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Influenced by Robe....A Past I'd Rather Forget *New Chunk #2 FINALLY Added!!!*

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So taking a cue from Robe, I decided I’d like to share my own personal story with all of you. This isn’t a ploy to get attention or exploit myself. Much like Steph, this is way for me to hopefully let go of some old demons by talking about events in my past that I’ve only shared with two other people throughout my entire life, my best friend of 14 years and my SO Chris

I’ve never been one for talking about my past. It took me a long time to even be able to share the most painful moments of the last 30 years with my SO and I trust him more than anyone else in my life.

I don’t want this to turn into an epically long saga so I decided to just touch on specific events rather than a complete detailing of certain years of my life. My current schedule just doesn’t allow me that kind of time and I don’t want to keep any of you who are actually interested in my story waiting for days for an update so by the time so everything I want to share has already been written. I'll post a big chunk every day for the next few days (except the weekend since I don't have a comp at home) and hopefully some of you will read it. Here goes....


I wish I could say that I remember huge chunks of my childhood in vivid detail but sadly I’ve been cursed with a terrible memory so all I have are bits and pieces of the first 12 years of my life starting at the age of 5. Everything before that is completely gone.

My childhood started out with promise. I was born into an upper middle class family living in the suburbs. Everything I needed and wanted was at my disposal. I never wanted for anything. Life stayed that way through most of my childhood although the fairy tale life I thought I lived with my parents and older sister was just a façade that I didn’t discover until I was 5. That was when the fighting started.

Everything about life had been perfect. We lived in a big house with a pool in the backyard and almost an acre of land to run around on. I had all the latest and greatest toys and a huge collection of stuffed animals. My parents lavished attention on me. I was their baby girl. Then one day, everything changed.

My Mom’s parents had come to live with us. I remember walking into the house after playing outside with my grandfather most of that morning. When she heard me open the door, my grandma, with a look of worry and panic on her face, shuffled me into the living room and put cartoons on for me. I could hear yelling coming from my parent’s room. It got louder and louder until my Dad suddenly threw open the bedroom door and stormed out. Rolls of socks whizzed past his head as he walked right past me without saying a word and walked out the front door. I have no idea why my mom chose to throw socks at him but that’s something that I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I remember asking my grandma what was going on and she just put her arm around me and said not to worry about it. My Dad didn’t come home that night.

This became the usual routine for months. Everything would be fine for a few days and then there would be another screaming match, my dad would take off and 9 times out of 10 wouldn’t come home until the next day. It wasn’t until years that I found out what the fights were about. My mom had suspected my dad of cheating and when she would confront him about it, he would get hostile and the screaming would start.

When I was 6, my mom had finally had enough (she kept trying to get him to admit to the infidelity she was sure he was committing and he wouldn’t) so she took me and my older sister and moved us up to Canada to live with her sister and brother-in-law. She enrolled me in kindergarten there and my sister in elementary school (she’s 9 years older than me) because she hadn’t intended on going back to my dad. Then after about a month, they started talking. After another two months of talking almost every day, he convinced her to come home.

When we got there, we were startled to learn that in a rage, after thinking we were never coming back, my dad had taken everything my mom and I had left behind and burned it. I don’t know why he didn’t touch any of my sister’s things but all my toys and stuffed animals were gone and I was heartbroken. To this day I don’t understand how my dad could have done something like that. He did replace all my toys and stuffed animals with new ones but I was always haunted by what had happened to my original treasures that had meant so much to me. There were some things I’d had since I was born that could not be replaced. I don’t even know what possessed my mom to not leave again but she didn’t. She forgave him and they tried to move on.

Things improved for a time but as the years passed by, my mom just couldn’t put her suspicions of infidelity behind her. The fighting started up again when I was 12. The nights my mom drank were the worst. She would get drunk and belligerent and antagonize my dad to the point that he would start screaming at her to leave him alone. Sometimes she would just say fuck you and go cool off in another room but there were also times when the fighting would escalate to the point she would try to attack him. My dad would just grab his keys and go driving around until I called him to let him know mom had passed out and it was safe to come back. Other times when my mom wasn’t drinking and there was a fight, she would leave and go stay at a hotel or with my sister for the night. Sometimes I would go with her but most of the time I chose to stay at home .

My life was very turbulent. I had feuding parents, a sister who all but ignored me and a school full of kids who did nothing but bully me and make me hate myself. I completely withdrew. I tried to be invisible at school. I wouldn’t even talk to the few kids who were nice to me because I thought it was just out of pity. I was convinced no one really liked me. I was constantly made fun of for being short , shy and overweight. Kids especially teenagers, can be so cruel.

