I’ve never been the best writer. My brother and sister were both notorious for being writers.
I lay here in my bed, with my Rufus snuggled up by my hip as we get an early spring thunderstorm. I’ve been wanting to write, I’ve been wanting to share my story. It’s been so hard. It’s been unbearable most days to even think about how my life is now, let alone actually see it in writing when I have to wake up everyday and live it.
I’m going to try my best, for my brother. This is our story. Our lives growing up, all of our trials and triumphs. I hope maybe one day someone who needs help can read this, and hopefully in some way it could possibly help them along their journey. In a post down the road, I will explain why I chose the girl with the dinosaur tattoo as my domain name. It will make sense eventually.
I’m a very livid dreamer, I remember mostly all of my dreams from the night before. I want to share this one quick before I forget. I started a brand new job today, a big step for myself and my career. I dreamed I was in a car with my brother. We were driving somewhere, and Austin was in the passenger seat. I grabbed his hand, and I told him how much I missed him. He just smiled, and held my hand. I know he was giving me encouragement for my new job.
Back to my purpose for this first post. I want to start from the beginning. My therapist tells me I should journal, and write things down. It wasn’t until after seeing her for a month until some things started to make sense. I could see how things from my past have molded me into the person I am today.
One of the first few memories I have of my real dad (Brad) was when I was around 5-6. We lived in a tiny house in Coon Rapids. I call him Brad because he has never been a dad to me, and never will be. Brad came home, drunk and ready to fight. My mom took the brunt of it all.
I remember being with my sister, while my brother was sleeping in the other room. After the fight, my mother grabbed my brother and sister and ran to the garage. We were going to spend the night at my uncle’s. I ran into my room, and grabbed a picture of my dad and I at Disney Land with Mickey Mouse. Brad was sitting in his boxers in the living room, so drunk he could barely talk. I remember I was holding the picture, with our dog Remington while my mom yelled at me from the garage to come.
I didn’t know what to do. I was still so young to comprehend everything. Should I stay with this man so called my dad? Should I run to the garage where my mom, sister and brother are waiting to go?
Brad turned and looked at me and said, “So what are you going to do?” I suddenly became scared of this man in front of me, and ran to the garage where I hopped safely into the car. We all slept in the Big Room at my cousins, with sleeping bags and big couch pillows. But I didn’t sleep. This wasn’t the last time a situation like this would happen, but it’s the earliest memory I have of Brad.
I wanted to start at the beginning. To let this all out. Hoping this may help clear my mind and help my heart. I’ve never felt like sharing such personal things, but I feel like after everything, I should.
There is more, a lot more that I will continue to write about. Things that happened that have shaped who I am today, and who my brother was. I know some things will be easier to write than others, so I am going to write when the time is right for me. Until next time. – So it goes
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