Once upon a Repression, there was a girl, who was like any other girl at the start, liking pink, wearing dresses, thinking about true love, believing in happily ever after…until she saw her parents fighting in their room.
She was confused at first, scared too. She has never seen Mummy so violent. ‘Why is Mummy punching Daddy?’ Daddy’s eye is purple. Mummy looks scary.
She asked, ‘Mummy, why did you do that to Daddy?’, peeking curiously behind the door, and her Mummy went into a rage, screaming her head off. Daddy tried to stop her, raising his voice too. The little girl can’t remember what they said, and neither apologised either, but she remembers the next day, watching her friends parents smiled so happily when seeing their kids, how in love they are, how they are going on holiday to Bali, or doing something special together.
She missed that, that feeling of happiness, that feeling of safety, the feeling of being wanted. Now all she feels is emptiness. Meanwhile, while she, a small girl, didn’t even feel safe in her own home, all her parents did was just yell, yelling about how much they hated each other, how much they wished they never met them, how they wish they never had a kid.
She taught herself how to lie so excellently, her own Mummy couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth or not. The girl tried her best to ignore the yelling, to be good, to be the nice daughter with perfect parents, happy with what she had, not caring about a thing, like usual kids do. She tried so hard. But her parents couldn’t handle it, and Daddy walked out the door. At least she had her Mummy, right?
Right?
She wishes it was so, she wishes Mum was there when she was still adjusting, so new to living in two different homes.
She was pushed into being a messenger for her parents, since they wouldn’t text, call, or talk to each other. About taxes, about legal parent permissions, stuff that a little girl shouldn’t know until she was older.
And hearing her parents calling each other a ‘Wanker’, ‘Dickhead’, ‘Fucking asshole’, ‘Bitch’, etc, etc, she was led to the feeling of being forced to pick a side, and she couldn’t, so torn between her parents.
The girl’s Mummy wouldn’t talk to her, always drinking gross water, always going to the pub across the road made her tipsy. She was always breathing smoke, the little girl thought she was turning into a dragon. The little girl’s dad tried his best, teaching her swimming, going overseas, sightseeing, getting toys for her, to help the girl adjust, and the girl played along, always lying, always smiling.
But bottling up your emotions ain’t good, is it? But that why she was never afraid of the dark, it let her be whatever I wanted to be. If she needed to cry, the darkness of her room wouldn’t judge her.
But when the girl started to talk about her Daddy in front of Mummy, Mummy would yell at her, ‘Shut up, stupid girl! Say that man’s name again, and I’m spanking you!’. And the little girl did tried her best, but what can you expect from a 5 year old kid? ‘Kids feel too much’ People will say, but…weren’t they kids too?
Her Mummy was always angry, always ignoring her, always using the excuse, ‘I’m busy right now, go play with your toys.’ , In a detached manner. Having all of her friends in different towns and cities, the girl had no one to confide in, and herself didn’t matter. She learned how to analyse her emotions, and to build a wall around her heart and mind that couldn’t be breached.
Then, suddenly, it’s her sixth year of being alive, her birthday. One of the few days she actually felt something. Do you know what her friends got her? A book, then another book, then another and another.
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The girl was good at reading, and she enjoyed it. Her parents still fought all the time, over the phone, and in person, but at least she had her books, to forget the world around her, to live with the elves, the fairies, and the centaurs too! She loved ‘The Magic Faraway Tree’, it is still one of her favourite books. But for the lesser details.
She always felt guilty, this 6 year-old girl, for wanting parents like, Jo’s, Beth’s and Franny’s. So, so selfish. So much…hate. Still, she didn’t express herself, too scared of being the centre of attention, like she needed someone else to be it, so she could watch again, from the side-lines.
Attention…What is the meaning of Attention? The meaning is simply focusing on one thing, and one thing only. Why would a girl not want attention? Is it because, no one asked her why she was upset? Why she was quiet, when, she used to be the most bubbly person in the room? They don’t care. These thoughts, too old for a 6 year-old, repeated often in her mind, too often. This, was the second big step, of her self-esteem lowering, of her beginning to hate herself.
