Once again, we were faced with moving to a new place. This new place my mother chose was a trailer park, a short-lived but pivotal part of my life. I remember hating and being embarrassed by renting a trailer in a trailer park, waiting at the bus stop for Kindergarten with all of the other "trailer trash", at least that's how I felt at the time and had heard the term more than once. My mother was busy dating, going to bars, working...everything except being a mother to my brother and me. The family next door babysat children, it was an older wife and husband couple who kept multiple children from the trailer park. I don't remember exactly how many others they kept as the only memories I have of "others" are of one particular boy and girl who were my age. Being together everyday after school the three of us grew to be close friends. The older teenage daughter of the babysitters was also almost always there after school. She seemed nice enough at first, allowing the three of us to play in her room. I don't remember exactly how the abuse began, but I remember saying to her one day I was going to tell my mom and she physically picked me up and slammed me down onto the floor railing of her closet door which gashed open my head. I remember her voice as she laughed and told me she would kill me if I said anything to anyone, that my mom and dad didn't care about me and that no one would ever believe me over her. The next morning, I cried and begged my mom not to make me go to their house...she ended up making me spend the night as it was Thursday night with the girls at the club...at that moment I chose to never tell my mom and still never have to this day.
I remember her making us touch her, she would fully undress and lay on her bed. It was confusing and awkward to five year old me. If we wouldn't do as she asked, we would get hit by her and it was a blow you felt for a long time afterwards so we usually complied. I remember the first time she made D take off his pants, how much he cried, we all cried often but she didn't care. I honestly don't remember how long the abuse took place, but I can honestly say I had never been happier at hearing my mother saying she was moving in with another boyfriend...I got away.
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Post 4 Time To Move
As you could expect, boyfriend one didn't last a very long time so my days in the dream house came to an end. The house itself was filled with torment... memories of my father, half drunk, dropping me off telling me to tell my mother how much he missed her... memories of my mother and her temper, I've been whipped by belt, tree limb, stick, shoes, flyswatter, belt with straight pins stuck in it, hand across more times than I'd like to think about, you name it. The one positive however is that this house had my brother in it with me, except for the weekends he had visitation with his father. He was my protector, my security blanket. It wasn't long after the move and a few more boyfriends later that life became even more unbearable. I was 4 years old, attending a pre-school at the local elementary school where my brother attended. I loved riding the bus home with him at the end of the school day, I remember feeling as if I was such a big girl. On this one particular day, the bus kids were being unruly and the driver chose to assign seats. I was assigned to sit between two boys I did not know and I couldn't find my big brother anywhere. As the bus driver pulled away from the school, I remember feeling completely panicked, all that kept running through my mind was that our mom was going to be furious with him for missing the bus and he was going to get a spanking. I distinctly remember the bus pulling up to our stop, I had been crying the entire time. Our mother had just recently had knee surgery so she was wearing a knee brace and was on crutches and I have a hazy memory of her hobbling out to the bus stop asking where my brother was...which immediately changed to instant chaos. The details of what happened are very fuzzy, I'm assuming because it was such a traumatic moment in my life, but I briefly remember my mother driving us to the school asking where my brother was and the lady in the office kept saying his father had already picked him up, and like that, he no longer lived with us. His dad decided the life my mother was living wasn't appropriate and took him away, my mother did not have the means nor the "motherly" role model needed to pursue legal action so he was gone. I would see him on holidays and special occasions, but it felt no worse than suffering his death. He was taken away from me and I had no control over it, I didn't get to talk to him to say goodbye or tell him I loved him...just gone.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Post 3 The Storybook House on the Hill
It was a beautiful 3 story house that sat upon a hill, a dream house to me. It sat directly across from a drive-in movie theater and had a matching playhouse in the front yard...I felt as if our luck was turning around. I remember my brother and I sitting on the balcony of my bedroom, I was 3 and he was 8, we'd watch movies on the weekends that the drive-in would show, we couldn't hear the sound but we didn't care. Mom and boyfriend one seemed happy, my cousin wasn't around as much so my mom had my grandma stay with us quite often. My grandma wasn't the loving grandmotherly type, but, she was better than the usual sitter mom would stick us with. During the day, my mom left me with an older couple, The Bean's. They only kept a few kids and luckily I was one of them. They were so wonderful to me, they felt more like grandparents to me than my real ones and they would often offer to keep me for free on the weekends, which of course my mom took full advantage of. Mom and boyfriend one were hardly ever around, it was mostly my brother and I with either the cousin or our grandma, that is if it wasn't our weekends to go with our dads. It was so difficult seeing him leave with his dad, it was if he was leaving me behind. I was glad that Mom most often scheduled our weekends with each of our dad's at the same time. My brother's bedroom had the coolest feature ever...when you'd open his closet, there was a small door in the back and if you'd open it, it took you to a small attic like room that became our secret clubhouse. If I ever build a house, I would want my kids to have that secret room because it became a respite from the rest of the world.
