Mother is Gone now.

"Mother" is gone now. She passed away this past January.

I've waited almost 57 years to be released from her and now, though honestly relieved...I also feel guilt and sadness.
I have tried for most of my adult life to forgive my mother for the obvious illness and consequential behavior she displayed towards me and for the most part I have succeeded. ....I think. The last 20 years of my life when it had to involve her was done so with a heart that was sad for the lonely person she was at the end of her life.

I feel guilty because I am a good person, and yet I've unashamedly waited out these past years~~ wanting desparately to stand up for myself and write her out of my life~~ but because of her wealth~~I waited it out. In my book~~ that isn't right. I've always told myself it was my 'payment' for all the abuse of my childhood.....but is it right? I don't know.

I feel guilty because I spent so many years hating this woman .....and she was God's creation. That was not right.

I feel guilty because I'm glad she's gone. That's a tough thing to say...and live with.

Mother came to visit us for the Christmas holiday for six days just before she passed away. It was the most gut wrenching experience I've had in a long time. At one point while she was here, she grabbed my face and said, "Do you know how much I love you , my daughter"? It sent chills down my back.....You would have to know the scenario she would play with me as a child...to understand....that Yes Mother...I know how much.

After we took Mother home, I called my sister and told her that no matter what, MOTHER was not ever allowed back in my house again. I was done. No more pretending. No more hurting....no more being scared. I would give up my inheritance if there even was one anymore. It just had to end.

Four days later we get the call from the housekeeper....and mother had passed.

God is good.

Now it's been six months and I'm starting to work through some of this guilt. It's been hard going back to the 'house' but it's a job that has to be done. The memories aren't as overwhelming as I thought and I think I'll be able to move on now.

I really and truely hope I can walk from this day forward with my head held high and know that I really am free now.

*Final Footnote

This will be my final post in this journey of my life. I'll check back if anyone cares to comment but I won't continue on with who I've become, but will say that I am someone now that you would never know as the person I have let you see.

I carry the scars within and some visible from days that weren't so promising......but I also carry with me everyday the knowledge that deep within all of us is a desparate need to be loved and with it our very will to survive.

Carry with you the knowledge that you never know the hardships that the person standing next to you has suffered....don't be quick to assume, judge or envy....and mostly always remember........

How we make our children feel.......Is the Adults they become. Children need to feel worthy.

God Bless.

Someone Cared Enough to Reach Out

When I was 16 there was a major investigation of the hospital I was in which led to some major changes....One being that I was transferred to a better facility where the object was to address why I was there in the first place. It was a hospital still.... But in another part of the state and as different as night and day.
There was a lady (angel) who worked there ...God Bless Her.....Who saw a child in need....... Reached out to me and finally after 16 years...Put a stop to the injustice. If it weren't for this wonderful person I don't think I would have survived another year. She became my guardian and welcomed me into her home. With her love and the love of her family....I slowly was able to learn to trust and love in a normal way.....I can't express enough my love for her.

I never knew the joys of play as a child
the comfort of a mothers love
the firm guidance of a fathers hand
the silliness of a siblings laughter.

but I learned...Perhaps the hard way.......What unconditional love really is....

It's the person who will take you as you are....even damaged

..And find you

worthy of being nourished.

Listen....

Do you hear a child?

Life As I Knew It

For the next two years I spent half my time in the hospital and the other half as a runaway. Whenever the opportunity arose, I took advantage of it and would run for as far and long as I could. There were many more horror stories that I could tell of the times that I was on the 'run' ...but I'm tired..

tired of reliving them and tired of letting them overpower me.

There were equally as many horror tales from when I would be returned to the hospital....Times of being made to watch people get 'shock treatment' and told that I would have it as well if I didn't quit running away.... The time I was put in solitary confinement for 3 solid months as punishment when I came back from running away. All just a day in the life of a teenager.....But I don't want to waste anymore time on writing about the horrors...

I want to finally get to the end of this story.

The good part.....

The part where someone finally heard me.

A Day In the Life ( lifeless)

Let me take you through a day of life in a maximum security unit of a mental hospital back in the 60's.

