I wish I could tell everything in one session....to get it out...to empty the boxes I so neatly packed, labeled and stored away. But I can't...today is a moody day...it's hard to write. The world is too 'peopley' for me today.
Do you know what it takes to sit back and try to stay calm while your mother convinces a pastor you are demon possessed and need an exorcism? I do! No...I'm not joking! I wish I were....because the thought of any human being discounting a lifetime of begging for help, telling every single person you encounter you need help and then sitting down with strangers while you hear your mother whisper to them how you're a demon isn't exactly fun!
Yes I was a troubled child. Yes I got into trouble all day, every day. Yes I had a mouth and I wasn't afraid to use it. It didn't start out that way...I was a sweet child and I saw only goodness in people...I talked to strangers, I hugged people, I laughed and walked around in a hazy bliss. And then Satan happened (for future reference Satan is that thing that others called my father).
I don't remember the first time it happened...maybe the time I remember so clearly was the first time...but it broke something inside me. The rose colored glasses with a direct line to my heart broke. I couldn't have been more than seven...maybe eight...but my little happy world turned dark and jaded. My heart broke. Life was never the same again.
That day Satan touched me...and as I felt the crushing weight of guilt stomp all over me and immobilize me to the point that I felt like a scared rabbit frozen in fear something in my brain screamed for me to MOVE NOW! I'll never forget the strength it took for me to jump up and run away. But I remember taking a breath at the door and turning to look back at the person who was my father....he didn't move...he didn't look at me...it was as if he wasn't breathing...and I slowly made my way to the bathroom where I locked the door and cried.
Do you know what happens when you harm a child? They break. Children are fragile in the naivety of the world. They only know what is contained in the walls of the home they are supposed to feel safe in. Do you know what happened to me that day? I changed. I was guilty. What did I do? How can I not do that again? Why? Why? Why? Yes....it changes you...It brings on feelings of hate...I hate him. I can't trust him. I don't know him. He's not my father. I don't want to be near him. I don't know what to do.....who do I tell? What will they do?.....Will they tell him I told? What will he do to me? He will kill me......I was a child and then I wasn't...because now I had grown up things to deal with.
I think my mother knew....she had to have known....mothers know, don't they? Do they not see the change in their child? Do they ignore it because they have other mommy things to do and you're not on the priority list? Or do they know and not care? Mine didn't care....I know that now. I'm not sure she even knew what to do...she was door mat, she was weak and had little life left in her.
I blame her for the future events that transpired after that day. They are both responsible. These wastes of life that brought children into the world to abuse and treat as chattel. She brought four children into that house...and after that day I saw the truth and worked extra hard to shield my sister and brothers...because I was already broken and they seemed so happy...so carefree...I wasn't...I lost my happy...it died and hasn't ever really returned.
I made hiding places for them and when he was on his rampages I hid them there and taunted him into concentrating on me rather than them. I tried to save them. I tried to keep them out of harm's way until I could find help for us. I told everyone! Do you know how I know for a fact my mother knew what was going on and never lifted a finger to help us?! When I was nine or so we visited my mother's family in another state. Neutral ground for me. We went to my grandmother's church that Sunday and as we sat there with the nicest lady I've ever met I told her everything....I'll never forget the look on her face...it makes me sad to remember it today (I think I broke her).
She told me she would be right back and other people came and sat down with my sister and I at that small table....they asked us questions and we both answered like we were discussing the toys in front of us...calmly...gravely. Then my aunt came in and they whispered to her for a few moments before my mother came in and were whisked away and packed for home immediately! Nothing happened. Help didn't come. Not even my aunt did anything....she never said a word...but even as a child I knew they were talking about what I had told them. My only logical explanation is that my mother convinced them I was a liar and a big story teller...which is probably true because I've always been 'dramatic' according to them...and I'm okay with 'dramatic' but not with 'liar'. So I count this as let down #1 - not even family or the 'religious people' as I used to call them will help us....now who do I tell?
Life went on...and it was worse. I took a lot of abuse after that. How dare I tell anything that goes on in this house?! What happens here stays here! But does it???? I'm thinking not! The cute little girl was slowly turned into a stubborn, we shall see child who knew something was wrong and she would save herself and her siblings one way or another! The problem with that was that it was too late...she would not be able to save any of them...no matter how hard that little mind with no experience in life, no stability of family and friends had no way to do it....no way to get away...no way to fix it. Unfortunately, the little girl's parents knew this too and used it against her....no more church....no more play dates...no more friends...school and home....that's it! They isolated her and the house from anything that would change it.....and that day a little more of her died....
