I'm somewhere around 7 or 8 years old and spending a week of my summer vacation with my grandparents. Days are spent walking around the neighborhood collecting pop bottles, thrown along the side of the road and exchanging them for candy at the corner store. This is one of the things I loved about summer with my grandparents. Back then I didn't have a care greater then finding one more bottle to bring my earnings to enough money for just one more candy bar or a fancy popsicle. Then came the night I was awoken from sleep by my uncle. He had climbed in bed with me and he had no clothes on. He made me do things that I didn't want to do and they hurt. He told me not to tell anyone, this was our secret. I didn't tell anyone. I wasn't even sure what he had done, just that it hurt and I didn't like it. Time passed and I buried that episode in my mind.
Life again was good, until the day I came home from school and found out my parents were getting a divorce. They said they didn't love each other anymore. I had never heard them so much as fight. If that wasn't bad enough, my mother was getting married again. My father was going to be alone. My brother decided to stay with him, so we all stayed with our father. I was around 11 or 12 and now I was the lady of the house, but not for long. Dad met and married a woman with 6 sons. The only way to describe life with our new step-mother, is to compare it with the story of Cinderella. My step-brothers got everything and had to do nothing, while my sisters, brother and I had to do everything and got nothing. Any slight imperfection got us a weeks stay in our room. A grade lower then a C on our report card, got us 6 weeks in our room. The only breaks from this punishment were to eat, go to the bathroom or work. As each of us reached the age of 14 we moved in with our mother. For our brother this was a better life. For us girls it was giving up one abusive situation for another. In the beginning it seemed as though life with our mother would be a better alternative. Our step-father was nice and we were expected only to help out with the housework from time to time. He started out being very friendly to me. It was nice to have a step-parent that cared about me and was not forever pointing out my shortcomings. As time passed his love became more physical. He accidently brushed up against me in ways that made me feel uncomfortable. There came a time that my mother injured her back and was hospitalized for it. One evening while she was gone, my step-father came home late and he had been drinking. The next thing I knew he was trying to take my clothes off and force himself on me. The incident with my uncle from years before came rushing back at me with a vengence. I got scared and panicked. I didn't know how to stop him and he was too strong for me to fight him off. Suddenly, I found myself pretending that I couldn't breath. He stopped what he was doing and asked me what was wrong. I didn't say anything I just kept pretending I couldn't breath. He started getting scared and ran toward the kitchen saying that he was going to get me a glass of water. As soon as he left the room I ran to my bedroom and locked my door. I never told my mother, I was afraid he would not remember it, or lie about it and that she would take his word over mine. In time I convinced myself that as long as he was doing these things to me he would leave my sisters alone and they would be safe. The touching continued, but he never tried to remove my clothes again.
In the beginning it seemed as though life with my Mom would be a better alternative. Our step-father was nice and only made us help out with the housework from time to time. Before long he started being very friendly to me. It was nice to have a step-parent that cared about me and was not forever pointing out my shortcomings. As time passed his love became more physical. He accidently brushed up against me in ways that made me feel uncomfortable. There came a time that my mother injured her back and was hospitalized for it. One evening while she was gone, my step-father came home late and he had been drinking. The next thing I knew he was trying to take my clothes off and force himself on me. The incident with my uncle from years before came rushing back at me with a vengence. I got scared and panicked. I didn't know how to stop him and he was too strong for me to fight him off. Suddenly, I found myself pretending that I couldn't breath. He stopped what he was doing and asked me what was wrong. I didn't say anything I just kept pretending I couldn't breath. He started getting scared and ran toward the kitchen, saying that he was going to get me a glass of water. As soon as he left the room I ran to my bedroom and locked my door. I never told my mother, I was afraid he would not remember it, or lie about it and that she would take his word over mine. In time I convinced myself that as long as he was doing these things to me he would leave my sisters alone and they would be safe. The touching continued, but he never tried to remove my clothes again.
At some point I told a family friend in confidence, what had happened. Unknown to me, my sisters had also confided to her about similar instances involving them. One day my mother sat us girls down at the table with her and our step-father. She told us that someone had told her that he (our step-father) had been touching us in ways that he shouldn't have. She wanted to know if it was true. They were both looking at us and I was very scared. I couldn't lie, but telling the truth could be just as bad. In the end I told the truth, adding that he had been drinking every time it had happened to me. My sisters agreed with me. It was true, but I was 16 at this time and I also knew that he hadn't been drunk during any of the occurances. Maybe this excuse would be enough to make it easier for everyone to deal with though. After the confrontation our step-father cried. He said he didn't remember any of it. He was sorry and it would never happen again. I guess it worked because my mother accepted this explanation. The whole thing seemed to have been dropped. They both stopped going out drinking and they stayed together as a couple. For me the unacceptable touching had stopped. I finished school, got a job and my own place to live.
Once again things in my life were going well. I was happy again for the first time in many years.
When I was 20 I got pregnant... at the time I was not aware the baby's father had a drinking problem. He was a very possessive and jealous person as well. For these reasons I felt it best not to raise a baby in this type of environment. Taking care of a child alone was not easy. I had to work 2 jobs to keep up with everything. A guy I met at one of my jobs asked me out. He had always been nice to me so I agreed to a date. We had a nice time and he was well-behaved. After a few weeks of dating I found out he was married. It also became apparent that he had a temper that I had not been aware of. He had beat his wife so bad she had to be hospitalized. I was expecting him to come over that evening and I was scared. I was afraid to tell him I couldn't see him anymore. Yet I knew I had to stop seeing him, because he was married. I also could not chance putting myself and my daughter in danger. I wasn't far from wrong. That evening when he came over I told him I couldn't see him anymore and he raped me. He threatened to hurt me if I didn't do what he wanted. I was afraid to scream out, for fear I would wake up my sleeping child or that he would hurt one of us. I never reported the incident either. I convinced myself that nobody would believe me. Also was the fear that he would come back and hurt or kill me. He never came around or bothered me again. My car broke down and I had to quit one of my jobs. Again things got very rough financially. A dear friend asked me to marry him and let him help me. I knew he loved me and my daughter. The feeling wasn't mutual, but I cared for him very much and wanted a good life for my daughter. I thought I would grow to love him and he knew how I felt and said it didn't matter to him. Eventually the marriage collapsed and we went our own seperate ways.
