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At Least I Have Her...

So there is truly one person in my life that I love more than anyone else. That is my sister. She small, and tiny, but her smile totally compensates for her height. I love her to pieces, and I think she is one of the most intelligent, prettiest, and all-around beautiful human beings I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. It only makes it better that we are sisters.

A lot of the time when I think about our relationship, yeah we fought when we were younger, yeah I sometimes hated her guts cause she would let her toys roll over that imaginary line of our bedroom, and yes, I hated it sometimes that she would follow me everywhere. But I love her dearly, to death. She is my one and only. She is my best friend, and I would never re-place her. We have been through a lot of crap together. All of my family. And I've spent most of my life trying to keep her protected, because I'm not sure if she knows this, but I remember the last time I had to protect her... well at least I hope I had kept her protected, because it stopped for me after this night.

It's been something I've been thinking about the last few days.. trying to see if I remember anything really.. I told my cousin Ashley that I can tell people that yes, I was abused, and yes, it did happen, and yes, this is what I have become because of it. But I cannot speak of the details. I don't envy, but am amazed at how other survivors are able to tell every detail.. I cannot. I have never actually experienced a full-blown flashback, or such, and it's something I wouldn't want to experience.

But this night I remember, I remember it because it was the last time he ever tried to touch me again, and a lot of people I've talked to, don't understand what I mean when I feel like I failed her, because I am no longer trying to fight the denial about my sister.. I've grown up practically raising my brother and sister, and to find out, you never really saved them from the abuse you've endured, it's a heart-wrenching experience to go through. It was like a smack in the face, that little moment of failure, has been haunting me for he last two months, and I've somewhat talked to her about it, but it's just to painful for me to even think about.

The Last Night

It was the night before my Uncle Ron and Auntie Grace's wedding. Chelle and I slept in our rec-room in the basement, watching movies. My mother and 'him' were drinking, as usual.

I awoke to no music or anything, but the sound of the basement door opening, and slow footsteps. I quickly tucked the excess blankets under my body and made a cocoon around my sister and I, as tightly as I could. 'He's not going to hurt her,' I thought to myself as I practically lay on top of her, trying to keep as quiet as I could.

I heard him enter the room, and kneel down next to me on the floor, then I felt him begin to tug on the blanket. I held it down as tightly as I could, tried to force as much body weight as I could, to keep him from breaking the shell I had created out of cotton and linen. After a few more attempts, he became frustrated and left us. I don't remember if he said anything or not.. I listened to him walk up the stairs, open the basement door, and continue to where ever it was he went.
I lay there, barely breathing, in fear he'd hear it and come back down, for almost a half an hour. Once I felt "safe" enough I fell back to sleep, the blankets still under my body, my arms wrapped around my little sister, who was still in grade one.
I awoke once again, my head still under the blankets, to the basement door opening, and footsteps coming down the stairs. I quickly reapeated my actions as before. I lay on on top of the covers and held my breath once more. I heard the kneeling beside me, and felt the tugging at the blanets. They were somewhat more forceful this time. I fought back, pulling the blankets back and let out a small whimper, 'I won't let him hurt us,' I kept thinking to myself.

Then I heard it, "Lindsay what's the matter? What are you doing?" It was my mother tugging. I stopped pulling on the blankets and stopped all movement, and breathing together. It was out. Now she would something was up... this is the moment.. can't hide it anymore.. noe she knows there is definetly something going on.. it's no longer just something I said to someone else...

I pulled the covers down to just under my eyes and stared at her, "What's wrong?" she asked me. She had kneeled down beside me, to wake us up, so we could get ready for my uncle's wedding. My mother stared down at me with concern in her eyes, but also the knowledge.

I told her quietly what had happened the last time I woke up. Told her about the tugging and pulling, about how I tried to keep Michelle safe.

But my memory ends there... I don't remember anything else after that, I remember the wedding of course, but I don't remember what my mother said, or if Chelle had woken up at all that night..

It's because of this that I feel so responsible for my brother and sister. Me and my sister have really always been really close. Because at the end of the day the people I have left are my brother and sister.


I love my sister because she is caring. She always wants everyone to be happy. Her smile is usually always bright and shining. But lately I've noticed, she hasn't been smiling as often as usual, and it worries me. Something is bothering her deeply that it affects her very core. I want her to always be happy, and to never have to hurt ever again. I couldn't save her then, but I will try my hardest to keep her happy and make sure she makes the right choices, and gets herself the best out of life. Because I love her.


She is my best friend, my confident, the one person I know will not judge me, or get mad at the mess I've created of myself. I know that she will listen to me whenever I need it. And I know that she is proud of the person I have become, and it means the world to me to have the thought that maybe I didn't create such a huge mess of myself so that she could be somewhat inspired by, or proud of me. I'm glad that I never followed through with those thoughts so long ago, if it wasn't for them, my brother and sister, my life would be over right now, and I wouldn't be writing this.

And although I may feel like a failure to my parents most of the time, I know that I will never, ever be a failure to the two people who matter the most to me.

It just had to die yesterday didn't it?

So my computer died yesterday. It is at the computer hospital right now. I've lost everything. Three years worth of photos and videos. My artwork... my music. All my masters are gone. Everything I had for the sadie project is *POOF!!* gone. Now I have to re-record everything... which shouldn't be too bad. I was planning it anyways.

So just luckliy after I wrote my last post about my daddy. He's began to become a little more involved in my life. We've made some sort of plan to spend sunday evenings over at his house, for dinner. And this friday we're going to a semi-formal valentine's dance. So whoo, excited. Hopefully our computer is back by then, lots of pictures.

I wonder if anyone really reads this blog... I think that's why I don't update often... no one reads it... Or at least ithink no one reads it....

If anyone does... can you leave a comment and let me know? Haha, you don't even have to write anything just a "." is good. Lol.

So no photos in this post, because I don't know where my cousin's photos are. Lol. I'm at her house using her comp right now. Lol.

So I'm off to bed. I have to go to Kitchener in the morning. Early morning, like in three hours I have to wake up. Lol.

Nightie night...

Sometime we all feel like a Mistake...

My relationship with my father has declined a lot in the last few years since I was 16. I sometimes feel he completely forgets I exist.. and it makes me feel like a bag of crap. I called him the other day just to say "Hey what's up, I love you," and he made it sound like old news...

I love my father, to the extremes. He is the one we ran to when we escaped. He has been with us our whole lives and I have always been a Daddy's Girl. So why is it, that he finds such ease to go through out the weeks, and not even a phone call or anything. We used to talk all the time during the week when I was younger, and now it's like it's him, his wife, and her kids. He never invites us out camping during the summer. Or to other occasions, such as my step-sister's going away party when she was leaving to go to Ottawa for university...

Am I the steady reminder of his mistakes? Because I did not graduate high school, and instead became this somewhat crazy, depressed, messed up little girl? Is that all I am to my Daddy? Am I a mistake?