Do you know what it takes to sit back and try to stay calm while your mother convinces a pastor you are demon possessed and need an exorcism? I do! No...I'm not joking! I wish I were....because the thought of any human being discounting a lifetime of begging for help, telling every single person you encounter you need help and then sitting down with strangers while you hear your mother whisper to them how you're a demon isn't exactly fun!
Yes I was a troubled child. Yes I got into trouble all day, every day. Yes I had a mouth and I wasn't afraid to use it. It didn't start out that way...I was a sweet child and I saw only goodness in people...I talked to strangers, I hugged people, I laughed and walked around in a hazy bliss. And then Satan happened (for future reference Satan is that thing that others called my father).
I don't remember the first time it happened...maybe the time I remember so clearly was the first time...but it broke something inside me. The rose colored glasses with a direct line to my heart broke. I couldn't have been more than seven...maybe eight...but my little happy world turned dark and jaded. My heart broke. Life was never the same again.
That day Satan touched me...and as I felt the crushing weight of guilt stomp all over me and immobilize me to the point that I felt like a scared rabbit frozen in fear something in my brain screamed for me to MOVE NOW! I'll never forget the strength it took for me to jump up and run away. But I remember taking a breath at the door and turning to look back at the person who was my father....he didn't move...he didn't look at me...it was as if he wasn't breathing...and I slowly made my way to the bathroom where I locked the door and cried.
Do you know what happens when you harm a child? They break. Children are fragile in the naivety of the world. They only know what is contained in the walls of the home they are supposed to feel safe in. Do you know what happened to me that day? I changed. I was guilty. What did I do? How can I not do that again? Why? Why? Why? Yes....it changes you...It brings on feelings of hate...I hate him. I can't trust him. I don't know him. He's not my father. I don't want to be near him. I don't know what to do.....who do I tell? What will they do?.....Will they tell him I told? What will he do to me? He will kill me......I was a child and then I wasn't...because now I had grown up things to deal with.
I think my mother knew....she had to have known....mothers know, don't they? Do they not see the change in their child? Do they ignore it because they have other mommy things to do and you're not on the priority list? Or do they know and not care? Mine didn't care....I know that now. I'm not sure she even knew what to do...she was door mat, she was weak and had little life left in her.
I blame her for the future events that transpired after that day. They are both responsible. These wastes of life that brought children into the world to abuse and treat as chattel. She brought four children into that house...and after that day I saw the truth and worked extra hard to shield my sister and brothers...because I was already broken and they seemed so happy...so carefree...I wasn't...I lost my happy...it died and hasn't ever really returned.
I made hiding places for them and when he was on his rampages I hid them there and taunted him into concentrating on me rather than them. I tried to save them. I tried to keep them out of harm's way until I could find help for us. I told everyone! Do you know how I know for a fact my mother knew what was going on and never lifted a finger to help us?! When I was nine or so we visited my mother's family in another state. Neutral ground for me. We went to my grandmother's church that Sunday and as we sat there with the nicest lady I've ever met I told her everything....I'll never forget the look on her face...it makes me sad to remember it today (I think I broke her).
She told me she would be right back and other people came and sat down with my sister and I at that small table....they asked us questions and we both answered like we were discussing the toys in front of us...calmly...gravely. Then my aunt came in and they whispered to her for a few moments before my mother came in and were whisked away and packed for home immediately! Nothing happened. Help didn't come. Not even my aunt did anything....she never said a word...but even as a child I knew they were talking about what I had told them. My only logical explanation is that my mother convinced them I was a liar and a big story teller...which is probably true because I've always been 'dramatic' according to them...and I'm okay with 'dramatic' but not with 'liar'. So I count this as let down #1 - not even family or the 'religious people' as I used to call them will help us....now who do I tell?
Life went on...and it was worse. I took a lot of abuse after that. How dare I tell anything that goes on in this house?! What happens here stays here! But does it???? I'm thinking not! The cute little girl was slowly turned into a stubborn, we shall see child who knew something was wrong and she would save herself and her siblings one way or another! The problem with that was that it was too late...she would not be able to save any of them...no matter how hard that little mind with no experience in life, no stability of family and friends had no way to do it....no way to get away...no way to fix it. Unfortunately, the little girl's parents knew this too and used it against her....no more church....no more play dates...no more friends...school and home....that's it! They isolated her and the house from anything that would change it.....and that day a little more of her died....
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