Spartan, that’s how dad calls something that is difficult. Sitting in the cold is Spartan, eating dirty food with mould is Spartan and so is sleeping on the floor. I don’t think Dad is a Spartan or ever met one. Dad likes to talk about what he calls enduring hardship. It’s a difficult word. To endure hardship is part of being spartan, he says. You have to be tough or you won’t make it. Dad doesn’t look tough to me. He doesn’t want me to say what I feel. Feelings are not important to him.
“Facts, bring me facts if then I will listen to you.”
For dad, only facts count. I am not allowed to feel anything. What I feel or think isn’t important, doesn’t count. What he says to me he never says to my mother. He doesn’t dare talk to her like that. When she’s at home, he hides behind the newspaper, on the toilet or in the little room when she’s not needing it for work. Sometimes I hear another man talk to him. That man is not uncle G. dad says it’s a professor who teaches him to understand maths. I think it’s not going very well or Dad doesn’t understand what the professor tells him. I don’t understand much about maths either. Maybe we are both stupid and that’s a fact?
Dad never says I am stupid. He says I can go to university easily. When the headmaster said I’m too stupid to go to visit housekeeping school, Daddy was furious. I told him what the headmaster said because I don’t know what housekeeping school is. Dad went to school to have a talk with the man. That school no longer exists and he said I’m too good for that. I don’t think daddy only talked because he was very angry. The headmaster didn’t say anything to me about it, but I’m not in his class anyway but I was a bit afraid of what he can do to me. The headmaster is a mean person. He hits the children too and doesn’t like me. I don’t think he likes my dad. Not yet. Daddy never goes to school except when he’s angry and at Christmas.
So eating mouldy food is spartan? I never read it in a book or heard it in history classes. I think Dad made it up. He won’t let me ask about it and never showed me a book that shows what a Spartan is. How he lives and why it’s important to be one. Sailors must have eaten mouldy food. That used to be a long time ago when they went sailing to get herbs, coffee and tea. Far away, once they artived they must have had good food, not pudding with green and red bits in it like my mother makes on Sundays. They had special biscuit and water, alcohol and I think rats too. I don’t know if there were any cats on board. Cats that catch mice and rats and don’t eat cat food.
Dad spoke about sliding cheese and sliding cake. He says he only got a small piece of it on his slice of bread. He first ate the dry bread and the last piece of bread was with cheese or breakfastcake. He showed me how to do it. First I had to look at the part of bread with cheese on it next shove the cheese a bit further and eat the dry bread till I came to the last part of bread. My mother said nothing about it. She doesn’t care if I eat bread with something on it. I can have what I like. Cheese, meat or chocolate sprinkles. If I don’t eat bread, it’s okay too. She only gets furious if I don’t eat the cooked dinner.
I think being beaten me is spartan too. My mother likes to hit but never with her bare hand. She always uses a whip, a mat beater or the dog chain. Maybe it is spartan that I no longer cry or beg her to stop? I just close my eyes and let her. I watch from a distance. She’ll get tired. Dad hits me too but with his leather slippers but only when my mother says: don’t you see what that child is doing? If she says that he jumps on his feet and slaps me. Sometimes he puts me over his knee and counts how many times he slaps me. That must be something spartan too counting how many lashes are given I mean.
I asked grandma about the sliding cheese and sliding breakfastcake. Grandma is frugal because she was in the Japanese camp. She softens old bread over a pan of hot water. She looked at me in surprise and said: your father lies, we never did anything like that. Grandma believes me. She doesn’t say I am a liar. I didn’t tell dad I asked his mom of it’s true what he told me. I don’t like spartan or what my father calls spartan. I can’t stand the cold, I don’t want to eat mould and I don’t care if I never grow up being tall, a strong Spartan. Why do I have to be a Spartan? I am not and will never be.
Out of bed at 6 am and cleaning my room. Why do I have to push the bed in the middle of the room and lift all small furniture on it every day so it’s easier for her vacuuming? Just like me, the vacuum cleaners in our house never has a day off. It’s 6 o’clock and I’m already super tired. I didn’t sleep much and don’t think it will get any better. My mother kept screaming and I tried not to hear her. It’s hard. The walls are not keeping her voice out. I can hear children playing outside, my mother’s car if she arrives in the street, the neighbour playing drums and Bart making music. He lives next to our neighbours. If I can hear all these sounds people can hear her too. Breakfast with my parents at seven, breakfast in silence a choking silence. I’m never allowed to speak so that isn’t new but usually my parents do. I should say my mother is. She’s the one who talks, talks, talks, repeats herself and repeats herself and repeats herself and tells you to repeat what she said which I can’t. So I keep my mouth shut which makes her furious. If I try to repeat what she said I can’t remember the exactly right words. The thing is she always says the same so after the first words I shut down. I close my ears and try not to hear her. I eat my bread and focus on my plate, on eating. I don’t want to hear her voice. She rattles on and on and on it’s always the same. How great she is, how ungrateful others are, blah blah blah.
Why don’t I have a normal mother? A mum like Ellen, Louis or Françoise has? A mother with a normal voice who lets you play with other children instead of punishing you for everything she can think of? I watch dad slicing cheese for his bread. If he doesn’t answer she will attack him. He never needs to repeat what she says. I wonder how auntie is doing. She no longer visits us. Will she go to grandmother if it’s Christmas? I don’t want to hear her voice but it fills the kitchen. If I close my eyes I hear that voice everywhere around me.
Why did dad marry her? Did she ever say a sweet thing or was it her dad’s money? Grandpa is dead. There won’t be money for him. He’s no family but the man my grandparents never wanted for their daughter. Dad doesn’t look very happy. Perhaps he will sing if he cleans the bathroom and kitchen? Her hand smacks me in the face. My head slams against the wall. “Are you sleeping again? Stand up, you lazy kid. No one is as lazy as you. Why don’t you comb your hair!” All I can do is stare at her. I have nothing to say. Whatever I would say isn’t good enough to make her forget her anger, make her like me. I try not to touch my face or head while I look her straight into the eyes. She looks at me, observes me, waits till I say something. She turns around abruptly and slams the door behind her. “Get up you’ll be fine,” dad says. He didn’t help me. He gave up risking his neck for me. “Let’s clean up the place before your mother is back.” He starts cleaning up the breakfast table and I go back upstairs. The rooms, stairs and hallways, toilet and living room are my task. No polishing shoes today. I don’t know who will vacuum since she isn’t there. If she comes back at the end of the day she’ll be mad because the house is a mess. That’s how she calls it a mess.
I don’t feel like cleaning. Everything is clean. I pile up the small furniture on the beds in each room. I clean doors and doorknobs and wipe the dust not a single person can see. In each room, I wait till the time is over. The time it takes to clean a room to her standards. I don’t hear her, I don’t hear her car. It’s silent till dad comes upstairs and starts singing while he cleans the bathroom. I clean the toilet. Tile after tile. Another door on which I’m not going to spend 33 times scrubbing on.
How many times did I step outside to knock the dust out of the duster?
The living room is the only place where furniture can remain at its place on Saturdays. It’s clean like always. The Christmas tree is still outside. Will she be back to decorate it? I sit on the floor and wait. My head hurts. I touch the spot. Blood. She’ll be mad if there’s blood on the furniture or carpet but I have to lay down. Dad comes downstairs and I hear him enter the kitchen. Later I’ll tell him I finished my tasks. I like to listen to the sound of the clock. Dad sings again.
Dad told me to help him to set up the tree in the living and he put the lights on. The smell of the tree fills the air. Shocked I was as I looked at the floor. A trace of needles everywhere from the living through the hallway and kitchen. “We’ll vacuum it before your mother is back, after that we get the boxes with decoration,” dad said. It felt as if he had everything under control and no longer cared about what she would say or do. “No hiking today?” “No, it’s vacation. Dad… I don’t want to go hiking ever again.” “I know.”
The day didn’t end too bad. The bakery delivered boxes with bread, cookies, cakes, a Christmas loaf and chocolates. My mother came home with bags with stuff she bought and decorated the tree. It took her hours because it has to be perfect. She made a mess again and vacuumed the living three more times. She didn’t say sorry or look at me. I stood there and watched her. Unsure if I was allowed to leave or had to wait for a new order. She let me put some ‘angel’s hair’ on the ranks. It looks nice but it hurts if you touch it. The tree looks beautiful all silver with white of the ‘hair’ and the yellow big candle lights. My mother knows how she has to decorate a tree, furniture a house and how to spend too much money.
Saturday December 18, 2021
I visited Sunday school and my parents went to church. If I don’t comb my hair straight you can’t see the blood on my head. It’s cold so I wear a hat outside. The teacher didn’t notice it.
Sunday December 19, 2021
No school, no housekeeper just me and my mother cleaning. To my mother, it’s an ordinary Monday. She works 24/7 and if she doesn’t work we clean. In the morning we start cleaning till she has to go. She leaves if someone calls her or if she visits people at their homes. She visits in the afternoon. A few evenings a week people visit us. Dad says he has things to do. He left.
I don’t like staying home during vacations. Vacations at home are good for more cleaning, scolding, whipping and pain. That’s all it’s good for.
