The Seventh Memory

As I got older, the more I saw through Larry.  It was painfully clear that not only was he a jerk, but a creeper, and a manipulator.  Larry and I argued almost daily.  He knew I saw through him, and he couldn't stand it, so he picked on me relentlessly.  If I was hurt and cried begging my mom to hear me out, he would mock me.  Both of them would.  They would fake cry, call me dramatic, say I was just trying to manipulate, when that was so far from my 14 year old intentions.  This was a real hit to my self-esteem, which was already in a pretty sad state.  I have several entries about wanting hugs, someone to hold me while I cried, and someone to listen.  Although Larry's abuse toward me was all emotional, there were times when he would do stuff that definitely put us all at risk.  If for whatever reason, he was pissed off (or high) while we were in the care, he would drive like a maniac,  once to the point of actually breaking the steering wheel and the seat of the car.  It was so scary and I would just close my eyes, hoping and praying that we would get pulled over, but somehow he was so adept at evading the cops it was unbelievable.  And my mom allowed it.  Perhaps at the time she felt she had no choice, but I can't help looking back and wondering why she wasn't more protective of us.  But, despite how much I disagreed with what my mom and Larry did, it never kept me from wanting their attention and approval.

03/29/00
Dear Diary,

I am so tired of Larry making me feel worthless, it is so depressing.  He mocks me and that hurts so bad.  Mom seems like she can't stand me.  She hates taking me anywhere or going.  It's always "how long is this going to take?"  Today I tried to read her this play I am in and she sighed and said "How long is it?  Why can't you just tell me about it?"  I am crying now and I hate it.

Love, Cassie

03/30/00
Dear Diary,

I am so angry & upset.  Last night after Larry left, Mom didn't come out of her room at all.  Then, this morning she was crying.  I can't stand to see my mom cry.  I hate what Larry is doing to us.  I am so alone.

Love, Cassie

04/12/00
Dear Diary,

Larry called me a "little bitch" and it really hurt my feelings.  I am completely alone and I hate who I am.

Love, Cassie

Now if someone were to call me a "little bitch" now, I would probably, in all honesty, tell them to fuck off and then think about it for hours wondering why they would say something so ugly.  So it really isn't that different than the way I reacted back then, other than not saying anything in response.  The truth was, Larry despised me, and since my mom and brothers saw him so differently, they seemed to despise me as well.

While all this is going on, Dad is still in rehab, and we are  invited to a "family weekend" where we do a bunch of feeling sharing.  So here we are, all in a room with our beloved addicts, not knowing each other, and having to share some of the most painful feelings we have.  We went through an exercise where you told the addict what they did that you "liked" and "disliked" and it had to end with how it made us feel.  So for example (I kept the folder and all the info from this, but I don't feel like digging it out to see what I actually wrote) "Dad, I dislike it when you don't show up to pick us up on the weekends, it makes me feel rejected."  Now this was unbelievable emotional.  I had to look my dad right in the eye and tell him all the things I had been too afraid to tell him up until that point.  I can tell you that if I had to do it right now, I would definitely shed tears, yet oddly enough it actually says in my diary that "there were a lot of tears shed, none shed by me."  So after all these teary diary entries, why all the sudden were my tears dried up?  I still don't know.  Perhaps it was because people were watching, or because I was afraid if I cried, my dad would cry more.  Unfortunately, my dad left the rehab program shortly after this (without finishing it), and it was all a wasted effort.  I really began to wonder what I had to do to save my dad, and what was so wrong with me that just him knowing what he was doing to me wasn't enough.  Perhaps that sounds selfish, but I couldn't see any greater motivation than a person's children.  And honestly I still don't.