Kathy Sees
Bio
Stories (37/0)
Bad Girl House
John often complained about the neighbors that lived two doors down from us. Not because there was anything wrong with them, or because of something they had done. John had never actually spoken to them, and didn’t want to. He griped about the husband’s brand new truck, as well as the boat and RV that lined their driveway. He accused them of flaunting these fancy things for everyone to see. The improvements being done, and completed, on the outside of their house were another source of aggravation. Even the spring flowers that accented their freshly manicured lawn were showing off. John would watch what was going on down the street from our unfinished living room. He stood there loudly spouting his deep jealousy, which was most likely frustration with himself.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Humans
Bad Girl House 17.5
Years earlier, when driving from the university to John’s apartment, I had to pass an abortion clinic that sat on a nearby corner. There were often protestors circling the building, waving shockingly graphic signs high in the air. They screamed their ideals at anyone who quickly walked by or drove past with their windows down. Although I understood both sides of the issue, I never imagined actually walking through the doors of that clinic. Two times now, I had endured mental and physical torture to keep that from happening. Over two pregnancies, a pattern had been clearly established.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Humans
Bad Girl House 18
I could not stand any more abuse. I could not stay because of the kids. I could not keep convincing myself that someday life wouldn’t be this way. I was finally seeing the situation for what I was. I was in a vicious cycle that was never going to end until I did something about it. I started brainstorming possible ways that I could escape. When we were out, I would pay attention to where churches, restaurants, and hospitals were. If I made it to one of those places, would the people there believe me? Would they let me stay until someone came to pick me up? Would they protect me if John found me? Of course the answer was yes, but I doubted everything around me. My own mind told me that there wasn’t help out there.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Psyche
Bad Girl House 17
My strong feelings about my hair come from many years of having very little control over my own hairstyle. As a child my grandma was the one who cut my hair. She really didn’t know what she was doing, which didn’t seem to matter to her or to my mother. My hair was hers to experiment on each time she found a cute picture in a magazine. I was often left with bangs whose length was determined at the point that they were finally perfectly straight. Throughout middle school my grandma gave me permanents that would have never been in style at any point in history. Most of my friends came to school with the big 80’s hair. They had the high bangs, the crimped waves, and always smelled of hairspray. A self proclaimed tom boy, during seventh grade I had the short hair to match. I was relentlessly teased, ironically by a girl with a very similar haircut. In high school I didn’t have a close group of friends that I hung out with to help me with things like hair and make up, so I did what I thought looked good at the time. Thankfully the evidence can now only be seen in pictures. In college I was finally just let my hair grow out and started leaving it alone instead of trying to overly style it. When I met John, he immediately told me that I allowed my hair to fall over my face because was using it as something to hide behind. From the very beginning he made me question my self confidence. Before Jess and Josh were born, he convinced me to cut my long hair off because a shorter hair style would be easier to take care of. It took more time to maintain, and I hated the way I looked. He knew that I treasured my long hair, but both times I gave in, instantly wishing that I hadn’t. It is very likely that John wanted to add to my already fragile self esteem, even though he insisted that he made the suggestions for my benefit. I began to feel much better as may hair gradually grew out again. I didn’t cut my hair before Nick was born, but about a year later, John told me that I deserved to make an appointment to have it permed. I hesitantly agreed, and the appointment was made. I had been going to the same hairdresser for some time, so it was good to see her again. She had given me that infamous hair cut some 15 years earlier, as well as the last two before having Jessica and Josh. The salon was very close to my grandparents’ house, so John was going to wait there with all three kids. My mom normally visited on Saturdays, so she would be there too. The plan was to go out to eat when I was finished.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Humans
Bad Girl House 16