One memory that I have so deeply ingrained into my mind was of an evening that mom and boyfriend one decided to go out to their usual drinking spot. I didn't want her to leave me so I started crying and begging her to stay with me...she left anyway. I went to the window and sobbed so heavily as they were driving away, which obviously annoyed my cousin. She screamed at me to shut up and go to my room, I didn't. The next thing I remember is feeling intense pain in my legs and hearing piercing screams come out of my mouth, but the pain in my legs continued and spread all over both of my legs. I don't remember anything after that...I guess that's where our minds help us to allude our bodies in order to endure trauma. My cousin had grabbed a belt out of boyfriend one's closet. The belt was full of straight pins, I don't know why it was still to this day and I don't know how my cousin didn't see the pins, but it happened. As she struck my legs over and over again in the dark room as I stood at the window screaming for my mom, the pins stuck in my legs. She struck me in anger over and over again before she noticed the blood streaming down my legs. My legs were covered in these bleeding pin holes, little baby legs of a 3 year old girl. I honestly don't know what happened after that, my mind has shielded me from the details of that memory. If you ask my cousin about the event, she gets upset about it still now, almost 37 years later. As for me, I'm still not sure how I feel about it all, but I can tell you that I never felt love for her again after that evening.
One memory that I have so deeply ingrained into my mind was of an evening that mom and boyfriend one decided to go out to their usual drinking spot. I didn't want her to leave me so I started crying and begging her to stay with me...she left anyway. I went to the window and sobbed so heavily as they were driving away, which obviously annoyed my cousin. She screamed at me to shut up and go to my room, I didn't. The next thing I remember is feeling intense pain in my legs and hearing piercing screams come out of my mouth, but the pain in my legs continued and spread all over both of my legs. I don't remember anything after that...I guess that's where our minds help us to allude our bodies in order to endure trauma. My cousin had grabbed a belt out of boyfriend one's closet. The belt was full of straight pins, I don't know why it was still to this day and I don't know how my cousin didn't see the pins, but it happened. As she struck my legs over and over again in the dark room as I stood at the window screaming for my mom, the pins stuck in my legs. She struck me in anger over and over again before she noticed the blood streaming down my legs. My legs were covered in these bleeding pin holes, little baby legs of a 3 year old girl. I honestly don't know what happened after that, my mind has shielded me from the details of that memory. If you ask my cousin about the event, she gets upset about it still now, almost 37 years later. As for me, I'm still not sure how I feel about it all, but I can tell you that I never felt love for her again after that evening.
Friday, October 5, 2012
The Earliest of Memories...Part 2
My husband has told me time and time again that he doesn't know how I have memories from the tender age of 2, he doesn't recall his first memories until closer to around 6 or 7, sometimes I wish I didn't have those early memories because they aren't the kind one holds close to their heart. What are the things I remember from the age of 2...I remember sitting in the closet with my older brother as we tried to block out the argument my mom and dad were having. I have a very faint vision of blood running down my dad's head, in a moment of rage, my mom had decided to knock my dad on the head with an ashtray. An ashtray may not seem like that big of a deal to you, but for those who remember the ashtrays of the 70's, they were super-thick, extremely heavy, large glass ashtrays. I don't really remember any other details, just looking at my brother with his finger against his lips telling me to be quiet. Did my dad deserve to be knocked over the head with an ashtray, well, no one deserves to be physically abused no matter the circumstances and especially not when there are children around. I can tell you, though, that my dad was an alcoholic who came from a long line of alcoholism and like his mother and her mother, once they had a few drinks, they turned into very cruel, verbally abusive, self-righteous beings who rarely remembered what happened during their binges. Mix that with my mother's inability to filter anything...well, it was exactly as you can imagine...unstable! It was my mom's 2nd very short lived marriage, a child from each, unstable was just another descriptive adjective to add to her list of character traits. Surprisingly I don't remember my dad actually leaving, I just remember a time shortly after where he was no longer living with us and my older cousin moved in. Apparently, she decided to become my mom's live in babysitter at the age of 17 simply to get away from her own mom. For my mom, it was a ticket to freedom from my brother and I and unfortunately for us all, not the dream job of a 17 year old rebellious teenager. I remember one night waking up in my crib and crying out for my dad, my mom, my brother...anyone to console me from the dark, scary, quiet room I was in....what I instead received was a spanking from my cousin. I truly believe that very moment was pivotal because that memory was the reason I could never seem to put my own children to sleep in their cribs. I remember that dark feeling of rejection and pain and even typing this brings hurtful tears to my eyes.
