My own words have returned to haunt me. Not like a parent’s words to their children, but words I wrote in a journal so many years ago.
I received my first journal for my 8th birthday. I clearly remember asking for the Hello Kitty diary and was so excited when I unwrapped it. It also came with a little marker set. My step-sister was jealous and I remember telling her I was going to hide it so she would never know what I wrote.
Fast forward to 2 weeks ago. I was cleaning out a section of my garage and came across a box of my old journals. This was somewhat of a relief because I had lost track of where they were and had become concerned. Anyway, I took all journals upstairs to hide them in my closet, away from any potential prying eyes. Later that night I decided to start reading the Hello Kitty diary. I thought it would be fun to see what an 8-year-old girl thought about life. Turns out the journal had age gaps. It covered from age 8 until almost the end of age 14.
I read passages to my husband, just the cute parts. I wrote about kids in school I did not care for and the unfairness of being the oldest child. I wrote about not liking my stepfather and moving away to another city, leaving my best friend behind. I now had the date of when I started to cut myself and told my husband about it. I was 13 years old and barely remembered the abuse at that time. About 6 months later I had taken a lot of aspirin and was really sick. I then remembered how I felt after taking the aspirin. I blacked out a few times and the world continued to spin. I went to sleep wondering if I was going to wake up, not really caring one way or the other. My husband was supportive and expressed sadness at my having felt that hopeless as a teenager.
What disturbed me the most were the parts I did not read aloud. I am not sure about you, but a lot of my childhood is really fuzzy. I remember bits and pieces but huge chunks of time are missing. The Hello Kitty diary revealed more details than I wanted.
They way I remembered things was very different from what was written. I lived with the assumption I was a prudish, quiet, and somewhat rebellious child/teenager. If what is written in the diary is true, it was not always that way. I described the things I did with my boyfriends, apparently there were several, and how I was more mature than my friends as far as sexual knowledge. A couple of boyfriends were introduced to oral sex either right before or during middle school. It was a different time then and none of my other friends had done anything like that. I had way more sexual knowledge than a 13 year old should have.
My stomach turned constantly while I read the diary. My Hello Kitty diary was full of events and acts never belonging in any journal much less a child’s. It was sickening. My heart became heavy and the feelings of worthlessness overcame me. I sank deeper into a depression that had fairly recently flared up.
Unfortunately, I did not take care of myself that night and pushed it all to the side. Before the journal reading I had promised my husband we would have sex that night. Since I was not totally honest about how I was feeling and felt so much shame, I fulfilled the promise when I really, really did not want to. It was completely unfair to my husband and to myself. I barely remember it. Afterwards I felt used and ashamed, not by my husband but by me. I had used my body because I was ashamed to tell my husband why things had changed. My husband deserves better. I deserve better.
I am still struggling with reconciling my illusion of the past with what was written in the journal. Again, as it was at age 3, my sense of reality was altered. I feel uneven and just lost.