I remember one incident in 8th grade when I was 13 when a bunch of the popular girls in my class thought it would be funny to gang up with one of the cutest boys in our class to trick me into thinking he liked me. The second I worked up the courage to try and talk to him, he just laughed at me and walked away. I was heartbroken and from that point on, I always had a hard time talking to guys. The fear of being rejected and laughed at still hasn’t left me to this day.

It was extremely hard going from all the problems I had at school to all the problems I had at home. My parents were so wrapped up in their own bullshit that they didn’t even notice how not okay I was. The fighting became more and more intense. I became more and more withdrawn, depressed and suicidal.

It would be another few years before my first actual attempt but I thought about it all the time. I honestly felt like death might be a better option than to continue living the life I had but I was a total coward at that point so all I did was think about it.

Then one night, all hell broke loose. I was 14 and it was a balmy night just a few weeks before summer break started. We’d had a cook out that night and both of my parents had been drinking but not heavily. We settled in for the night around 9:00. My parents were watching TV in their room and I was on my computer in my bedroom. As it happened, our rooms were right next to each other. I thought I was in for a peaceful night but just as I started getting comfortable, I heard my mom start to raise her voice to my dad. I kept hoping it was just a spat and that it would be over quickly but instead, the yelling got louder and louder. Then I heard my dad grunt and my mom scream. Without thinking twice, I ran out of my room and into theirs. My mom lying on the floor halfway inside her closet and my dad’s nose was bleeding. I was so angry at seeing my mom like that I screamed at the top of my lungs at my dad demanding to know why the fuck he did that to her. He said she attacked him and he defended himself.  Even if she did attack him first, there was really no need for my dad to shove her down the way he did. My mom is 5’2 and weighed about 120lbs back then where as my dad is almost 6 feet tall and has always been right around 300lbs!

My dad trying to defend his actions just pissed my mom off even more. She got up and tried to get in his face again but he just walked out of the room. She followed him into the kitchen and became even more enraged when he refused to talk to her. She tried to jump on his back and he just flung her off. She landed on her knees in the hallway between the foyer and the kitchen, taking the key shaped key ring holder off the wall with her.

I don’t know what possessed my mom to do what she did next but she just completely snapped, grabbed the key ring holder and started violently hitting herself in the head with it. I remember thinking she had gone off the deep end psychologically and I didn’t want her to hurt herself so I managed to wrestle the thing away from her.

When my Dad tried to cross her path to go back down the hallway, she went at him again and actually brought him down to the ground. They were rolling around on the floor trying to take swings at each other. My dad’s nose started to bleed again. I’d had enough. I grabbed the cordless phone from the kitchen, ran into the other room where they couldn’t hear me, and dialed 9-1-1. The dispatcher made me stay on the phone with her until the first squad car pulled up. My parents didn’t even know I’d made the call until I opened to door to let the police in.

They pulled my mom off my dad, sat her in the kitchen and sat my dad in the dining room where they couldn’t even see each other and while they were each being questioned, I was taken into my dad’s office down the hall where one of the officers questioned me. I remember him asking me if that kind of fighting happened a lot. I said no usually it was just a lot of yellng. He asked me if I could drive and I said no I’m only 14. He asked me if I had somewhere I could go because my parents would most likely be taken into custody and have to take a trip to the police station.

I started crying and explained that I didn’t know any of the neighbors well enough, I didn’t have any friends I could stay with and my older sister didn’t have a car to come pick me up. I had absolutely no one that could help me.

The officer felt bad for me and after talking to one of the other officers, he told me to gather up any belongings that I would need for an overnight stay and that he would take me to my sister’s house. I gave them her phone number so they could alert her to the situation and tell her I was coming. I remember being scared riding in the back of the squad car but relieved at the same time to be getting away from the home that had become hell. I had no idea what was happening to my parents but at that moment, I didn’t care. I just wanted to be somewhere else.

The officer was so kind to me. He said he understood that I was sad and probably really mad at my parents for getting so out of control in front of me. He said not to worry and that they would be okay. I told him they would probably be getting a divorce after that and he just told me to stay strong no matter what happened.

