I Dont' Know How To Receive Love

I have always felt alone even when I'm in a crowd. Even when people are paying attention to me, even if someone is admiring me and telling me how much they appreciate me. I still feel alone and unloved. I have been looking at these feelings lately trying to understand why it is I cannot seem to accept anyone's love. When I was conceived I was not wanted and mom tried to abort me three times during her pregnancy. When I finally was born my mom was depressed and left me in my crib, alone and uncared for.  I remember when I was about 6 months old, crying and crying and no one coming  to hold me. As I grew up I remember seeing my big sister sitting on my dad's lap as he read a book to us, I was always sitting on the couch next to dad. But one time when I was 8 years old, I remember my sister and I were both sitting on either side of dad and my dad instead of putting his arm around my sister he actually put his arm around me and it felt so good I was bubbling inside, but my sister grabbed my dad's other arm and pulled it around her and dad took his arm from around me so he could turn the pages of the book he was reading to us. I started crying because that was the first time I remember my dad putting his arm around me. You see, I was not really dad's daughter, uncle Bill was my bio dad, but I wanted to be loved too. The only time people touched me was when they wanted some kind of sexual favor from me. And my dad, well, he just didn't touch me at all. But I liked him because at least he didn't hurt me, except when I did something wrong and he had to spank me, but after he spanked me he would cry and say he hated to spank me but he wanted me to go to heaven and it was his job as a parent, and I understood that.  My dad was my hero and even though he didn't hug me, he did let me work with him when he fixed the cars or did any building and I loved working with him. One day when I was 11 my dad asked if I wanted to go for a walk and so we walked to the sand dunes and walked the beach. I was so happy, the happiest I had ever remembered feeling, my dad took hold of my hand and we skip-walked down the beach. I felt as though I would burst with joy. Dad told me how proud he was of me and how beautiful I was growing up, then he stopped and pulled me into his arms and just held me and told me he loved me. I felt as though nothing could ever spoil the moment, but then dad's hands began feeling me all over and he pulled me down into the sand and used me. My heart broke that day. I didn't want to live anymore. I was used to other people using me, including mom, bio dad, ministers, and other men from the church, but my dad, even though he had been there when others used me, he had never ever done anything to me like that and I thought he was my best friend. My heart was crushed like it had never been crushed before. He had chosen me to be his mistress and that was to be my lot for the next 5 years. My mom became so jealous of me that her sexual use of me turned into torture. Touch became my biggest fear and I hid away as much as possible to avoid being the brunt of mom's wrath. When I was 14 years old I found out I was pregnant by my dad and as time went by I knew they were not going to let me keep this baby, so I began planning a getaway before it was due.  I had found a cave in the mountains and knew that would be the perfect hide-out.  So a few days prior to due date I decided tonight was the nightm and when everyone was I asleep I took off for the cave. That would give me about 5 or 6 hours before my parents would know I was gone. and I hiked as fast as I could up into the mountain, which was rocky and steep, carrying only my bag I usually carried my reading supplies in, but had in it instead a few things I needed for the baby and some food. I knew I had to make as much progress as possible because in the light they would find me. I didn't make it to the cave until the next morning. After a few days and no one coming I thought that maybe I was truly safe and I was free. Then in the middle of the night on October 19, 1977, my little girl was born, I called her Mandi. I could feel her with my hands, she was perfect and when the placenta was born shortly after I  wrapped her tightly in the blanket I had made her. I then laid down and waited for the sun to rise so I could see her and clean her up properly.  All of the sudden I heard voices and climbing and I knew they were on my trail, I tried to crawl back as far as I could into the cave but they found me anyway. That's when my warrior, Michael, came to my rescue. He put the baby down and fought off my dad, giving him a bloody nose before my dad and two other guys tackled him to the ground, took the baby and left us alone in the cave. By this time the sun was beginning to rise and I begged for just a glimpse of my baby before they took her away, but they turned and left in silence as though I didn't exist.
 
 
Taking a break, to be continued another time.

 


phoebe55 phoebe55
51-55, F
1 Response Nov 26, 2012

i cannot exactly understand where you are in your own head, and you posted this 3 yrs ago. but for me? 3 yrs ago wow. i thought every one i loved was dead. or forgetting about the home i kept for them. things change everyday if you let it just happen. no matter how hard you fight? the sun will rise, everyday is born anew. it is up to you to decide each every scary day, who am i?