First is the smell....It is something you will never ever forget your entire life. It is a mixture of feces, urine, body odor, rotting food and some smells that I've never been able to pinpoint. It is the smell of the forgotten.
The halls are long and extremely dark, dank and depressing.
You get up in the morning to use a communal bathroom, then off single file down into the basement cafeteria....No need to comment on the food.
Your days were spent in a locked 'Day Room'......There was nothing in this room for entertainment...Other than cards. Unbelievable...But true.....
You have to keep in mind though that almost all of the people here ....Didn't need outside stimulation to entertain themselves......They had their own entertaining going on...

If you were good, and you were either medicated to the zombie state or proven to be no threat...You were allowed outside once a day into a walled courtyard....Where you could wander around ......Looking at the wall.

Then back to the 'Day Room'...Single file to lunch......Back to the 'Day Room'..Single file to supper...'Day Room'....Then bed.

And so, a fourteen year old girl spends her days......Will anyone ever hear me?......

Will anyone ever Care?

This Isn't Funny Anymore.

So, I'm being transported back to the hospital. After six months on the road, I'm actually looking forward to seeing my 'old' friends and having a warm secure place to sleep with guaranteed meals.....You know what they say...."There's no place like home" ;) I didn't realize that now I was considered an 'escape risk' .....So it's off to the maximum security building ...Just to teach me a lesson.... No homecoming party with my buddies for me.

This is not fun.

I don't know how mental hospitals are run now, I can only hope with more humanity, cleanliness and compassion. In the early 60's........ They weren't. At least not in the maximum security buildings. I saw things there that no one 'in their right mind' should have to witness. I was housed with some of the most neglect and disturbed people on the planet...To survive you became very very tough .....Or at times ...Very very charming...Whichever worked for you that day.

This was the first time in my life ...That I felt completely trapped.....I went through a period of hopelessness and helplessness....Of feeling so lost in the system...That I wanted to give up....

After all ....Who was going to hear me??

*Footnote #2

Does anyone see the wasted potential here? ...

What I could have been?

I sometimes feel as if all this greatness is inside of me and never got the chance to shine.....Like I was this grand specimen of a seed planted....... Then never cared for.....And left unattended......Grew into a weed.

Suppose I had been loved...Suppose I had been nurtured ....Suppose if nothing else I had the chance to be educated in the normal way...Instead of just streetwise.

What great things I could have done......

Instead, in the shelter of being anonymous..........

I write and hope that if I can't shine....
I can at least sparkle....... So that someone else can see.

The Runaway

Thirteen and a half ...
I was a seasoned, streetwise, runaway child.....

For a whole six months I traveled the entire coast of the U.S.....You slept when and where you could, begged food,clothes, shelter.....Sold your soul when begging didn't work....It gets to a point that you don't care anymore....... You don't think of yourself as being someone to care about........ You just try to survive....

You get cold... hungry.....Tired.....
Scared..........So lonely.....
but you survive.

I remember how I was finally caught.....I remember being so ticked off at the man who called the police on me....... And yet relieved.

I had been hitch-hiking along a desolate back road somewhere in northern Florida when a man came along and picked me up......He had his 2 young children in the car with him....Both sitting up in the front seat....So I climbed in the back seat. I remember these 2 little girls turning around looking at me and grinning, making little toddler faces at me.......And I wanted to cry because they were so lucky.
I don't know what kind of bullcocky story I was trying to feed this rather intelligent looking man about why a young girl my age would be out hitchhiking, but he obviously didn't buy it. We pulled into a service station/grocery where he said he had to get something for his girls....He brought us all out a soda and some crackers and while we ate ........ The police car snuck up on me..........

Damn I was ticked ......But relieved.

Stupid Choices

I look back sometimes and think.... Boy,this is one time I really screwed up ..I'm sure I could have convinced the 'powers that decide' that I was still too 'mental' to be released.......I had it made where I was and yet I made the foolish choice to run........

I don't know if I thought I was invincible or just thought nothing worse could happen to me...But here I was throwing myself back into the world of 'the runaway'......A world that had already proven to me that it could be cruel..........Yet.........Forgetting the horrors of it....... I ran.......Choosing the unknown over the known........

