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| this is painful, and most likely incoherent, bear with me.
my name is alissa haney, i'm 17, and i know how to smile. if this is the
crowning achievement in my life, then i will die a happy cranky old woman
full of laughter and love that i have been blessed with by my Father.
i was born in a moderately sized city, in a good enough hospital, to parents
who already had two boys on their hands, and were expecting me to continue
the trend. biggest shock of their lives when 10 hours later i finally i
decided i was ready to see the world and busted out screaming (a trend that
stayed i'm afraid). i was brought home to a small apartment filled with
ninja turtle action figures and a boisterous family full of love.
two years later i ever remember is sitting on the living room floor, playing
with my dipers and watching my brothers quietly build with legos while my
parents screamed at eachother. i remember the tears on my mom's face, and
the tone of my father's voice when he said he was leaving and slammed the
door. my dad usually worked a lot to help make ends meet, so i figured he
would be back in the morning, but i remember having a fear inside i didnt'
understand. the next morning i woke up before my brothers, and asked mom
when daddy was coming home. she said she didn't know.
after that i remember sketchy images of babysitters and neighbors helping to
raise us while my mom put herself through nursing school, and nothing about
my father. i'm told he stuck around for a little while, and he and my mom
traded off taking care of us, then one day he didn't show up. i didn't see
him again till i was 6, and three years felt like an eternity. sometime
after my dad took off, my mom got asked out on a date by the guy who took
our garbage. i remember her coming home and telling us about it, and me not
caring much, just wondering when the macaroni would be done because i was
hungry. my memory cuts out here, but i remember moving to a bigger house in
a nicer neighborhood and having my own room. i missed the comfort of my
brother's sleeping above me in the bunkbeds, but i was excited that no one
would fall off on top of me anymore. i remember going to the courthouse to
see them get married, my mom was wearing blue jeans. sometime after that we
moved again, this time next to the school that i would be attending soon.
that's when i remember him hitting us. he broke ceramic plates on my
brothers heads, and slammed us against walls, he threatened us with awful
things, and generally had me terrified for my life. we never whispered a
word to our mother. during this time is when brother number 3 came along,
and i had to help take care of him. i was terrified to hold him, so afraid i
would drop him. finally one night my oldest brother couldn't take anymore
and called my mom, who was in texas to be with her sister who had been in a
car wreck. we were all crying and he begged her to come home when he ripped
the phone away and hung up. after that i remember her coming and taking us
away in our PJs to stay with a friend of hers and she was crying and asking
why didnt' we tell her. i didn't know any other way that dads treated their
children. apparently there were many battles, many many visits to our house
from the police, and many court dates before my mom managed to get primary
custody of my little brother, and retain our house. i was in kindergarten by
then, and our little family did well enough, despite having no money. then
one day my mom sat us down and told us she had called our dad, and he would
be visiting us.
i have NEVER, before or after, been more excited in my LIFE. i had no
concept of betrayal or bitterness, i was just excited to have my dad back. i
remembered him and i missed him terribly the whole time he was gone, even if
i didnt' know why he wasn't there in the first place. pretty soon he and
my mom got remarried and i thought everything was dandy. my brothers and i
had a pretty normal sibling relationship. i was the annoying little sister
who adored them, wanted to be them, and followed them as much as i could.
they taught me how to fight, climb trees, have a decent mud fight, and light
fires in the back yard. i especially looked up to my oldest brother, i
thought he was the greatest thing ever, even if he did blame me for things i
didn't do.
one night i woke up from a dream feeling odd. there was something wrong with
how my covers felt, i was cold. i lifted them up, and i had no underwear on.
they'd been cut off of me. in my 8 year old mind i absolutely didnt'
understand how that had happened, though i was kind of afraid. i got up and
put clean ones on and wondered into my second older brother's room, where he
was sleeping with my little brother. i tried to wake him up to ask him what
had happened, but he was dead to the world. then i went into my oldest
brother's room, and he was awake. he asked me what was wrong, and i toldhim
i woke up naked from the waist down and i didnt' know how it happened, and
would he help me?