In the evening I’m allowed to sit in the living and watch the tree. The living is for weekends only. I spend the most time in my room or the kitchen if I’m not at school and have to clean the house.
Monday December 20, 2021
The living is in the Christmas mood my mother isn’t. Her mood goes up and down. I’ll never know what she will say or do next. I don’t trust her and am glad I don’t need to share a bed with her like dad. If she kills him who takes care of me?
Tuesday December 21, 2021
On television is more Christmas spirit than at home. I’m afraid of my mother. She acts weird. Dad says nothing and stays in the little room upstairs. She keeps walking up and down while saying the same words over and over again. Can’t she just sit down for a moment and act like a normal person? I try to watch telly but it’s hard with her around. She can snap any minute. We didn’t have tea yet. I leave and hide on the toilet and try to think about what to do. I can put the kettle on and make us some tea. I go ask dad if he likes some tea. Back downstairs I fill the kettle with water and put it on the cooker and wait. I wait at the kitchen table and try not to touch more things than necessary. My mother always knows if something is touched, moved. It’s good enough for the next scene. Why is she walking up and down? Is she crazy? I fill the teapot and a dad’s mug. I’ll give him first before I ask her. Back in the hallway I no longer hear her voice behind the door in the living. Should I enter or drink my tea first? I knock on the door and carefully open it. She stands in front of the tree. “Mother do you want some tea?” She turns around stares at me as if I’m a stranger. “Yes,” she says and follows me to the kitchen. “Take some cookies.” We sit at the table and she pushes the wooden cookie box over the tablecloth towards me. The madness disappeared.
Wednesday December 22, 2021
Today felt like a better day. I read the book school gave me again and my mother was in a chocolate mood. She ate a lot of chocolate and butter cookies. Not if it’s coffee time or tea time but just so. I don’t like the butter cookies and chocolate she buys. It’s made by the baker. Grandmother’s chocolate is better. She buys small bars of chocolate with hazelnut or Koetjes bars (the wrap is blue-white with a cow on it). Always five wrapped together. I don’t think she eats them. It’s for the visitors, sometimes she gives me one. It’s the only sweet my grandmother has in the cupboard. My mother’s cupboards are filled and one huge drawer of the antique cabinet is for cookies, cakes, chocolate, pastries only. Perhaps her mother never gave her candy?
Thursday December 23, 2021
At 5:30 I’m out of bed. The laundry will be collected and the clean laundry taken back. We have enough sheets for at least twelve beds. My mother started the day in a good mood but halfway through the day, it changed after grandmother called. Tomorrow we will visit grandmother and the next day granny. Each year with Christmas it’s the same routine. Granny cooks too but we never had Christmas dinner with her.
At midnight we visited the church. It was crowded and I couldn’t sit anywhere. I don’t like to be in a cold church in the middle of the night and listen to a story I already know. A story about the hope for peace, love and light. Peace, love and light? Try to live with my mother for a week or better month and all the hope and dreams you had are gone. If you are lucky you get out sane. Jesus is lucky his mother isn’t like mine or perhaps he’s not. With a mother like mine you wish you were dead. If no one believes you, everyone is blind for what she does there’s no reason to stay alive. What is a lifelong scolding and beating worth? Even in church, I hear her voice. That voice is always in my head. It’s hard not to change into that man Norman Bates. He knows how it is if you can’t escape out of your mother’s claws. Jesus didn’t rescue either did god. It is as it is. If there’s a plan for everything it means God doesn’t care and he won’t come to your rescue. He wants you to suffer. I don’t believe that old man preaching. He says what they all say but never talks about real life, real suffer and pain.
Happy to be home back in bed even my bed is cold.
Friday December 24, 2021
Not much sleep. Out of bed at 6 am. Merry Christmas… I’ve watched a film on television. Grandmother doesn’t have a tree. Auntie and my new uncle came for having Christmas dinner with us. Soup, goose, dessert and coffee with apple pie. I like grandmother’s dining table and chairs. The legs are claws of an animal. We didn’t sleepover. My mother was angry and granny was too. Dad drove us back home. Tomorrow I will see granny. A long drive in the car again. The light of the star of Bethlehem in front of our window was on. Welcome home.
Saturday December 25, 2022
It was good to see granny is still alive. My uncle was home and another uncle came with his wife and children. I don’t really know them just my uncle. I like him most of all uncles I have. We ate nothing special but it doesn’t matter. I can’t eat much anyway. Again soup, rice and beans and meat and chocolate custard. We had coffee and cake and I helped granny do the dishes. I like her gas heater and watched it burn. No one talks to me. Uncle didn’t stay long. My other uncle can be a bully and hates my mother and the adults talk to or fight with each other. It doesn’t matter if it’s Christmas or not. There’s no love, no hope, no light wherever we go.
Sunday December 26, 2021
Days pass by. The tree is the only light in the darkness even if it loses its needles. My mother waters it daily. I think it’s too warm inside and it starves. What is cut dies. It will be hard to get it out of here. Mother gave me chocolate wreaths at tea time. She sang. I hope she isn’t up to something bad again. Dad visited uncle G. He never takes me over there. I’m not sure if my mother was there. I think she likes him somehow. She doesn’t like people and never forbids me to take his candies.
I had to come along with her as she visited the people. I felt bored and it’s cold in the car if she doesn’t drive. The car makes me sick and it takes long before she comes back if she visits someone. Why do I have to sit and wait in the car? Why?
Wednesday December 29, 2021
Tomorrow we visit grandmother again. She’ll bake oliebollen and apple beignets. I like the apple beignets most of all.
I didn’t need to clean that much and was allowed to go outside. It’s not so cold. No snow. It doesn’t feel like Winter. I didn’t know what to do or where to go to. I watched some children play and met Ellen. We searched for coins on the paths behind the row of houses where she lives and followed the path to where I live. Some mothers were outside frying oliebollen just like last year. It makes it smell nice outside.
Thursday December 30, 2021
Laundry day. The last day of the year. No illusions it will get any better. My mother won’t change into a beautiful fairy if the clock strikes twelve. She will be ugly on the inside forever sneaky, mean, violent. At 10 o’clock she received a phone call. She sounded agitated finished her coffee with cake and went to her room. She had to do her hair and makeup first which takes hours. She called for me and my task was to check her hair. She doesn’t need me she has 4 mirrors plus doesn’t believe what I say anyway. It took and took and those people called again which made her angry with me. Finally, she left. I felt relieved, cleaned up everything and took another cup of tea. I put the dishwasher on. It’s not difficult and I know we won’t leave if she finds tasks to be done. Dad left. I hope he is back home before her. I’m not sure what to do. I checked every room if it’s clean. My mother hates dust and dirt and every single item needs to be right at its spot. Should I vacuum the stairs an extra time? I walked the steps she can see it on the carpet. I vacuum underneath the tree and sit on the floor with a dustcloth in my hand. It’s better not to touch anything. She doesn’t only see footsteps but fingerprints everywhere too. I hug the dogs but can’t feed them. If they come with us in the car they feel sick too. If they eat they vomit and make my mother furious too.
She arrived late. Dad bought us something to eat. She didn’t say anything, didn’t complain about what the house looked like. Dad drove us to grandmother. I think grandmother was angry. She said she waited for us the whole day. “Shut up woman,” my mother answered angrily, “you know I have to work.”
If I would only think these words she would wash my mouth with soap and best me to death.
“You could have called.” Grandmother looks at dad but he doesn’t answer.
I went upstairs to the room in the attic. Three long stairs. For New Year’s Eve, we always dress up. Black suit for men and women and girls wear a long dress or skirt. I don’t know why because no one takes a picture and we don’t go outside to wish the neighbours a happy new year. It’s the first thing we do the next morning. So long dress it is just to drink hot chocolate, eat oliebollen and wait till it’s midnight. No one plays with me, talks to me or cares if I’m joining them in the front living room. They watch a show about the past year. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry. I have no clue what is talked about on the telly. Grandmother put bowls with oliebollen and apple beignet on the dining table in the back living room. No one cares how many I’ll eat. They are there to be eaten and if the bowls are empty there are more, way more in grandpa’s office.
Champagne, happy New Year wishes, fake kisses. Firework outside and on television. I don’t like champagne or coffee. All I drink is tea and on rare occasions hot chocolate or hot milk if I am staying with grandmother.
In my bedroom, I watch the firework up in the sky through the small window. I can see the colours while I’m in bed. Tomorrow everything will be back to normal. My normal which isn’t something to be happy with. The Christmas spirit is already dead and buried. I don’t have anything else to achieve other than staying alive till I find a way to get out of here.
Saint Nicholas didn’t visit us but there was a bag full of presents. I had hot chocolate and as the front doorbell rang and dad opened the door pepernoten and candies were thrown inside. I think that was the best part of the day and night. I watched how Piet knocked at the door of someone living across the street. I don’t know who sent Piet but it was a nice gesture. I collected all the candies from the floor. My mother does not even say that it’s dirty. I have a piglet made of marzipan, a new book and boots. I don’t like the boots because they look cold and are not for children. I know my feet will hurt but I didn’t say anything except ‘Thank you Saint Nicholas’ which everyone does after opening a present.
