My Life; My Healing..............Part I
I have 2 main purposes for posting this, and baring myself to all of you that I have come to know in this wonderful little blogger world we have. First, I'm concerned for some that I have come to care about here, and if my story helps just one person, I will feel that everything has served it's purpose. Second, and this is twofold.....as I've said somewhere before this is a wonderful kind of therapy in itself, and those of you who come here can get to know me, the kind of person that I've become.....Part I - My Adolescent Years
I am, not a victim, but a survivor of a completely dysfunctinal childhood. My parents were divorced when I was 7, and I went to live with my mother, my sister staying with my father. I was the "pawn" in this nasty, drawn out divorce. My mother, completely enraged over the whole thing used me to get even with my father on so many fronts. I was moved 8 times in second grade alone. My mother would keep me a few weeks, then send me to my fathers and would tell him that I could live with him, then just as I was getting settled in, she would suddenly pull me out of school and re-enroll me where she lived. My time living with her, is a time I'd rather forget, but cannot as it has shaped the person that I am today. You see, my mother is an alcholic and manic depressive, and addicted to prescribed narcotics. This combination was hell on us both. Most nights I would find myself alone, with her coming home drunk after the bars closed, most times bringing a different man home. Since she was remarried, this of course did not bide well with my step-father who would come home to find another man in his house. I would hide in the bathroom, which had the only lock in our small house, and the fighting nearly drove me insane. I became known as the barroom child, for she would often take me with her, where dirty old men would buy me kitty cocktails and make lewd comments. I saw my best friends dad get stabbed in a fight when I was just 7. When I was 8, my mother sent me to live with my aunt and uncle, 3 hours away, I thought to get rid of me, never really knew why, never knew why she wouldn't let me live with my father if she didn't want me...but I thought life would get better. I loved my aunt and idolized my uncle, so I was happy to go. If I thought I was in hell with my mother, I was wrong...because there was much worse in store for me. The first few months were great, but things took a turn when my uncle, whom I thought the world of began molesting me, finally resulting in r*pe. My father came for a surprise visit for Christmas, and I suppose he was shocked to see just a shell of my former self. You see, the r*pe ocurred just 2 days before Christmas, and when my father showed up, I was ashamed, and mortified, not happy, not really sad either, just numb and void. Anyway, he came back a few weeks later and brought me back, but no sooner had we got home, my mother showed up to tow me away once again. She was the first person I told what my uncle had done. Her response? I got hit, and she yelled that if I ever repeated that lie, and my aunt and uncle divorced..it would all be my fault, so I kept quite. Two years later, my aunt filed for divorce anyway, had hired a private investigator, only to find out that my uncle had a prior police record for child molestation. My mother then decided that maybe I was telling the truth after all, and hauled me back down there to tell my aunt face to face what had happened. My grandparents would not speak to me, I was ostricized more or less from that part of my family. I continued living with my mother suffering numerous beatings, getting sick because she gave me "speed" (black beauties) by telling me they would help me lose weight, and she tried to get me to sleep with her boyfriend's son (I guess she figured I was already "tainted"). I was just 10 by this time. When I was 13 I attempted to run away, got to a truck stop and called my father. SHE got to me first. That night I was taken to a nearby motel because she knew I'd called my dad. That was the night I lost part of the hearing in my left ear. It was several weeks later that I finally made the break, and with the help of my dad and step mom, I never had to go back again. But the damage was already done, I was now a completely messed up teen. To be continued...my teenage through adult years.
posted by Wolfie @ 4:32 PM
Comments: 5
