MY LIFE
Originally posted Feb. 1999
Updated Oct. 2008
If you have been here before you will noticed that I have changed the words "bi-illogical mother" to birth mother.
God has been working on my heart and has shown me that when I use the term "bi-illogical mother" which in my way of thinking stood for "it makes no sense to me why "she" was chosen to birth me", I am saying that God makes no sense. This is not true. God ALWAYS makes sense, we just don't always see the BIG picture!
So, in respect for God and for my own growth and healing, I have changed the wording to "birth mother", meaning "the one who birth me".
I would like to thank a christian friend, whom I will call "Randy" for helping me to see that I can share my story without being to detailed.
I was born in June of 1963. I am the oldest of six
children. These are the things I remember about my life. Some are good, but alot are bad.
Sometimes I wish I could remember more of the good times and forget the bad ones, but that does not seem to be my choice.
Therefore I figure God must have a reason for all that has happened in my life and why I remember the bad more than the good.
If that reason is to help others and I feel that it is, then I hope that if you're readng this it helps you in whatever situation that you are in.
Some of my earliest memories begin around the age of five. I remember living in an upstairs apartment next door to my Grandma ( I love you Grandma).
I remember the stairs to our apartments seemed to go on forever. I used to take my slinky and let it go down the stairs. (Remember when slinkys were made out of metal?)
Downstairs was a public laundromat, it had a screen door and one day I got hit with it. My Grandma took care of my head and said I'd be fine (my Grandma was a Registered Nurse, she was a wonderful lady, she passed a few years ago).
We lived in a small town and I used to walk to kindergarten. The school was just a few blocks away. It still is. My Uncle now owns the apartments (which I believe are now used for storage) and downstairs they run a bookstore.
You know one time while living in our apartment I stuck a pair of tweezers in an outlet, it hurt like heck so I never did that again. LOL
I think I was in the second grade when we lived down the street from my birth mothers parents.
He was a gross and disgusting person and I remember that their house smelled funny.
Of course, I was a child and they were "old" to me.
I find that I no longer have bitterness towards the maternal sie of my family, but I also have no desire to be a part of their life. I don't hate them. That would be wrong, it's just that I personally, as a human, have no love for them as one would have for a family member.
"Thanks be to God that He has helped me to overcome my feelings of anger and bitterness and helps me to love them as He loves them.
You see my birth mother was molested by her father. Not only her, but her two sisters as well.
Not only did he rape and abuse his own daughters..he also sexually abused me.
Of course this is something that he denied when I confronted him with it in 1985 or 1986, with his daughter standing there. That is UNTIL I started giving details about the place where he took me and she said that she remembered the place that I had mentioned.
I don't recall seeing him again after that day, but I do know he has passed and will never be able to hurt another child ever again.
My sister went to his funeral to make sure he had passed. I didn't feel the need to go.
It was also during the second grade, at the same house, that two of birh mothers male cousins would come over to visit us and the grown-ups were not around. When they would come over one would always want to "play house".
I will never understand howorwhy she allowed any of this to happen. Yes, I suppose I do blame her, after all she knew how her father was.
I'm just thankful that her father left my younger sisters alone.
When I was in therapy I talked to my counsoler about it and we came to the conclusion that maybe "he" left them alone because I was "there" to "protect" them.
My parents got a divorce when I was eight years old. By then it was too late, the abuse cycle had already begun. Unfortunately, it seems once you're abused the pattern just keeps repeating itself until you find a way to stop it, either by self help books, counseling or both.
"It took me a very long time (many years to be exact) to find help, but thank God I did. First in self help books, then with the help of God and a really good, kind and caring therapist."
My next memories come from when I was 9 or 10. We lived in a big white house in a mixed neighborhood. We had a colored family that lived on either side of us, they were related. Lisa was my age and we became the best of friends. We also had a mexican family who lived across the street, I used to go "steady" with their son until he started acting like a big jerk. Sometimes boys do that.
It was while living in this house that we were exposed to Wayne in more was then one. I guess he had been a friend of my fathers long before this. He was and is a poor excuse for a human being.
I can remember everybody going skinny dipping. I had no idea that this was wrong and abusive, I thought that this was "normal". While swimming Wayne would always try to grab the girls, he also tried to kiss all the girls.
It was also in this house that my father sexually abused me for the first, last, and only time. I thank God, that, although my father was an alcoholic, he had enough sense NOT to do more than touch me and he NEVER did this again..
I don't remember alot about my birth mother before the age of 12. What I do remember I wish I could forget. More about that later.
As for my father he was an alcoholic and very abusive. Physically, mentally, verbally, emotionally and in some ways sexually.