Sunday December 5, 2021
Today was like usual. We start the day with a prayer. Next, the teacher tells a story from the bible. After that, the teacher asked how we celebrated yesterday. I just listened. I feel tired if I arrive at school. I can’t just hop out of bed, get dressed, grab a slice of bread and leave for school. I have to wake up at 5:30 am and work hard, be scolded at, beaten up and kicked for nearly three hours till school starts. So I sat at my desk and tried to look interested and not to show how I feel. I wish I was invisible.
Monday December 6, 2021
Ellen asked me if I can play with her tomorrow. I’m not sure if I can not even if I asked my mother first. She can say yes but at the moments I leave to change her mind or she says she never agreed. My mother always changes her mind and if she blames me. She says I lie but the one who does is she. I told Ellen I would like to but I have to ask my mother first and she isn’t always at home. I think it’s partly true and partly lied. She isn’t always home and if she can be in bed or at work or it’s too dangerous to ask her because everything I say or do triggers her to hit and punish me.
Tuesday December 7, 2021
She made a scene slammed the door and left. She said if she would have an accident with the car it’s my fault. I drive her crazy. I don’t know what to say. I think she is crazy. I don’t know when it started but she has always been like that. Crazy. Grandpa said the geese said he is crazy. My grandmother said her mother was in a madhouse. Perhaps she was crazy or no one liked to take care of her. My grandmother is angry with her mother, my mother with my grandmother and me. I just want her to be out of my life. My mother will never like me I only make her angry and unhappy.
I stayed home. I don’t know when she’ll be back but if someone just scolded you, hit and accused you of things you never did or thought it’s no fun to play at a friend’s home. I’m not allowed to use the phone. I couldn’t tell Ellen I cant come over but I think she already knows.
Wednesday December 8, 2021
After school, I had gymnastics again. Nothing to write about. I’m going to read my book in my room. My mother is at work in the room next to mine. I hear the voices and people walk up and down the stairs.
Thursday December 9, 2021
Laundry day, clean bedsheets, polishing shoes, setting tables, cleaning up and school. My mother was home for lunch which is the only cooked meal. Today it’s leftover day. The only great meal of the week. I had the Endive stew with bacon. Baked with butter in a pan is the best.
Friday December 10, 2021
I told dad I don’t want to go hiking. I don’t like it. The bus drive makes me sick, my feet hurt. He said he would talk about it with my mother. The skirt is cold and too small and my coat isn’t warm. Why can boys wear warm trousers and girls have to catch a cold? I left after I did my tasks so my parents have a day without me. The only good thing was the pea soup with smoked sausage. Not much but better than the canned soup of Unox we eat on Saturdays.
Saturday December 11, 2021
Sunday school time. It’s better than the church. After the story, we sang songs. I’m making a cover for the candle.
Too much food, my belly hurts again. I don’ like those puddings my mother cooks. Those tiny coloured pieces make me gag. I can’t help it. Shouldn’t a dessert be a treat? Why am I forced to eat it?
Sunday December 12, 2021
School started with Christmas decorations. There’s a huge tree in the hallway and the auditorium. Each class has a tree too. Before the school closes they give the trees away to families who don’t have one. So fast Sint Nicholas is forgotten.
Monday December 13, 2021
We do not have a tree yet. There is a Christmas wreath on the front door and an Advent wreath on the table in the living room. I think it’s for the visitors. In the daytime, we don’t use the living. It’s cleaned or the door is closed. As I came home my mother was hanging the star of Bethlehem in front of the window. It’s made of paper and there’s a light in it. Most people who live here have a star.
Tuesday December 14, 2021
On Wednesdays, I have school till 12:15. My mother had a better mood for a change. It doesn’t mean her mood can’t change any minute. She tried to have a conversation with the housekeeper and kept reading from the bible short. I was grateful for that. She can’t read, talk or sing in a normal way. Her voice hurts my ears which makes it hard to focus. She said she would go buying a tree and allowed me to watch the telly. I hope she won’t be back too early and in a bad mood. I feel nervous if she’s home. I never know how she will act.
Wednesday December 15, 2021
The tree is huge and outside in the garden. It stays outside till Saturday. On Saturday she will take it inside and the decorating starts. I don’t look forward to helping her. Finger crossed nothing will go wrong. Of course, there will because Christmas trees lose their needles.
Gymnastic again.
Thursday December 16, 2021
Friday again. I’m tired of everything. I was sent to bed after the meal at 5:30 pm. It’s fine with me. My parents always fight.
My face hurts and I feel something is wrong. If I feel what I feel now I know it will be swollen soon. I’m in bed and that’s the only good thing. On the hiking trip, I still felt fine. It started at home after I had soup and bread, bread with honey. The smell of that dry honey already makes me vomit. At 7 pm it’s bedtime for me so I was happy. I can’t help scratching and feeling itchy and my mother hates me if I do. The sheets feel cold, my feet are very cold. Dad says I suffer from Winter’s toes and that’s why they look blue and hurt. I think my toes suffer from more. The shoes, hiking and hammertoes. My feet are not made for walking. The cold sheets feel good against my burning face though. I have a pot of cream left. I can’t use it. It smells terrible and only makes it worse. Since I no longer visit a doctor I think I better throw it away. If I find a way I will. I won’t ever use it again. All those doctors never helped or cured me they just did something. The same is something they do with others. People who are sick for different reasons. I wonder why anyone wants to be a doctor. I need to sleep now. My eyes hurt too and I can’t write if I don’t see what I’m doing. I can’t fall asleep before I hid this diary. I hear my mother scream downstairs. Are my parents fighting again? It makes me nervous if I hear her voice. It makes it harder to fight the pain. Tomorrow I’ll be the ugly monster again.
Saturday November 27, 2021
I don’t look too good. I think I look how I feel. Dad said I better stay home. No Sunday school for me. My mother left after I served her breakfast in her room. No matter how sick I am I have to work. I try not to scratch, not to cry for pain, not to rub. If I blink my eyes, try to drink, eat or speak the pain is worse. I wish I was never born. I hate my life, my hate my body. It always hurts.
Sunday November 28, 2021
My mother sent me to school. She doesn’t care about how I feel. She said I skip school too much. The only times I don’t go to school is if she did beat me up. If she beat me up and what she did cannot be hidden by my clothes. It was hard to concentrate at school. That stupid girl Petra is a bully. She always takes me. The teacher says that name of her means rock. Rock? A rock you can build on. I think he means she throws rocks at other people. I think it means a traitor, a mean person. That is what Peter in the bible was to. A traitor, a liar, a person who would throw rocks at Jesus and say: I don’t know you.
Monday November 29, 2021
Only a few more nights and the Saint will visit us at school. Some children are afraid of him. I’m not. I think he is kind because he gives presents and never is angry. My mother is a more scary person. I will not tell that to those children. They won’t believe me anyway. Those children who do never visited me again. They don’t play with me at school.
Tuesday November 30, 2021
The pain is still there. I can feel my skin but the pain in my body too. It’s hard to explain what I feel. I think what makes me sick is inside of me. I wish I could pee it out. I don’t want to be in pain forever. I don’t want to live in this body forever. It doesn’t feel as if it is mine. I climbed on the stool in the bathroom so I could look into the mirror. What I saw in the mirror that can’t be me! I don’t recognize that face. It can’t be me. I blinked, closed my eyes for longer but as I opened my eyes that strange face still looked at me. I felt shocked and fell off the stool. I placed it back next to the sink. Back in my room, I sat on my bed. What had happened to my face, what happened to me? Who’s that stranger looking at me in the mirror? I’ll never watch in the mirror again. From now on I keep my eyes closed.
Wednesday December 1, 2021
All I know is I must have fallen asleep. My diary is crinkled, some pages torn but nothing is missing. It’s not like last time. That time she threw away my diary and I started again. This time with two different ones. One she will search for and read, the other I write and hide better, somewhere else or carry with me if possible. I don’t know what happened. Did I do this? It’s hard to believe. I took the pages and puzzled them together. All pages are there. At least I believe they are. I take the risk and will take my diary with me to school. I know it’s not safe. I know that girl Petra will try to take it away from me if I let her. I will fight back if needed. No one helps me anyway. The teacher never does. They don’t care who’s bullied or discriminated against. Just when I’m in the class with the teacher I feel safe. Not because the teacher sees everything or helps kids like me but because all children like him. They fight for his attention. I think the girls are in love with him. He’s the only not old teacher and his hair is long plus he plays musical instruments. All sorts of. I don’t think the principal likes him. The principal is a mean old man. The kind of man you only read about in books. He looks like one of those men of the Inquisition the teacher told us about during history class. Just his belly is way more swollen. His pair of trousers is underneath that terrible belly. I don’t like it if the man comes close and that belly touches me. I don’t want that man to touch me at all. He hits me if he’s in a bad mood. I think teachers are allowed to but I’m not sure. The teacher, that old teacher Mrs Mulder always hit us with a pointer stick. It’s a flexible one so that hurts and it won’t break easily. My parents hit me too. My mother uses whatever she can find. In most cases, it’s the whip, the mat beater made of pulp cane, or the dogs’ leashes which are chains or leather. It all hurts but if she tells me to get the leash I take the heavy chain. The heavy chain has a large heavy carabiner. If she hits me with it the carabiner will hit her back. She never hits me with her bare hands either does my father. He uses his leather slippers. Those slippers Saint Nicholas gives him. If the Saint doesn’t my mother does then it will be my dad’s birthday present. My parents don’t care if they hit me. They don’t care if I have bruises all over and have to stay home. My mother uses the iron stool to hit me on the head, she uses her high heels and throws whatever is within her reach to my head. The pot with peanut butter empties the pan with soup over my head. She scolds, yells at me, ties me up in bed and locks me into the room without something to eat or drink. She hopes I will die since I’m always sick and the source of all misery in her life. Everything is my fault. Me being born ruined her life. While she tells me this all, I hear my bones crack and my ears make a strange sound I wonder how come it makes her mad if the principal hits me. The anger that old man has inside, his hate against me and his violence… It’s bad but not as bad as what she does to me. Because of her I hardly dare to sleep. She will kill me.
