I Fell Apart...

I wanted to wait a little, and see what kind of stories would pop up here. I have to say, I was not disappointed. In fact, I'm rather proud of the courage everyone has. With a project as big as this, there will be tales from all corners of the human mind, from what I can see here. There's nothing I can think of that's more... anything. Just more.

Now, my own story could be as long as I am old, if I'm not careful, so I'll try to keep it short. My life, like many others', is the worst that I've ever lived. My father was paralyzed when I was very young (and is increasingly violent and terrifyingly strong despite it), I spent a good chunk of my life dealing with my mother's had issues with painkillers and tranquilizers, I've been betrayed and sexually abused by a family member I thought to be an older brother when I was 14, and I was mostly raised by my sister who is 7 years my senior (among other amounts of... pressure). I do feel the need to stress that as continuously bad as my life has been, there have been wonderful things that often help me past the bad. My family is close and loving, and my sister and I have a bond I hadn't seen matched until I saw Jared and Shannon, honestly.

I don't know how many times I've broken down, or went to laugh at a joke my friends made, and found myself sobbing instead. Whether it was from keeping my abuse a secret from my family for as long as I did, or simply from the strain of an argument, I've crumbled, and not known what to do. Unlike the things I heard from the people around me, the wounds don't heal properly, they never have for me. I've always simply picked myself up again, and kept pushing, because that's all I had left.

All these things leave lumps of scar tissue all over my mind, and I know that when I poke at it, I only make the wound open back up, and make the scar worse. There is no healing these things for me, at least not at the moment. Instead, I skim over these things and pretend they don't exist.

The only time that this process of "healing" that I have didn't hurt was this past December, when I was properly introduced to the band (Requiem for a Dream affected me long before now, and I never even knew it was Jared until a month or so ago.) by a wonderful friend. Suddenly the ability I had to keep moving felt like something to be proud of, and not something I should hate doing. The dream I had of being a painter has solidified itself in my mind, and the drive to just be who I am is stronger than it's ever been before. It hasn't been so long since I joined the Echelon (even when I hadn't known that I had), but you all are my family.

I got back up again. I fully intend to keep doing so.

-Holly Ann Bottom
Atlanta, GA
(Show no fear. I'll even take a lesson from Cynthia a few entries earlier, and add this: rag_doll013@yahoo.com)