There Are Such Things As Monsters - Part 1

There Are Such Things As Monsters 
By Anisa Marie  


  Interlude

This a true story. Not formally written or grammatically correct. 

It's a story about a time in my life that has made the most impact on who I am today. This is not told with intent to offend or shun anyone. Nor is it an attempt to receive pity or personal attention. It is simply written to shine light on a very dark secret that many of us unknowingly share. Within the past few months, I’ve discovered so much about myself. My mind has been opened to the very root of why I am the way that I am. I must admit, all the pieces have not been easy to face, and there is still quite a bit to go. But, my desire is to be healed, and to be whole. I believe in order to heal, wounds first have to be uncovered. You have to be open. Only then, can the treatment begin.

The first step in the treating process is the cleansing. I’d love to say cleansing is a peaceful and enjoyable moment. However, I won’t lie to you, it’s not. There’s nothing calming about pouring peroxide, or any purifying substance, into an open wound. But it get’s the job done efficiently. And there is no other way to correctly cleanse a wound.

For most, the content in this story will shock you. I’m sure questions will arise. However the only questions that will be addressed are that which regard only myself. There are two parts to this story. It is crucial that you read both parts.

For some of you, this story will cause emotions and flashbacks to arise. Feelings you have shoved away deep within yourself. Memories you have blocked out and locked away in the back of your mind. I encourage you to embrace them. Let them flow. May the process of healing begin. 

[Names have been left out of the respect I have for them, & in leu of the reason for this story.]
There Are Such Things As Monsters - Part 1

“There are no such thing as monsters.” 

That’s what you were told when you were little as mommy or daddy tucked you in at night in hopes to calm you back to sleep. And I’m sure, those of you who are now parent’s have or would say the same to your child at bedtime. Though I’m sure the intention is never to give your child false truth, I can tell you first hand, monsters are very real.

I know, because I had a monster for years. Even when my father checked under my bed and in my closet, the monster still came out at night. Sometimes it would be under my bed, other times behind, as well as in my closet. In the movies, the monsters are just there to scare you and only come out in your room. Unfortunately, my monster was special....

It lurked in such a way, that you could feel it’s presence. But it blended in so well, that at first glance you couldn’t see it. All you could hear was it's breathing heavily along with the sound of it's crackling feet. And those eyes... its eyes would paralyze you with fear & trembling. 

With monsters you can just cover your head with the blanket muttering “go away, go away, go away”, and just like that it disappears right??

Wrong. 

Mine was different. When I opened my eyes, and pulled down the covers, it would be right there standing over me. And just like that, through those piercing eyes I was paralyzed. Couldn’t move, couldn’t scream or call for help. All I could do was whisper “no, please go away” as tears ran down my face soaking my pillow.

The monster I had, didn’t just come from under my bed or out of the closet. It wasn’t the kind that only came out at night either. In fact my monster even liked to hide in the bathroom closet while I took showers. And what’s worse, is my monster liked to touch.

Not the gentle kind of touch mommy gives. Like rubbing your back until you fall asleep. No. It wanted to touch in places I knew no hands should go. It would touch, caress, and squeeze with its claws. Sometimes it chose to use its mouth instead. 

Almost every encounter, it would mockingly ask me if it could touch me. While it’s body was already on top of me, and it’s hands were moving along my frozen body. As if I had a choice. As if I could do anything to stop it...

Now,

Imagine me.

A little nine year old girl.
 Finding out that monsters are real. That they don’t just disappear. That a blink of an eye and a whisper doesn’t shoo it away. What's even worse, is finding out that the monster resided in your family. It lived in the same blood line as you. So there’s no way to shake it.

After almost two years of living with this monster, I finally mustered up the courage to tell someone. I thought that if I opened up my mouth and told someone then the monster would get scared and stay away. Hoping that who I told would protect me. After all that’s what brothers are supposed to do, right?

So I pulled my brother into his room, and whispered to him what was going on. Anticipating in my mind a response of outrage & anger. 

