I feel like there are many versions of who I am and whatever the mood is, one of them will appear. I know this is part of being mentally ill but it frustrates the shit out of my husband and myself for that matter,
So first there is the “child” Annie (this is hard to write but its put up or shut up time), The child Annie had it really rough, She was beaten and bruised up most of the time, she was molested over and over again and she was raped, (told you it was tough). This Annie had no protector, no mother, no father to run to, This life was all she knew. My mom had no career so once she divorced my step monster, we went from place to place. In my teen age years I was handed over to the state like a dog being dropped off at the pound because my mother could not care for me. That Annie was trodden upon, spent most of her time living in the streets, halfway houses and Foster care, laying her head where she could. Multiple accounts of abuse taking place, but this Annie did not eat her spinach yet,
But there did come a day when. “child” Annie decided enough was enough. Life had to be better than this, She was tired of being the butt of the joke, the pushover, the one left out, At age 15 this Annie put on her big girl pants. Quit any type of schooling (although I tried), to work and to make a better life. She knew she was better than this.
And so I did. I became a daytime nanny and a night time food server. I made friends who knew a different Annie, They knew the tough Annie who could fuck and leave. They knew the Annie who was in control and would always be able to take care of herself because she knew at the end of the day, no one else would. This was the Annie I think I like best because she was so in control, never putting herself in a corner and never needing anyone, It was lonely but I had a few lovers during that period. One’s I’ll never forget.
This is where I'm going to stop. It's been a long day and my mood is changing. It's time for a cigarette and no more reflection.
I'll catch up tomorrow,,,