eyes I wasn’t suppose to be depressed. What was I suppose to be happy & elated that he was abusing me? I guess, I despise him for that! I hated it! I hated that I had to suddenly snap out of it and be happy to see his face. I will never be happy to see his face!

Posted in: Childhood