You Care For Me...

Writing my diary they were some of the hardest words I had to write. Because writing it down made it true. And it was hard to accept that people out there actually cared for me. I knew when I wrote those words on the 16th of September that I should never have doubted the fact that Sara cared for me. But I did. I did for a long while. But never again. Never again will I ever doubt that she cares for me. 

From day one she was there. No matter what. Even when I hated life, and was adamant that I wasn't worth it, she was there for me. I always knew that whenever I needed a shoulder to cry on, or someone to talk to, she would be there for me. 

The day that everything happened I was distraught but even then she was full of understanding. And tried her best to show me that everything would be okay. 

How many times had she tried to convince me that she cared? I have no idea. I lost count. She listened to me, because she cared. 

SARA CARES...

Its what people do. They care about others...everyone has someone who cares for them...everyone

I was scared of letting her in. Because I didn't want to be hurt again. But I know that she never will. She cares about me. 

Thank you doesn't really cover everything she has done for me. But saying thank you really is the best that I can do....

So Sara, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart for everything you have done for me, it has changed my world

Strange concept I guess, but that is what I had to do. I had to learn to love life again. And I can't say I was totally successful, because that would be lying. And I don't want to do that. There are still parts of my life that I don't love. And there are parts of my life that I don't particularly like. But isn't that the way with everyone. I didn't wish to love my whole life. I just needed to accept my life. And that was harder done than said believe me. How can you accept the fact that I had been abused by my own Dad? I didn't know. And it was not like anyone could tell me...

But deep down I knew it was something I had to do if I was to move on. 

I had to find a way of not only accepting my past, but learning to live in the present. 

It was hard, and it did take time, but eventually I found a way to let my Father go. 

It was like having a box, and packing all the bad memories inside, and then sealing it, putting on a really high shelf, and only ever taking it down to add others in. Others that for whatever reason I did not want to remember. 

I remember sitting on my bed on night, it was late and my room was pitch black, there was just this tiny gap in my curtains, and I looked out into the night, and did this. I put all the memories of my Father in this cardboard box and put them away, because I didn't want to remember them, or him. 


I wanted him gone...out of my life. And I never, ever wanted to see him again for as long as I live. 

Kat x

I thought I was, and maybe in those few days before I went back to school I was okay. But pressure changes you. 

Pressure of homework, GCSE's, lessons, well, just the whole of school was pressure really. Anyway, I'm going off topic here. 

I thought I was okay. I really did. I consentrated on the little things in life. Like Music. Painting. Writing. Drawing. Things that made me happy. Things that made feel good. I tried not to focus on HIM. Or IT. Or anything that could possibly bring me down. I tried to forget. 

I tried to make everyone think I was okay. But I don't think I was, not deep down. Sure I did try to fool myself. But I don't think I did. To be honest, I don't think I fooled anyone. 

On the 25th of August 2010 my Father text me, at twenty past ten, saying 'Good school report. Best ever Katty. Well done. Love always'. 

My response; Shove off bastard. Like I want your love. You can put that where the sun don't shine. 

I really wished he would just leave me alone. I no longer want him in my life. I don't hate him. He is not worth my hatred. But how can I move on with my life, if just when I am moving on, he comes along and opens old wounds again. 

But I will survive. 

It was okay, yet obviously, as normal, it wasn't easy, and there were problems. You see whenever I walked into my counseling sessions, I tended to leave all emotion at the door. For the simply reason that it was only by being detached that I could talk. About anything. 

I knew that I needed to bring the emotion into everything, but I couldn't. And I never could. Not once during the whole time I was counseled did I ever open up. So, in short, I have never actually spoken about the actual abuse with anyone. And nor will I. For the simple reason my mind has decided to forget everything. 

I had plenty of these...which my Mum was not pleased with...I could be so happy one moment...the next rock bottom...and so she came up with a 'simply solution'. Hormone Tablets. They didn't work. I am still on them. Because it keeps her happy. But seriously..there was no difference. I just learnt to hide the rock bottom moments. 

And I guess thats what you have to do. You have to stop thinking of how rough you feel, and work towards making other people happy. 

