A Daughters Story, And Then Some….

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I left my last blog with the story of my dad becoming violent during a drunken ride home. If you have not read the beginning of my blog, please do, so that you may make sense of my story.
Lets go back a few years to when I was 8 years old.
I was awaken by my mother at 2:00 a.m. on a week night. She came in my room, shook me a little, being careful not to wake my two younger sisters who were lying next to me. “Jamie, wake up. I need you to wake up.” As I finally gained consciousness, she continued to explain that my dad was in the tree outside with a rope around his neck threatening to jump out of it and kill himself. She wanted me to go outside and see if I could talk him into coming down.”
Before you even consider that this stuff is not true, and did not happen, I assure you, with all of my being, each and every word I type is 100% true. Also please know that it is terribly hard to share some things, because it brings all of this stuff back to the surface. My intentions are to do some good by doing this.

Now….where was I?
I proceeded to walk outside, slowly making my way over to the tree that my dad was sitting in. Sure enough he had one end of a rope around his neck, and the other tied to the tree. “Hey dad, what are ya doing in that tree?” I asked. Silence…. I think he may have fallen asleep. “DAD!” I yelled. I caught his attention, and he yelled back. ” What the hell are you doing out of bed?” I know this sounds terrible, but I just wanted to go back in the house, crawl back in my warm bed and go back to sleep. All I could think about, was the fact I had to get up early in the morning and go to school. Maybe the reason I was not taking all of this too seriously was because these type of incidences happened on a regular basis.

I continued to tell him that mom woke me up and told me to come talk him out of the tree. ” Did she now?” He asked, in a very low tone..
I think to him, that showed that she cared some bit about him. I am sure the reason he ended up in that tree, was no different than any other time he had threatened his life, or done something to make her feel sorry for him. Time after time, he would come home late at night, just as he had this night, drunk, with no recollection of where he had been. Or some fabricated lie of where he had been. She was going to leave him, or make him leave, because she couldn’t live like this anymore. YadaYadaYada….
“Yes dad, she told me to see if I could get you to come down, and go in the house so we could all go back to bed.” I told him. ” Well you go on in and get back in bed.” he said. I told him I would as soon as he came down from that tree, or at least took the rope off of his neck, and threw it down to me. It seemed to take an hour or so to talk him down. Treating him as though he was a child. Uplifting, and positive words. Just as I was about to give up, he threw the rope down to me, climbed half way down, and fell the rest of the way. I really do not remember what happened next. All I know is that next morning was tiring.

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Now that we have come to the conclusion of how my father was, and still is, we can now turn the attention to my mother. I have spoke to my mother twice, face to face, in 4 years. We have text maybe twice, and media chatted twice. Other than that, our relationship has seized to exist. I really have no idea what brought the silence on, this specific time. I was never told. It just occurred.
I have so many memories floating around in my mind that cause me a great deal of pain. But just so you know, these memories are unlike the memories I share of my dad. These memories really bother me each and every time I share them. I whole heartily believe a child, of any age, needs their mother. Not saying that fathers do not love their children just the same, but being a mother, I can relate with what is expected or not expected from a mother. I learned quickly after giving birth to my first child what I missed out on when it came to having a mother. I long for those conversations with her telling me how proud she is of me for my accomplishments. I would love for just once for her to look me in the eye, tell me she loves me, and mean it. The thought of having coffee together and just chatting about my kids, her grand-kids, brings tears to my face…..Because those times have never existed, nor will they ever. That is just not the person she is. I know it has a lot to do with how her mother was with her. Nearly non-existent. But I refuse to let that be used as an excuse. I broke that chain when I gave birth to my children. I refuse to be a mother who leaves her own flesh and blood wondering what it is they ever done, to be loved so little. Why was I not important enough for her to break that chain?
The latest of my hurt, was when I was 21 years old. Since then, things have never been quite right. Not that it ever was before, but this specific time, took most of what I had left, as far as respect, for my mother. Lord knows that is all that kept me hanging on up until then.
Mother and I both worked in a sock mill together, along with some of our close friends. We normally had a really good time working. We would sit around the table, talk, snack, wait for our machines to fill up with socks, only to go push them down and sit some more. When it was time to go catch up on our work, we would turn the radio up, and get to it. One night, mother decided to bring a new puppy to work with her. She was in the process of house training, so she did not want to leave it running loose at her house. She had made the statement that the radio seemed to be hurting the puppies ears, so she was turning it down. Within an hour, a song had come on that another coworker and I really liked, so without thinking I went and turned the radio back up. I was not thinking anything about that dog, and its ears hurting. It was a natural reaction, that when a song came on that we liked, one of us would turn it up a bit.
The song did not even get mid way through, before it was shut off. I looked up toward the end of my machines, and my mother yelled out, ” .If either one of you bitches turns that radio back up, you will have my ass to kick  ” True Story……..Without warning these words came out of my mouth, ” Mother you need to grow up.”
This was the first time in my 21 years that I “talked back” . My mother came running down the aisle with the look only a person would have for their enemy. I knew at that moment, I was going to have to defend myself. I could not allow her to slap me around, as she had many times before. I put my hands up to catch her fist, and some how managed to hit her glasses, which nicked her nose. I later found out that she accused me of breaking her nose, all by merely defending myself. She told our coworkers that she literally had to pop her nose back in place.

