About

Well I suppose it's about time I got around to (re)filling in the about section of my profile, so here it goes...
My name is... well, that's an interesting one that is... I don't really like telling people my real name... but I suppose you'll find out eventually if you get to know me. But if you must call me something call me Emmers.
I'm 19 as I type this in August of 2007. My birthday is July 7th. I was due to be born on the 4th of July but I arrived a bit late. I was supposed to be a twin, but my mother had a miscarriage very early in her pregnancy, before she was even aware of being pregnant. My mom went to the doctor and it turned out that yes, she'd had a miscarriage, but she was still pregnant. Lucky me I guess that I survived that... sometimes I wish it were me who had died. More often I wonder hat it would have been like if my twin had survived... would it have been a boy or girl? Would we be alike? Different? Inseparable? Hate each other? I look at my sisters who are twins and I think that I would have loathed having a twin, but without having had one I'll never really know.
In my very early childhood there was an incident of abuse in my family that has permanently effected me whether I like to admit it or not. I don't even remember it but the scars from it run very deep. My sisters were the ones abused, there was no evidence that anything happened to me, but it was obvious I knew what had happened. The abuser was a much older cousin who was living in our house at the time. My prevailing memory of him is having nightmares about him chasing me with a knife. Due to this incident I have extreme lack of trust issues. I can't trust anyone, not even my mother who has done nothing but right by me my entire life. I love her dearly but I am still afraid to talk to her about things... some of the things I can't talk about are ridiculously simple, and others are complicated... there are somethings about me that no one but myself knows because I feel that I can't tell anyone or I will somehow be betrayed...
Growing up I always loved my dad and my mom. I turned a blind eye to all the fighting and the anger. I wanted so badly to have a happy family that I was willing to overlook all the flaws that were so blatantly obvious... My dad had anger management issues, and my mom was submissive. Yes she fought sometimes, but mostly she let him walk on her. There were some genuinely happy times, and some truly wretched. Over all I felt that I was living a decent life... until I started making friends and seeing how their families worked. It was a huge realization that I was living in such a bad family situation, that again I turned away form it. I refused to believe that my father was mentally abusive of my entire family.
Around 1999-2000 my mother filed for a divorce. I some times think of the two or three years while the divorce was happening as a revolution of sorts. I learned a lot of things about my family. Some things I had rather not learned and somethings I wasn't ready for. I learned that my dad's parents were just as horrid as he was. I learned that my dad ad once hit one of my sisters. I learned that my mother feared for her safety when forced to be around my dad... this was when I finally let reality sink in. This was when I gave up all my illusions and let myself see the whole awful truth.
I've kept up contact with my father, because despite everything I still love him. He may be a horrid person most of the time, but beneath his actions there are some genuine caring feelings in him. I miss my deluded childhood sometimes. I wish that I could still look at him and have some feeling of respect...
My mother's heath has deteriorated dramatically since the divorce, or maybe she was unwell before and I never took the time to notice... she had Fibromyalgia, chronic anemia, and arthritis. She is currently being fitted for hearing aids, going thought CAT scans and MRIs to find out what is wrong with her head and her lower back. She takes maybe 8 different pills a day and can't live her daily live without massive doses of pain killers. I worry about my mom a lot... I used to worry about he dying and what would happen to me as far as living arrangements as well as mental breakdowns. Now I only have to worry about the emotional crush her loss would be. She told me at in her will I inherit the house... me... a house... a house I hate. While I would be secure in a place to live the mental effects of losing her would be extreme... I am so dependant on having her be there for me.... When she dies I don't imagine I'd last much long after.
So there it is... my mini-autobiography.
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