Silent Soldiers

I heard the term "silent soldiers," on a Japanese drama I was watching over the summer. The term was used to describe child victims of abuse. The word abuse often is associated with violence but there are other types of abuse such as neglect or emotional abuse. What people often don't know is that a victim of physical abuse is either found dead or close to death yet victims of neglect or emotional abuse are usually never found at all. Their scars are invisible to the naked eye except in the eyes of others like themselves.

"One cannot understand pain unless they have felt it first."

It is hard to admit that for a time I was a silent soldier. Well at least I choose to believe it was only for an episode in my life.

As the story usually goes my parents after an awful, violent fight went their separate ways. I was about 13 when I moved to the neighborhood I still live in. My mother over night became a single parent, and even she admits she didn't know how to be a parent.

She's a nurse and usually works long hours in shifts that usually left me in the care of my father. I had and older brother and sister but because of certain events that happened years before I was born, they treated me like an annoying parasite. So the only one I was really close to was my father, another thing that lead to a strained relationship with my siblings and still a sore point to this day.

So when the big fight happened my world literally turned upside down. I no longer lived in a house full of people I lived in an apartment with just my mom who was a stranger to me. At first it was a big adjustment to both of us because neither of us were ever dependent on each other before. It became clear from the beginning that my childhood was forever dead. I wasn't a child, I had to take care of myself and my mother anyway possible. I became very independent quickly because if I didn't I don't think we would have survived.

Plus by being busy taking care of myself and my mom I could ignore the fact that I was lonely. Because of the fight my mother was reluctant to let me see my father. This worstened when I was in my first year of high school because she went to court to sue my father for child support and custody. She won full custody meaning if she never want me to see my father no one, especially the law would go against her. So for about 3 months I could not see my father. For 3 months I couldn't even call him, all I had for company on those long days was my cat Mischiefus. My mother was never around because of work so I was often alone, my friends were too far to visit, and my mother was never home so that I could visit them.

Could you say my neglect started at this time, perhaps, but it wasn't as painful as it sounds. I learned to enjoy loneliness and to this day I feel great comfort when I am alone. My silent soldiering start the day "he" came into my life. Because his name still fills me with hate I shall call him for this article PL.

PL was a second or third cousin of my mother. They used to hang out when they were very very little so hardly recognized each other when they met at a party. He was in NY visiting or something when they met because he lives in Florida. For a few months my mom and PL had a long distance relationship. He sounded nice on the phone but that's where anything good I have to say about him ends.

They both arranged for him to visit for a month or maybe more. I never saw my mother so happy so I was determined to like him for her sake. From the day he arrived till the day he left, everyday was a living hell. He didn't like the fact that I didn't speak any Spanish and that I talked to my mother in English. Basically he hated the fact that he couldn't understand what we were talking about. Then as a way to maybe make us closer he wanted me to tutor him in English since he was taking some ESL classes. He never asked me for much just to check to see if his hw was correct it usually was but if anything was wrong and I pointed it out or failed to point it out he would start to yell and scream at me and verbally tell me I was a piece of crap.

In other words, he took his frustrations out on me. I took it, holding in my tears, not letting him or my mom know that it was killing me. My mom used to come to my room at night to chat a little before I slept, PL didn't like it because he thought I was saying bad things about him, which wasn't true because I always just talked about school with my mom for the ten minutes she came to my room before I slept. So that stopped, because every day he would make an issue about it. TV was strictly his business and all he watched was sports and never mind anyone had to sleep he would blast the volume as high as he pleased.

Sometimes to make me cry he would take my textbooks away from me so that I couldn't do my hw. He would hide them and only put them back in the mornings. Therefore, every morning on the bus I had to read and do the hw that I couldn't because he had my books.

To further annoy me he would openly insult my father, and my last name. Tell me that I was to blame for all my mother's woes. That my father was evil, and that if he ever married my mother he would never let me see my father again.

I took all this abuse in and cried every night alone in my room. My room was my only sanctuary, the only place I could escape to and read books to get my mind off the situation. It was sacred to me so of course he had to mess it up. He turned my lock around so that anyone could lock me in and I couldn't lock anyone out. He removed some of my furniture telling my mom it would be better and she went along with everything he said.

But eventually he would have to go back to Florida. Then I would be at peace and my mom back to normal. However, he would always come back unexpected and again stay for a couple of months. At some points I was so scared to stay alone with him in the apartment because my mom was at work that I called my sister. She didn't understand why I was so worried so would only stop by for 5 minutes then leave me alone again.

I've always had this odd habit of forgetting really horrible events in my life. I guess you could call it self hypnotic amnesia to forget things I just don't want to remember. Well many of those days we were alone, I remember the terror I felt being alone and knowing I couldn't lock him out, then it's a blank and I remember hearing my mother come home from work and my room is dark and PL telling my mom I already went to bed.

My mind is full of these odd memories where parts are missing. Sometimes those missing parts come back and I wish they never did. So the worst memories that I have are of the trip to Florida when my mom and I stayed at PL's apartment. I was so nervous and scared that I couldn't keep any food down. From the day we arrived I was throwing up every night. Only when my aunt Elva came to stay as well as my cousin Vicky did I start to get better. I finally had people around besides PL and my mom.

