Quick note from Stephanie:Hey guys! this is the first anonymous guest post I’m publishing. I’m very excited for this friend of mine to be able to open up about her past and things that have weighed on her mind.Writing is an amazing and creative way to express yourself and I see this as being able to release what binds you out into the world. Since beginning my blog journey, I truly feel I am a different, better person.I want to share this with those I love and new friends that I’m making by offering the opportunity to tell y’all’s stories anonymously without fear of judgement.This poster is very dear to my heart and very nervous about her first post so y’all please show her the same love and support you have shown me, I cannot stress to you enough how important your words are.Leaving comments on these blogs may seem insignificant to you but to the writer it is everything. Your words give us comfort and confidence. They encourage us to continue and they give us strength during the emotionally trying process of writing.I will be posting more stories with her tag ” the mighty pen” every week! I hope you enjoy getting to know her the way you have gotten to know me. As you walk through the dark days and into the amazing days with us.
*THE MIGHTY PEN
Ketchup on mental and emotional abuse.
I was sick, and I had to stay home from school. I was a junior in high school at the time, I also worked as a full time hostess at Applebee’s. This was right after my dads house burned down, we were living in a little travel trailer waiting on it to quit raining long enough so they could bring in a trailer house for us to live in.
The day before I had gotten sick I slammed my finger in my dads truck door and tore off my right hands pointer finger nail. That was awful pain. I still remember the redness and the throbbing pain that lasted for days after I slammed my nail.
So, I had gotten sick the next day and stayed home. I was a smoker at the time and I woke up and felt okay long enough to pick myself up off the bed and go outside for a cigarette
(I was 17, but it was okay with my dad which now I see the problem there)
I thought I locked myself out, but really the door was just messed up when I was trying to go back in. I was going to try to find the extra key and the tip toe of my “Jesus Sandal” caught the black rock drive way and tore into my right pinky toe. The skin and the toe nail were torn completely off and I screamed in pain. I really could not catch a break!
First my finger, then getting sick, then my toe. It was awful and it hurt to walk. It was the middle of winter and I couldn’t even manage to wear a regular close toe shoe for 3 weeks after or walk normal without a limp.
When my dad got home from work I was sitting on the front steps of the trailer crying. Blood was everywhere and we went in and all was good until his wife got off work. I remember that night for dinner she made chicken strips and french fries, out of the package because that is just how she rolled.
Of course there was no ketchup, and no one thought to look to see if there was ketchup before they started cooking. When the food got done is when my dad and step mom noticed there was not any ketchup.
I was sitting in the recliner with a 102 fever, an ice pack on my foot and another on my finger to help with swelling and pain. I could barely walk, and on top of that, chicken strips didn’t look good to me anyway.
My dad looked at me and said; “B run to the store and get us some ketchup”
I looked up and said “daddy I can barely walk and I’m sick. I don’t wanna go, can you please get J to pick some up” (my step sister, we will cal her “J”)
All of a sudden his face got red with anger and his eyes were popping out of his face like a bug being squished, my dad is short and stocky, he also has a bad case of “short man syndrome”.
I knew all hell was about to break out in that little travel trailer, all over some ketchup.
He stood up and threw the ice pack on my toe across the room and “flicked” my toe that I had hurt that day, extremely hard. It even made a loud “thud” sound on contact with my piny toe. It hurt so bad that I screamed. He then grabbed my plate of chicken strips and fries that I was not even eating and threw it in the trash.
He turned around and his eyes looked black and blank and he yelled “you are WORTHLESS, all you do is sit around do f*cking nothing all day” (remind y’all, full time high school student, with a full time job) “all I f*cking asked you to do is go get some mother f*cking ketchup, you’re so f*cking disrespectful, you’re so f*cking lazy!!!”
I started crying. I always cried when my dad or mom would yell at me, because it wasn’t just a parents’ “yell” there was always hate in it.
My dad then opened the door and said “get your fat ass up and go outside and eat with the f*cking dogs” and he grabbed the whole bag of dog food that sat by the door and threw it outside.