he was 12. it didnt' occur to me at all that it was odd that at three
o'clock in the morning he was awake too, and urging me not to wake my
parents up. i listened to him and went back to bed, but the next morning i
told my mom what had happened in the kitchen.
i could not for the life of me understand why she was so angry, why she
immedietly made me re-tell the story to my dad, and then he took thomas into
his room and demanded to know what he had done. my mom sat me on the dryer
and held me. christopher, the second eldest, wouldn't look at me, he didnt
know what to think. i didnt know what to think either, i was just scared
that i had woken up like that, and kind of sick in my stomach. it came out
after a lot of yelling that when i was sleeping, thomas crept into my room
and cut my clothes off of me as i slept.
the full sickness of that act didn't hit me until close to 6 years later,
after we had moved to a small town with no crime, and lots of kids. a year
and a half after we moved, i was 11, thomas was a freshmen, and chris was in
8th grade. thomas was into drugs, stealing, and pornography, which he got
christopher involved in also. he showed me pornography for the first time in
my life, it's how i learned how the whole process of sexual relations
worked.
he also began to abuse me in the most perverse ways imaginable.
i didn't say a word because i knew my curiosity for those magasines was
wrong, and i figured this was payment for it, this was punishment.
christopher knew and didn't say anything about it either. by the time i
reached 6th grade, he was a junior and it had stopped. it never left me what
he had done, i felt to sick when i thought about it, so i pushed it away and
told myself it didnt' happen. that's the time that i started to become very
very depressed, except i didnt' know what it was. i just knew that i felt so
terribly terribly sad and empty all the time, and i could never pull my
thoughts away from thinking about my own death. by then my parents fought
all the time and yelled at us a lot too. there were so many fights. our
family fell apart. i had been broiught to church before, i was baptized when
i was 9, and i went weekly to the one down the street, but i didn't really
have a full concept of God or Jesus Christ or what any of that meant. i only
knew that God created the world, that we were all dying and couldn't go to
heaven, so Jesus came and died and now we're all free.
i remember thinking i was too dirty, too shameful for God. my best friend
Kelsi went to the same church, and she invited me to go to the camp that she
and the other kids went to every summer. i asked my mom if i could go, and
she said yes. i loved that camp so much i began to think of it as my real
home. i'd never been surrounded by love like that before, i'd never been
really taught what it meant that Jesus Christ died for ME. the summer after
my 7th grade year though, i was aware of the world. i knew i was depressed
and not healthy, i knew i wasn't ok, but i didn't know what to do. i spent
most of that summer in my room trying to sleep away my life. when i was
asleep, i didnt' have to deal with my mom screaming at me, telling me i was
worthless, or seeing my brothers get into trouble and smoke pot all the
time, or get blamed for taking things out on my little brother. i remember
throwing bizarre fits, crying for no reason, and screaming that i hated them
all (which i did). i realized that summer just what it was that my brother
did to me, just how much he damaged me.that year at camp though, it changed
my life. even today i feel the ripples of that one week. a while before, i
had stopped going to church, but i was excited to be there, because it was
(and is) my favorite place in the entire world, though by then i was so
withdrawn and antisocial i couldnt' make friends, so kelsi made them for me.
besides her, there are 4 significant people of that week that stick out to
me. or maybe, they stuck out their hands to me.
that week i would sit in the mess hall with my headphones on, staring off
into space with sad expressions on my face, at once hating everyone and
wishing they would go away, and begging for someone to notice, to come over
and ask what was wrong. i wanted to tell someone there was something wrong,
but i didnt know what to say.
at camp, we get split up into groups called Families, and you stay with them
the whole week doing devotionals, challenges, taking classes together, and
participating in sports competitions. kelsi and i weren't in the same
family, but she told me how awesome her "Dads" were (Moms and Dads are camp
slang for the counselors assigned to each group) she told me about them and
i was jealous, 'cause i couldn't choke out sane enough words to get close to
anyone in my own Family. she told me she would introduce us all when she got
the chance. i remember sitting in the mess all at lunch, eating by myself
(of course) when Barry came and sat down across from me. he smiled and said
i looked lonely. i told him i liked to eat alone, all the while wondering
why anyone would pay attention to ME. he talked while i ate and pondered and
almost cried. kelsi came over and sat next to me and said barry was one of
her Dads. i smiled and left the table.