I spent the next year or so working a lot and dating occasionally. Never anything serious, for fear I would be hurt again. Then I met someone I enjoyed being with and we ended up moving in together. After a year together we moved to Florida. I was lonely much of the time. I became pregnant soon after we moved. Four months into the pregnancy I started spotting. A trip to the emergency room revealed that I had a high risk pregnancy and I was told to stay off my feet for the rest of pregnancy (with a 3 year old?). The rest of the pregnancy was stressful, but I gave birth to a healthy daughter. I had the usual post-partum depression, but then it escalated and before long I was in a full blown depression. Then one day while driving I was suddenly overcome by terror. It came at me from out of the blue and all I could think about was getting home. I ran a red light and nearly wrecked into another car on the way. As soon as I arrived home I was fine. I had no idea what had caused the incident. A week or so later I was grocery shopping and as I walked through the store the feeling of terror came back. I tried to ignore it and I kept shopping. By the time I got to the checkout line I was once again overcome by that feeling of terror. I had to get out of the store right away. I left my cart full of groceries at the checkout line, went to my car and drove home as quick and as safely as possible. Again, as soon as I arrived home I was fine. Incidents similar to these continued to happen, with more frequency. Eventually I didn't leave the house. I was alright as long as I stayed at home. Then one day I started to get pains in my chest. They would strike all of a sudden and I was sure that I was having a heart attack. Everytime I had the pains I was taken to the emergency room. The doctors could never find anything wrong with me. My boyfriend started getting aggravated at the doctors for not finding out what was wrong with me. They assured him that whatever was causing my problem was nothing serious and that they had done all they could. After talking with the doctor my boyfriend decided that I was either imagining it all, or that I was doing it for attention. I was convinced I was going crazy. The next visit to the emergency room I started crying as I told the doctor that there had to be something wrong. I was either going crazy or something was terribly wrong, because I was sure that I was not imagining all that had happened. He listened to me, asked me many questions, and then he gave me the address and phone number to a clinic that he thought may be able to help me. Up until this time I had spent many hours sitting in a corner crying and not knowing why. I was having stomach trouble, getting frequent headaches. I even lost interest in spending time with my children. I was to the point that I considered buying sleeping pills and taking enough that I wouldn't feel any more pain. The only thing that saved me each time from carrying through with it, was God and my children.
The clinic I was sent to was able to help me. I had to stay there voluntarily as a patient for four - six weeks. After three weeks had passed my mother came and asked if they thought it would help me to go home and stay with her for awhile. The doctors thought it might, so I moved back to Ohio. Being in Ohio helped some and eventually I was back out on my own again. My panic/anxiety disorder being somewhat controlled with medicine and monthly visits to a counselor. The counseling eventually helped me to help myself. It was a long slow process and continues to be something to work on.
When my third child was born I found out that my significant other was cheating on me. I actually caught him in the act in a manner of speaking. The woman he was with was supposedly my friend. It was painful being betrayed by the man I loved, but even more so that it was with someone I considered a friend. I gave him 30 days to move out. When his 30 days had passed I threw all his belongings out the door. It was raining that day. Looking back I think it was not nearly what he deserved but it helped make me feel a little vindicated.
Out of the frying pan into the fire.
I found someone new almost immediately. He seemed to be a dream come true. He treated me like a princess and seemed to be great with the girls. I stayed with him even when it became apparent that he was having problems with drug addiction. By this time I was also pregnant with our son. In time he also became physically, mentally and sexually abusive to me as well. In an attempt to liberate myself I applied and was accepted to attend college. In the event that things continued to get worse I wanted to have some type of formal training so that I could get a job to support myself and the children. One day the abuse reached the point, where he went into a fit of rage in front of the children. This was the breaking straw. I called my sister, and she sent her husband over to pick up me and my children. My brother-in-law then went back and convinced my husband to commit himself into a hospital for help. While he was in the hospital I overheard my youngest 2 children playing. Their conversation led me to believe that their sexual knowledge was more advanced then was normal for children their ages. Upon talking to my children one at a time, I discovered that my husband had sexually abused all 3 of my daughters. The wheels of justice moved slow. Over a year later, he finally went to court over it. He received a 5 year prison sentence for his wrong doings. My daughters received life. A life full of problems that would arise as a result of their abuse. I divorced my husband during this long drawn out process. College was great and I was doing well. Then my car broke down. No longer having transportation to get the children to and from the sitter's and myself to and from school, I had to drop out.
Happiness at last!
I discovered a friend of mine that was in need of a friend. He was going through a rough time and helping him took my mind off some of my problems. It was a great help for both of us to have each other around. In time we went from being best friends, to falling in love. Now we are both married to our best friend. Life is not always perfect. I never expected it to be, nor would I want that. It takes a few less then perfect days to help some people appreciate the good things they have. We have been married for 10 years this year and we are preparing to renew our wedding vows. This was not a fairytale in the common sense, but it appears to have a happy ending.
among
the stars