Okay, so what’s on my mind?
Court: I wish I had been more involved, I wish I would have been there and said my part. I think he could have paid more for what he did to me. My life will never be the same. I missed so much that I could have been doing. I did so much that I could have surpassed.
Now, don’t get me wrong; I love where I am now. I love James and if I had to go through it all again to get here, I would. I just don’t feel like I got everything I should have out of him going to jail and paying just over $1,000 (that I know of) to my family. I didn’t see a cent of that money either. How can you call it pain and suffering money when it didn’t even go to the one who went through it all on her own? Yes, I know my parents went through a lot of emotional things when they found out, but they had it easy in comparison to all of the pain, loneliness, and guilt that I endured for four-plus years. Now I have the guilt of feeling like my parents shouldn’t have gotten that money. I feel like I’m missing this huge chunk of my life. All of my friends and James have stories like, “Oh when we used to play in the backyard and catch things,” and I’m sitting there like, “I cannot relate to you at all. During that time in my life I was mothering a kid who wasn’t my own and being preyed upon.” That hurts, you know?
Another reason I wish I was smart enough at the time to be in court. I miss Christa like hell. I had a hand in raising her and once the police got involved, I never talked to her again. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her.
I feel lost sometimes, like there was something I missed in life. I could have had so much, but I chose to let him take it. I consider myself a survivor, yet I feel like I’m not because parts of me died in all of this. I may be thinking all of this because I’m starting school soon and I have to take so many high school courses over because, when I was in high school and middle school, my mind was elsewhere and I didn’t learn much besides psychology and literature. Both things where I could lose myself in seeing how messed up other peoples lives were and imagining I was somewhere or someone else in a fantasyland.
Four years later, I’m just figuring myself out …