My Dearest Parents

Dear parents,

Now, this isn't supposed to make you feel bad or worthless. At this stage it is just about what you have done to me, the things you have made me feel, and the way I am forced to act. At this stage, I do not want your forgiveness, I do not want your "we are so sorry" or your "we love you very much" because it never felt like you did.

Starters, mum, the number one rule of being a parent is about looking after your child. But either because you had undiagnosed post-partum depression, or quite frankly, I was not the baby you wished you had. Why did you leave me alone unattended for so many hours of the day? From as little as I can recall, I was forced to be independent, feed myself, and get myself water. Which I had to retrieve from puddles on the concrete of our footpath or from the gutter running off our roof. I couldn't reach the sink without dropping my cup and when I did just that. The punishment was worse than being sick from the bacteria I was ingesting from the water outside. I felt as if I had no other choice, the only time you cooked was if dad was coming home from the army campus. Otherwise, I would cry and complain until you threw something like a plain bread roll or sent me to bed without dinner, where I would cry for the rest of the night. You taught me that independence is the only way of life, so when I recently found someone who took care of me. I found it hard to adjust, how could I accept it when my entire childhood I had to be independent? I had no trouble going to school or kindergarten, I never made a fuss, I never cried, and I never hung onto you as if my life depended on it. I can hardly remember a time when you walked me through the front gates. Around the same time as I started kindergarten, you had my younger brother, I had never felt more alone. You had days where you would coddle that boy, hang onto him, and love him with everything you had, I was more jealous than anything, you never did that to me. Then there were others where I felt entirely responsible for him. You wouldn't wake him up, change him, and only when little three-year-old me somehow managed to get him up the stairs would you feed him. I wasn't aware that this was very poor parenting, I thought it was normal. These days I am ashamed of how you treated me.

My dad, my father, my sire. None of those sound exactly right considering that to you I was nothing more than an object. The number of times I explained to my teachers over and over again that I "fell down the stairs" or "fell out of a tree" because I was just (in your words exactly) "a clumsy child" I couldn't believe all the things you'd do to me, I'd burn my hand on the frying pan because you left me unattended seated on the counter, you'd come back and instead of helping me, you'd deliver another sharp slap to the face and send me away. I felt hopeless, I never had the chance to create solid friendships because you were always being shipped elsewhere causing us to have to move with you. I never thought that I was a bad child, but every time you came home drunk all of a sudden I was the biggest inconvenience in your life. I learned how to care for you during these moments when mum would leave with my brother and I'd be left alone with you. I would bring you a blanket when you sat on the couch, bring you a cup of tea that I had perfected. Even when I burnt myself on the kettle I would never cry, I would stay completely silent and make sure you were fine. Even after all that I usually wouldn't get away without some form of violence, you were a very physical man and you scared me, you still do to this day. I was seven the first time your friends put their filthy hands all over me, I was merely a child and you were too drunk to care. But I believe that even if you were stone-cold sober your reaction wouldn't have been much different. I never had the chance to gain trust in you before it was broken. That time you locked me in the tiny woodshed behind our house because I dropped your cup of tea. Now I have a deathly fear of small spaces which leads me to become overwhelmed and eventually I pass out. You have forever scarred me and these traumas continue to haunt me all these years later.

As I was approaching the most vulnerable years of my life, I was 11 when we were forced to move once again, not long after that, the closest thing I ever had to a best friend committed suicide. He was only 12, and we both had families much the same so we were each other's backbone, when he left I couldn't handle the guilt. I became secluded, I didn't want to be around either of you or anyone. I became depressed and I started eating to suppress it, you (mum) were very quick to notice this and began bullying me for the amount I ate, I was in a very vulnerable headspace already and you just added fuel to the fire. I stopped eating at school, mum, you fed me smaller and smaller portions at dinner. I became skin and bone as I was heading into high school. I would stare myself down in the mirror, and today what I see as broad healthy shoulders, back then I saw as fat and something I needed to fix, same goes for my wider rib cage and hips. I would go for hours without food, throwing up whatever I ate at dinner. I know you both knew this as well, yet you did nothing to help me. I found peace in the violence that happened at home, I found friendship in people I could trust. I found love in the rare few who showed me the light, they are the reason I'm still here. I began some of the hardest struggles in my life, I suffered immensely, and I couldn't turn to you, mum and dad, so I pushed through. I fell to harming myself in order to feel something, my brain completely shut down, and when this was exposed to you. You both seemed shocked...yet I have no idea why, how far do you truly think you can push a girl filled to the brim with trauma and hurt before she finally buckles, bends and breaks. I was diagnosed with depression, stuck on heavy stimulants and I still am to this day. My doctor only knows a small amount of my history. I am afraid to share it, very few who I trust with my life know everything.

There was no "me" before my trauma, and the healing process involved is hurting and seems impossible at times, I do not know who I am. My entire personality has been based on who I was throughout my trauma. I do not know much about where this path may take me, but I do know that I have surrounded myself with people that I know care for me, love me, and will do anything to help me get through the tough. I know that they are my family, they are more of a family than you ever were.

I hope you are happy with what you have put me through, I hope you are proud.

My dearest parents, thank you for the hurt you caused.