But instead, I received an outburst of laughter. Yes, my brother laughed in my face. He thought I was joking. After he saw the tears streaming down, he realized I was telling the truth. But even then, all he said was to tell it to stop. I didn’t say another word. I knew he wouldn’t help me. He didn’t understand what I was dealing with. Frankly, I felt he didn’t really care.

And sure enough, the monster didn’t go away. It would still come out to play its game where it made all the rules...

Years carried on. I now in eighth grade, had this friend. My “best friend”, whom I trusted above all. Since she had the same nightmares as me, I felt a connection to her that I hadn’t experience with any other relationship. I felt like I could trust her. Since she knows how it feels, and I kept all her secrets, of course she would do the same. 

Nope. 

Leaked the very next day. And all of the sudden I was looked down and cast out even more than before. The girls said things to me like, “you’re such a lier”, ”you’re such a copycat”, “ you’re just making it up to get attention.” 

Like knives to my heart. Here I am, just looking for someone to relate to. Someone to value me enough to say; “Hey! That’s not cool. We need to do something to stop it.” But instead, I get demeaning words & cold shoulders. And when I confronted my “friend” about telling my secret, she swore on every life but her own that she didn’t say anything to anyone. I knew she had to be lying, because she was the only person I told. She never apologized either...

There I was again. Helpless. Without help. Without protection. Feeling worthless, and unloved. I didn’t understand how something like this could happen to me. How could my own brother know what was happening to me and not do anything about? How could he know and not be bothered at all? How could no one see there was something wrong? Am I really that insignificant, that no one would do something to help me?? 

These are the thoughts that camped in my mind.

I stopped believing in fairy tales a lot earlier than most girls. The story was always the same. There is a princess in distress who needs saving. Then sure enough after while, a prince charming or a hero comes to save her. And they live happily ever after. 

What a bunch of crap. 

That’s not reality. I was locked away in the dungeon of fear & torment in my own house. The place you are supposed to be safe & secure. The place you go to be comfortable & cozy. But it wasn’t that for me at all.

 It was a dark, scary, cold, pain infested place. No one was coming to save me. No one cared.

My parents noticed changes in me. They even asked me, if someone was messing with me; if there was something I should tell them. Had they asked before I told the other people I I thought cared for me the most betrayed me, I may have given a different answer. But each time, I said no. Hoping in the depths of my soul that they would try harder. And see I was lying. Internally begging one of them to save me from this torment. They’re my parents after all. They have that intuition thing. I figured it would just take over and I wouldn’t even have to say a word. But it didn’t quite happen that way.

As I’ve said before, this monster was no ordinary one.

 It was smart. 

When it first showed itself, we lived in apartments. And my door had a lock on it. So of course I would start locking my door at night, even though the house rules were that I couldn’t. I had to do something. 

Surprisingly, some way, the lock only worked twice. After that, even though I locked the door, the monster still made its way into my room. I couldn’t figure out how it got in after I know I locked the door. Later, I found little balls of paper stuck in the door jam. So I locked my door on the inside, then closed it on the outside and pushed on the door. It came open as easy as 1 2 3. Then I found the same kind of little paper balls in the bathroom door jam as well.

 The same tricks continued when we moved into the next house in Vancouver. No place was safe. But I still locked the doors for my minds sake.

My world was dark and lonely. I had no friends. No one I could trust. No one I could count on. No one to protect me. 

At random moments my brother would come up behind me and whisper “Nisa, please. Can I touch em.”; the very thing I told him the monster would say. Following which, he would laugh, Hard. As I froze in fear and began to cry.

 I had no home. It was a fine roof over my head, and my father made sure I was well fed. But I couldn’t even sleep in peace in my own bed. Or take a shower without those eyes hiding in the closet. Even if the monster wasn’t there, the fear and the image remained. There was no escape. So it was all the same.

It was no way to live. Surely this wasn’t God’s plan for me; to live in misery. Maybe I'm not meant to live at all. Since I’m not worth much. I mine as well be dead. 

These were the sort of things that went through my head...