My mother grabbed a hold of my hair and shoved my head toward the knitting machine handle. I am not sure how many of you have ever been in a sock mill, but these machines have a large belt on the side, that is hooked to an axle that runs ALL 60+ machines. She was trying to put my head into this belt so that it would grab a hold of my hair and scalp me.It has happened to many people in the past. That was not even the worst part of this incident. Mother had told a coworker, that someone had better follow me home, because I was going to get what was coming to me. They in fact, followed me home that night..
I would like to think, even to this day, that she was just mad and blowing off steam. She would have never actually ran me off of the road. I also hope that she would not have really shoved my head into that belt, with the knowledge that it could have seriously hurt me, or worse. I really do not know. But I do know, I should never have to wonder such a thing. This is my life. This is the destiny that I was given. I have used it to learn from. I search through all of negative in my life, and I always pull something positive from it. If I did not at least attempt to do that, then I would drive myself crazy.
I learned from first hand experience that a mother can break a child’s spirit into pieces. And more times than one. I learned how important it is to build a child up, from a very young age. I learned that without a mothers love, a child will feel worthless.
Ironically I am thankful for being taught in a backwards way, how needful a mothers love is. I appreciate the knowledge of how important it is to tell my own children over and over how much I love them. A child is just that……A child. These little people are our responsibility. We are to love them, nurture them, teach them. Not use, abuse, and neglect.
I hate to share such a horrible story without sharing something good. There have been two times in my life that mother was, well…….Motherly. I will share those moments.
I was sixteen years old. I had been grounded for some reason. Part of that grounding was from my boyfriend. I was not allowed to see him for so many weeks. I can not remember exactly, but it was a very long time. My mother heard me in my room crying, and without saying anything she come in , sat on the bed, and put my head in her lap. She held me while I cried. When I start thinking about all of the negative that she and I have been through, I go to that time and place. Just her holding me, made my heart feel so much better.
I was thirty two and just had my fourth child. The relationship I was in, was just utterly ridiculous. I do not know how I found myself in such a terrible situation. I was at the end of my pregnancy while living with my mother. She took care of me, and when it was time to have my daughter, she took me to the hospital, and stayed until I had her. She was actually in the room with me when I gave birth. That was the only time out of all four of my children that she was there with me. I had such high hopes that she would gain something from that, and hold on to it.

