Who I have become.

I am not too sure how things would have gone if I did not go through all that I have. I am a 36 year old mother and wife. My family loves me and depends on me very much. They are my joy. They are my sunshine. I smile every time I think of them. They make mistakes, but, so do I .
 My family that I have created is very close and loving. Much different than how I grew up.
A therapist explained to me when I was 17 that he had no idea how I could be so strong. That what I have lived through is comparable to being in combat.
I have an anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder, agoraphobia, fibromyalgia, Meiniere's Disease, PCOS and who knows what else...the list keeps growing. I know at least the mental conditions have been worsened if not caused by my early life. Some is genetic, but, not all.
You read my story and forget it and it was just a sad story. I live it. I live it every day.My mom would always tell me to quit dwelling on the past.
And, it wasn't just the stuff from the past. Crazy things were a constant. You were always walking on eggshells waiting for the next eruption.
I try to move on. But, memories come back in weird flashes. Even today. I hold my kids close. They are so precious to me.
I try to create a perfect happy home. We are far from perfect, but, we are happy. Trying to recreate the way I believe my childhood should have been.
Taking the good influences I had along the way and implementing what I learned.

I Should Have Been Aborted.

I was told as a young child by my mother that she almost aborted me, twice. That she was in the room, got into the gown and then she just couldn't do it so she left. I was also told a handful of times, "I should have just aborted you when I had the chance!" It came up somehow when I was talking to my dad a few months ago about how I was almost aborted. I told him how Mom said it went down and he corrected her version of the story. He said that it did not happen twice that he is aware of, but, that when she went into the room and the doctor examined her that he said she was too far along and COULDN'T. So, I guess technically she didn't lie to me. It's always things like that. Twisting wording so that you can never prove you were lied to. It's all about the tone of voice or creative wording. That was when my Dad said"It must have been hard knowing you were not wanted or loved by your parents." I have never been more comforted by someone's words. It meant so much to be validated by someone who was there and realizes what I have gone through. He did terrible things. But, he has changed . I usually don't believe people can change, but, my Dad is not the person he was. Some parts are. The parts I loved, though. And he is very honest about how things happened. Things you would think he would try to deny or try to explain his way out of. Nope. He has never done that. He has a very impersonal way of trying to be there, It is part of his personality. He states things as facts. He has studied psychology and self help to no end, and yet, no book will ever teach you how to feel. I feel like part of my dad is just not able to emotionally connect with people. But, at least he recognizes the value of honesty. Sometimes the fact that he has validated memories I have always had and been told were just dreams are REAL and took place and can put names to faces and memories....it sometimes feels as if that is the one solid thing that has kept me from losing my sanity at times.

Where Do I Start?: Introduction

Where Do I Start?: From The Start.

Where Do I Start?: From The Start.: April of 1979 I was born. I was around 5 lbs and had jaundice. My mother requested orange juice and an orange after giving birth to me. She ...

From The Start.

April of 1979 I was born. I was around 5 lbs and had jaundice. My mother requested orange juice and an orange after giving birth to me. She always says I was the little girl she always dreamed of. As the only girl in a 5 child family, I guess that means a lot. Or not. I always feel creeped out when she says this. I don't feel it's genuine. I feel that special hatred she has reserved just for me. Not my younger sister. Just me.
 I was rushed to the hospital in Anoka, Mn or in the area. I was 5 months old.My Dad said my head was as flat as a pancake.
My mom said I was pissing and shitting all over the place and throwing up.
 Those are their words. Not mine.
My father said to me on my 36th birthday, "It must have been hard to know your parents didn't want you. That you were not loved."
I thank him for that. Never out loud. But, I do.But, it struck me deeply that I was acknowledged by one of my parents in an honest way.
 At the hospital it was determined I was healing from broken ribs two months prior. My 23 month old brother had been spanked so severe his bottom was blistered.
 Blistered.
I was crying. I was hungry. Mom was feeding Derrick. Dad was mad because Mom bought baby food instead of weed. I cried. He blew. His class ring struck my soft spot. I have a permanent dent there. You can't see it through all my thick hair. But, it is there. On the outside, I appear normal.
 They say now that abused children can suffer a rare form of PTSD. I am diagnosed PTSD, anxiety, panic disorder, agoraphobia, and major depressive disorder. I also have a long list of health issues including fibromyalgia that have strong ties to being abused.
 They say now that the abuse changes out DNA forever and we pass on the damage to our babies.
Sadly, I see some evidence of this.
 I wish I had the medical records and court documents for my case. I wish I had more answers.
I am really ill and I want nothing more than to heal. If there is a connection between the past and my current condition, I wish people would fill the blanks in for me so I knew where to start.
 I feel alone in this world. The only person who could know my pain left me years ago. I know he watches out for me from up above. But, HERE I am all alone.



 

Introduction

You know those awful stories you read in the paper or see on the news about horribly abused or murdered children? The ones where everyone is outraged and calls for the death sentence or to let the families have a crack at the monster that could harm a child like that? We all read up on the case and hear the sentencing and then it leaves our minds. But, do you ever think, "What ever became of the child?".
I do. It haunts me. It chills me to the core. Because I know what I have become. I know the struggles and challenges I have faced and will continue to face for the rest of my life. I will always be left
 wondering what the world may have held for me if I had not gone through what I did.
I'm not sure why I am starting this blog, but, it feels like something I had to do. For me. For the others.
You often hear the voice of the abusers, you almost never hear the children speak. I know it's not easy for people to hear. It's even harder to discuss. But, maybe if people truly understood child abuse and the impact on our entire society, we would not be so quick to turn a blind eye.
These are not just someone else's children. They are all of our children. We hold their futures in our hands. I am the product of a dropped ball. I truly believe that many people had the chance to intervene and just didn't. I am seeing cycles in my family repeat themselves and I really feel like something has to give.
Someone needs to speak up and speak out and stop covering it all up with secrets and lies. I refuse to protect child abusers any more. Even though the reasons abused children grow up to abuse or protect abusers are very complicated, it doesn't vary much from why you see someone act too harshly with their child at the market and decide it is not your business. It is all of our business.
I don't know what I am doing here. I just hope it helps me heal and ideally helps others heal and understand.