My sister was waiting outside when we pulled up to her house. She thanked the officer for all his help and brought me inside. It was nearing midnight. She told me she would call my school in the morning and tell them I was sick so I could try to get a good night’s sleep. She gave me some food and a glass of kool-aid before making up the couch for me. I fell asleep easier than I thought I would but at around 3:00am, I heard my sister shuffle through the living room and open the front door. I hear the all too familiar sound of my mom’s voice. I didn’t really want to see her so I just closed my eyes and fell back asleep.......

Cont'd In Replies...........


by on Apr. 26, 2012 at 4:01 PM
Replies (31-40):
by on Apr. 27, 2012 at 10:45 AM


by New Member on Apr. 27, 2012 at 10:48 AM
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by on Apr. 27, 2012 at 11:01 AM
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by on Apr. 27, 2012 at 3:01 PM

His name was Joe. Yes I know how funny this is given Robe's story BUT Joe and I never dated. He's gay so yeah we were just friends LOL. Of course I didn't know he was gay at the time even though rumors were constantly swirling about it. He was just this super sweet guy that never judged me and always said hi to me with a big smile on his face. That's what I remember about Joe and I'm glad I had him around. He made high school a little more bearable for me.

Our writing/journalism class quickly became my favorite class and not just because it was my one class with Joe but also because it automatically meant we were all contributors to the school newspaper. I started off writing random articles I was assigned like a breakdown of the presidential candidates that year and a Christmas shopping guide. I also wrote letters to the editor which is what started garnering me attention throughout the school. My first letter to the editor was a piece on bullying.

I had no idea how much attention it would get. I had students from all grades coming up to me to either compliment me or in some cases criticize me. Not everyone agreed with my views on cliques but I didn't care. What meant the most to me was a personal letter I received in the mail one day from one of my very own teachers. Mr. Schultz was my social studies teacher. I know a lot of his students made fun of him because he was tall and lanky with shaggy hair and thick horn rimmed glasses but I always thought he was a sweet man who loved being a teacher and just wanted his students to appreciate him. His letter made me cry. He revealed that he had been terribly bullied as a child and that it was something he never completely got over. He thanked me for being brave enough to talk about my own experiences so openly and put bullying and cliques back in the spotlight. That letter meant the world to me. I remember seeing Mr. Schultz the day after I got the letter and telling him what it had meant to me to receive it from him. I told him that if what I wrote helped at least one person like him stand up to the bullies in their lives, then any criticism I received was well worth it and I told him I was sorry that he was bullied and that I thought he was a wonderful teacher I appreciated having. He started to tear up and gave me a hug. For the rest of that year, he became one of my favorite teachers and I'll always remember him.

Oddly enough, there was another familiar face in my writing/journalism class and when I first realized who he was, I was forced to recall some awful memories from my childhood. His name was Brett. We'd gone to elementary school together from first to third grade. He made those three years a living hell for me and was the main reason my parents removed me from that school. Even at such a young age, he bullied me relentlessly. First and second grade weren't so bad but by the time third grade rolled around, every day was a nightmare. He would shove me into walls walking down the hallway, push me out of trees we used to climb in on the playground, throw rocks and sticks at me and torture me on the bus ride home. He would sneak up behind me and pull my hair or whack me on the back of the head. The final straw was the day I came home with welts on the back of my neck from where he repeatedly slapped me.

When I saw him 9 years later, he looked exactly the same only taller and more muscular. I froze when I saw him and I kept hoping that he wouldn't recognize me. I watched him like hawk during attendance.  When the teacher called my name, I wanted to hide under my desk. I looked over at were Brett was sitting and he was just staring at me. I had no idea what was going through his head but I was terrified that if he knew who I was, the torture would start all over again.

After class I was walking out of the room and I felt a hand on my shoulder. I could feel the color drain out of my face when I turned around and it was Brett. Strangely though, the look on his face made me curious and not scared of whatever it was he wanted to say to me. He asked me if I was the same Amber Clark that went to Glen Park Elementary. "Yeah I am." I remember saying with much hesitance in my voice. Brett took my hand in both of his hands and got down on his knees. I almost fainted. He said he knew exactly who I was and that he was beyond sorry for everything he had done to me when we were kids. He said he realized one day what a horrible person he was becoming and decided to never bully anyone ever again. Even though he was a little over the top about it, I knew he was serious. He asked if I could find it in my heart to forgive him for being such a little asshole. I remember telling him he was forgiven and to get up off the damn floor. He did then gave me a hug and told me he would see me in class the next day.

