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

And yes, I was scared when I saw her again, after she had read it. I felt so vulnerable, knowing that with what she had read in there she could really hurt me. But she didn't. She told me that her love for me was unconditional. And that, well, that meant more to me than anything else she has ever said to me. For the first time I can really remember I cried from happiness, simply because someone out there could love me for who I am. All I wanted to do was hug her and never let her go. For those few moments in time I knew I was special. Because she loved me. I don't think words can really describe what that meant to me...

For the next few days I felt like my head was in the clouds, I was just drifting through life, and in fact it took me a while to find my feet again, because for the first time I knew that I had really let someone in. And it was a funny sensation. Anyway, I spent a long time going over that conversation and I knew that no matter what I had someone who would always be there for me. 

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. 

Of course I can, anyone can given time. You can adjust to anything. 

I proved to myself that holiday that I could cope, that I didn't need to cry every five minutes. 

I stopped feeling like I should give up. I realized that after fighting for so long it wasn't worth it. I had come so far that I might as well go the rest of the way. 

I had got somewhere, and I wasn't going back. 

I felt more in control of me, and of my life. 

I no longer felt like I needed someone to hold my hand. I felt my own person. I felt stronger. I felt able to COPE. 

They were falling apart, and I didn't know what to do. They couldn't speak to each other, well, not about IT. My Mum and Brother were tearing each other apart. And they hurt the other quite considerably sometimes. With one or other crying at the end of it. They argued over everything, and I do mean everything. Admittedly, things aren't great now, they still argue a lot. But well, that my brother really, a typical teenager. I just had to stand there and watch. Watch helplessly. Seeing how what HE had done was tearing us apart. 

But there was one good thing that month, (August 2010) was that my Mum thought I was improving. She thought I was on a 'more even keel'. But my personal opinion was that the only thing I was improving were my acting skills!! 

I did hide a lot from my family, and from some of my friends. Shut myself off because I didn't want to hear the truth, or know how to feel. I preferred the nothingness of being numb, I was protected from the pain of knowing. And that way I survived. 

It would be a while before I learnt to open up. Before I learnt what being me really meant. 

Yet I knew one day I would meet Katerina Matthews, I wasn't sure when, but I knew it wouldn't be until I was ready to. 

I wished that I could walk away from my life, walk away from my family, walk away from my pain, walk away from my memories. I wished that I could leave everything behind, and never come back. I wished I never had to see anyone, or anything associated with my life again. Yes, there would be people and things that I would miss, but it would be worth it for the new start that would come with it. Yea, I would be heaven. But that wasn't possible, however much I may have hoped for it. 

But I wasn't really thinking straight at the time, I was simply consumed with hate...consumed with fear, and unspoken feelings. I was trapped, in chains, and hating every second of it. 

One day, I told myself, I will walk out of this house that is no longer home, and never return. I won't, I told myself, see any of these people again, I won't speak to them again. They aren't my family. They haven't been for a long time. Or so I told myself. Reading this makes my really upset, because I can't imagine hating them like this, I can't imagine leaving them, or my home. It does make me cry. But thats how I felt, so thats why I'm saying this. 

I was so alone. I didn't feel like I had a family, I didn't feel like I had a life. But what little of a life I did have I didn't want to share. 

So I fought, I had a dream, and I was trying so hard to make it come true. I was sure that I was going to be a surgeon. (I don't think so, that dream died a long time ago! It was never going to happen. Not clever enough!) 

But I held on...

Kat x

I wanted it all to end...life was stupid, upsetting and so very frustrating. I couldn't cope with feeling, feeling anything. Being numb was so much easier. 

I didn't want my family, I didn't want my friends, I didn't want school, I didn't want to learn, I didn't want any of it, I didn't want to live. Yet I know I couldn't die. So what was I meant to do? 

There was no escape. I had no freedom. My Mum was always there. There was no way out of it. I didn't want to see people. Yet I didn't want Mum following me everywhere. 

I just feel so useless, like I wasn't wanted. And maybe I wasn't, I never did anything right, and I really didn't try, I was just like a spare part. Not really a part of anything. Just there.

Nothing made me feel better, and so I retreated more and more into myself, living inside my head. In a world only I knew existed. A world that is still with me. A World that helps me through each and every day, good or bad. 

I knew what I needed though. I needed a friend. A friend who knew me better than I knew myself. I needed a friend to love me, who I could turn to when I was feeling down, who would hug me, and love me and tell me it was going to be okay. In short what I needed was a Connie...(I'll explain another time).

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.