Josh’s birth was the last thing that the medial insurance I was given while teaching covered. A toddler, an infant, and a woman who had recently given birth had no health insurance. No one was getting regular check ups. I stopped breastfeeding when Josh was six months old. I wasn’t able to get birth control pills. When my periods started again, John made sure to monitor them. If I was even a few days late, a pregnancy test was bought. We were both relieved when I wasn’t pregnant, but undoubtedly for very different reasons. It was only a matter of time before I would become pregnant for the third time. John said the words he had dared to say two years earlier. I was again told to terminate the pregnancy. I found myself directly in the center of the same nightmare I had already lived through. My mind recreated the scene. I saw myself kneeling on the floor, gripping the phone, begging John to change his mind. My chest tightened and my stomach knotted. This could not be happening again. I was trapped by patterns of insanity that were impacting every part of my life, and each repetition became increasingly worse.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Humans
Bad Girl House 15
For far too long, the same set of knives still sat on my kitchen counter. They were a wedding gift from my aunt that lives in St. Louis. I kept them for years, even after getting divorced. I could only bring myself to use the smallest knife. Just looking at the matte black handles coming out of the wooden block brought back terribly vivid memories. The feeling of the larger knives in my hand was unbearable. I finally replaced them a few years ago with a bright, multicolored set. I must have thought that would stop the memories, but any sharp knife seemed to trigger those thoughts.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Humans
Bad Girl House 14
Soon after settling into our apartment I found another obstetrician. John demanded that the doctor be female, and that I inform the secretary when making my appointment that I did not want to have a pelvic exam or undress to put on a gown. John made sure that he attended all of my appointments to ensure nothing happened that he didn’t approve of. After all, I had disobeyed while seeing my previous doctor. My first appointment began as expected. I answered basic questions, and updated the nurse about how I was feeling. She innocently pulled a gown from the cabinet, and placed it on the exam table. John’s eyes widened. I could see the muscles of his jaw tighten. I sheepishly told the nurse that I didn’t want to have any physical exams done. She looked at me strangely. She left the room to consult the doctor about what was normally done at this stage of my pregnancy. The door closed behind her.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Humans
Bad Girl House 13
Each morning of the work week I got out of bed at the same time as John. I made him a lunch, and said goodbye for the day. The rest of my day was also fairly routine. Everything staying at home with my two year old daughter required. I read her stories, made and cleaned up her meals, and played with her toys. Some days we walked back and forth down to the laundry room that was down the hall. I made the chore easier by stacking the laundry baskets and soap in a stroller. Jessica wanting to be carried down the long hallway added the difficulty right back on. If the weather was nice we would walk to the nearby park, where the swings Jessica’s favorite thing to do. Part of my routine also included attempting to make sure that our evening remained uneventful. I tried to make sure that dinner would be ready on time. I straightened up the living room, tossing toys that weren’t being played with into Jessica’s bedroom. I played music that would put him in a good mood as he got home. I made sure that I greeted him as soon as he walked through the door. There was no specific predictor of how each night might play out. It was all a game of chance. Simply existing was risky.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Humans
Bad Girl House 12
Before the school year was over, John’s father needed him in Ohio to work with him full time. This was going to make it even more difficult for him to travel back and forth between Virginia and Ohio. John convinced me that it would be much more convenient for us to move back to Ohio. Him working full time would pay more than I made teaching, and I was going to be on maternity leave as the next school year began. John told me that I was to resign from my teaching job as soon as possible. Besides simply stating the real reason, he wanted me to say that teaching while pregnant was becoming too difficult. It must have never crossed his mind the inconvenience my leaving meant for the other teachers or the loss for the students. I set up separate meetings with the principals of each building. Three times, I had to explain why I needed to immediately leave my position. I felt more ridiculous each time I said it, especially since I was only five months pregnant. From behind their desks, they stared at me dumbfounded. I would have much rather finished the school year, but I had no choice but to continue with my fabricated excuses until each principal gave in.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Humans
Bad Girl House 11.5
My first teaching experiences are tainted with the horrifying memories of escalating physical violence and emotional abuse. I can clearly picture each of my classrooms. The faces of a few charismatic students stay with me. I still know the simple songs that I taught them by heart. It is astounding to me that I was able to focus on teaching as my situation at home got steadily worse. The short time I spent in Virginia began years of survival that I didn’t see ending.
By Kathy Sees3 years ago in Humans