Thursday December 2, 2021
Yesterday I went to the gym but I no longer want to do it. There are too many places I don’t want to be because I feel unsafe.
Piet was on the school’s roof during the break. The children of the Catholic school next to ours came to our part of the schoolyard too. They push us away and grab the candies away Piet throws at us. It’s hard to find something. I’m not like the other children. I won’t push or fight for candies. I pick it up if it falls in front of my feet or let it be. Some children have their pockets filled with pepernoten, all sorts of candies. They brag and don’t share with the others but the teacher does. One by one we have to step forward and he gives us a handful. Do you know what I hate? Because of my name, I’m always the last one. It’s the same with the Saint. No one is interested if you are the last one in a row. Adults are tired, children want to go home and play with their toys. The Saint and Piet are in a hurry because our school isn’t the only one they visit. For a moment I felt afraid the Saint would call me. I don’t like to sit on his lap and sing a song. I like his beard but I think beards are dirty. Food, cookie crumbs and spit are in it. How does he wash that beard? If you only comb your hair it gets dirty too. So no sitting on a lap for me. I’m happy about that since my bottom and back already hurt enough.
The school gave us a hot chocolate and after that, we were sent home. Usually, we have school in the afternoon but not if the Saint visits the school. I have a chocolate letter and a book so I’m good. On my way home I ate the candies. I’m not in a hurry. It’s only a five-minute walk and home with my mother is the last place where I want to be.
From the kitchen, I heard her singing. Singing while she vacuumed the living room. I wasn’t sure where to go to so I waited in the kitchen where the housekeeper cooked our meal. She didn’t greet me and as it was ready she told me to tell my mother. At least she sounded as if she was in a good mood. She talked a lot while we ate the terrible meal. My mother cooks way better even I can. Why doesn’t she cook instead of vacuuming all the carpets for hours? I didn’t say a word because talking is not allowed during the meals. Before and after the meal we prayed and I did as if I listened to my mother who read from the Bible. I have no idea what she talked about. If you ask me she and the housekeeper do not either. It’s just a habit. A habit no one cares about or has any benefits of. Good Christians don’t live in this house either good people. God knows and Saint and Piet too.
Friday December 3, 2021
Uncle Ger visited us. We just finished cleaning the house. I’m not sure if my mother likes him. His dad’s friend. A friend dad meets if he leaves to go somewhere. It’s in the city I think. The same city I went to the hospital and where I saw dad once. He was wearing a white coat but I can’t remember uncle Ger was there too. I like this uncle. He greets me and lifts me into the sky. He’s taller than my dad and treated me to some candies. My mother didn’t say anything about it but sent me to my room. I don’t care. I saw uncle and he was kind to me. I don’t need to hear what the grown ups talk about. It’s always boring.
Tonight I can set my shoe again and tomorrow we’ll celebrate the Saint’s birthday. I will read my book now.
July 24, 2021, was the last time I wrote. A lot has happened but if I think back it’s not worth writing about it. My Summer vacation is nearly over. It started with my stay at granny’s house, I joined the gym camp with the bullies and if I think back I still feel miserable about the sugar water. I forgot to tell you about the cute stone man they gave me. The mascot of Advendo is a huge stone figure called Kuub. They said it became babies and we all got one for a present. I placed mine in front of the window in my bedroom. Next, my mother tried to kill me as she became hysterical again. I do not remember much from it. I tried as they asked me what happened in hospital but all I remembered was that terrible voice and the cupboard covering me. There was a police officer and a lady from CPS asking me how or what. The nurse asked and next to the doctor but I said nothing. I am not allowed to tell strangers about my mother. My mother told me to keep my mouth shut. She knew these people would ask me. “If you dare to tell anything to anyone I kill you”, she hissed at me as she bent over me and right after that she smiled at the doctor who entered the room and he smiled back.
Am I the only one who sees how fast her face chances? One moment she is angry and yells and spits at me the next second she is friendly. It confused me. Sometimes I believe she regrets what she did but as soon as I believe her she attacks me. I see how she enjoys hurting me but what I don’t understand is why she didn’t get rid of me. I know she didn’t want me so why keep me?
She didn’t visit me frequently as I stayed in hospital but I didn’t mind. The other children have visitors and toys and cards I don’t. Their parents are friendly and mine is not. I don’t like it when I feel sick or am in pain and people watch me or poke in me. I like it most if I am alone, away from home. If my mother acts weird it is better if she does that at home and not in the hospital, not if she stands next to my bed and everyone can see it. I saw dad twice. Once he visited me and once I saw him with a group of others. They were all wearing white coats like doctors and following a doctor. I asked the nurse who brought me in a wheelchair for some tests. I didn’t tell her my dad is one of them, one of what she told were students. So my dad is a student in the hospital? Did he tell anyone I am here? Why I am here? It’s a very big hospital more like a factory perhaps no one knows he is my dad. Perhaps no one knows what my mother did and no one knows she is dangerous and mad. I think I stayed at the same hospital as grandpa. He died but I am still alive.
The nurse told me I could go home and later the doctor said the same. No one told me how to get home. It was dad who picked me up and drove me to grandmother’s home. He didn’t say much just that I had to stay with her for the rest of the school vacation. It was a long drive and I mainly slept while I was strapped with a belt to the backseat. It made me feel sick. At grandmother’s house, he lifted the big brown suitcase out of the car and put it into the bedroom. This time I had to stay in the bedroom that once was my mother’s. The big bear filled with seagrass was sitting on the couch and stared at me. Did my mother abandon him like me? He’s nearly as tall as I am. I’m not sure if he’s hand-knit. Perhaps he is and grandmother made him for her. She knits well and very fast. His eyes scare me though. I held him for a while but it’s not a bear who likes to cuddle. He feels hard and stiff and I think he doesn’t like to be touched. “You stay here”, dad said, “you can go to bed it was a long day”, I’m not sure if it was a long day, longer than other days. It’s not dark outside and he didn’t give me any food. The hospital gave me breakfast. Two slices of bread wrapped in plastic. Two slices of what they call cheese were in plastic packed too. They felt warm and soft smelled like sweat. I like cheese but not this one it should be called and shouldn’t smell bad. I didn’t eat it. The room is large and not as white and warm as in hospital. I like the silence and go to bed. I haven’t seen grandmother yet but that doesn’t matter. “Perhaps it’s safer here than at home”, I say to the bear. He looks at me and I think he understands but he looks lonely. I slip out of bed and lay the bear on the couch. “I won’t hurt you, you can sleep now bear.” He looks at me and I hope he understands me. If someone always hurts you you have to be careful and watch your steps. It’s long ago she hurt bear and he still knows it after all these years. I think he was happy alone in this room and now I am here and the danger is back. I turn to my left side and ignore the pain. Bruises will heal, it will all heal one day but not what she said to me. “I kill you,” she said and I know she will. It wasn’t the first time she tried to kill me. Did she kill the baby in the jar too?
Saturday July 31, 2021
It’s dark when I wake up. For a moment I wonder where I am. It’s quiet and I need to go to the bathroom. There are two. One is downstairs. Two long stairs and through the cold hallway. The other one is at the end of the hallway and a few stairs away. My grandpa made that one and I don’t think it’s used much. I will use it and after that, I go back to bed. Perhaps grandmother will come and to see me later. Usually, she does not. She always wakes up early and is in the kitchen if I wake up. Back in my room, I hesitate. It’s still dark outside. “We have to stay here longer bear,” I say while I look at bear. His eyes are wide open but he doesn’t look at me. I understand he is afraid. “I can hide you in the closet if you like.” I lift bear off the couch and carry him to the closet. He’s heavy but I have to help him. On the bottom of the closet, I make his bed. There’s room for both of us but bear isn’t used to me. “I’ll leave the door a bit open for you. It’s safe here, it’s a good closet.” I think bear is happy. He can sleep now. I go back to bed. If I wake up again the sun shines and I hear the church bells. It’s Sunday people go to church. The suitcase dad carried upstairs is opened. I wonder who packed it. There isn’t much in it. I brush my teeth and get dressed. Grandmother will be downstairs and I hope she gives me tea and something to eat. She will not go to church.