I WAS NOT going back home.

Funny Farm...Let the Fun Begin!

Ok , so the title to this post is bit tacky....Sorry ;)...But having a sense of humor is what gets one through life.

This year of my life is my best so far. Who would think that an almost 13 year old would finally find some peace in her life in ..Of all places a State Mental Hospital? Back in the early 60's when a child was incorrigible, ran away...etc....After trying to reform them in foster homes, reform schools and such ..The next step and cheapest place to house them was in the State Hospitals. Luckily, they did have separate housing for children under 16,(unless they were a threat or escape risk) so they weren't in with the 'regular' population....There were actually counselors and doctors there to try to help....But the best part was...no 'Mother'....no 'brother' ....no pain.

Three meals a day, a nice room ( shared with 3 other co-conspirators) a little school thrown in...And giggles and fun....Ahhhhh the pranks we pulled!! ....:)

Finally .....I was having a carefree 'normal' life... I just happened to be having it in a Mental Hospital.

We ( my co-conspirators) and myself had this scheme going.....Every 90 days we all knew we would be re-evaluated as to our 'mental' status.....And most of us being quite satisfied with how life was going would stage 'mental relapses' to coincide with these evaluations....I sometimes look back and wonder if some of them aren't still there.....;)....Cheers to you, my fellow friends.

Life was good .......

then they started talking about trying to send me home........

and I ran away.

Hospital

After spending time in the ICU of the hospital I was sent to the Psychiatric floor where the best of the best head doctors were going to 'fix' me. Or at least medicate me so that I was a zombie, not wanting to die....or run away ... or be bad.....or anything.
There were meetings with detectives...where I had to go over and over again what happened...but nothing ever came of it......no one ever paid for the piece of my soul they took..........but........it doesn't matter .......my soul was so empty by that time......... they didn't get to take much.
I stayed there for about 3 weeks I think, then after a court hearing where my adopted parents signed over papers making me a ward of the state...I was sent to a state mental hospital.

I never found out why they signed the papers.

Being a child...... I just figured that it was because of what happened.....

What other reason could there be?

Do You Hear Me?

Is this writing about me?....Yes....I want someone to say ...Sorry...To care.....To hear me.....Cry.

and hearing me cry I want someone to be aware and make a difference in some child's life who is crying out ....Even if it's just your own child crying out because life is rough...Don't brush it off as growing pains......Address it with a hug....That's a start...Then being aware...... Maybe you'll see the ONE child that no one else does.

This is for the policemen who think just a smile and wink won't make a difference.

For the counselor, minister,case worker, to help them understand why that child you have sitting in front of you.....Is hanging their head. (or perhaps is defiant)

For the grocer check out, store keeper, school teacher who sees..... and now hopefully will reach out.

No amount of counseling will ever heal my soul...yes I can be made aware that I'm not at fault....my mind tells me I've overcome...survived so much and turned into a very remarkable woman......Loved by many....and heard by none.

but my soul........ cries......and so I write....
to heal.

now back to the journey.

I've Had Enough

I remember during the assault....seeing headlights everywhere...Pointed at me....I remember desperately looking into the eyes of every single person who raped me....Thinking, hoping, pleading with my eyes to let them be the one who put a stop to this..........The whole time fighting with every ounce of me.

then it was over.......

and a part of me died.

Everyone drove away....I remember some laughing......They left me with the man who brought me there....He actually said he was sorry.. That he didn't know they were going to do that...And he just had to go along with it.......Oh?.......So why was he one of the eyes that I looked into?........

He drove me back across the state line ( we had traveled into another state , which I didn't know) ..... And then left me in a parking lot of a high rise apartment building.....I found a restroom, and cleaned up some. As I stood at the sink I glanced down and saw the word they had carved in my stomach. BITCH....Ah yes....Bad girl....Bad baby.....Bad....Bad....Bad

I don't know where or how I found what I used....But I ended up with over 100 stitches and several pints of blood given before I was what they called 'out of the woods'...

and woke up in a hospital bed.

Why?