Eighth grade was the first time I attempted to take my own life. I took a belt from my closet and went into the bathroom. Turned the fan and the water in the tub on, so no one would hear me struggle; not that they cared anyway. I tied the belt to the shower head, then around my neck, didn’t hold long at all. So then I tried it on the shower door frame. This time the belt came undone. I tried again, but it came undone again. Then I broke down in tears. Following which I went to my room, laid on my bed, and cried myself to slumber with my cousin sleep right next to me.

The next day, I woke up and looked in the mirror to see if I had any marks or bruises. I tied that belt pretty tight. For sure there were some kind of markings somewhere. Since I survived, I couldn’t show my parents or anyone else. So I looked very closely, time and time again. Remarkably, I only had one little scratch that looked like a paper or finger nail took a swing. Needless to say, it was a miracle.

Still didn’t bring any joy. Still didn’t take the pain away. I was sad I was still alive. I was still alone with no one to relate to. Still felt worthless & overlooked. Getting good grades in school didn’t make it any better. Getting first place in track, and winning awards in basketball, track, and cheer, didn’t make it any better. Being nominated and chosen for leadership positions didn’t make it better. Winning the youth achievement award of the county didn’t make it any better. I was still empty. I was still alone. I was still trapped. And no one came to save me...

Now it was on to high school. Which of course just like for every other teenager at that age, became my WHOLE small little world. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to feel a part of something that mattered for a change. In efforts, I gave a lot of my energy and time towards other people. Spent WAY too much time catering to other people, who rarely, if ever returned the favor. And I knew I wouldn’t get anything back. At leased I mattered some of the time. But if something went wrong, it was the end of the world.

I tried to give unto others as I would have them give unto me. Make them feel what I didn’t feel, and have what I didn’t have. A loyal, trustworthy friend who’s always there no matter what; supports you whenever, however you need it. I became a protector very young, and continued to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Secretly hoping that someone would return the favor. 

Of course the favor returned void. 

So I had to continue to protect myself. I couldn’t protect myself at home, but I SURE wasn’t gonna let anyone push me around or treat me any old kind of way anywhere else. I built those walls up nice and thick. Only problem with that was, I kept letting in the wrong people. Kept befriending girls, and guys who didn’t know who they were, and were trying to fit in, just like I was. So being accepted usually turned into to burning me in the process.

I remember finally opening back up again. Told my two “best friends”, (who were never truly my friends to begin with), about the monster in my life. They showed such compassion to my face, and said they believe me, while I watched their eyes role. Shortly after that night, of course word got back to me that one of them had spread the news to others stating she didn’t believe me, and she knew I was lying. 

You can imagine how I felt. I was heart broken. First, because I had "known" her the longest. Then, that she would lie saying she believed me to my face. And then, the fact that she would tell something like that to other people. And Then, that she would lie again, denying she ever said a word. So you can imagine what happened next. We were no longer friends. I swiftly cared less and less about her issues and company. Come to find out later, she had been messing around with the monster.

Funny huh.
[My relational endeavors will be talked about at length some other time. ]

After while, the hurt I felt turned into anger. I didn’t get into too many fights in high school. Not because I didn’t want to, (just being honest). But because no one really stepped to me in that kind of way. By this time, I’ve established myself as an elite athlete. I broke top weight records when I was a freshman. And kept on setting new ones. I was physically stronger than the majority, and faster than all of them. So they didn’t really try me. The only physical altercations I got into were with boys. I had a short fuse and I wouldn’t back down from nobody. I remember almost fighting the biggest Samoan in school because he called me out my name. That was the only time my oldest big brother came to my rescue. Any other time I was on my own. So I had to accommodate.

Now the problem with letting anger & hurt abide in you is, it grows by eating everything else inside you. Your passion, your dreams, your compassion, happiness, joy, ability to enjoy life and exert yourself; it takes it ALL. And leaves you stuck and bitter. 

Oddly enough, had I not become so angry, I don’t know when I would have found the strength to stand up to the monster and tell it it would NEVER touch me again. Nevertheless, I got tired of being sick and tired. Faced my monster. Demanded it to go away and stay away if it valued its life. And sure enough, the monster never came to touch me again. It was after that, I also found the courage to tell me parents about what had been happening. 