I did hate most of my family during that period because, simply I couldn't be honest with them, I had to be the happy bunny, not that I did a good job of that. They all knew I was not happy, yet they didn't know how to help me, but then again who does know who to deal with abuse? They thought that counseling would help me. But then Mum would question me about the counseling session, and well what was I going to tell her. That I felt that the only reason I was trying to be 'better' was because of her? That I didn't know who I was? That I hated myself? I think not. So counseling just became awkward. 

But hell, I still went, because it made my family happy. It made my Mum feel like she was helping me. It made them think that I was getting 'better'. And that is what you have to do. Do things that don't necessarily make you happy, but make others happy. You have to be an adult. And put others first. 

Kat xox

There was a point were I did consider it. When I did think that I would be better off dead. Where I thought that no one would really notice if I died. Where I thought that no one cared so I might as well die and save myself the pain of living. Thank God I had people there to talk sense into me! It wasn't my Mum though, she never knew that I was that bad. She never knew that I felt like dying sometimes. 

I guess I never seriously considered it, because surely if I really wanted to die I would have just killed myself right? But anyway, I told Sara that I felt like dying, and well she just told me not to, and after an hour long talk I left the room and never considered killing myself again. She told me that I wouldn't be better off dead, that I had so much to live for. That she would notice, and care if I died, as would my family, she told me to consider my Mum's feelings. And so I knew that I couldn't kill myself. 

Because as bad as it was for me, surely it would be worse for those around me, knowing that I didn't feel that they were enough, knowing that they should have helped me. So I didn't die, because I didn't want them to  hurt. And that is what you have to consider right? Because you are not the only one hurting, yes, you may be hurting the most. But those around you will be hurting so badly if you die, probably hurting more than you did. 

So take a moment, and consider the bigger picture. And don't do it. 

It was August then. And I was up the city with my cousin, Helena, and my best friend, Shanie. I bought quite a lot of stuff, which for me, was a miracle, well back then it was. Not now!! How people change! 

Well anyway, I mentioned the fact that my Father had taken my birthday present to the solicitors, just before my actual birthday. I didn't know whether I should have got it or not. Anyway, all my mates thought that I should. But I just wasn't sure. And so Shanie, and Helena kept telling me I should, and to be honest I was really curious. 

Yea, and so we rang up my Mum, and though my connection was bad, and I couldn't really hear, I knew that she didn't want me to go, but anyway we couldn't, because we would have needed an appointment. 

The second I came off the phone I knew that I shouldn't have done it. That she would be upset, that I should have spoken to her about it. 

Yet, when I came home, not a word was mentioned, no argument, no nothing. I was on tender kooks for days. But nothing was EVER said. 

But all things pass, and over two years later, I don't really think about that day anymore. 

Nor do I think about my Father much now. Simply because I can't feel anything for him. Why should I waste emotions on a man like that? But it wasn't always like that...I wasn't always indifferent to the sexual abuse. I wasn't always able to cope...

Kat xx

We were 5 months down the line...5 months since I had disclosed...5 months since I had last seen my father...5 months since I had last seen my abuser...5 months since I had lived in constant fear...5 months since my world had been turned upside down...

It was weird really...I no longer thought about him...it was like I had packed him into a box and didn't think about him unless I had to. There were no unwanted memories...no unwanted thoughts...no flashbacks...no sleepless nights...there was nothing there...he was gone from my life, from my head, from my memories...he didn't exist in my life. 

I was numb...I wasn't thinking, feeling or anything...I was like a robot...and I didn't care....

But you should care...I should have tried. I just wanted the pain to disappear so I let myself become numb. Which was the worst thing I could have done. Not feeling meant that there was no happiness..no joy, no excitement. There was nothing there. I stopped hoping, I didn't see past that day. I was barely living. All I wished for was for everything to end...everything to stop, because I couldn't cope. I needed so much more time than I actually had. 

So shut the memories away, shut all the bad into a box, but keep the pain, because as hard as it is, it keeps you alive. And believe me, dying is not something you want to do. Because that just hurts you, and those around you all the more. 

Kat xx

I got use to not going to school, not having friends always there, just being by myself, and only relying on myself to make me okay. I knew that I wasn't alone as such, and that Mum was always there if I needed to talk, but there are some things that I couldn't tell her, because she was too closely involved. 

I knew that when I did talk to people at school she did feel slightly hurt, she tried not too show it, but I knew she was. But I couldn't talk to her, because what I had to say would hurt her even more. So who was I meant to talk to? 

Kat xx