The Misunderstood Girl: A Beautiful Darkness

By Melanie Spearman

Have you ever wanted true love but continuously kept searching for it in the wrong places? Have you ever thought your family upbringing and ways of living were love and believed it was the right way of life? Have you ever sought love from men because you didn't receive it from your father correctly, who was in the home? Was accepting that manipulation, fear, and abuses of physical, emotional, verbal, and psychological pains supposed to be part of the plan? Have you struggled with severe depression and anxiety, leading to suicidal thoughts and attempts, because love wasn't going as you had hoped it would be?

Well, this is my memoir, my story, and my survival, detailing those detrimental challenges I have faced from family, friends, and especially men all because of wanting true love, to be loved, and to be accepted by others. To be raped, angered, heartbroken countlessly, and ultimately misunderstood is something I knew all too well in order to gain the love from others. Sacrificing myself toward men and woman was an area that I had become familiar with more than anything, not realizing later in life that all I ever needed was to turn my sole focus on God, who is love and has been with me all along, but I refused to notice him with an open heart.

So get ready to hear my life's journey and understand why I considered myself to be the misunderstood girl, living in continuous darkness that I believed was beautiful through my eyes!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889601326

Book preview

Reflecting on Family

As a young girl and teenager, I have always felt unimportant. I don’t think that I was, overall, but that is how I simply felt most of the time. I had friends in school and siblings (I am a triplet), but for whatever reason, I felt alone and wanted to be alone, well, to be born a single child. My triplet sister and I were best friends, or so I thought, and we always fought over the simplest things. It’s funny now to laugh at what we used to fight over, but back in the day, it was war. We were hot and cold all the time. Since she was born first out of the triplet gang, she would always make sure to tell me she was the oldest and born first. There was a picture I found in my mom’s photo collection that had our names listed and who was born first. It showed I was the firstborn, and my sister was heated. My mom later stated that was an error on her part, but I chose not to believe it. I feel my mom didn’t want my sister to be upset with her. My sister wanted to always have the final say no matter what. I never liked to argue, fuss, or fight, but I was the one who got in trouble more than her. I felt bullied in the home by my sister, and my mom refused to see it or accept it. My triplet brother on the other hand was always the peacemaker out of the three of us and still is to this day. He never liked to see us arguing and so forth. He is the sweetest and funniest, but he has his issues too. He searched for acceptance by wanting to be a rapper, wearing his hair with curly plats. Boy was he going through a phase. He was good at it, but he was longing for attention because, let’s be honest, the true guidance was not being shown, especially from my dad. My triplet sister and I do have a good relationship today, but we do have our moments of silence. We tend to silently compete in many things, but I know it is competition on her part. Whether it may be clothes, shoes, bags, or cars, I know what it is. I never saw myself as a competitive person. Whenever I get something, later on, she gets something similar. Just has to be at the top always. I’ll let her know it’s nice, but deep down, I wish she wouldn’t do that. Even now, she still does it, but I don’t care any longer. I realized that I don’t have to have things to make myself happy. She does that. My triplet brother buys things to make himself happy as well. No competition toward us but maybe toward others in his inner circle. He is definitely compensating for something. This is also part of the reason I wish I was an only child. Now don’t get me wrong; I am grateful that God joined me with my siblings, but I didn’t want the connection. Another reason I wanted to be disconnected is because I felt obligated to let her know about what was going on with me, such as boyfriends, friends, plans, etc. Even in my later years, I would advise her about some things in my life, but as I write now, I know I don’t have to share anything about my life with anyone unless I feel the need to. I choose to no longer do that with her at this point, including other members of my family.

As I sit and reflect in writing my story, it brings back so many memories that I have never really dealt with on my own. I suppressed them. A small part of me knew it existed, but I had to keep moving on with my life as always. I wanted to become so important in everything that came my way, including my accomplishments, but I was never really happy and content with myself because of how I was really feeling on the inside. So I smiled, laughed, but cried many times behind closed doors. I couldn’t let anyone know what was going on in my mind. They would have thought I was crazy, speaking nonsense, or just jumping to conclusions. How could anyone feel as if something was wrong with them? (thinking aloud), but I did and knew something was wrong with me. I hid it from everyone, especially my family. I can remember as early at the age of five; I was touching myself sexually. I can’t remember why I started doing that, but I was. How can someone so young know anything about masturbation? I would wait until my siblings went to sleep or when no one was around me to touch myself. Then if I heard someone coming into my room, I would pretend to be doing something else or sleep. That became a part of my life, and I never liked it because of it starting at such a young age. My husband was the only person that I ever confided in about that because I knew he wouldn’t judge me about it. I wish I knew why, but I will never know. I don’t think anything bad happened to me at that age, but I have had several spiritual mediums tell me that a curse was placed on me at the age of five and someone wanted to hurt me. Not saying I believed them, but different people at different times in my life say the same things. Hmm, it can ring a bell in one’s mind. But relative to my family, I grew feelings of them not really caring, which is why I didn’t communicate my thoughts to them. Maybe I should have, but the outcome wouldn’t have been what I needed to hear as a young girl, teenager, or adult woman. I didn’t feel supported in that way and still don’t feel the support currently. To say that it doesn’t bother me would be a lie. Of course, it