since i followed kelsi every chance i got, and she hung out with him a lot,
i kind of got to know him, and the other Dad, Silas. for some reason, i took
these people who seemed to not hate me and i grabbed on for dear life. they
pretty much just loved me, neurotic and broken as i was. because i was a
pretty broken kid. even though i pushed them away and insisted i didnt' need
them or their company, i was always welcome with them.
our last night of camp there was a guy who gave the evening devotional named
Mike, who was a camper.
his devo was on where God was when we were hurting.
it was like someone read my mind and projected all of my questions out of
his mouth. that night is when i think i really accepted Jesus, because that
night was when i was really told about His love.
things like
where was God when i was hurting so badly? where was God when my whole life
crashed, where was God when i needed Him? mike was so passionate, he was
screaming these things and i was just crying and crying.
God was getting betrayed by those held closest. God was getting tortured by
roman soldiers, God was getting thorns driven into His skull, God was
getting the skin stripped from His back and then being forced to carry a
cross up a hill on it while people spit at Him and mocked Him and hated Him.
God was getting nailed down and raised up for every one to jeer at. God was
there the whole time. He was with me every lonely night spent afraid, He was
there in every fight and every minute spent crying. God was there with me in
my darkness.
they brought out a cross and handed out slips of paper and pens and told us
to write down whatever we needed to give to God and to nail it up and leave
it there. that God wanted to take our sins and our hurts and our shames so
badly He died for it, and for the first time, i believed. i believed that i
wasn't worthless.
the last night of camp we always get extended curfews, so kelsi, barry, me
and this girl named Haisley were all sitting on a bench swing on the island
in the lake. we were just hanging out and talking and i was sitting there,
trying to peice things out. i'm pretty sure in one of the quiet moments i
told them i hated myself. it was the first time i'd ever said it aloud, and
Haisley said she didnt' know why.
we were walking back to our cabins for the night and she said that she loved
me. she didnt know me and she didn't know why i felt the way i did, but she
loved me, and i was worth something.
it took me a long time to believe that.
that summer the buzz from camp wore off pretty soon at my house, and i fell
even deeper into a horrible depression. i started cutting myself with a dull
steak knife i stole from the kitchen. i was scared someone would see my
wrist and know what i did, but i was secretly proud of it, i liked it. i
liked seeing my pain and my strenght written there on my arm. and the part
of me kept deep wanted someone to notice and to ask why i did it. it was a
small part, but it was loud.
eigth grade started, and that's when Ashley and Sam came.
these girls also changed my life. while i'm sad to say i never saw barry,
silas or haisley again, i'm overjoyed that these girls are still my best
friends.
Ashley was the first person i ever told that i cut myself. when i told her,
i played it off like i was over it because i didnt' want an adult involved
if my life depended on it, but i was relieved. these two girls invited me
over to spend the night constantly, and over time, i found out what it was
really like to have a relationship with someone that wasnt' full of lies to
cover the awful truth, and wasn't filled with abuse. yeah, i was a messed up
kid, and yeah, i acted like a jerk all the time, but they stayed with me.
ashley asked me a couple times, why i hated my brother so much (by then i
was pretty outspoken about it) but all i said was he was a monster. she
asked me once if he ever did anything, and i adamantly denied it. i was so
scared to speak.
sammy was a quiet girl, but i liked her, she was smart and read a lot like
me. she pestered me to go to church with her for a while, and finally i did.
that's where i met my youth pastor rory, and that's where i started to get
better. i went to church and didnt' feel judged, or unworthy, or stupid. i
had fun, rory wasn't an authoritarian, and we had fun. i learned a lot at
that church, haha, it got me WANTING to go to church.
