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You Want to Belong

Until You Don't

By C~Marie RhodesPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
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Calm Before the Storm (C~Marie photos)

The time I felt my loneliest, isolated, alone. All alone. That was one of the very worse times of my life. I was invisible. I must have been. It hurt. It hurt a great deal. Let's begin at the beginning.

Mom dropped me off at age 2. She left me, my brother, and my sister alone, without her, with our father's mother. Our grandmother Mae. I used to daydream about my mother in class. So much so that the teacher noted on my report card, "Although she gets straight A's, she tends to daydream a lot in class."

Let us skip ahead a few years. Age 11. Raped by my father, at his girlfriend's home. Things really changed after that. My life was somewhat in a fog. I do not think anyone paid any particular attention to me, other than to rape me. I escaped one grandparent's home, only to be raped at another. This time it was my step-grandfather. He did it for years. He would come into the girl's room. There were my 2 younger sisters, my older cousin, and me. I would always hide them under the bed and let him take me. He would lay me right next to my grandmother, in their bed. She was snoring loudly in a drunken slumber. She cared less it seemed. I would be as quiet as possible, afraid to make a sound. The way I was with my dad when he took my virginity from me. I squeezed my eyes very tight, attempted to hold my breath, and not make a move or a sound.

Maybe, that is how I survived, by pretending I was not there. Making myself invisible. Not invisible enough it seems. I later (at age 15) decided to run away from my grandparents. I went to the only place that I could go. A place that was opened late, late nights. Where some people were oh too willing to help a single, young female alone. The streets of Washington, DC.

Photo by Matt Popovich on Unsplash

I didn't know how to survive on the streets. I was very naive. My grandmother's rarely let me out of the house. I was a straight-A student in all of my classes. I had a summer job at the Department of Labor, and another job at a fast-food diner as the waitress, and short-order cook. I wasn't supposed to be working there, but they hired me on the down-low for cash only. I also handed out flyers for the popular Adult Book Store on 14th street. They paid me about $50 a day for the flyers.

I also didn't know how to get a place to stay, and I was too young to get one. No one would rent to me, no matter how much money I made. So I stayed with random people I met on the streets. Sometimes they would rob me. Very rarely, but it happened nonetheless. Sometimes, I would wake up to someone staring at me or trying to get my pants off. I got out of there fast, and never went back.

Next came human trafficking. This is where I learned a great deal more than I wanted or needed to. I was hurt in so many different ways, I learned to take the pain very well. Eventually. I was too old for trafficking, so next they made me into a street prostitute. They drugged me and used me until I escaped. I sold myself for a place to stay and food. I finally didn't care and just did drugs constantly.

I could not figure out how to make myself important to someone. How to become visible again, in a good way. I lived on those streets and others like it for years. During that time I was raped over 10 times (I stopped counting after that). I was beaten, cut with a knife, strangled until I almost passed out, and other things I do not care to discuss. The real world did not see me. The other world only saw me so they could use me.

One day, I decided that everyone would notice me for who I am. I am a good-hearted human being. I love to help people. I am very compassionate and caring. I love to cook and dance. I do not mean anyone any harm. I am a good person! I just do not understand why this is happening to me.

So, one day there was a knock on the hotel door. The next thing I knew, one of my grandmothers and my younger sister were standing at the door waiting for me. I cried. I was ready. But, they told me my mother was dying. I went to see her. she could not speak as she had a tube in her throat to help her breathe. But she had seen me. I went into rehab. I went to see my mom in the hospital when I was 30 days clean and sober. she said with her hand in sign language. You're beautiful! She made my day with that smile on her face and with what she had said.

My mom died after that. I was there with her when it happened. I took off my gown, gloves, and mask and I got into the bed with her. She was looking at and talking to someone by the window. I do not know who. I had her music playing on the radio sitting by the window. One tear escaped her eye and she was gone. I had told her I would after all of my siblings, and I would make her proud of me.

I didn't put a lot of photos with this story, as I could not bring myself to look for photos of people in pain like I was. I decided to just tell the story.

I did help all of my siblings as much as I could. I raised my sons alone mostly, and some of my grandchildren. I never became visible. Everyone still sees me as that drug addict, a prostitute. My past would never leave me. No matter how hard I tried to erase it. My past follows me everywhere. It is either flashback of the past, people treating me like I was treated on the streets. someone triggering I have worked at hospitals, elderly care, developmentally disabled adults, and children. I have never shown anyone who I really am. I just become what others need and want. This made me the loneliest, saddest person that I know. I couldn't be myself. I didn't know what my gifts were in life. I watched everyone happy, productive, prospering. I wasn't and couldn't until. until they saw me.

You need to be true to yourself. Find out what makes you happy and do it. We only get one life to live, I believe. If this is your one life, know that your happiness comes from inside and that you can do whatever you want in life. Begin again until you cannot any longer. Never allow people to steal your joy, sanity, and peace. Make it your best one ever!

I am trying that right now by writing and indoor rock climbing. I am a part of society. this society that could not see me, will have to notice me now. Hey, have to start somewhere. Thanks for reading my story. Maybe, just maybe I am not invisible after all.

Humanity
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About the Creator

C~Marie Rhodes

If you the reader cannot feel anything from my writing, If you cannot connect to the characters, if I have not done that, I have failed.

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