My next memory comes as flashes only, more like a photo album of events that occurred. I remember boyfriend one driving us all around in his van, which only had seats in the front. My mom and my cousin were sitting together in the passenger seat, my brother was standing up in the middle of the van, leaning up against a towering stack of boxes that were behind him, pretending that he was a super-hero having to keep the boxes from falling over and crushing me. I was sitting down in the step area at the side of the van with my back against the barn style doors, I remember laughing hysterically as my brother entertained me, it was dark outside so he would save his funny faces until cars passed and lit up the inside of the van. The next memory I have of that night is sitting on our kitchen counter screaming hysterically, completely covered in blood. My mom was covered in my blood, everything around me was covered in blood. I remember seeing towels everywhere laying on the kitchen floor covered in my blood, my nose was bleeding so heavily that she couldn't keep towels coming fast enough, there wasn't a spot near me that wasn't covered in my blood. My cousin stood behind my mom, also covered in my blood, yelling for my mom to take me to the hospital. I later learned that the side van doors swung open as we hit a curve on the road we were traveling on at 45 mph. I had fallen out backwards landing on my head and rolling until I stopped with my little body laying on the dark road. My brother went into shock when I fell out, completely unable to speak, they continued driving another mile before discovering that I was no longer in the car. They turned the van around and stopped when they saw me laying in the road. Fortunately a passing motorist traveling in the opposing direction saw me laying in the road and, by what I believe as Divine Intervention, placed his car sideways on the road trying to shield me from any approaching motorists, unafraid of the risk he was taking on his own life to stop traffic in the middle of a dark curve in order to save mine. He bravely was able to stop an approaching car from hitting me which stopped all continuous oncoming traffic. This was the point when my mom arrived, my cousin who was seated door side jumped out of the van and ran to me...I was lying still in the road, eyes wide open, covered in blood...she thought I was dead and started screaming. My mom was following behind her, and without thinking clearly about any injuries I had, picked me up in a panic. That's when they said I started screaming and didn't stop. They put me in the van and drove me home...I know I know, crazy right?? Who the heck takes their kid home after falling out of a moving vehicle traveling 45 mph at 3 years old covered in a continuous stream of blood??? My mother that's who, God love her, but again, I warned you that making sound, stable decisions was not her strongest attribute. Fortunate for me, boyfriend one and my cousin told my mom they were taking me to the hospital with or without her. I had lost so much of my blood that the doctors stated a few more minutes and I would've died....a few blood transfusions and 4 weeks later I was released from the hospital having suffered a severe head trauma, broken nose, and a severely banged up little body. I can tell you now that the consequences a few years later caused the beginning of severe headaches along with the knowledge at 30 years old that the new black spots I started seeing in my field of vision was caused by the severe head trauma, which ultimately caused a bunch of tiny, holes to develop in the "gel" that surrounded my eyeballs.
In my next memory, only a few months later from the accident, we moved into a house with boyfriend one. At 3 y.o., it was move number 2 for me and move number 5 for my brother. Of all of my future moves, and there were MANY, that was the house I loved the most and had the hardest time leaving behind....
