All that Ever Was

The Interlude. . . (Can there be an interlude before the show starts? Hmmmm.)

Before I start my post today, I would like to acknowledge some of my most loyal readers. I want to do this because there have been days when I wanted to hide and keep silent, but these people, with their kind words, helped me continue on (in no specific order):

My Husband, "You're really helping people with this. . . do you really still see this guy, because I know some people I can get on him right now." Thank you for loving me enough to want to break somebody's face for hurting me, but respecting my wish of non-violence :)

Rosaria at sixtyfivewhatnow, "You are sorting out the drawers and boxes of your life trying to put everything in order, shine a light on those dark spaces, illuminate the scenes. I'm in awe! This is hard work. It is essential work." [A Lost Father] I love you lady - thanks for the words.

Simon at Simple Simon Says, "You are very open about your life's experiences and thoughts ...a rare and refreshing quality." [The Accident] I appreciate you coming here - appreciate isn't that right word - thanks.

Mark and Libby Miller at Lark, "I can't seem to stop thinking about this site and what you - a stranger - are going through and the pain you have felt in your life." [The Big bad Wolf] I peeked into your life and you peeked into mine - we both saw the truth.

Susan (big HUGS - she nick-named me Pandora) at non linear thinking, "I'm so sad about your little nieces and the losses you have endured. I think you are absolutely right to cut off any more contact with your father. Life is too short to willingly allow poison people to be a part of it." [A Lost Father - the Second Coming] Oh Susan, my every day blog friend, I am choked up right now for the support you've shown me.

JJ at methenjim (really funny), "At least he died a baller if that's any consolation. Interesting blog, for sure." [The Death Of An Uncle] You make me smile and give me a man's perspective - both are well needed.

I'm crying and I haven't started the tragedy yet :) HAPPY TEARS, happy tears. . .

TvZ, "wreath of holly - spilled on frosty ground a seed " [Recipe for A Baby] Your words online and over the phone have been a source of wisdom for me.

Sweepings From My Mind - your twitter support and blog support have been taken to heart - thank you fro feeling protective of me!


Kappa No He at Kappa No He, "I'm so sorry for your losses. I remember also being left to my own devices as a child. There wasn't any abuse but I did so many things that I shudder to remember" [A Lost Father] Thank you for sharing with me.

C Lo at One Smarmy Mama, "You're an amazing writer and, clearly, and impressively strong lady. I look forward to catching up on this blog. :)" [Normal To EatPB] I envy your life and you're still here supporting - selflessly.

Land of Shimp at Land of Shimp, "I'm sorry you had to go through so much when you were younger" [Fists And Blood] I send love your way for the support.

The Animated Woman (my twitter mama) at The Animated Woman, "You're courageous to share this (it's very well written too btw, I'm riveted). *admiration*" [Fists and Blood] What do I say to the woman who has promoted my blog selflessly and cried internet tears with me - there are no words.

Jenny, The Bloggess at The Bloggess, "Terrible. Don't you wish you could go back in time and just tell all those people how wrong they were? Your courage is amazing." [Fists and Blood] You are too big for words and yet you took the time to check me out - now I know I am worthy :)

Kalamy Addict at Kalamay Addict, "but i think what matters the most is how we stand up and survive those trials... i know you'll get over this crisis soon enough.. it looks to me that you are one strong woman.. :) " [Normal To EatPB]  "and I really, really hate at your insensitive neighbor! rrr... " [Fists and Blood] I added this quote because you're just so cute! You're halfway around the world from me and yet we share the same emotions. . .

Just Another Lesbian (affectionately known as JAL) at Lesbian in Cincinnati, "Hmmm.. interesting. To some extent, I can almost relate, but I'm not quite sure how. I'm going to have to dwell on that for a bit. Too many thoughts flying through my head at the moment." [The Big Bad Wolf]

&

Kim at Twad'dler, "As they say, everything happens for a reason. Dont ask me who 'they' are though" [Right and Wrong]

Thank you both for reading despite some of the subject matter, you're both proof, that some feelings are universal.

The Simple Dude at Simple Dude In A Complex World, "I have to admit, I have no problem with the "R" Rated portion of this post - but that's the 'guy' in me focusing on the dirty parts. That being said - it's interesting. His attitude is unlike anything I have heard of - granted I have never slept with a dude before." [Breaking Me] An undercover EatPB fan - thanks for the very humorous support!

I'm sure I am forgetting some folks - please forgive me. Also, according to my traffic, there are a lot more people who read than comment or follow. To my silent readers, blessings to you and love.

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And now, All That Ever Was. . .

This is dedicated to survivors; survivors of domestic violence, rape, child abuse, the system, miscarriage, abandonment, death, and suicide.

These are my secrets

I must have been about 4 when it began.  My mother had a best friend. They were very best friends. They liked to laugh, and talk, and go over their troubles with each other. I’m not sure what brought them together, to me they seemed so different. My mother was more quiet and polished and refined; her friend, on the other hand, was loud and just raucous over all. They seemed to be opposites to me. The only thing they had in common, from my perspective, was that they both had children. My brothers and I were much younger than her children though. When I was four or five her son was about seventeen and her daughter about sixteen.

