I've heard them all my life. 

I've come to the conclusion that I am not worth anything to anybody.  I'm no good, worthless, a nobody.  I don't matter to a lot of people.

I've put up with being called names, not only by the kids at my school, but by my own parents.  My mom and dad did not love us kids; if they did, they did it all wrong, and now it's no wonder we're all fucked up today as adults.

Case in point.  My sister Jilly is in a mental hospital due to out of control bi-polar disorder.  She's tried to kill herself twice; there's no telling if she's going to attempt it yet again.  My brother Garrett has taken to drinking and using drugs, and my other sister Hannah is sleeping around, messing with guys twice her age.  (Hannah, the youngest, is only 15.)

As for me, I'm trying to undo the damage of the past.  I've tried to contact our parents repeatedly, but they don't want to have anything to do with us.  They think that since we're grown, responsible adults, we can take care of our own lives; "you've buttered your bread, now sleep on it", they tell us over and over again.

Or however the saying goes.

I've been called "Dummy".  "Stupid-Boy".  "Retarded".  "Worthless".  "Dumb-Ass".  "Nogoodnick".  "Asinine".  "Idiot".  "Goon".  "Imbecile". 

Believe me, I've heard all of these, and more.  Much more.  Some of the words are so nasty I can't even begin to repeat them here.

It didn't help that my parents played favorites.  In their eyes, Jilly was the family pet.  Before she got mental illness, she was beautiful.  Smart.  Funny.  An overachiever.  In their eyes, she could do no wrong. 

Garrett was the star athlete.  Even won awards in high school for his skills on the football gridiron; he was the perpetual star athlete:  everyone adored him; he was the talk of the town, especially after he scored three touchdowns against a formidable school rival during an important championship game. 

As for Hannah, she was the baby.  Spoiled wasn't the word for it.  She got everything she wanted, and she got away with things that Garrett, Jilly, or I couldn't even dream of doing. 

Yet I was the oldest one.  The responsible one.  The one who didn't get into trouble (or at least I thought I didn't). 

I was the one who got yelled at.  Constantly.  I was always told to watch out for my siblings, which I did, faithfully; yet whatever I did was never good enough to mom or daddy.  Sometimes their yelling escalated into actual physical violence.

I can't tell you how many times I got smacked around.  It's a wonder I even have a brain left; I'm surprised I'm not left punchdrunk by all the blows they inflicted upon me.  Even when I got to be Hannah's age, in high school, I got smacked around. 

The worst time came when daddy hauled off and smacked me in front of my friends as he screamed at me:  "You godd***ed dumb-ass!  Don't you have any f***in' brains in that godd*** head of yours besides air??" It was humiliating.  I'll never forget the shocked expressions on the faces of my friends as they witnessed this abuse being meted out on me by my dad.  It was horrible!

Now mom and daddy wonder why I don't call or write to them on a regular basis.  The truth is, I can't.  Not after what they'd done to us, in particular, me.  And the fact that they won't even get in touch with me hurts.  It hurts deep down to the core of my being.

Because of the abuse they handed down over the years, it's no wonder we're all fucked up.  We're depressed, unsure of our futures,  and we're not sure where we are headed, in relation to goals, dreams.  We're just barely wandering around in life, hoping for a break, or some form of change, that will erase the memories of the past.

Everytime I see a father yelling at his kid (or a mom), the memories come flooding back; I can't help but cry for that poor kid, and all of a sudden, I'm reliving the nightmares all over again.  Can't parents realize that what you say to your kids when they are little can (and does)  have lasting ramifications?  Words do hurt, and they hurt painfully.  Don't let that old lie steer you to believe otherwise because I'm here to tell you that words CAN hurt.

Somtimes people have gotten so depressed or out of it they've committed suicide, or even killed family members, because they couldn't deal with what was said to them any longer.  Look at Columbine, or look at any other shooting, where a kid was involved.  Something was said to them in the past, and they went out of control.

Thank God we've haven't reached THAT point; however, our lives are still forever changed, shaped by what was spoken to us as kids, and I'm about the only one who gives a fuck about what happened and am trying my hardest to change things.  No, it won't be easy, but with a lot of help, maybe I can rise above those hurtful words and prove to the world that I am not what my family claimed I was.

I may be a "dumb-ass" to my family, but I refuse to let that rule my life.  I'm going to college now, to try to better myself, and I'm doing it all on my own, with no  help whatsoever.  It's not easy, but I am making it, one step at a time!

So mom and daddy, I have but one question for you:

Do you think I'm still a "dumb-ass?"  How many "dumb-asses" go to college on their own??  Think about it next time you open your stupid mouths and inflict that garbage on me, because I've had it.  I'm not listening to your lies any longer!! 

I'm NOT a "dumb-ass"; I'm a SOMEBODY!!