My next memory comes as flashes only, more like a photo album of events that occurred. I remember boyfriend one driving us all around in his van, which only had seats in the front. My mom and my cousin were sitting together in the passenger seat, my brother was standing up in the middle of the van, leaning up against a towering stack of boxes that were behind him, pretending that he was a super-hero having to keep the boxes from falling over and crushing me. I was sitting down in the step area at the side of the van with my back against the barn style doors, I remember laughing hysterically as my brother entertained me, it was dark outside so he would save his funny faces until cars passed and lit up the inside of the van. The next memory I have of that night is sitting on our kitchen counter screaming hysterically, completely covered in blood. My mom was covered in my blood, everything around me was covered in blood. I remember seeing towels everywhere laying on the kitchen floor covered in my blood, my nose was bleeding so heavily that she couldn't keep towels coming fast enough, there wasn't a spot near me that wasn't covered in my blood. My cousin stood behind my mom, also covered in my blood, yelling for my mom to take me to the hospital. I later learned that the side van doors swung open as we hit a curve on the road we were traveling on at 45 mph. I had fallen out backwards landing on my head and rolling until I stopped with my little body laying on the dark road. My brother went into shock when I fell out, completely unable to speak, they continued driving another mile before discovering that I was no longer in the car. They turned the van around and stopped when they saw me laying in the road. Fortunately a passing motorist traveling in the opposing direction saw me laying in the road and, by what I believe as Divine Intervention, placed his car sideways on the road trying to shield me from any approaching motorists, unafraid of the risk he was taking on his own life to stop traffic in the middle of a dark curve in order to save mine. He bravely was able to stop an approaching car from hitting me which stopped all continuous oncoming traffic. This was the point when my mom arrived, my cousin who was seated door side jumped out of the van and ran to me...I was lying still in the road, eyes wide open, covered in blood...she thought I was dead and started screaming. My mom was following behind her, and without thinking clearly about any injuries I had, picked me up in a panic. That's when they said I started screaming and didn't stop. They put me in the van and drove me home...I know I know, crazy right?? Who the heck takes their kid home after falling out of a moving vehicle traveling 45 mph at 3 years old covered in a continuous stream of blood??? My mother that's who, God love her, but again, I warned you that making sound, stable decisions was not her strongest attribute. Fortunate for me, boyfriend one and my cousin told my mom they were taking me to the hospital with or without her. I had lost so much of my blood that the doctors stated a few more minutes and I would've died....a few blood transfusions and 4 weeks later I was released from the hospital having suffered a severe head trauma, broken nose, and a severely banged up little body. I can tell you now that the consequences a few years later caused the beginning of severe headaches along with the knowledge at 30 years old that the new black spots I started seeing in my field of vision was caused by the severe head trauma, which ultimately caused a bunch of tiny, holes to develop in the "gel" that surrounded my eyeballs.
"You Should've Wrote A Book"...
I know we all have those days where we ask ourselves just how we got to where we are. Usually it wasn't in the plans to happen, but somehow we've managed to wander off course and, good and bad, we are where we are. As I'm getting older and find myself reflecting on my life, especially since I've had my children, I have no idea how I've survived this long and how I have any sanity left...well, that's probably debatable. ;)
I guess I have to begin with where it all started...with my mom and dad. They married more out of responsibility and less out of love, people, I don't recommend it. What little memories I do have of my mom and dad together were only bad ones, although it was difficult growing up in a broken home, I'm glad they realized that staying together for a child does not a marriage make. When I was 9 months old, in the midst of their fiery relationship, my mother went screaming and yelling into her room. She didn't know I was crawling behind her, she went into her bedroom and slammed the door shut right as I was putting my hand up in the back side opening of the door and off went my index finger on my right hand. Lucky for me, they got me to the hospital quick enough to save it and now it's only a scar at the tip of my finger. Little did I know that it was the beginning of a life full of bad luck, pain, and hardships that would break most any human. This is the first blog of my story.
I guess I have to begin with where it all started...with my mom and dad. They married more out of responsibility and less out of love, people, I don't recommend it. What little memories I do have of my mom and dad together were only bad ones, although it was difficult growing up in a broken home, I'm glad they realized that staying together for a child does not a marriage make. When I was 9 months old, in the midst of their fiery relationship, my mother went screaming and yelling into her room. She didn't know I was crawling behind her, she went into her bedroom and slammed the door shut right as I was putting my hand up in the back side opening of the door and off went my index finger on my right hand. Lucky for me, they got me to the hospital quick enough to save it and now it's only a scar at the tip of my finger. Little did I know that it was the beginning of a life full of bad luck, pain, and hardships that would break most any human. This is the first blog of my story.
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