Those First Years

I used to be little!

Good afternoon, readers. I was thinking the other day about when I was young(er), and it made me remember why I even started this blog…. For those of you who don’t know, the whole point was just to let things out that don’t need to be kept in. That said, I will slowly be telling you guys about my past. Not because it’s a super great read, but mostly because I feel like I need to. Need to just get it out, you know? So here’s one about my first five or six years.

I obviously don’t remember much about being a baby, but what I know is that my mom and I moved around a lot. I have an older sister, and she has a different dad than I do, so I saw her often, but not 24/7. My mom was single, and I didn’t know my biological father (but that’s for a different post). Soon after I was born (I think it was when we were living in Massachusetts), my mom married this guy named Joe. For a while I grew up thinking he was actually my father, and that wasn’t a problem since I was young. I loved him like I would love a father.

He was a scientist. You probably all know that I’m a nerd, right? Well, I’ll tell you why. Every night, he would read me a “bedtime story.” In other words, the latest articles from Scientist’s Digest. You can laugh. I could read and write when I was three years old. I was not allowed to say normal things like “doggie” or “horsie”, I had to say horse. Or dog. Or urinate. Always scientific. I don’t regret that- it started me off well, I think.

Anyway, I loved Joe quite a bit, and I trusted him. The family was him, my mom, Bree, me, and soon Alex. My mom ran a daycare in our house, which was awesome because I met loads of kids. We were pretty happy.

I’m gonna say this one more time: I loved Joe, and I trusted Joe.

Annnnd then he raped my sister. And several other girls. And no one told me that because I was too young.

I remember the day it happened. I woke up, turned off my alarm, changed, put shoes on, grabbed my belt, and walked into the living room. Normally there would be a bunch of little kids from the daycare, and I would head off to go to school. That day, there were two people and that’s it- my mom, and Joe. And my mom was crying. And Joe was pacing.

And I asked “Why is Mama crying?”

“I’m going away for a little while.” That’s what he told me. “But I love you.” That’s the second thing he told me. Looking back, I feel like he was lying through his teeth. He might as well have said “Yeah, I love you, but I just now screwed up the lives of a whole bunch of girls, including your sister’s, not to mention left you alone and fatherless and confused.”

I didn’t understand that at the time. I remember visiting him at the prison every once in a while. After that, it was just letters that he sent me. Then I can remember the day I understood. My mom had said “He’s not your father anymore.” And that was it, I got it. I was five years old and in 1st grade. After that, I really didn’t know who to trust.

So there’s a beginning. I’ll probably let out more later. Something more about me specifically. Until then, I hope you guys have a great day.

Sincerely,

Kennedy

“Everyone suffers at least one bad betrayal in their lifetime. It’s what unites us. The trick is not to let it destroy your trust in others when that happens. Don’t let them take that from you.” –Sherrilyn Kenyon, Invincible