Grandmother is in the living. She listens to the radio and has a pot of tea. She gives me a slice of bread with butter and brown sugar and one with cheese. She doesn’t tell me to pray and doesn’t look at me. She lets me do what I like and I can watch television. No one visits her. She acts as if nothing has happened but avoids looking at me. She will once she is used to me. Me and my bruises, bandages and ugly face. Me the child no one wants to have around.
I clean and clean and clean. My hands are wounded but my mother doesn’t care. She knows I have allergies, she knows I have to avoid water and so much more. She says she has to clean because of my allergies. She blames me for all the extra work I cause her and that’s the reason why I have to clean the whole day and at times at night too. Her obsession with dirt is worse than it has ever been. My mother is neurotic and even after it is super clean and checked by her at least three times she yells all of a sudden because she sees dirt. Dirt, dust, mountains of sand. There’s no point in telling her it’s clean. She won’t believe me. Her eyes see what I can’t see and she believes her eyes more than anyone else. With one hand she wipes the shelves of cupboards empty and shouts: Do it again. As I step forward to pick up what she threw on the floor she pulls the cupboard forward and it falls on me. How come I didn’t see that one come? I try to be alert like she calls it. I am not clumsy, not lazy just tired. The only thing I want is to sleep. Sleeping forever sounds good to me. Snowwhite took a long nap and so did Sleeping beauty. I am not a beauty but that doesn’t mean I can not sleep. My body hurts and the cupboard…it’s not that heavy at all. It covers me like a blanket. A blanket where she can’t touch me. I close my eyes and wait. There’s no reason to fight, try to get away. The cupboard is a good place to be. I close my eyes and no longer listen to her voice. I don’t care about her kicking me. She can do whatever she likes while I take a nap or better sleep till eternity.
The voices… I hear them but I don’t care about what they say. Why should I? It’s warm and cosy where I am. I don’t want to wake up I like to stay where I am. It’s good the way it is. Tired… I feel so tired. The only thing I want is to forget that terrible voice, forget where I am and go away. The darkness is a good place to be. If it is dark I can hide or walk around without anyone noticing me. Something or someone pulls at me. I try to open my mouth but can’t speak. “Leave me alone I want to sleep”, is what I think but can’t say. Why don’t they leave me alone? I sink deeper and deeper and hear a voice telling me to wake up. Wake up? There’s no need to wake up. It is good where I am. “Let me be”, I say or perhaps it was a thought. I am happy where I am and I don’t want to go back to my life filled with misery where not one single person cares about me. “In your grave, you can rest as much as you like”, granny says. I smile. She’s right I can finally rest. My mother… she will be happy when I am gone. I will not cost her money, I will not spoil her mood, I will not give her extra work because of my allergies and she never needs to see my ugly face again.
My friend waits for me. He hasn’t changed and looks exactly the same as he did as he waited at the foot of my bed. I feel happy because the only one who ever waited for me is where I am now. “Sorry, I made you wait. I am happy to see you and like to sleep now” I say or perhaps I mumble it but it doesn’t matter. My friend knows how I feel and knows. He knows me better than anyone will ever do. While I drift away I think: there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, I am glad there is no light. At least I can sleep now.
I had to hurry to be at school in time to catch the bus. I don’t like to walk, the bus makes me sick and I have no friends. There’s no one I know or who talks to me. Am I the only one who doesn’t like to drive around in a bus for two hours or more? The other people made so much noise. It did hurt my head. I didn’t want to be on a bus, I didn’t want to walk for hours and I didn’t want to go back home. I lie if I say there’s no place like home or perhaps it isn’t a lie. My home is a terrible place to be it isn’t great at all. I thought of what is worse being home or sitting in that bus to join an endless walk for no reason. I can’t see any fun in it. Walking for a medal isn’t a hobby of mine. My feet still hurt from last Saturday and now I have even more blisters and blood. I tried to sleep on the bus. Sleeping is hard though. I wish I could kill time while reading but I can’t. If I read in a vehicle I get a headache and start vomiting beside the bus stinks. I wish people wouldn’t make such a terrible noise. Why are they always talking so loud?
I came back home at the end of the day. The whole day it was grey and cold outside. As the bus arrived it was dark. On my way home there are four street lights. It isn’t that far although my painful bleeding feet make it hard to walk. No one waited for me as the bus arrived. My parents don’t care. The only thing they care about is getting rid of me.
I stood behind the gate and waited. I hesitated because I didn’t feel well. I asked myself why I should enter if it matters if I turn around and leave. Home doesn’t feel like a home and my parents don’t like me. Perhaps they can’t help. I am not sure if I would like me if I was my child. I know they wouldn’t miss me, my parents, I mean. My mother tells me several times a day how much she hates me. If she gives me something she always does with the same words “I don’t give this to you because I love you but because I hate you so much”.
I am not what my parents wanted or hoped for. And my parents? They don’t feel like my parents, they are strangers to me. I thought my dad liked me but he does not. My parents are people I don’t think I like. I don’t feel love or hate. It’s empty inside of me. I think I have no feelings. The thing is I am a child and there’s no other place to go.
Dogs have a better life than me.
They all shut their eyes to what goes on in our house. They know my mother is crazy. My father does, the whole family does and I am sure at school people to know and the neighbours know it too.
Saturday February 6, 2021
” Same old story same old song…” That’s what my life looks like. It doesn’t matter how I feel if I’m tired or sick. I have to get out of bed early and work. Today it’s Sunday. Sunday means breakfast at bed for my parents, cleaning the house, Sunday school and back at home sitting on a chair for the rest of the day.
After my dad read the newspaper he dictated words I had to write down. All those words are difficult and he doesn’t care if I heard them before or I had them at school. He says I have to be the best student of all. I don’t want to be the best student and I don’t like to write down bring words but if I refuse he will be angry. I am not allowed to refuse ever or say what is on my mind. I am not allowed to sing either. My dad says if you cannot sing if you don’t know the words you have to keep your mouth shut. He can sing but I can not. He doesn’t want me to say how I feel either. He says feelings don’t matter only facts do. If I don’t have facts I need to keep silence. I keep my mouth shut because it is the best thing to do. Only my mother never does. She can say what she likes, scream, yells and tells things everyone knows it isn’t true. She always lies but he never tells her to keep her mouth shut.
I wrote down the words he read in the newspaper: Finances Politicians Economical crisis delectable-aroma concentration-of-disadvantage and more words I never heard of.
I didn’t write it all in the right way and had to write every wrong word two hundred times. Two hundred isn’t as much as five hundred or one thousand times like the teacher makes us do when we write something wrong but my hand still hurts.
Sunday February 7, 2021
I am out of words. I think I am ill.
Monday February 8, 2021
We had a test at school. I sat at my desk and couldn’t make it. I tried, looked at all those numbers but thinking was too hard. I tried but it was pointless. I can not count. The teacher knows but I still had to write the test and she did not send me to the corner to think about what I did wrong. I never know what I did wrong anyway. No one explains it to me. It’s the same if it comes to maths. No one explains it they think they did but if I don’t understand it they didn’t do their job right. My dad says the teacher gets paid for explaining and stupid questions do not exist. My teacher is old very old.
Tuesday February 9, 2021
It was someone’s birthday. The birthday child came to our class and gave the teacher something to eat, the cake it was. The teacher let him choose a postcard. Each teacher at school gives you something on your birthday and you can ask two children to come along. I have no friends so I never know who to ask. The bullies are suddenly friendly if it’s your birthday because they want you to ask them. I don’t like to ask children who are peaking at me. They make false promises but aren’t real friends. Since my friends left school I only play with Ellen once in a while if we meet outside.
I don’t like birthdays.
Wednesday February 10, 2021
In the afternoon I went to gymnastics. More time to kill the bullies. The teacher is deaf and blind. She must be.
Thursday February 11, 2022
Handcrafts at school were okay but the rest of the day was bad. It was hard to get out of bed. My mother yelled at me and said I am stupid and clumsy. She said I can’t do anything right, break everything and she wishes I was never born. She kept yelling at me and said I am exactly like my dad. I was sent to bed at 5 p.m. and that was my day.
Friday February 12, 2021
My aunt came to visit us but I don’t know why. I don’t know her. She’s my dad’s sister and doesn’t talk much. My mother hates her and my aunt doesn’t like my mother. I can see that but she never says it. My mother and my aunt were at the same school. They knew each other before my dad met my mother. I think my mother was a bully at school. I think she bullied my aunt. My mother believes she is perfect and beautiful, she is the queen. She is not kind to people and many fear her. I am sure as a child she already was a monster. My grandpa did not like her either and my grandmother fears her too. If my mother is angry and threatens her says she will leave my grandmother begs her not to. I wish my mother would leave. She isn’t a kind of good person.