My mother and her friend were so close, that often, my brothers and I – along with my mother – would spend the night at this woman’s house. Sometimes we would even spend days there. It was almost like a second home, we would run and play and relax on the strange new furniture. We would stare out to the balcony which we didn’t have at home. We would eat the stranger’s food, which was the only exception to the rule that we never eat at anyone’s house other than our own. This is how I knew they were best friends.

I can’t tell you the very day it started, but I can tell you what I remember, clear as day; as clear as I remember my cousin standing on my head in the crib when we were babies in A Lost Father. It was late at night and everyone was asleep. We were at the woman’s house again. Her son and daughter slept in separate beds, and my brothers and I shared a bed. We were all in the same room. I had to pee, so I got up to go to the bathroom, but when I got up, I was intercepted by the woman’s son.

Give me a moment, I want to slam my laptop into a wall right now.




NIGHT. . .
I was in my cozy little pajamas. I was warm and cozy and being picked up by the woman’s son. I thought he was helping me to the bathroom, and I was warm and held, and I hugged my arms around him to help him take me there. When we wound up in his bed, I was still okay – but I had to pee. I didn’t know what was going on, but I felt safe. Then he pulled down my pajamas, and safety left, safety went away. Warm and cozy went away. I went away, I went somewhere else, somewhere in my head, while he penetrated me. I said it hurt, but he said it was okay and to be quiet, and then my mind turned its back on my body, and went to go play somewhere.

Afterwards, he took me to the bathroom and watched me pee. I’m not sure, but I think he jerked off into the tub while I was peeing. I remember something about the tub. . .


AND DAY. . .
Sometime later, it could have been days or it could have been weeks, my mother’s friend’s daughter was babysitting us. She was fun, she liked to play with us, and she let us watch cartoons. She was a fun babysitter. One day, she took me by the hand and led me to the kitchen. She went to the refrigerator and got a hotdog. I wasn’t hungry though. I just wanted to go watch cartoons. She took the hotdog, fresh out of the pack, and led me to the bedroom. When she started undressing me, my little mind was off somewhere again. Somewhere special, somewhere safe, while she put the hotdog inside her and mounted me.


I’m not sure how long this went on for, and it is no surprise that I do not remember my aunt discovering the daughter molesting me because I would leave my body and go away. But I am as sure as sure can be that my aunt did discover what happened because I remember the repercussions all too well.

MOTHER HURTS
I remember, my mother sitting in her bathroom at home and calling me to her. She asked, “Did anything happen to you?” I said, “no”. Again, she asked, “DID ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU?”, and again I answered, “no” I don’t remember how many times she asked, but I do remember her being frustrated with me. She was boiling angry. She was angry with me, and I was scared. She was angry and I knew she wanted to hurt me. She went to the utility closet and got a straight phone cord. She told me to get undressed, and she beat me from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head. I had whip marks everywhere, some were bleeding. She put vasoline on all of the marks, got me dressed, and marched me over to her friend’s house.

In the elevator and on the street, people stared at me. Although I was bundled up, because it was winter, you could still see the marks on my face. When we got to her friend’s house my mother explained what happened. I watched as THAT mother chased HER daughter around and beat her with a belt.


From then on I knew never to tell my mother of any assault that happened to me, hence my silence in I Guess He Was A Friend. I have been molested and raped several times by many different people, but I was always quiet. Once, during an attempt to hurt me, I spoke out and was laughed at – so any bravery in my heart was completely put to rest on that day.


THE AFTERMATH
Many things happened after that. For one, I started wetting the bed – I had become afraid to go to the bathroom. This was a source of irritation for my mother and whenever she thought I was getting too “uppity” she would remind me that I pissed the bed.

Secondly, a rift developed in my feelings for my mother; there was tremendous love, but also tremendous hate. This was the same mother who danced with me, who fed me, who held me close – and yet, she was my enemy.

The rest of the aftermath is in the stories I’ve already told you. This is why I wanted to be hurt, this is why I wanted to protect, this is why my brothers mean so much to me – because they were all I had for so very long.


THE AFTERWARD
Many years later, after I moved out, I went to visit my mother. We spoke about the past. We talked about me being molested and SHE APOLOGIZED to me for treating me the way she did. She apologized for allowing the woman’s daughter to hurt me. But then, there was a question, or – a statement really. I looked at her and told her that the son also raped me. She nearly broke in two. All those years I thought she knew, but she didn’t. To me, it explained why after that fiasco, she still allowed the son to be around us. It still did not explain why she continued to let the daughter babysit us though.

We had this conversation that seemed to bring about this new revelation of understanding and love, and then. . . She invited me to the daughter’s bridal shower. She insisted I go. I went, why, I will never know. Maybe to be as strong as some of you think I am. When we arrived, at first I could barely look the daughter in the face, but by the end of the night I bored a laser beam look into her soul.

MY COMMENTS
There is so much more to this story – devastating bits and pieces, but I could barely get this out. Please share this story; the lesson is to come forward, not hide. The lesson is to use your voice.

Tomorrow, Life Goes On I Suppose. . .