I have debated with myself all day , if I want to tell this part of the story.......... I'm so ashamed....... but I feel like I need to tell it so that whoever is reading this will understand how life can tumble out of control for a child unloved. How when a child has to run to find peace , sometimes things can go really, really wrong........sometimes ...... because they are a child........ they want to trust and hope that somewhere out there is an adult who is good.

That was my thinking when the man found me in the laundrymat. Wow, he was a grown up and was offering me food and wasn't going to turn me in to the police who would just send me back to 'Mother'.... I got in his car and he told me to lie down in the back floorboard so that the police wouldn't see me.....Another plus for my new found savior...he was wise about the police. How could I go wrong?...We drove for a very long time and it was getting dark. We pulled up into the parking lot of a really dingy looking hamburger beer/joint and went in....The place was full of motorcycle gang members who all seemed to know him......I was twelve, but smart enough to start getting nervous.....He saw my fear so ordered a hamburger for me and said we'd eat outside in the car. While we were sitting there he started bragging about being a member of the motorcycle club and showed me a bush where they had supposedly 'shivved' a guy. Shivved??? I asked???...... and then wished I hadn't.

I was so afraid.

He went back inside for a few minutes ( this place was way out in the middle of nowhere and I couldn't decide whether to take off or not).....He came back and said it's ok....I'll take you somewhere safe now.

Whew good..... I was so afraid....

We drove down the road about a mile....then pulled over into the woods...with him saying he had to use the bathroom.

then the motorcycles came........

I remember being on the hood of the car with one after another raping me...then because I fought like a tiger....one carved BITCH in my stomach......

God how I hated them.

Twelve

Twelve years old~~ I lost count how many times I had run away by then~~ but now the consequences were getting greater when I was caught. Juvenile Hall was the destination when I was picked up now. Then court...then...partly because of who Daddy was.....and the ability to pay for good lawyers....I was sent back home.

I like to think of myself as a fair person ...so in all fairness...by this time I WAS a 'problem child'....I was learning that I could control my surroundings...that when the times got tough....I got going.

It is a vicious cycle with children in this situation....Why hasn't society figured that out yet?? If only one person would take time to reach out to one child or at least don't turn your back when you know in your heart things aren't right...the cycle could be broken.....But my purpose isn't to get on a band wagon.

Twelve....I don't have any trouble remembering how old I was when things got out of control for me... This is when I ran away one too many times and 'fate' caught up with me.....when a motorcycle gang member* found me in an apartment building laundrymat sleeping and offered to take me to get some food......and when it was over...........

life didn't seem worth living anymore.

* this was a notorious, vicious gang not like the ones we hear of today

A Kind smile

I don't know why I remember this so clearly ~~ or why it impacted me so much, but I wish I knew who the police officer was, so that I could find him and let him know how much his kind, knowing smile that day touched my soul.

I remember waiting in the police station, for 'Mother' and Daddy to come pick me up after another failed attempt of running away. I think I must have been around 12 and by then had become a pretty well known 'problem child' to the authorities in our city. I remember 'Mother' giving her 'martyr' speech of how unruly, ungrateful,and incorrigible I was~~~ I remember thinking~~~ what a bad , bad little girl I was ~~~and looking up at the police officer standing behind 'Mother'~~ and seeing him smile, then wink at me. I can't describe nor explain what this meant to me.~~ Did it rescue me??~~no~~was it my salvation or turning point???~~~ no~~~~but it made me feel~~~ for just a moment~~ not so all alone.