Saturday February 13, 2021
We visited my granny. She is back in hospital. My dad says she can die. I don’t remember the name of her illness. It’s something with her blood and she wakes up with blue spots allover her body. I dont want her to die because she is the only one who likes me and plays with me and I write her letters. I cannot tell everything but I write her long letters and she writes me back. She does if she can.
I didn’t see my uncle. Perhaps he stayed at school.
I woke up early. I have a poster of Fats Domino. I am not sure if I like him but he reminds me of grandpa. Sometimes I go to the kitchen and watch my grandmother bake a cake. She uses a small old scales and doesn’t want me to lick out of the bowl. She says the dough makes me sick but I like the taste and in the end, she gives the bowl to me. Today I stay in bed. I like to be alone and here there are no tasks to do. The shops are closed my grandma can not send me to the bakery to buy her half a white bread. She always buys half a white milk bread. It has to be the one with milk. Is there really milk in it? I cannot see it or taste any difference with our bread.
After breakfast, it is coffee time and after that, we leave to my other granny. She is my favourite grandmother and sick. She also writes me letters if she is in hospital and I write her back. She lives far away. I like her but I don’t like sitting in the car. It makes me feel sick. I try to sleep but I can’t.
My mother is angry and my dad says he will take care of the financial books and she says she takes a lawyer if needed. I don’t know what they mean with financial perhaps the old man who worked for grandpa? I saw him a few times sitting at grandpa’s desk as my grandmother told me to bring him his cup of coffee and a slice of cake. I wish my mother would be silent for a while but she keeps talking, complaining. I hope she won’t turn around and look at me. Her arm can still reach me although I try to hide in a corner. If she does and notices I feel ill she will hit me. She doesn’t want me to vomit in her car.
“If you dare to vomit I kick you out of the car. You better swallow it!“
She always says the same, repeat it over and over again but sometimes I can’t help. I remember once I was little and felt ill. I stood in my crib, cried and vomited at the curtains. She was furious with me. I cried but she didn’t touch me. My dad had to clean it up. She said I spoiled her curtains. Last time I vomited my dad came to help me. “Next time you need to vomit do it in your pillowcase,” he said. He gave me clean sheets and everything. I felt sick again and did as he told me. I kept my bed clean but my mother was mad with me. She said I spoiled her pillow. I don’t understand what I did wrong. I did exactly what dad told me to do. He didn’t come back so I couldn’t tell my mother who to blame. Perhaps she would believe me.
Granny is happy to see me. My mother doesn’t like her and she doesn’t like my uncle either. He is my dad’s youngest brother and has a bit in common with the bully in the street. My dad bought flowers for his mother and they talk. Adults always talk and there isn’t much to do for me. Granny doesn’t have toys and only a few books. My uncle doesn’t want to play with me. He leaves. Later I help granny in the kitchen and after dinner with the dishes. She has a serving hatch which I like just like her sugar pot. Granny has no pets and our dogs stay in her garden. They are happy they can be outside. They hate the car as much as I do.
At the end of the day, we go back home. My dad drives and my mother doesn’t say a word. I look at the streetlights on the highway. In the dark, the chain of lights looks like the fair.
Saturday December 26, 2021
It’s Sunday. Everything is back to normal. I wake up early and hear the wind outside. I hurried out of bed. I overslept, she will be mad with me again. It’s still dark outside. I hurry downstairs to make her breakfast. Dad says she left and we can set the table for the two of us. She left… I am happy she did. I don’t know for how long but there will be some peace now. My dad doesn’t visit the church and I stay at home too. We have breakfast and clean up. After that, he makes coffee and reads the newspaper and I read my book. I wonder if he made his bed. If she comes back she will be angry if he didn’t although it’s not his task. I won’t ask him if he did. I just want a moment of peace.
Sunday December 27, 2020
She came back yesterday. Of course, she did and of course, she was angry. It doesn’t matter what I do, what my dad did she is still mad and will always be. My dad says she’s just tired and I have to be kind to her. I try but she hates me. I see the hate in her **emerald eyes**. She hates me and even tells me she does. She says I look like my dad and she wishes I was never born. I wish I was never born too. It’s all I wish but no one asked me. It’s not my fault I am born. I too wish I was never born. It won’t get any better. I know it. She says I am ugly and will kill me. One day she will. It’s hard to be kind to someone who hates you so much. If she yells at me she spits, I watch her spittle fly through the air. I don’t want her spit in my face. She stinks, she really does. I do not like to hug her.
Monday December 28, 2020
We still have no new housekeeper. She will come, there’s always someone new just not now. Our house is super clean. We have no time to make it dirty. Perhaps we need a cook. Someone who can make food that doesn’t make me ill. Someone I can talk to. The only ones I talk to are the dogs but I cannot say everything to them they are friends with my mother. I sit with them in their basket and feed them sometimes. I brush them too. My mother says I have to keep brushing till not one single hair stays behind in the brush. Is that possible at all? My arm and hand hurt if I brush for hours. I don’t like it.
No one knows but I have two diaries. This one and the ugly orange one she gave me. I have to write something in that one too. I know she reads it.
Tuesday December 29, 2020
I watched some television in the afternoon. My parents both left. I am glad I was home alone. The lights in the tree are burning. In between watching, I listen if I hear her car. I hope she will stay away for a long time. I don’t think she will but I hope so.
Wednesday December 30, 2020
I was outside for a while and walked through the alleys behind the houses. Some mothers are baking deep-fried doughnut balls outside, some in their shed. I like the smell. My mother doesn’t make them either does my dad. Tonight we visit my grandmother again. She knows how to make them. I never saw her do it. I watch how a woman puts the dough in a pan of oil. It doesn’t look difficult at all. She sees me. “You like one,” she asked and she gave me one. She gave me one she just made. I thank her as she gives it to me. She is the best person I ever met. I will never forget this, never forget her. I don’t know her but she is kind to me.
Thursday December 31, 2020
I wake up at my grandmother’s house. Last night we arrived and celebrated the end of the year. My grandmother baked buckets filled with doughnut balls and apple fritters. My aunt was there too and now she has a boyfriend. He is tall and kind, she is very small. He looks like a giant. A giant that doesn’t talk much. They all watched something on the television. A famous man spoke about the year, things that happened. No one spoke about what happened to me… what will happen to me. They said you have to make a wish, replace your old habits for something better, replace that old standard to achieve something. My mother… she will not replace anything. People won’t do that, she won’t and will always be the same. Foxes don’t change their habits, the lion does not either do my mother. “Happy New Year,” they all lied and my aunt was the only one who dared to hug me. I could cry but I understand, she is happy and found a friend. Perhaps is safe now and no longer afraid of my mother.
Today the world is not different from yesterday. It’s only the next day, we go home and everything is the same. My mother will shout at me, hate and hit me, my dad keeps his mouth shut or hits me with his slippers if she tells him and I will hide my bruises till the end.
It’s nearly Christmas. It feels such a long time ago Saint Nicholas arrived with his steamship. I watched him on television. He looks friendly, doesn’t scare me it is just I don’t like to talk to him. I am not sure if he likes to know how I feel. Perhaps he does. They say he knows everything. It’s all written in his book. A thick red book. It’s always with him. If the Saint knows how I feel how come he never mentions it and he asks me how I am doing. I know it is not good to lie and that is why I say nothing. It is better not to speak the truth. People don’t like it if you speak out. So I keep my mouth shut and hide and if I cannot hide I just look, look from a distance. As I was smaller I hid behind the curtain. They are long and soft and feel warm. My mother never said I am not allowed to sit there. Perhaps she doesn’t know or is glad she doesn’t need to see me. She doesn’t like it if I look at her. She says she can see what I think but what I think she doesn’t tell me. She just slaps me into my face after she said that. Not once but several times. I don’t believe she will ever like me and stop. She will never stop hitting me. If she does I see Monty our dog look. I am not sure if he looks at her or me. She doesn’t hit him though just me.
It’s Sunday and there isn’t much to do. We stay home because my mother needs to work. She always work.
The Christmas tree looks nice with all the lights on, the silver balls and I can smell it. If it’s dark outside the ‘Star of Betlehem’ burns. I don’t think wise men will knock at our door and if my mother will send them away. She doesn’t like unexpected visitors.
Sunday December 20, 2020
Monday… There’s no school I have vacation but have to be out of bed at 5:30 a.m. I am not allowed to sleep longer. It’s cold, my skin feels itchy and I have stiff fingers. They are red and I try to move them. Last night I was not right to my bed. Perhaps my parents forgot or they no longer care if I scratch. I scratch anyway. The blanket feels itchy. I don’t like it but the sheet smells nice. I hope my mother won’t see the blood spats. It will make her furious again. The rest of the day she will keep me busy, give me tasks to do. Perhaps I have time to read my book if she leaves. The shoes are waiting to be polished and I need to set the table for breakfast. My dad is at home. Perhaps he gives a hand or hides again? He hasn’t much time for me lately. He is busy, everybody is busy. There is no time to play.
Monday December 21, 2020
My mother is angry and my dad is angry too. I think he is angry although he never shouts. It is about the family. Who to visit when. My mother says they don’t like her and it’s a waste of her time. My father says it’s only once a year. I try to make no sound and stay in my room. The book is on my lap but it is hard to read if my mother yells and screams. I hope she will leave and the neighbours will not complain.