Once I remember being put in the corner at 10 years of age and he forgot I was there, he left and took the other children to the park. when he returned, several hours later, I was STILL in the corner. I didn't dare move for fear he would come home and catch me.
I can remember him beating me with his belt. He didn't care where he hit you. I would end up with welts and bruises on my back, my legs, my butocks, and sometimes even on my stomach where the belt had wrapped around my body.
Being the oldest of four, naturally, I had alot of
responsibilities. I helped to raise my brother and two sisters from the time they were brought home from the hospital. I can remember changing diapers and giving them their bottles.
In Febuary of the year I turned 11 my father remarried. Mom is a woderful lady and I love her dearly, but I'll never understand why she didn't try to stop my father from beating us.
Maybe she did and I don't remember. Mom has two boys, they lived with their father and came to visit with us sometimes.
I do remember going to visit her sister and brother-in-law and spending some time with them. I also remember Louis (the brother-in-law) use to sneak into the bedroom at night and he would touch me inappropriately. This made me sick to my stomach but I couldn't stop him, he was big and mean and scary. He scared me alot.
This same "uncle" got his daughter pregnant and he also molested a young boy.
Unfortunately this young boy grew up to be gay. I'm so sorry that he was allowed to do these terrible things to so many children. I know it's not my fault that he did these things, but I'm still sorry.
When I was twelve, I was cooking hamburgers and
babysitting. I didn't know you should cut the middle to check for doneness, so I would take a little piece from the outside and taste it.
If it was brown and tasted fine I figured it was done. Needless to say my father came home drunk saw little pieces missing slapped me all the way from the kitchen to the living room, about 15-20 feet, we lived in a trailer, called me a vey foul name and said that I must sleep with every guy I meet on the street.
At this time in my life I may have been sexually active, but I did NOT sleep with "every guy that I met".
Shortly before this incident with my father, I tried to slit my wrist over a boy. This was a big mistake and I am VERY thankful that my friend Lisa was there to stop me. There is NOBODY in the whole world worth trying to kill yourself over.
At this point in my life I thought that if you went to bed with a boy he loved you, well I was WRONG.
Killing yourself or trying to kill yourself over a boy is not only WRONG but it is also STUPID. So DON'T try it.
"I really wish that there had been someone in my life at this time who could have helped me. Someone who cared enough to tell me that what I was doing was trying to "find love" by being sexually active. This is NOT how you find someone to love you, this type of behavior only gets you into trouble, causes you to have low self-esteem, brings you heartache, and it is not safe. Please know that the ONLY safe sex is NO SEX." Also I want everyone who reads this to know that you do not HAVE to have sex before marriage. You are a very special person and WORTH WAITING FOR!!!
I was born in June of 1963. I am the oldest of six children. These are the things I remember about my life. Some are good, but alot are bad.
Sometimes I wish I could remember more of the good times and forget the bad ones, but that does not seem to be my choice.
Therefore I figure God must have a reason for all that has happened in my life and why I remember the bad more than the good.
If that reason is to help others and I feel that it is, then I hope that if you're readng this it helps you in whatever situation that you are in.
Some of my earliest memories begin around the age of five. I remember living in an upstairs apartment next door to my Grandma ( I love you Grandma).
I remember the stairs to our apartments seemed to go on forever. I used to take my slinky and let it go down the stairs. (Remember when slinkys were made out of metal?)
Downstairs was a public laundromat, it had a screen door and one day I got hit with it. My Grandma took care of my head and said I'd be fine (my Grandma was a Registered Nurse, she was a wonderful lady, she passed a few years ago).
We lived in a small town and I used to walk to kindergarten. The school was just a few blocks away. It still is. My Uncle now owns the apartments (which I believe are now used for storage) and downstairs they run a bookstore.
You know one time while living in our apartment I stuck a pair of tweezers in an outlet, it hurt like heck so I never did that again. LOL
I think I was in the second grade when we lived down the street from my birth mothers parents.
He was a gross and disgusting person and I remember that their house smelled funny.
Of course, I was a child and they were "old" to me.
I find that I no longer have bitterness towards the maternal sie of my family, but I also have no desire to be a part of their life. I don't hate them. That would be wrong, it's just that I personally, as a human, have no love for them as one would have for a family member.
"Thanks be to God that He has helped me to overcome my feelings of anger and bitterness and helps me to love them as He loves them.
You see my birth mother was molested by her father. Not only her, but her two sisters as well.
Not only did he rape and abuse his own daughters..he also sexually abused me.
Of course this is something that he denied when I confronted him with it in 1985 or 1986, with his daughter standing there. That is UNTIL I started giving details about the place where he took me and she said that she remembered the place that I had mentioned.