False hope………………………

I still dream often that my mother knocks on my door, and just grabs me. Apologizes for everything terrible that she has ever done, everything ugly that she has ever said. No excuses, just apologies. Just love me. Just want to be a mother.
I am not sure if I will be able to share any more memories. It is overwhelming to do so. My mother lives 15 minutes from me, but it seems as though it is a world away. I know she is going to die someday sooner than later, and there is all of the chances in the world to have a relationship with her right now. I know so many people will want to say, if my mother was here, I would make things right. Trust me, I want to. I have tried time and time again. I have put things that have happened in the past, just so we could have a relationship. It just hurts so bad when it happens again. It is like that hurt, adds to the already hurt. I want to forgive her for all that she has and has not done, but how do you forgive someone that does not think they have done anything wrong?
In writing these blogs, I am hopeful that it will touch a mothers heart, and give her the desire to want to be better than this. There may be a mother just as me, that was never nurtured by her own mother, and is falling into that terrible pattern. It is never too late. It can always be fixed. As long as you are breathing, you can fix it. If you do not have the courage to go to your child and apologize for things you have done, or things you have not done, then write a letter. Open that door.
Mental Thought: Never leave the love you feel in your heart up to question. It is not a very comforting feeling for the one questioning it…..

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Child hood Abuse

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This is a topic that is terribly sensitive to me, as I am sure any other person who has went through a similar circumstance. 

I wonder…Why do we share such intimate details of our lives? Is is because we do not want people to feel as though they are suffering something like this, alone? Do we want to make people feel as though they are not the only ones going through something so horrific? Or maybe it is US who doesn’t want to feel alone. Maybe we are wanting to know that there are others out there like us that have faced evil directly. But then again, isn’t that sad? Sad to want to know that others have been put through trauma. It sounds pretty bad that we are wanting to relate with others, over something that has taken part of our soul. 

Sadly, it is what it is. It happens. It happens every single day. Every second, every hour….There are thousands of children, innocent children, even adults, who are having to feel dirty from sexual abuse, or unloved from physical and mental abuse. 

Is any of these abuses, worse than the other? 

Being a victim of all kinds of abuse, I feel as though, no….No abuse is worse than the other. Abuse is abuse. It hurts on the inside as well as the outside, and for a long period of time, if not indefinite. 

Sexual abuse is definitely traumatizing. Some people NEVER get over it. Unfortunately it can be brought into a relationship with your spouse, or partner. It is always in the back of your mind. When someone touches you in certain way, it can bring back those memories full force. It takes away the pleasure that was intended between two consenting people. It minimizes the trust that should be part of relationship. Deep within, we know our partner would never hurt us, or at least we should feel confident in that fact,  but we still feel reserved. We are afraid that a touch, or a motion, will make us feel dirty or make us feel as though we are doing something wrong. In the end that is what sexual abuse does to a person. Makes them feel as though THEY are the ones that done something wrong..Not the perpetrator, but the victim. The older we get the worse it gets, because we could have said NO. We could have told someone that this friend or family member was doing things to us that we knew should not have taken place. So the older we get the worse we feel about OUR actions. Not the fact that the abuser was doing something wrong. When we focus on OUR fault in the situation then it gives us more determination to NEVER tell anyone what happened.

 The biggest mistake of abuse of any kind is Not speaking out. Let’s face it, if we had of said something in the beginning then it could have stopped with us. Children do not think about the fact, that if they had of told someone it could have very well saved someone else from going through the same thing.

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In my personal experience, I never thought about this fact until I was an adult, and someone came to me and said, ” If you had of said something when it happened to you, then my girls would not have had to go through this.” 

In my opinion, that was just a hurtful way of blaming me for what happened to their children.

But truth be told, they needed someone to blame for their lack of parenting. With that being said, I am not blaming all parents for their children’s abuse. But in this particular case, it was in fact the parents lack of watchful eye, that caused these incidences to take place with all  their children over years of time. Just as it was with my parents. 

In a perpetrators mind, If they got away with it once, why not do it again? So it keeps going and going. Sadly some cases, A victim becomes a pedophile. Never-ending Cycle. 