Once upon a Repression, her Mum, found herself a guy, a musician. Nice guy, tall, funny, and played in a comedic band. The little girl suddenly realised, that this could be her escape to happy ever after. She wanted a sibling. Someone who could help her, someone who would be there for her, no matter what. And, she got her wish. Two months in, of dating that guy, Mum told her, she was going to have a sibling. Another shot of dopamine for the girl. And with Dopamine, its very quick, and very high. Her excitedness went through the roof, so funny, always smiling, laughing. But when her baby brother was born, the Dopamine rush ended, and plummeted her down to Earth, forcing her to wake up and face the fact that, the guy and Mum, weren’t happy. She knew what path awaited them now.
She didn’t want her little brother to end up like a weirdo like her, who would want that? So, she tried again. Again and again and again and again, to try to help Mum’s relationship, at the age of seven. Telling her to go out with the guy to a pub in the day, smiling and saying she and her brother will watch a movie or something. But Mum didn’t like that, so she gave her a babysitter instead. Luckily, the older girl, was a family friend, so cool, so grown up, she knows so much, the 7 year-old girl wanted to be like her.
One day, while her brother, stepfather, and mum were out of the house, the girl was being looked after by the older girl. They played UNO, and watched a movie, and played hide ’n’ seek. But something was different about the older girl, kept on touching her ‘accidently’ in places that shouldn’t be ever touched as a 7 year-old. Later that very day, the older girl wanted them to go the the girls room.
She asked, ‘Do you want to be cool? To know stuff about us girls?’ , The younger girl nodded vigorously, excited to learn something. The older girl explained sex. To a 7 year-old.
The younger girl still didn’t quite understand, so when the older girl asked if she wanted to try some stuff, she nodded, still curious. The older girl called it ‘games’, starting off with playing ‘doctor and patient’, touching each other’s privates, and the girl didn’t like it, yet she kept on smiling, and going along, always goddamn smiling, always lying, always putting on a mask, and pretending to enjoy it.
Her parents never found out what happened to her, what she went through, because they were too busy working full-time jobs, fixing something, cooking, cleaning, not having enough time for her, so she kept this ‘little secret’ to herself.
Once upon a Repression, her day-to-day life changed slightly, after she got…introduced to, I guess you could say, “womanhood”. School became kinda tough, when she felt wrong in her skin, like she had to be punished, like she did something wrong, like a sin. She never hurt herself, nor attempt to leave her life behind, but her whole aspect on life changed. The older girl showed her videos of other people doing dirty acts, and it affected her a lot. She was scared, alone, and so goddamn confused about what she wanted, what was her purpose, and how was she going to continue growing up, with already learning how life is created?
Big thoughts for a young girl.
Time skip to grade 6, she is about 12 years old, and every month or so, she got, putting it weirdly, sexually harassed by the older girl. By this time, every time she felt obligated to do something, there was a hollow feeling of dread, as though she was treading a line, once crossed, could not be undone. She finally had the courage to be ‘too tired to do anything’ and pretended to fall asleep. Nothing happened that night and no nightmares occurred. The next morning she felt free, and when she went home, she lock herself in her room, quietly proud, thinking that, ‘Now that chapter has been finished, I can forget about it, and not tell anyone.’
But Life has a fickle way of bringing back memories. Every week, she is reminded of what she did, what she experienced, she lied in her bed, unable to sleep because of how much the harassment plagued her dreams. Her friends, unknowingly, brought stuff up that was connected to it, and then proceeded to ask her, why was she so quiet? So detached? So selfish? The girl didn’t know how to respond. Just kept on lying and lying and lying and lying. What shall she do? How can she get rid of this ach in her chest? Is there something wrong with me?
Once upon a Repression, she becomes more detached at school, wanting to leave that hell already. She hates repetition, and its worse because her whole life, has be repetition, going from one house to the next, eating the same food, saying the same things over and over and over and over.
And she hates herself for everything she has done, because she knows its weighing her down, since all of her friends are gaining confidence, putting on makeup, being financially responsible, having jobs, while her anxiety gets the better of her.
Her Mother tried to get her to go to a therapist, but that made things worst, increased her expectations of herself, and suddenly, heating a pin under a lighter, and putting it on her skin, felt relieving.
And still at fourteen, she doesn’t tell a soul of course, who would care? Plus, they would probably think I’m hunting for attention. Always lies to protect herself, always smiling, having a joke, going from one house to the next, pushing herself deep in her books, just chasing a way to get rid of the unsafety, the fear, the sins, the doubt, and the constant, desperate hope, of wanting to be free.