I went through the rest of that day in a happiness induced fog. I could not believe something like that had actually happened to me. I never thought in a million years that I would end up getting an apology like that from the evil little shit that tormented me worse than anyone else I had ever come across in all the years I'd been bullied.

I carried around a pretty huge crush on Brett for the rest of the year because he was actually really cute. I only wish I had worked up the nerve to talk to him more. I often wonder what would have happened if I had taken the plunge and asked him out because as far as I could tell he didn't have a girlfriend that whole year. *sigh* I can only help but wonder if I had been more proactive, if I would have been able to go to my prom. I ditched on it because I didn't have a date and to this day it still makes me say that I missed out on my own prom.

Unfortunately, my Brett filled bliss didn't last long and I sunk even deeper into my depression.  About two weeks after my encounter with him, I tried to commit suicide for the first time. I didn't get very far but I remember standing in the bathroom looking at myself in the mirror with a mouthful of Tylenol. I wanted so badly to start swallow them all but I couldn't. I gagged and spat them all out into the sink.

I really had wanted to die that day but I just couldn't do it and I hated myself even more for being a coward. I remember punching myself in the arm repeatedly as a way to punish myself for failing to carry out my own death.

I tried to lean on my best friend for support but around that time, she moved 3 hours away. We kept in touch as much as we could and I knew that she would make her own friends in the new town she moved to but the months that would pass between visits were very lonely. Sad as it sounds, she was all I had.

Joe was a sweetheart and always kind to me at school but I never developed a real friendship with him. My painful shyness kept me from opening up to anyone. I started failing classes again only this time, it was threatening my opportunity to graduate and there was no way in hell I was going to suffer through summer school to earn whatever credits I would need so I started studying harder and more often. I managed to pull my grades up in every subject but one. I was so bad at it but that the school took pity on me and in order to graduate told me I had to complete a semester worth of remedial math. I was mortified. I did everything I could to avoid being seen going in and out of that classroom. I felt like such a dunce. It didn't help my self esteem at all.

Around that time, I discovered internet chat rooms. The only place I could be and not be afraid to talk to people. I thrived in the online world and caught the attention of a boy named Darren who lived a few towns over from me. We would chat for hours and he seemed normal enough but when he started suggesting we meet in person, I got scared and kept making excuses as to why I couldn't. In all our conversations though, I'd forgotten that I told him where I worked. I had gotten an after school and weekend job at Sally Beauty Supply (we were open to the public but catered to salons) as a cashier.

After a few weeks of chatting, Darren talked me into giving him my phone number. We talked on the phone for a few days and I liked the sound of his voice so I started to feel a little bit more comfortable about him. Then one day, we were chatting and I told him I had to get off to go to work. He said okay and me made plans to meet online again later than night when I got home.

About an hour after I got to work, I was in the back room getting ready to stock shelves when one of my co-workers came running back and said someone had some into the store looking for me and he was standing at the register. I figured it was my dad so I walked up to the front totally expecting to see him standing there but when I rounded the corner, it wasn't my Dad. It was Darren. He had a bouquet of yellow roses in his hand.

I couldn't believe it. My manager gave me a 15 minute break so he didn't have to leave right away so we went for a short walk. I think my face was red the entire time. This was officially the longest time I'd ever spent with a guy and I had no idea what to say. I let Darren do most of the talking. He wasn't when I thought he would be. He was kind of geeky with his wire rim glasses, plaid shirt and khaki pants but looks really didn't matter to me that much. He seemed sweet and he was into me and that was all that mattered.

When we got back to the store, he asked me out. I said yes. We hugged and he have me a kiss on the cheek before I went back in to work. My manager was so happy for me. She made me tell her all the details and literally shrieked with joy when I told her he'd asked me out on a date. She was this hysterically funny and quirky older lady named Katie. My dating life became the usual store banter after that all the way up until I quit 4 months later.

 Darren would not be my first love. We dated for 7 months and I did tell him I loved him but it was puppy love at best. The farthest he ever got was heavy petting and a few hand jobs. I never let him put any part of his body inside me. I just hadn't been ready and something told me he wasn't the person I wanted to lose my virginity to. He never pushed for that but I just knew he wasn't the one and I was right. He dumped me because he was a total mama's boy and I wasn't the ideal girlfriend his mother had wanted for him. Her son had to marry a good Christian college bound girl with big aspirations for the future. I was NOT a good Christian girl and I didn't even know what I wanted my future to be yet.