I am not writing this blog to call out anybody, nor am I trying to make people feel bad. What I am doing is bringing this topic to the surface of every parents mind. 

Speak with your child on a regular basis. Ask them each and every time they go to a friends house, or even a relatives house if anything happened that they may want to talk about. Some days just out of the blue, sit down with them and discuss the chances of these things happening to them or someone that they know, are great. Be sure to make them feel comfortable in knowing they can come to you or someone in the event they feel uncomfortable. To think that it will NEVER happen to our children is being ignorant. That is why it does happen, because parents trust that their children would not let it happen or would come to them if it did. These pedophiles have more control over their little minds than one might think. They tell them things to make them afraid to speak up. 

My personal fear was that If I told my parents, my dad would kill this man and be put in prison. So in my young mind, I was protecting my dad. 

That was 30 years ago exactly. The experience taught me to be aware; to have the knowledge that this evil exists in our world; to be protective of my children. So in that perspective, I am grateful. Without the experience, I may sadly be one of those closed minded parents that think it will Never happen to their child(ren). 

One might thing this specific type of abuse would be worse than physical or mental. Being a victim of all three, I honestly can say, for me, they are equally as effective in molding who you become as an adult. 

The mental and physical abuse of a child, brings that child’s self esteem and self worth to Zero. When we are beat down enough, we start to believe that is all that we deserve. We grow into an adult that will accept any type of person in our life. We do not feel worthy of anything but what we get. This type of behavior becomes a cycle. Our parents learned it from their parents, and we are taught it by ours, therefore the chance of us passing this way of life to our own children is very high.

To discipline a child, one may think that a smack across the face will get through to them better than sitting down and communicating about the wrong deed. We may find that a good ole’ belt whipping gets through to them quicker than a discussion. Maybe it does. Maybe the fear of being beaten will keep a child under control. Maybe that belt, the back of your hand, or even your fist, will make your child respect you. Or, maybe……It is fear. 

I wonder if parents feel good about making their child fear them? Is it some sort of power trip? Do they need to be the boss of someone so badly that they take that abuse that authority. 

The thought of my child fearing me as a parent sickens me. My child should never want to crawl inside a shell out of harms way when it comes to me. I do in fact raise my voice from time to time, and I have been known to put my child over my knee and smack their rear ends a time or two, but to hit a child out of anger, or because I think they will learn better if I hurt them, is nonsense. I want my children to know that I am here to protect them from that harm. I want them to know that I am more intelligent when it comes to experience, and I am willing to share those experiences with them so that they may learn from my mistakes. I want to be their parent, but I also want to be their ‘go to person’ when they need me, not run from me out of fear of abuse. When young people do things wrong, accidentally or purposely, it is all a learning experience. They need someone to guide them during AND after these mess ups. 

I would like to think that my abusive situations was a weird blessing to me. It taught me to think first and speak later, never discipline with an angry heart, and to always give the child in question of a wrong doing, the chance for explanation. It showed me the pain of abuse and how it can affect every aspect of my life. As an adult, I am able to cipher the difference in abuse, manipulation, trick psychology, with the difference in  someone actually being loving and sincere. I do not do third chances with adults. If I feel threatened or abused, I will  over look it once, but the second time would be ignorance on my part. 

If a person has an abuse problem, then they need to seek council, or in my own personal opinion, Jesus.  If they do that and still have an abuse problem, then unfortunately for them it is not our problem to deal with. We were not intended to be someones punching bag, mentally or physically. 

If our children are abused, or even see abuse between us and our partners, then the chance they will repeat the cycle is near definite. Thankfully there are some, such as myself that it affected on a different level, and come out of it saying, ” That was not for me, and I am leaving it behind.” 

Make sure that your children KNOW that you love them even when they mess up. It is okay to show your disappointment. It is okay to discipline….It is NOT okay to abuse.

Mental thought: Be the person Now, that you needed when you were younger.