The front door slammed. I don’t know who left. I listened if I hear the car leave. I can recognize the sound of our car and hear it if it’s at the start of our street. I always can no matter where I am in our house. If I recognize the sound I know my mother will be home soon.
I wait, listen, keep my book open but it remains silent.
Tuesday December 22, 2020
There’s someone in my room. If I wake up in the middle of the night he stands at the end of my bed. He waits and I wonder why. I say it’s a he but I am not sure. I never saw a face and we do not speak but I think it’s a man because he is tall. He waits and is dressed in black. Black is a good colour if you do not want people to see you that easily. I like dark colours too but I don’t have black clothes except the dress for Christmas. It’s black and sometimes I have a dark blue one. The cloth is soft. He makes me feel save. He wasn’t always there but now he is. I think he is a friend. With him around I can sleep. I don’t have friends you know. Francois isn’t really my friend and Louis doesn’t play with me but I like him. His brother is nice to me too but I never been at their place. I was at Francoise’s home and visited Caroline. She lives far away. Perhaps she is a friend. Her mother is nice and so is her dad. He is milkman and delivers milk at people their homes. Her granddad lives next door and I saw him too. There is a door inside the house which you can use to visit him but he is outside with his rabbits most of the time. He likes rabbits and carrots. He has a field of carrots they are white. I never saw white carrots. Caroline gave me one. She took it out of the soil and I ate it. It tasted strange.
Wednesday December 23, 2020
Tonight we go to church. I do not like to go to church in the middle of the night. Someone made this up and now all people go to church? Over there are too many people. People I don’t know and most of them never visit the church. Why tonight? It’s cold outside, the wind blows and I only have a dress. It’s easy for boys. They wear trousers. Inside the church, it is cold too. I am always shivering. People wear their coats, hats, gloves and scarfs. My dad says I have to go to bed early and he will wake me up. Early? What does that mean? I always go early to bed. My parents don’t like to have me around. I don’t like it if anyone wakes me up. I am tired and I wish I could sleep for a hundred years just like the sleeping beauty. She is lucky. I don’t care if I don’t wake up. I don’t need a print, I don’t want to be a princess. The only thing I want is to sleep in peace and not being tired.
Thursday December 24, 2020
It’s Christmas but nothing changed. My mother says she wants to eat in a restaurant but we go to my grandmother and my aunt will be there too. If we go to a restaurant my dad calls them. If we go we go to Plaswijck. The food is good. I am never ill if I eat at that restaurant. My parents are not a good company and don’t talk to me but I can choose what I like to eat. At times it is boring being there because I am not allowed to speak and I have to sit still and straight up. Some children play or are underneath the table. I watch them.
First I have to help cleaning the house. After that we have breakfast. My mother set the table and there’s a bread she calls “clChristmashristmas-stoll”. I don’t like bread with stuff in it. The raisins en green en red pieces she calls “succades”. It tastes weird and leaves green and red colour behind on the bread. I don’t want it. I only like the almond paste inside of it. I take the rolls with the tiny black seeds on top. It’s good enough. I like those seeds.
We have to take the car to visit my granny. The dogs sit in the back and are not happy. They smell and it stinks. It takes long before we arrive and I feel car sick. The car smells too. I try not to vomit because it will make my mother angry. My dad tied me at the backseat which makes me feel miserable too.
I am not sure if my granny is happy to see us. Grandpa… he died. Now she lives alone in the big house. I think she likes it now she is the boss and can do as she likes. My aunt arrives later and my mother is angry with her and with my dad. I don’t know why because I left. I want to find grandpa and hear him play the trumpet but he isn’t there. There are only three photos of him. One is as he was young. It is at my granny’s side table.
We will stay the night at my granny’s home. My room is on the ceiling. I have to walk three stairs to get there. No one sleeps there and there’s no heater but I like the room, the small window in the roof and the bed. The bed is old. The mattress is filled with seagrass and there are no blankets but there’s a duvet with kapok. If I lay underneath and pull it over my head no one can see I am in it. The bed is nice and warm. If I stay with my granny I don’t need to wake up at 5:30 a.m. I don’t need to help her and my mother leaves me alone most of the time.
We had vegetable soup and goose for dinner. After dinner, my mother read something in my granny’s Bible. She has two. One to use and the other one is in a copper box. It’s the one the church gave her as she got married. I only saw it once. There are locks on it. My aunt sneaked into my room and told me a story about the three piglets. I like her but she looks sad, sad and scared.
Friday December 25, 2021It’s nearly Christmas. It feels such a long time ago Saint Nicholas arrived with his steamship. I watched him on television. He looks friendly, doesn’t scare me it is just I don’t like to talk to him. I am not sure if he likes to know how I feel. Perhaps he does. They say he knows everything. It’s all written in his book. A thick red book. It’s always with him. If the Saint knows how I feel how come he never mentions it and he asks me how I am doing. I know it is not good to lie and that is why I say nothing. It is better not to speak the truth. People don’t like it if you speak out. So I keep my mouth shut and hide and if I cannot hide I just look, look from a distance. As I was smaller I hid behind the curtain. They are long and soft and feel warm. My mother never said I am not allowed to sit there. Perhaps she doesn’t know or is glad she doesn’t need to see me. She doesn’t like it if I look at her. She says she can see what I think but what I think she doesn’t tell me. She just slaps me into my face after she said that. Not once but several times. I don’t believe she will ever like me and stop. She will never stop hitting me. If she does I see Monty our dog look. I am not sure if he looks at her or me. She doesn’t hit him though just me.
It’s Sunday and there isn’t much to do. We stay home because my mother needs to work. She always work.
The Christmas tree looks nice with all the lights on, the silver balls and I can smell it. If it’s dark outside the ‘Star of Betlehem’ burns. I don’t think wise men will knock at our door and if my mother will send them away. She doesn’t like unexpected visitors.
Sunday December 20, 2020
Monday… There’s no school I have vacation but have to be out of bed at 5:30 a.m. I am not allowed to sleep longer. It’s cold, my skin feels itchy and I have stiff fingers. They are red and I try to move them. Last night I was not right to my bed. Perhaps my parents forgot or they no longer care if I scratch. I scratch anyway. The blanket feels itchy. I don’t like it but the sheet smells nice. I hope my mother won’t see the blood spats. It will make her furious again. The rest of the day she will keep me busy, give me tasks to do. Perhaps I have time to read my book if she leaves. The shoes are waiting to be polished and I need to set the table for breakfast. My dad is at home. Perhaps he gives a hand or hides again? He hasn’t much time for me lately. He is busy, everybody is busy. There is no time to play.
Monday December 21, 2020
My mother is angry and my dad is angry too. I think he is angry although he never shouts. It is about the family. Who to visit when. My mother says they don’t like her and it’s a waste of her time. My father says it’s only once a year. I try to make no sound and stay in my room. The book is on my lap but it is hard to read if my mother yells and screams. I hope she will leave and the neighbours will not complain.
The front door slammed. I don’t know who left. I listened if I hear the car leave. I can recognize the sound of our car and hear it if it’s at the start of our street. I always can no matter where I am in our house. If I recognize the sound I know my mother will be home soon.
I wait, listen, keep my book open but it remains silent.
Tuesday December 22, 2020
There’s someone in my room. If I wake up in the middle of the night he stands at the end of my bed. He waits and I wonder why. I say it’s a he but I am not sure. I never saw a face and we do not speak but I think it’s a man because he is tall. He waits and is dressed in black. Black is a good colour if you do not want people to see you that easily. I like dark colours too but I don’t have black clothes except the dress for Christmas. It’s black and sometimes I have a dark blue one. The cloth is soft. He makes me feel save. He wasn’t always there but now he is. I think he is a friend. With him around I can sleep. I don’t have friends you know. Francois isn’t really my friend and Louis doesn’t play with me but I like him. His brother is nice to me too but I never been at their place. I was at Francoise’s home and visited Caroline. She lives far away. Perhaps she is a friend. Her mother is nice and so is her dad. He is milkman and delivers milk at people their homes. Her granddad lives next door and I saw him too. There is a door inside the house which you can use to visit him but he is outside with his rabbits most of the time. He likes rabbits and carrots. He has a field of carrots they are white. I never saw white carrots. Caroline gave me one. She took it out of the soil and I ate it. It tasted strange.
Wednesday December 23, 2020
Tonight we go to church. I do not like to go to church in the middle of the night. Someone made this up and now all people go to church? Over there are too many people. People I don’t know and most of them never visit the church. Why tonight? It’s cold outside, the wind blows and I only have a dress. It’s easy for boys. They wear trousers. Inside the church, it is cold too. I am always shivering. People wear their coats, hats, gloves and scarfs. My dad says I have to go to bed early and he will wake me up. Early? What does that mean? I always go early to bed. My parents don’t like to have me around. I don’t like it if anyone wakes me up. I am tired and I wish I could sleep for a hundred years just like the sleeping beauty. She is lucky. I don’t care if I don’t wake up. I don’t need a print, I don’t want to be a princess. The only thing I want is to sleep in peace and not being tired.