Perhaps this kind gentleman spent his entire life wondering if he ever made a difference in someones' life through his police work.
~~~SIR, whoever and wherever you are, you made a difference to at least one little girl who needed to know that someone was on her side.......

Thank you.

'Problem Child'

I think I was around 11 almost 12 when I began running away. From 10 years old until around this time, I was just living life as I knew it. There is no need to chronicle everything that happened on a daily basis as I would lose the whole point of writing this*. There were good days all through the time period that I'm writing of. I don't want anyone to think I was this 'poor tortured little waif' every day of my life.....yes....there were good days as well.
I don't remember the circumstances behind my first run away experience. I think 'Mother' had been away on a trip and was coming home. Maybe I had gotten to the age that I thought I was old enough to fend for myself....I don't know ....but in my childish feeble attempt to escape.......I left....Of course the 'authorities' were called.....and I was found a day later at a friends house .....living, I thought , forever in her tree house.....

Now I had a 'record'......'Mother' got to classify me as a 'problem child'

...Oh.

*the point being HOW WE TREAT OUR CHILDREN...IS THE ADULTS THEY BECOME.....hug a child...tell them they are special

*Footnote

Is there a difference between defending someones' reason for doing things and making excuses? Since the 'Summer of Europe' , I have only had contact with my adopted brother once, and yet I still feel a need to put rhyme to the reason of his actions.
I know that he had his own 'devils' to contend with. He had years with 'Mother' before I was adopted and I don't know what he had to endure. I was probably just a byproduct of his own tortured life. Who knows.

Do I forgive him??....... yes....

I pray everyday that I was the only one.....

and knowing in my heart that I wasn't ....

I pray everyday.

Brother

I remember when my adopted brother came home from the service. I was so excited! Even though he was 11 years older (21) and I was only 10 ...I just knew he was going to be wonderful. Indeed he was so handsome coming home in his uniform. He would take me around with him visiting his buddies...I'll never forget the feeling of riding beside MY BROTHER in has fancy convertible..flying down the highway. He treated me so nice and smiled so kindly......except that he drank.

when he drank he would come to my room and lie down quietly beside me....sooooo quietly.

I remember the first time.....I didn't understand why he was there...I remember him telling me to just be quiet because Daddy would get mad if I woke him.....I remember thinking that I didn't like how he smelled, something wasn't right and I just wanted him to go away.......But he didn't......

and he didn't .....

and he didn't.

all summer.......

I couldn't tell Daddy because I just knew he wouldn't love me anymore...and Daddy loving me was my everything.

so life goes on.

The Summer of Europe

I was ten the spring/summer that 'Mother' and my sister went to Europe for six weeks. Six glorious weeks!! No trip to Florida that year! The housekeeper was to watch over me during the day and my older brother, who was home from the service, was to watch me in the evenings until Daddy came home from work.

My brother, whom I had just met, was my hero!! Oh so handsome and fun. He took me everywhere with him and when Daddy could, he'd come home and take me out to dinner to his favorite places.....I felt so special when we'd go out to eat...I was his favorite princess!! Daddy was so proud of me!

...but he didn't know....

my hero was molesting me.

Damn....why is this so hard? I cry as I write..... and I don't know why.
.......perhaps , I'm healing.

Life With 'Mother'

'Mother' and Daddy had a strange relationship, which I still don't understand,but other than it needed to be stated~~ it's none of my business....'Mother' had health problems so each spring until late fall we would go to the Florida house....Daddy was a very successful business man, so he never went with us. Oh , how I dreaded those months! It was always just my sister, me and 'Mother'. I haven't mentioned my sister much, only because, even in childhood, she just blended. There was never any friction between her and 'Mother'.....She learned early just to say "Yes, Mother Dear"....." Would you care for another cup of coffee, Mother Dear?" .....God how I hated her!!*...and envied her that she was so docile.

'Mother' had a boyfriend whom we called Uncle J. Another something I've never understood.....as my Daddy knew about it....So what's up with that??? Again , not my business....but it did affect me , so it was worth mentioning. He spent a lot of time at our Florida house.

Everyday that I spent in the Florida house was a misery to me. There was no Daddy around to protect me and 'Mother' made good use of the time...Don't get me wrong...there were days, when she felt motherly and life was good..... but not often. I don't know how to explain this quite...but 'Mother' was a very sexual person....I guess she was frustrated since her 'boyfriend' couldn't spend the nights with us ( however I caught them on numerous occasions out in the florida room)....anyway, each day at 2pm we were to take naps....At least once a week either my sister or myself was called into her room to 'come give her a cuddle'.

