My journey....(continued)

After my parents divorce we went to live with my grandparents and things got progressively worse, not just with my anxiety but my life in general. My mom moved away, and we hardly seen or heard from her after that (of course to hear her tell it, she was a GREAT mom, and was always there) HAHAHAHA! That makes me LAUGH. It amazes me how she can claim to believe such BULLSHIT. She took off after my parents divorced, and left us behind to go find a NEW man. She's always been that way, whatever man is in her life at the time becomes the most important person in her life. Her kids were, and still are dispensable.

 Yes, I realize that I am 35 yrs old with my own family now, but that is something that I think I will struggle with forever, is how my mother could just move on with her life, like I never existed.

Anyway, my dad moved us in with he parents. My grandpa was a raging alcoholic, and I mean, that man was drunk MOST of my childhood, and a lot of the time, he would be very violent. Sometimes with me and my brother, but most of his anger was aimed at my grandma, and my dad. I can remember SO many nights waking up to the sounds of people screaming at each other. When you constantly see that stuff, it really does things to your mind. I never felt safe...ever! Needless to say, my anxiety kicked in full force, and stayed that way for many years.

I was always afraid to have friends over because my grandpa was always drunk, and I didn't want my friends to know. So most of the time, my brother and I just played with our friends in the neighborhood....OUTSIDE. I had a few close friends that were aware of what was going on in my house, but only a few. I often wonder, why on earth my father would take us there, and let us live there KNOWING full well what was going to happen. My grandfather was an alcoholic even when my dad was growing up, so why on earth would he subject his KIDS to that SHIT??? I think it goes back to, when that's the only thing you know, you don't really know any better, but my brother and I suffered terribly because of it....THANKS DAD!

In my very early childhood years, I remember my grandmother being fairly normal, but that didn't last long. You see, mental illness runs in my family (go figure) my great-grandfather had Alzheimer's, and my grandmas brother was schizophrenic. I know for a fact that my grandmother had something wrong with her, but I was a kid, so I had no idea what it was. I do know this, whatever it was, made me it's target! It started out slowly...her picking on me just to make herself feel better. Then it progressed to severe mental abuse, and then physical. I would tell me dad what she was doing, but it fell on deaf ears. He never wanted to hear it, he was too busy living his own life to give a shit about what was happening to me.

I used to listen to music a lot as a kid,( I think it's one of the things that saved my life) but that was back when we had the hand held Walkmans that played cassette tapes. Anyone remember those? lol but I would sit on the couch and listen to my music, and she would come and sit down beside me, and get really close to my face and just say the most disgusting things that any human could say to another. "Nobody loves you Brandy", "You are a waste", "Your dad doesn't love you either, that's why he leaves you here with me all the time". Those are just a few of the special things that she saved JUST FOR ME, and I got to hear it almost EVERYDAY! Aren't I lucky??  It was like she was on a mission to break me...everyday, and as soon as she would see the tears running down my face, she would smile with a sense of accomplishment,  and then just get up and leave.

This went on for years, she was relentless, and she never did that stuff to my brother, it was always me...always ME. Needless to say, my self worth never existed. I always seemed to get more of the abuse than my brother did, maybe that's why he claims to not remember it...who knows. They all seemed to favor him. My mom and dad still do. He is perfect in their eyes, and can do no wrong. Me on the other hand, I'm ALWAYS wrong. I went to my dad many times, and begged him to move us out of that house, but he never did. So I put up with the abuse, I had no other choice...I was trapped in it. I just kept telling myself that I would be 18.....someday, and then I could move out, and never see any of them again. As the years passed, the abuse became more and more harsh, it was almost like she was trying to see how far she could go. There were SO many times that I contemplated suicide, but I was too scared to hurt myself, so then I started thinking of ways I could kill HER, and try to make it look like an accident. Of course I never did, but in some weird way it helped me cope.

Things were really bad, and I started having a lot more panic attacks. I would have them at school, at home...pretty much anywhere. Each one feeling just as scary as the first one. It got so bad that I actually went to my grandmother for help. I was young, I had never heard of "anxiety disorders" so I had no idea what was wrong with me. When I went to my grandmother, she actually made it worse. She told me that before too long I would be "self mutilating" and then just eventually go crazy......WHAT???