Thursday December 24, 2020
It’s Christmas but nothing changed. My mother says she wants to eat in a restaurant but we go to my grandmother and my aunt will be there too. If we go to a restaurant my dad calls them. If we go we go to Plaswijck. The food is good. I am never ill if I eat at that restaurant. My parents are not a good company and don’t talk to me but I can choose what I like to eat. At times it is boring being there because I am not allowed to speak and I have to sit still and straight up. Some children play or are underneath the table. I watch them.
First I have to help cleaning the house. After that we have breakfast. My mother set the table and there’s a bread she calls “clChristmashristmas-stoll”. I don’t like bread with stuff in it. The raisins en green en red pieces she calls “succades”. It tastes weird and leaves green and red colour behind on the bread. I don’t want it. I only like the almond paste inside of it. I take the rolls with the tiny black seeds on top. It’s good enough. I like those seeds.
We have to take the car to visit my granny. The dogs sit in the back and are not happy. They smell and it stinks. It takes long before we arrive and I feel car sick. The car smells too. I try not to vomit because it will make my mother angry. My dad tied me at the backseat which makes me feel miserable too.
I am not sure if my granny is happy to see us. Grandpa… he died. Now she lives alone in the big house. I think she likes it now she is the boss and can do as she likes. My aunt arrives later and my mother is angry with her and with my dad. I don’t know why because I left. I want to find grandpa and hear him play the trumpet but he isn’t there. There are only three photos of him. One is as he was young. It is at my granny’s side table.
We will stay the night at my granny’s home. My room is on the ceiling. I have to walk three stairs to get there. No one sleeps there and there’s no heater but I like the room, the small window in the roof and the bed. The bed is old. The mattress is filled with seagrass and there are no blankets but there’s a duvet with kapok. If I lay underneath and pull it over my head no one can see I am in it. The bed is nice and warm. If I stay with my granny I don’t need to wake up at 5:30 a.m. I don’t need to help her and my mother leaves me alone most of the time.
We had vegetable soup and goose for dinner. After dinner, my mother read something in my granny’s Bible. She has two. One to use and the other one is in a copper box. It’s the one the church gave her as she got married. I only saw it once. There are locks on it. My aunt sneaked into my room and told me a story about the three piglets. I like her but she looks sad, sad and scared.
Last night was a loud banging at the door. A bag with presents was at the front door but no Saint or Piet. My mother made hot chocolate and we all unwrapped our presents. I had two books, a game, and some new clothes.
Today I had to get out of bed at 6 .m. again. My mother doesn’t allow me to sleep longer. It’s30 minutes longer as on Monday’s and Friday’s but I feel so tired. My body feels tired and I have a hard time thinking. If I drop something my mother calls me clumsy. I stumbled over the bucket with cleaning water. She kept scolding me and hitting me where she could while I put towels on the wet carpet to try to get the water out of it. She hits me and hits me while I stamp at the towels. My father doesn’t respond. He never says anything. He’s cleaning the bathroom, sings and if he finished it he goes downstairs to clean the kitchen.
Saturday December 6, 2020
Sunday, the same boring day. I am only allowed to visit Sunday school if I cover myself. I am not sure if my parents visited the church. They are home if I come back home. I listened to a story, a Bible story, but I cannot focus. I don’t like to go back home and I do not want to pray. God never listens to me. If someone doesn’t listen he doesn’t exist. No one ever saw good. He is made up for those who have no one to turn to. Some people need something to believe in, my mother needs to get rid of me, and I want to die. If I am dead all problems are solved. No pain, no eczema, no one who scolds at and hit me, tells me everything is my mistake. Sunday is a bad day. The day of rest doesn’t mean no one beats you up. It just means you are not allowed to do anything. My dad reads the paper and I sit there do nothing. I do not want to eat. The food makes me sick.
Sunday December 7, 2020
I don’t feel too well. I listened to what the children in my class tell, how they spent the Saint Nicholas evening, the presents they received. Hans-Paul says nothing. He lives with his dad. I don’t know if he likes that. A mother is not always great. Mine is not and my mother said her mother was never kind to her. I am not sure if that is true. I only hear my mother scold at her mother. If my granny says something my mother tells us to get our coats or pack our bags and we leave. If we leave my granny starts begging “please, don’t go”. I would be happy if my mother left and wouldn’t return. The piece, I want peace.
Monday December 8, 2020
I have a geese game. It looks nice. I like geese because my granddad had geese. I am not sure if they are still around. My grandmother doesn’t like animals. Sometimes, at Christmas, we eat goose. My granny uses the eggs to bake a cake.
Tuesday December 9, 2020
It’s Wednesday. I only had school till noon. After that, I had to help my mother at home. I didn’t watch television and she sent me to my room because she didn’t want to see my face any longer. She says I have an ugly face and look exactly like my dad. I wonder how that can be. My dad is a boy and shaves his head. I am a girl and my hair is long. My mother is a mean person just like the mean girl in my class she pulls your hair and scratches with her nails. I don’t understand why girls do such a thing. I never do it but I have no nails. My father cuts them very short. A part of the nail is white I have nothing. It hurts if they are that short.
Wednesday December 10, 2020
We practiced Christmas carols at school. Some children join the school’s orchestra and some sing in a chorus. I don’t know when they practice. At home, it isn’t Christmas yet. My mother will tell me when it’s time to decorate the tree. We always have a huge, real one. At school, there aren’t trees yet but they will come. One in the hallway and a huge one in the auditorium which is my class.
In the afternoon I went to gymnastics. It’s always the same. I learn nothing, it’s cold, the dressing rooms stink and I look like an idiot. My pants always pop out of the stupid suit.
Thursday December 11, 2020
My mother was vacuuming as I came back home at noon for dinner and she still was at 3:30 p.m. She wasn’t singing but scolding and crying and mad at me. How can it take her so long to vacuum a room? I don’t know where the girl is. Shouldn’t she do that work? We didn’t drink tea but I had a cookie and tried to stay out of her way. I sat with the dogs outside. Later she told me to brush them. I have to brush till not a single hair sticks in the brush. Is that possible at all? I think their hair always falls off it never stops. Monty and Soot are both big dogs.
The girl left to her sister. It’s not for the weekend only. She will not come back. I guess she found a new home. A place where she can sit without hiding and has some peace.
Did you make a wishlist? I mean for the Saint? If I put my shoe, just one so he knows, I get candies. Today a chocolate mouse with something inside. It’s white and sweet and I don’t like it. They say the Saint knows everything but he doesn’t know what I like. I don’t like this sweet stuff it hurts my teeth. A piece of cheese I like. I guess I cannot write it down on my wishlist that’s why I don’t make one. I made a drawing, left a carrot and water for the horse and that’s it. We sang some songs as we put our shoes and after that, I went to bed. Sometimes I can hear the television set downstairs but never if my mother works. Her clients can watch tv too while they wait in our living till it’s their turn. I hope they won’t touch my shoe. Piet will stop by later. Piet is good at eavesdropping. At least that is what they all say. I am not sure if that’s true or perhaps he doesn’t tell the Saint it writes it down how I am. My parents were children. Piet didn’t take them and put them in a bag or only gave them salt instead of presents. Perhaps they do not care who is naughty and who’s not and Spain is already full of naughty children. My father never makes a wishlist either. He always gets the same which is slippers. Not filter slippers but leather ones with a thick sole. He doesn’t only wear them but beats me with them. Does the Saint know he beats me? I don’t like those slippers and I don’t like it if my mother tells him he has to beat me. If she says “don’t you see that child…” he jumps and beats. He jumps like Jack in the box.
Monday November 30, 2020
Sorry, I am not in the mood to write. What is the point? I don’t like this diary. It’s ugly and the pen does not always write on the paper. I am tired of hiding it. My mother finds it anyway. She likes to stick her nose into everything. Not that it matters she always finds a reason to be angry with me. No reason is a reason too.
Tuesday December 1, 2020
The girl is weird but she will say that about me too. She sneaks through the house. Now there are two. My mother and she. My dad is still somewhere and keeps his mouth shut. My mother works and cares or whatever that means and if not she goes shopping or goes to bed. If she is in bed it’s safe, if she’s away at work too and if she goes shopping it takes hours. She always buts a lot. Clothes, shoes, jewelry, and more. Once home she has a bad movie because she spent too much. Granddad died he can’t help her. I am not sure if my granny will.
Wednesday December 2, 2020
It’s Thursday and what more can I say. Only three more nights and we celebrate the Saint’s birthday. Tomorrow he will visit the school. My hat with name is ready and we had to make room in our class which is the auditorium. Our tables are in the hallway.
Thursday December 3, 2020
The Saint was at school! There were Piets everywhere and they gave us candies. I saw them on the roof of the school and the children of the Catholic school called them too. The Saint didn’t ask me to step forward and there was no need to sit on his lap. As the Saint and Piet left we received a present, more kruidnoten and a letter made of chocolate. The school closed at noon. December 5th is a celebration day. Today the girl went to her sister again.
WakeUpKitty 