i started to keep believing that God loved me, that He was there. i finally
truly believed that life was worth living, and i enjoyed it. i stopped lying
about how i was all the time (though there was still a fair share of it)
after the end of my freshmen year though, everything fell apart.
thomas had moved out the previous year, and we didnt' hear too much from
him. he was the kind of guy that girls liked almost instantly, and i hated
him even more for it, because i knew what a monster he really was.
i had been in trouble with my parents off and on that summer for various
teen shenanigans, and it certainly didnt' help our relationship. i pretty
much hated my parents for being such hypocrites and liars. for not paying
attention when i was so desperately unwell, and for just thinking i was a
bad kid. which really, i wasn't. i never did drugs, i never started
drinking, i never vandalized things (regularly), in short, i never did any
of the things my older brothers did.
one day thomas came to visit like he sometimes did, and i was really
stressed and freaking out because i hated him and was scared of him, and i
had a dentist appointment. we found out i was allergic to flourine because i
got really sick and didn't feel well at all, and when we were coming home my
mom was uspet with me and yelling and she asked why i was so upset, and i
told her because thomas was here, and she knew i hated him.
she screamed "why do you hate him so much? did he molest you?"
God used that moment, when i was so weak and so scared, to have the truth
come out.
i broke down and told her yes. i told her what he had done, and that i cut
myself.
she couldn't believe it, and when we got home she got my dad at work and
told him what i told her, then she threw up in the bushes while i sat in the
car shaking and crying. i was scared about what was going to happen, but i
was relieved because i thought finally, i don't have to bear this awful
secret all by myself anymore. i spent that night at my pastor's house
(rory's parents) and recovered from my allergy. i told rory what had
happened, and he was the first person to give me a hug, he was the first
person to tell me i was going to be ok.
when i went home though, my mom was different. she had made thomas leave at
once, but she wouldnt' talk to me, and i wasn't allowed outside of the house
at all for any reason. i only got to leave for church twice a week and that
was it, not even going outside to take out the trash was allowed. no one
would talk about it, and it was pretty clear that i was in trouble, but i
didn't know why. one day i was in the car with her though, and the subject
came up, and she yelled at me that i was sick, i was crazy, and i needed to
be shut up in a mental institution. i was so sick and so hurting, all my
suicidal behaviors came back. the night before camp that year, i couldn't
handle it, and i snuck out to go see sam so i wouldn't do something stupid.
that night someone smashed the windsheild of chris's car, and when my dad
went to check on me, he found out i was gone. they called the cops and i was
coming home anyway, so i rode the three blocks home in the squad car. my dad
was livid, and just told me to go to my room. i didnt' much care about
punishment, because it was pretty much as bad as it could get. already no
phone, no internet, no communication, but iwas very very scared that i
wouldn't get to go to camp.
my mom came home and was irate, but i was allowed to go. school started and
i was still under lockdown, but i had an idea of why. i told ashley what
happened, and they somehow found out. pretty soon it became clear to me that
none of them believed me.
it felt like all the progress i made came slowly down, and i started cutting
again (i had stopped for a little while when i started going to church).
around september though, i was finally allowed to leave with my friends.
that fall, i was sitting in the living room, and chris came inside from
smoking before bedtime, and thomas was with him. my dad was already in bed,
and they just crept up the stairs like it was the most normal thing in the
world. i got up and went outside to wait on the porch for my mom to get home
from work. when she did i was crying and she asked why and i told her he had
come home. she told me to get in the car and lock the doors and she would
take care of it. all i felt was blind fear. that night chris told me i was a
liar to my face, that he didnt' remember anything ever happening (he had
taken a lot of ecstasy by then, so i'm pretty sure he burned it all away) my
mom said thomas could stay the night but had to leave in the morning, and my
dad just acted like i was crazy.
i cried all night, and slashed my wrists open again, but it didnt' help.
i went to school and told ashley everything and she didnt' know what to do.
thomas was gone, sure enough, but no one believed me, and i couldn't escape.
i was so mad at God. i was so broken i would scream and cry and beg Him to
give me a new family, i would beg Him to take me away.
