There is ALWAYS Hope

Odd-looking back at 0-10. I will make it as far as I can this week. If mentally overtaxing, I hope to get to 10 next week.

Seriously, how much does one remember during those ages?

Even if memory is minimal, somehow, we do remember the most impactive, whether it be positive or negative…, the old pleasure or pain theory.

There were 3 boys born before me. I recall, on numerous occasions, my mother would tell that my father wanted a little girl so very much that he just could not believe it when he was informed a girl had finally arrived. That’s sweet. However, it was always followed by a ‘funny’ part: Stripping off my diaper to ensure that finally, a girl had arrived. She delighted, in a fashion, bragging about that.

As a young child, it meant heads or tails to me, but as I got older, it made me realize

That the dye had been cast at birth. I was ‘his’.

Of course, I do not remember the glorious moment…I was a newborn. Yet, when reflecting back over the years, that ‘glorious moment’ embossed on my brain through repetition of hearing, gave me some insight as to why a beautiful blue-eyed, blonde little girl…the ONLY girl…born into an oil-well owner family, would increasingly display such outlandish behaviour.

As well, I do not recall falling and busting my lip open between the age of 1 ½ to 2, a scar that is visible to this day. Yes, toddlers fall and split their mouths open, among other areas of their tiny bodies. But as you will learn to understand, when one is beaten until the age of 18 years by a parent and later by husbands, it is worth considering that even the physical abuse began at a very young age.

We lived in Evansville when I was born, and we were transferred to Virginia Beach when I was still a toddler. I do not recall any of those years other than anxiety. My Aunt Jenny, who had all boys, always wanted a girl. She shared with me that my behaviour was so out of control that my mother would lock me in a room while playing cards. She sensed but never knew.

Whenever I was locked in my room, I would scream, cry, beat and scratch on the door begging to be released. Reportedly, when Aunt Jenny would urge my mother to let me out, my mother would tell my father to go ‘calm her down’. Even as a toddler, I knew whatever was going on should not be happening and tried to be heard. You will discover the plethora of ways I tried to be ‘heard’ as the years and abuse progressed.

We moved again from Virginia Beach to Birmingham. Why? My father was in the Navy. Last I checked, there are nor have there been Naval bases in Birmingham. Many questions still go unanswered as to why were we moved consistently - a dozen-plus times - if it were not due to military assignments? I believe that we were moved continuously because of either teacher, neighbour, church member, etc. beginning to make a comment.

Now, you and I both know that in the ’50s, there was no public recognition or assistance for children who were abused. Whether you were being molested by your father regularly or beaten by your mother afterwards, due to the guilt she could not live with being the Appropriator, there was no public awareness, public assist or anywhere to hide. You just followed the path of those who ‘loved’ you.

Who is being loved healthily, ways to recognize when the actions are not healthy, and how to get help to change it? I stopped incest in my family. My Hope, through offering full disclosure of 6 decades of being abused, in one form or another, and how I reached wellness is to appropriate positive change. 

If even one Soul begins to identify with the subtle signs of a child that is being abused, a parent who is beating or molesting, an Adult victim who continues to be ‘loved’ in an unhealthy way and positive change takes place…PROGRESS.

O.k., we moved to Birmingham in 1954, so I made it to the 5^th year of Life! This is harder than I thought it would be.

But I’ll get there because I am FULLON2020 to live the BEST Life I can, leaving all the negative behind…and SO CAN YOU!

MdC