God how I hated her!!...

* sometimes I think in the long run my sister suffered more than I did...I'm sorry for every second I didn't love her

Too Good To Be True?

I remember the day my adoption was finalized. I was so happy! I was the center of attention with everyone telling me what a beautiful young lady I was and how well behaved .....and Oh!... the presents! ( to this day I equate gifts with love) There was a party of celebration and life was full of promise.

I was almost eight when things started changing. To be fair... I know that I came to the family with a lot of baggage and perhaps I brought on a lot of the problems......but to this day I really don't understand how I managed to make someone dislike me as much as 'Mother' did. I used to think it was because my Daddy and I had such a good relationship, and she was jealous.....But I have since found out that she had a mental illness.....probably would be diagnosed as bipolar by today's standards.

I do remember that there was a sickening hostility developing. She would be so very very 'Motherly' in front of people and when Daddy was home......and then when it was just us, she would turn into this very frightening person....She never beat me...never locked me in closets ....or tortured me physically........but the mental things she would do were beyond what an eight year old knew how to cope with......Sometimes it was little things...like inspecting my dresser drawers, ( which of course had to be perfectly folded and lined up) and then saying one sock wasn't folded right.....which would lead to her taking all the drawers out and throwing them around the room. As I would be trying to pick everything up ...she would be standing there screaming ...then all of a sudden ..fall to the floor and pretend to quit breathing.....I was terrified!! As I leaned over her.....she opened her eyes and said....."See what you've done to me....you're a bad ...bad ...girl!"....

Oh.

Another New Family

I am almost seven now. Another man and woman have come to try us out.... This time I'm ready!..... I am going to be perfect!!.....My brother and I are driven once again in the Welfare Station Wagon to our waiting new home and parents. Another beautiful, grande home. They already had an adopted daughter who was 2 years older than me and an adopted son who was 11 years older and away in the service. A ready made family!! Six months went by.

Everything was perfect. Especially me!

Then the Welfare Station Wagon Lady came and asked me if my brother went back to the orphanage for the weekend for a visit would I like to stay there with my new family? Of course, I said yes...... things were perfect there!

My brother left in the Welfare Station Wagon..... and never came back.

It seems, once again..... he wasn't adjusting*

....... It also seems I was wrong about things being perfect.

*I found out later that tests they gave my brother showed that he would never adjust to a 'family life'......he never got adopted

I Am Aware

This is when I became who I am today. Everything that happened after this formation of my soul just confirmed it. Let me explain.....I truly believe that we are all born with our own unique DNA and perhaps some personality traits that are inherited....but our souls...... what makes us who we are I believe is developed during the period of life from birth to around five or six.... I won't explain farther my belief as I don't want this to be the focal point. I do know that this is when I became aware that I was alone......I became aware that I was empty.........I became aware.

The Station Wagon

I'm five now. Life is taking a turn for the better! Some people have come to ' look' at me and my brother, you know, to see if we are what they want. I can hardly believe it!!!...they want us!!! After several visits from them, it became official,the Welfare Station Wagon pulled up at the orphange and we were to go live with them and become their 'children' .

I was in heaven! They were obviously well off. TOYS!! A beautiful house!! A room of my very own!!! A mommy ....A Daddy....We were going to be a family!!~~ still no hugs~~ but maybe they just had to get to know us.

Being a child, I didn't know about the 'probationary period' of adoption. It lasted six months. A month after we arrived, the Mrs. Mommy got pregnant. It also seems after reading my records that my brother wasn't adjusting very well. I'm really not sure what exactly that meant or how he was acting out....but we basically were just 'too much for the Mrs. Mommy to handle' what with the baby coming and all.

The Station Wagon came back for us.....but hey ......we'd at least get all these neat toys out of the deal!!!.........Being a child, I didn't know.... Rules are....it wouldn't be fair to the other children if we came back with treasures.

...Oh.

Bad Girl

Like I said before, I don't remember a lot about my years at the orphanage. I remember the home...that there were a lot of other children there, but all were boys other than myself and the people who ran the orphanage had a grown daughter who helped out. I found out later the people never took girl children in, as luck would have it ( laugh) they didn't like them....I was the exception because of my brother and the Welfare people wanted to keep us together while court proceedings were ongoing. It's funny in hindsight...... I can remember every corner of the home....... but not anyones face..... Or perhaps...... it's not funny.