It was during the whole PL episode in my life that I learned to hide my feels. I learned to smile even though I wanted to kill myself. I learned to act like nothing was wrong. I had to because I couldn't let others around me know what was going on. Not because anyone threatened me but because I didn't want to create any more problems between my mother and father.

So it was a shock that my aunt Elva knew I was not alright, that I was depressed, and that PL had no right to treat me the way he was treating me. However, because he yelled at PL for treating me like garbage he got more violent with me when she left to go home. Though it was only 2 days they were the worst 2 days. PL would find ways to make me fall or bang into things making it seem like an accident when it wasn't. The worst was the last day when he was taking us to the airport, he was trying to convince my mother to stay for another week. At that moment I was desperate to get home away from him so I begged my mother to please just go home. So he took us to the airport, my mother was getting luggage from the trunk and I was getting our bags from the back seat. PL turns around from the driver's seat and hurdles his heavy work bag at me. I was hit in the face and chest, it hurt, it hurt so bad but I somehow held the tears and got out of the car. But what hurt me more was that my mother was just standing there, she witnessed what he did to me but she didn't say anything to him.

Afterward, we didn't see him for 6 months. Then again he dropped by unannounced, only this time I didn't have to stay my mom gave me permission to sleep over at my dad's and I took advantage of this. I was practically living at my dad's when my mother called me home saying PL left. This time he left for good taking all of my mother's savings and disappearing forever.

It took my mom a long time to recover from that because since they had a joint account he took all the money away legally even though not a penny was his. To this day I have trust issues, and perhaps it's because of this time as a silent soldier. Whatever the case may be only my aunt Elva, another silent soldier saw my suffering. If she didn't perhaps my hell would have never ended. But today as I look at the situation of my niece I see what she doesn't want anyone else to see. She's another silent soldier, however, her situation is different. PL was never legally bound to my mother so could always go away, my niece on the other had can only hope that she can get more father-daughter days and more time with her grandparents.

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7th Year Anniversary of Sept. 11th

Today is September 11th and I thought it would be appropriate to write about my experiences, memories, and how that day changed all New Yorkers. Even though the terrorist attacks happened 7 years ago to many New Yorkers this day forever reminds us to appreciate life and freedom. Perhaps only New Yorkers really feel the impact of that day and it is a scar on our hearts that only make us stronger.

I was eating breakfast that day, I had class later in the morning so I was taking my time and watching the news. I remember I went to the bathroom and when I came back the news changed to exclusive coverage of plane crashing into one of the twin towers.

I immediately called my aunt on the phone to see if she was watching what I was seeing. At first perhaps we were both optimistic thinking it was an accident since this is New York and there is a lot of air traffic especially where I live which is just 5 minutes from the airport. But then as we were both on the phone trying to reassure ourselves there on the TV we saw a second plane hit the second twin tower.

I don't remember hanging up but in that moment terror seized my heart. It was no accident.

Then as I began to dial the telephone number of my mother the first tower collapsed and plums of smokey and debris litter the city I knew so well. Flash backs of the many trips I took to the twin towers and how beautiful it was inside brought tears to my eyes. Then just when all the news casters were voicing their hopes that the other tower would still stand we could only wait and watch as eventually the second tower fell.

It was only then that I realized the amount of people who were in those buildings. My thoughts immediately went to my sister who worked in union square which is about 2 miles away from ground zero. She was fine but then she told me that her friend Desmond works in the financial center which was located beneath the towers.

After that the phone lines went dead, too many people were calling family so the phone lines couldn't keep up eventually in three hours they would be up again.

Then because of the threat to security all New York airports were closed and secured. How that affected me is that I was basically a prisoner in my own neighborhood. One of the main streets is an entry path to the airport so that was sealed off with military vehicles and for the first time in my life there were no airplanes in the sky. That silence affected my neighbors and I more than the military vehicles.

That night my sister finally got word to us that she was home safe. As well as no air traffic there was no more trains. Many people who worked in the city had to walk home and my sister was one of them it took her 6 hours to get home.

For 3 days my neighborhood was a protected zone and the city was no different. You had to show ID to get in or out. I didn't go to school the first day but the second day I went. It was a little difficult because since my bus is an airport bus it was out of service in my neighborhood so I had to walk a good distance to where it was allowed to run.

At school I can safely say 50% of the population did not attend even 50% of the faculty was missing. However the 50% of us who attended were exposed to high doses of the dust and fumes because my campus is located across the water from the towers in queens.

Because of that exposure I and many others developed respiratory problems and allergies we never had before. It took many years for the effects of the exposure to eventually wear off but even today my lungs have never been strong.

What I learned in those 3 days and every day after is the strength of New Yorkers. We came together and pushed forward. There were many stories of bravery and tears and our innocence was lost; but we persevered.

In one day a city that was my playground became a harsh reminder that America is never safe. But even with that knowledge my life continues, I still go to the city and enjoy it. The events of that day created a scar but it did not kill my love of the city. Of course it took 7 years for me to visit ground zero and as I did I remembered how out of this tragedy we as New Yorkers came together and lived each day to the fullest. We did not let the terrorists take our lives away from us.

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