The whole time this is happening my step mom and step sister just sat there. I didn’t get up right away, I was crying so hard I could barely breathe, I was dry heaving and snot was running down my nose into my mouth. Every breath I couldn’t find made my headache that I had from my fever pound, like my brain was going to explode.
Before I knew it my dad kicked the side of the chair I was sitting in and said “get the f*ck up and do what the f*ck I told you to do!” So, I did.
I got up, and walked outside and my dad slammed the door behind me, and locked the door. So I sat outside, in the cold for about an hour crying. I did feel worthless in that moment.
My step mom came out about an hour later with my cigarettes and she stood in front of me while she lit one of hers. She then handed me her lighter and lit one of mine. Out of her hoodie pocket she handed me a Dr Pepper. I was extremely hungry at this point and tired.
She then said “after you get done you need to go in there and say sorry to your dad” I didn’t feel like arguing so I just said “okay”
I finished my Dr Pepper, I smoked a cigarette and went inside to face my father. He sat watching the show “gold rush” his legs were propped up and his fingers were enter locked with each other setting on his stomach.
I walked up to him and tears started filling my eyes. He said in a harsh but not yelling voice “what do you want”? I said “I’m sorry” and he just said “hmmm” with a little laugh at the end of it in a very sarcastic way. He then ran his hand over his beard like he was thinking. He said in a low voice “you think so” (he did this a lot) I just stood there thinking okay ether whoop me or let me go to bed I can’t take this no more!
He then said “it’s okay, I shouldn’t have blew up like that, but I’m extremely stressed and all I wanted was some ketchup”. I said “yes sir” he then said “you’re going to school tomorrow regardless of how you feel since you can not contribute to this family and this house hold when I allow you to stay home.” I put my head down and said “yes sir” he then said “disrespect me and my wife again, and I’ll whoop your ass until you can’t sit either. Now go to bed and do better” I said “yes sir” and like a sad puppy ran off to my bed and laid down.
At the time, I thought I was an awful child. Here my dad is, a hard working man and I could not even manage to go to the store and get him some ketchup. I was convinced I deserved everything. I was convinced I was worthless, and fat, and no good. I cried until I went to sleep and didn’t talk to anyone at school the next day.
Mental and emotional abuse are awful. Some say they are worst than physical abuse. Honestly, something about words and head games have always stuck with me personally.
People who use mental and emotional abuse are narcissistic. They find what their victims weakness is, what they are insecure about and the abuser throws it like emotional f*ck you bombs.
My dad knew I had body image issues, he knew I didn’t like to feel worthless. Throwing me outside with the dogs was his ultimate “I’ll show you” of that night.
Him flicking my toe he knew hurt was his way of saying “I don’t care about your pain, you will not define me” because that’s what I did “define” him. He knew exactly what to say, exactly what tone to say it in, everything so that it would hit me just right to make something as simple as a forgotten bottle of ketchup seem like my fault.
Most the time mental and emotional abusers are also controlling. Remember this about my dad because we will be coming back to it a lot. I have more stories, about both of my parents, but I wanted to make a point to prove that abusers will find anything they can to get at you, and as I tell my story there will be times where you will say to yourself “really?”
I’m going to stay anonymous, because believe it or not I am now an adult and still dealing with drama and craziness. And trust me we will get there. I am still healing, and dealing with the demons that my own parents put on me. But I’m also living my best life right now.
So, what do y’all say, will y’all stick around and hear me out? Are y’all ready to know what it’s like to grow up with a drug addicted father and alcoholic mother?
How about forgiveness when they decide to live sober?
Or maybe you just wanna hear some stories? Because I’ve got some stories also. Either way, I’m ready. Writing and telling my story is going to help me heal and hopefully someone out there can relate to me and I can help them also!
I have a baby on the way and an amazing fiancé who doesn’t even know this whole story I don’t think, because it hurts me to talk about it. Every time I think of the whole story I wanna cry so I leave out the worst parts.
I am most ashamed that I allowed my father to make me think that was normal. That, that is how you talk to your kids and it’s normal. I’m ashamed that I put so much trust and love in a man who at the end of the day is the product of some of my worst nightmares.
Today I noticed that writing really helps, so really the pen is mightier than the sword in more than just one way.🤟🏻