Other things I don't remember.....I don't remember ever being happy, or playing, or having for that matter anything to play with...... I never ever remember being hugged. I don't remember ever really 'feeling' anything. Except a constant need for 'something' ...... but not knowing what.

I do remember when I was about six asking the lady who ran the home why I didn't have a mommy and daddy like the other kids in school and her answer was..."Your mommy is in prison."...."She is there because she beat you, and Mommies don't beat good babies, so you must have been a very very bad baby."...

Oh.

So Why Am I Writing This?

Before I continue on, I want to ponder for a minute why I feel such a need to voice my life story.
Am I suddenly getting 'flashbacks' or having visions that have been lying dormant in my brain mercifully for all these years?...........No...... I haven't been blessed with loss of memory. Everyday of my life I have lived with the memories and how they have affected me and those around me.

Outward appearances have me blending into society. I am an attractive, intelligent ,very kind and compassionate person. Everyone who knows me and knows of my past....can't believe it. I hear remarks all the time....You are a survivor!! How blessed you are that you came out of all this and are such a wonderful person... I can't believe you are so 'normal'.
Well, guess what???.......I'm not........ I hurt everyday.....I am painfully unhuggable, yet needing desperately to be hugged. I have no one to talk to , as everyone thinks...I am a survivor.

So please, my captive audience, I don't mean this to be a depressing experience for anyone.....nor do I want anyone to go away from reading this not a better person for the read..... I just want to be validated .....for someone to gain the knowledge that how we make our children feel ......is the adults they become.

........Now, on with my story...

Broken Bones *Broken Soul

I've read the reports....Of how when the Welfare People were finally notified .... they found my brother and myself sitting in a playpen, soiled, hungry, yet strangely unafraid.....with a piece of plywood strapped over the playpen so we couldn't climb out. From the neighbors reports we had been left there for two days while our birth mother decided to go 'have some fun'. I wonder what went through our young minds~~ however I don't wonder why God blessed us with amnesia. We were both malnourished, bruised, and after extensive xrays shown to have numerous fractures. What would possess a human being?? The reports also show how shocked the case workers were after a physical exam showed that I had been sexually assualted...... I was all of two and a half......
SHE (birth mother) was sentenced to five years in prison...... I am still doing my time.

........to be continued

Just Feet

When I try to recover some of my first memories, I find it odd that all I can remember of the people at the orphanage is feet..... I remember always looking down. Odd?....Perhaps not, but I lived there from the age of two and a half to age seven, and cannot recall anyone's face. I do remember, always feeling alone... that something was missing.......I do remember.......... never knowing the comfort of a hug.
I lived here with my brother, who was a year older than myself. I won't mention him very often as who he became is his story ........ if he wishes someday to tell it.
I guess I need to tell how I came to be where I was. I've gathered some information as an adult about my beginnings and as far as I know they are pretty accurate, since they have been confirmed through extensive research of records........ The telling will be a little muddled, but more or less accurate.
I came in existance because of 2 very young people. My birth mother was 14 at my birth and my father was 16. I'm not sure to this day what part of my newborn and toddler life my father played....... but I know that who I am today is because of choices my birth mother made. My father, overwhelmed I'm sure, left soon after my birth and joined the service, from what I understand. He left behind a 14 year old girl with no family and no skills of how to cope let alone support 2 young babies. Am I making excuses for my birth mother for what happened?>>>>NO. Only stating facts. She was a heavy drinker, and drug user, with 2 children in the way.......until......somewhere in her drug induced mind she realized that money could be made. That yes, even back in the 50's there were perverts who would pay to come ' play ' with the little ones....... Am I angry,disgusted,sick to my stomach, violated,unbelieving?~~~~ I don't know..... there are no memories.....only records. There are years ahead in this young toddlers* life full of memories that the records don't have to point out to her......... this is just the beginning.

*note
At some points I realize that I tell this in the 'third party' sense.....I can only suggest that this is a defense mechanism.

Preface

This will be my personal victory. Written for my soul.........There won't be any photos or information in the profile.......As I could be, and am , the person walking next to you at any given time.......Take the time to give the people you meet an encouraging smile, for you never know how hungry their soul is. God Bless any and all who read this......... All I ever wanted was for someone to hear me.
And now......... the journey.