God was the only one who got me through.
that winter, they let thomas move back in with us.
i think there's only so much fear and pain a person can take, before they
either off themselves or just shut down those emotions. i opted for shutting
down.
during that time God blessed me with some incredible people, and i wish i
had time to tell their parts in the story. Courtney, Grant, John, Trevor,
Ilona, if you ever read this, i hope you know i will love you forever
because of how you were there for me, how you put up with me and loved me.
thank you so much.
that spring i had finally had enough. i had enough with self-mutilation, i
had enough with hating myself, i had enough with thoughts of suicide, i had
enough of depression, i had enough of letting God down, 'cause even though i
didn't understand, i knew He was there.
i decided that i was not going to stay afraid anymore, i was done crawling.
things werent' getting any better, so the only one to save me was me. i had
to WANT to get better. and finally, i did. i told God, "i'm done with this,
i dont' want it anymore"
i threw out my knives and my razorblades, and i started being honest about
how i was. i stopped wearing the happy mask of
alissa-is-ok-and-doesn't-need-help.
i started letting God heal me, i started letting go.
sometime in the spring (last spring), my mom admitted to believing me, and a
little while later finally kicked thomas out.
last summer was the best i ever had. God worked on me so much, HE got me
through so much, He healed me so much, i had learned how to laugh and be
honest and finally, to trust.
last summer my parents finally split, and God told me to stick with my mom.
we had a talk since then, and i finally told her
"i hate thomas for what he did, but i'm hurt almost as much by you for not
being there when it happened, and for not believing me when i finally told
you"
i forgive christopher for still not believing me. it's easier for him to
think that, thomas is after all his best friend. i forgive my dad for not
believing me, he;s so burned out by all the acid he took and the pot he
still smokes to deal with anything at all really.
mostly i forgive my mom, because for so long she carried the family,
especially when my dad just decided to quit life for and sat in the house
and read for 2 years.
my little brother doesnt' know anything and i'd like it to stay that way, he
doesn't need to be hurt by this, and if he wants to love thomas, i wont'
stop him.
thomas...i'm still working on forgiving. i don't hate him anymore, but that
scar is still too deep, i have to let God work on that a little more.
through all of this i have learned what real pain and real struggle are. i
have learned the importance of being honest, and the importance of faith.
mostly though, i learned how love is the most important thing in a life. God
loved me enough to die for me, forgive me, and carry me when i spit in His
face and called Him a liar, He loved me enough to send people to love on me
when i was unlovable, and He loved me enough to wash me clean, so i canlove
too.
there are so many broken people in the world, so many hurting, so many
dieing inside without a word. as a christian i have learned that it is our
job to step up to the plate, to be open and to love and not judge. i am
living proof that love can change a life. i would not be standing here today
without it. i am blessed to live and love and trust. to have a heart that is
huge and knows mercy and warmpth and compassion and how to be open, how to
be real. God is so amazing because through it all, He has shown me more and
more of Himself, with every bad thing that has happened to me, He has just
shown more and more of His love, His faithfulness, and His care.
my name is alissa haney, and i finally know how to smile. | | |
| The Reflection Project is a dream, and and place. A dream about making art a healing movement, to give artists who are overlooked a loud voice. A voice in which can speak out to the world about how they feel through; Painting, Poetry, Topic Writing, Short Stories and Drawing. A place where artist can come and choose to make God known. A place where we can speak out about things that matter such as: Love, Relationships, Hope, Fear, Rejection, Faith, Peace, Redemption and so much more. The Reflection Project is very much inspired by Relevant Magazine, I'm not sure what God has in store for this new project, but whatever it is, I hope this kinda starts a movement of peace and action. Who says that mere words on a piece of paper can't change one person, or a entire community? The ones that limit the possibilty is US! Lets be a generation of redemption and hope, and lovers of art. If you would like to submit anything, from the areas above, please email me through here or my hotmail account. Thankyou, ~Brandon www.xanga.com/blackcelestial www.myspace.com/yeshuakid www.myspace.com/thesoulhaven | | |
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