Finally. I was now seventeen. There was no more monster creeping in my room. It was gone. But there was No prince charming. No hero. Just me.

Hooray! Hoorah! It’s over now!! I can finally have peace!! 

RIGHT?!

Negative. In fact after while, I became even more angry. But what’s there to be upset about? The monsters gone! Surely it will never happen again.

Well, the concern wasn’t that the monster would return. 

The issue was, the monster hadn’t been slain.

I lived with that monster from age 9 to 17. Well into my later teenage years. Friendless. Alone. Dreadfully afraid of the dark. Had slept with a nightlight or some kind of light in my room up until I was a senior in high school. Hardly ever slept well. Whether at my house or staying at another. Hating to come to the house everyday. Incapable of being comfortable in would should be a home; a place of peace and safety. Battled with depression. Suicidal thoughts & tendencies. I would never get into my bed before I checked under my bed, behind my bed, in my closet, and in every crack a monster could possibly hide. Could never take a shower without looking over my shoulder with every thump or creek. Uncomfortable with my body. Uncomfortable with males in general. Especially ones related to me. Couldn't trust anyone. Had to be on guard 24/7. And not one strand of hair on its head had been grazed.

First, my brother didn’t do anything. Then, people who I thought were my friends. Now my daddy knows and he ain’t did NOTHIN!!!! 

 Oh I. WAS. HOT.

There was no way anybody was getting away with doing that to me. So clearly, I had to take it into my own hands. 

I decided I was going to make it pay.

 I was just flat out mean every time I saw it. One day, some of the family were together for dinner, and it was lingering around. Acting like life was all grand laughing & joking and such. 

Pissed me off even more. 

I grabbed a steak knife and started stabbing the meat while staring into it’s eyes. 

Furious. 

Then I stood up, sharp edge up clutched in my hand moving towards him, and my family stopped me. Fussin. First my brother, then my mother, then my father. All yelling at me telling me to calm down.

Dad: “Calm down Anisa.”
Bro: “Chill out!”

“CALM DOWN!?!
“CHILL OUT??
THIS THING MOLESTED ME FOR ALMOST HALF MY LIFE!! ACTING LIKE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED!! AND YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN????!!!!!
ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????!!”

I was boiling with rage. I could not believe my own parents told me I was in the wrong.

For a long time, I held it against them. After while, all that anger that boiled inside me, evaporated. Ate away my passion to run. Ate away my passion to thrive in anything. My senior year, towards the end academics fell swiftly, I wasn’t performing well in my sports, I was slacking on my role as athletic leader, and senior class council member. Everything went down hill. I ran out of umph. And in turn I had the worst track season of my high school career. Even though I still made it to state, I lost a lot of opportunities for scholarships. If I hadn’t established such a good reputation as a scholar athlete/leader, my teachers probably wouldn’t have allowed me to bring up my grades. I ruined my first real, sound relationship. And I turned down the few scholarship offers I was given. Had my track coach; the best coach in the world - [shout out to Mike Burdick!]; feeling like it was his fault. Severed that relationship. But I didn't completely crash. I was able to pull it together and finish my senior year as the Senior Class Speaker; also known as Class Valedictorian. 

Then spent the next year in regret. Wishing I could re-do the last year of my life.

Following which, had some dumb days. Intentionally rebelled against my parents and the rules they set in place for how I was to conduct myself while living in their house. I wanted them to feel what I felt, so maybe they would understand my point of view. But it didn't last long at all. I am a fighter. But, I'm an even greater lover. Revenge simply isn't in my character or DNA.

Something had to give. Even though the monster was physically gone, all the memories, pain, habits, and fear remained. I still couldn't call my house my home. It was past time for a change. Though I mastered wearing the mask of confidence and beauty, I didn't feel it. I wasn't happy. Nothing I tried to fill the void worked. I still felt empty. I knew there had to be more than this...