I was hurt by the break up but got over it pretty fast even though it made me feel even less confident about attracting the opposite sex. I dived deeper into the online world and after a few months, met local boy number 2. His name was Charlie and this time around, I treated the whole situation differently. I chatted with him for 3 solid months before I even agreed to give him my phone number and once I did, it was another month before I would even consider meeting him in person. When I did finally accept a real meeting, Beth, my best friend, came with me. We agreed to meet at the mall to see a movie and then go for pizza afterwards.

I remember sitting alongside the food court waiting anxiously for a random guy to talk up to our table since neither of us knew what the other looked like. I just described to him exactly where we would be sitting and what I would be wearing.

Finally after what seemed like forever, a tall good looking guy with dark hair and green eyes walked towards us and made eye contact with me. He smiled and right away I knew it was Charlie. My heart fluttered. He was gorgeous. He was wearing a tight plain black t-shirt and JNCO jeans. Remember those?! I thought they looked good on him LOL why did I ever dig overly baggy jeans I could have got lost in?!

Charlie and I clicked right away and had our first kiss that same night. He lit me on fire. I had never felt anything like what I felt being around him and I quickly became addicted to it. He was my first love and the boy who took my virginity. He was also the boy who raped me.

We had been dating for about 8 months and one night we were babysitting overnight for some friends of ours. We were getting ready to go to bed but he suddenly got very horny and wanted to have sex. The whole time we had been dating I was still quietly trying to battle my depression and that night I was feeling emotionally shitty and not in the mood for sex at all but he kept begging me and begging me. I tried telling him I wasn't in the mood but he wouldn't stop. He climbed on top of me and started dry humping me thinking it would entice me but I just tried pushing him off me. He started to get pissed and pinned me down. I remember him saying "come on how often do I actually ask you for it? Just say yes to me already." He squeezed my wrists and put all his weight down on me. I struggled for a minute but then realized that I wasn't strong enough to get away from him so I just closed my eyes and gave up the fight.

For the longest time, I was denial that it was rape. I wasn't until I met Chris and told him what happened to me that I realized he really had forced me into having sex with him. I hadn't given him consent I just stopped struggling and he took it as his cue to enter. That single event in my life has caused to have to deal with years of pent up anger and aggression that I have taken out on everyone that didn't deserve it. It took Chris practically spelling it out for me to realize that what happened to me is what caused my seething rage. I'm not at all proud to admit that my anger has even reared its ugly head to my own daughter. I've raised my hand to her and spanked her in anger and that is something I will never forgive myself for but also something I will never do again. Now that I know where my anger comes from, I've been able to deal with it and control it much more effectively than I ever have before.

Perhaps the most messed up part of that whole ordeal is that Charlie and I didn't break up after it happened. We stayed together and never even talked about it. He aced like it was nothing. By that point my parents hated him but we didn't care what they thought. After a year of dating and constant fights with my parents over being with him, we decided we were going to run away together. He was originally from California and that was our destination.

One day in mid-summer of 2002, I gathered up all the money I had, packed a small bag and got a hotel room. Our plan was to spend the night together at the hotel and leave for Cali first thing the next morning.

I had to wait at the hotel for Charlie to get off of work. He had said he would call me when he got home from work so I could go pick him up. He was supposed to be home at 5:00. 5:00 came and went and no phone call. 5:30 came and went and no phone call. At 6:00 I started to get worried and tried calling Charlie. He picked up on the third ring. I was glad to hear his voice but so angry at the same time. I asked why he hadn't called and he said he was sorry but that his roommate was having a meltdown and needed support. He said he would call me in a few hours when he was ready to be picked up. I waited, and waited and waited. By 9:00 I still hadn't heard anything. At 9:25 exactly I dialed his cell phone number and it went to voicemail. I dialed the house number where he lived and got the answering machine. I stayed awake until 2:00 in the morning waiting for Charlie and he never called. I was heartbroken.

The next day around noon he finally called me. I was so upset all I could do when I heard his voice was cry. He said he was sorry over and over. I asked him why he bailed on our plans. He said he changed his mind and didn't want to run away with me. He said he felt trapped and that he needed out. He didn't want to be with me anymore. I hung up the phone without saying a word and never saw him again.

by on Apr. 27, 2012 at 3:25 PM
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by on Apr. 27, 2012 at 3:56 PM
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by on Apr. 27, 2012 at 4:11 PM
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by Bronze Member on Apr. 27, 2012 at 4:13 PM
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by on Apr. 27, 2012 at 4:34 PM


by on Apr. 27, 2012 at 6:12 PM
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