Sunday, January 9, 2011

Freedom

When I was a little girl.. around 7 or so... my biological mother met a man who would change me.  I was not just your average straight "A" student.  In the 2nd grade I was promoted to 3rd.  I was under evaluation for the gifted programs.  I had a pink bedroom.  I loved to dress up and look pretty.  E.T. lived in my closet.  Riding bikes was my favorite pastime. I loved Little House on the Prairie.  My shoes always had to match my dress.  My hair was brushed every day.  I read my Bible every night.  My "parents" made me feel like the smartest, most beautiful girl in the world.  I'd had my share of rough patches but overall - I was the smart, pretty girl that everyone loved.  And I felt worthy.

This man came along and wooed my (bio) mother.  She hadn't been with anyone since my (bio) father left when I was 3.  She was putty in his hands.  Things moved rather quickly from there.  Dates quickly became an engagement.  The warning signs were there and my parents fought with my (bio) mom.  They noticed hickies on my neck.  Bite marks.  All of a sudden I wasn't an outgoing little girl anymore.  I stopped doing my homework.  I withdrew.  He liked to hit me a lot and call me names that I didn't understand.  But he liked to kiss me too.  I didn't understand those either. 

My (bio) mother stopped letting me see my parents due to these fights.  They fought for custody.  Instead it ended with visitation every other weekend.  Then my (bio) mom just stopped picking me up.  One day during the summer of 1986 I was outside playing with my friends.  I hadn't seen (bio) mom in a long time.  Felt like ages when you are that little.  I looked up and saw her smiling face.  And I ran to her with no shoes on.  Then she ran with me.  He was in a car around the corner waiting with his green teeth and his crooked smile that made my stomach turn.  I cried but it didn't matter.  He made it very clear what would happen to me if my "wetback" mouth didn't shut up.  I cried for hours anyway.  He tied me to a chair in the living room of my mom's apartment that night.  He beat me so badly that I stopped crying.  Just so it would end.  I don't know how long I was in that chair.  My mom came home later and got me out.

Lots of days were like this.  I was able to go home a few times.  There were lots of fights.  My parents - him - my (bio) mom - him - police..... It didn't matter.  Nothing saved me.  By this time I had a baby sister, Bean.  She was beautiful.  And squirmy.  And I didn't know what to do with her but mom would have to work.  So I took care of her.  Our parents would send us toys and he'd sell them.  They would call and he'd hang up.  They'd come to see me at school but I wasn't there anymore.  Angie was left in my arms a majority of the time.  Looking back I can't remember how I did it.  There are lots of memories there.  None of which I think I can share.  But I was smart enough to try to get help.  Unfortunately, my voice wasn't heard in time.  My sisters suffered.  I suffered.

Several years later he served time in prison for what he did.  A year.  Seems rather short for stealing the innocence of 3 little girls.  The damage was done.  I shut down.  I had nightmares where he was trying to rape me again.  If I had a boyfriend I'd have flashbacks and get confused as to who was kissing me.  Killing myself seemed like the only way out.  I tried.  My parents couldn't help.  He came to our house once.  He called often.  In response I'd cut my arms.  He stole my self confidence.  He robbed me of my self esteem, my self worth.  Even now - 25 years later- the damage is still at the surface.  I still feel it.  He got his karmic repercussions quite a bit over the last few years but nothing in comparison. 

Have you ever taken a narcotic pain killer - for a toothache or some such malady - and actually felt the pain leave your body?  You know, that instant that the pain you had is gone?  That's what I felt when I read his name in the obituary section of today's paper.  I'll never get back what was taken.  But I'll sleep better knowing I no longer share oxygen with him.  He will never lay eyes on my sisters, my (bio) mom, my kids - anything again.  I may put on a pretty dress, make a nice dinner and pour a glass of wine and toast to FREEDOM.

4 comments:

  1. My heart aches for what you've gone through. I hope God (or whoever) leaves his soul to rot or suffer for eternity.

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  2. I've felt that exact feeling, that letting go feeling, and my heart smiles for you that you got to feel it. I don't know how to put into words the rest of what I am feeling, but heart is fiercely glad you read what you read in the paper today.

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  3. I guess it was three years ago, missed that the first time, but that doesn't negate my sentiment.

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  4. Thank you, Dana! It's a feeling that I have held onto for the last 3 years. :-) I'm also glad, in a way, that you know the feeling also.

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