I don't recall seeing him again after that day, but I do know he has passed and will never be able to hurt another child ever again.
My sister went to his funeral to make sure he had passed. I didn't feel the need to go.
It was also during the second grade, at the same house, that two of birh mothers male cousins would come over to visit us and the grown-ups were not around. When they would come over one would always want to "play house".
I will never understand howorwhy she allowed any of this to happen. Yes, I suppose I do blame her, after all she knew how her father was.
I'm just thankful that her father left my younger sisters alone.
When I was in therapy I talked to my counsoler about it and we came to the conclusion that maybe "he" left them alone because I was "there" to "protect" them.
My parents got a divorce when I was eight years old. By then it was too late, the abuse cycle had already begun. Unfortunately, it seems once you're abused the pattern just keeps repeating itself until you find a way to stop it, either by self help books, counseling or both.
"It took me a very long time (many years to be exact) to find help, but thank God I did. First in self help books, then with the help of God and a really good, kind and caring therapist."
My next memories come from when I was 9 or 10. We lived in a big white house in a mixed neighborhood. We had a colored family that lived on either side of us, they were related. Lisa was my age and we became the best of friends. We also had a mexican family who lived across the street, I used to go "steady" with their son until he started acting like a big jerk. Sometimes boys do that.
It was while living in this house that we were exposed to Wayne in more was then one. I guess he had been a friend of my fathers long before this. He was and is a poor excuse for a human being.
I can remember everybody going skinny dipping. I had no idea that this was wrong and abusive, I thought that this was "normal". While swimming Wayne would always try to grab the girls, he also tried to kiss all the girls.
It was also in this house that my father sexually abused me for the first, last, and only time. I thank God, that, although my father was an alcoholic, he had enough sense NOT to do more than touch me and he NEVER did this again..
I don't remember alot about my birth mother before the age of 12. What I do remember I wish I could forget. More about that later.
As for my father he was an alcoholic and very abusive. Physically, mentally, verbally, emotionally and in some ways sexually.
Once I remember being put in the corner at 10 years of age and he forgot I was there, he left and took the other children to the park. when he returned, several hours later, I was STILL in the corner. I didn't dare move for fear he would come home and catch me.
I can remember him beating me with his belt. He didn't care where he hit you. I would end up with welts and bruises on my back, my legs, my butocks, and sometimes even on my stomach where the belt had wrapped around my body.
Being the oldest of four, naturally, I had alot of responsibilities. I helped to raise my brother and two sisters from the time they were brought home from the hospital. I can remember changing diapers and giving them their bottles.
In Febuary of the year I turned 11 my father remarried. Mom is a woderful lady and I love her dearly, but I'll never understand why she didn't try to stop my father from beating us.
Maybe she did and I don't remember. Mom has two boys, they lived with their father and came to visit with us sometimes.
I do remember going to visit her sister and brother-in-law and spending some time with them. I also remember Louis (the brother-in-law) use to sneak into the bedroom at night and he would touch me inappropriately. This made me sick to my stomach but I couldn't stop him, he was big and mean and scary. He scared me alot.
This same "uncle" got his daughter pregnant and he also molested a young boy.
Unfortunately this young boy grew up to be gay. I'm so sorry that he was allowed to do these terrible things to so many children. I know it's not my fault that he did these things, but I'm still sorry.
When I was twelve, I was cooking hamburgers and babysitting. I didn't know you should cut the middle to check for doneness, so I would take a little piece from the outside and taste it.
If it was brown and tasted fine I figured it was done. Needless to say my father came home drunk saw little pieces missing slapped me all the way from the kitchen to the living room, about 15-20 feet, we lived in a trailer, called me a vey foul name and said that I must sleep with every guy I meet on the street.
At this time in my life I may have been sexually active, but I did NOT sleep with "every guy that I met".
Shortly before this incident with my father, I tried to slit my wrist over a boy. This was a big mistake and I am VERY thankful that my friend Lisa was there to stop me. There is NOBODY in the whole world worth trying to kill yourself over.
At this point in my life I thought that if you went to bed with a boy he loved you, well I was WRONG.
Killing yourself or trying to kill yourself over a boy is not only WRONG but it is also STUPID. So DON'T try it.
"I really wish that there had been someone in my life at this time who could have helped me. Someone who cared enough to tell me that what I was doing was trying to "find love" by being sexually active. This is NOT how you find someone to love you, this type of behavior only gets you into trouble, causes you to have low self-esteem, brings you heartache, and it is not safe. Please know that the ONLY safe sex is NO SEX." Also I want everyone who reads this to know that you do not HAVE to have sex before marriage. You are a very special person and WORTH WAITING FOR!!!
