Just another statistic lost in the shuffle...

[Broken_Doll_Baby]

The subject line I used is how I feel. I have been raised to feel insignificant and unworthy of anything more than I deserve, but I don't know what I deserve and when I had children I felt that I suddenly became a very significant person in three little people's lives. But they grew up and don't need me anymore, I'm no longer the person they rely on.

My mom was a wonderful woman. I loved her so very much and still do to this day. As an adult, and having gained some knowledge of her relationship with her mother, I can understand how she wanted to have that special mother-daughter bond with me but never had any background to use as an example, so she did the best she could with what she was willing to give of herself.

I don't know the specifics of what occurred between her and my father, but between the two of them they had me and one of my brothers, Ron. My father had served in Vietnam and I don't know if it was during that time that my mother found another man or if it was after my father came back from the war. In either case, a child resulted before the end of the divorce and my brother Erik was always believed to have also be my father's child. My mom did marry the man she met, his name is John. I remember her wearing a purple dress when they got married in the church us kids attended.

We never knew we had another father, either through ignorance or by a kid's way of just not caring. When a person you have never met (or don't ever remember meeting) is never a part of your life, then it's no big deal. We did know that John was our step-father, but because he was in our lives since I was probably about 3 years old, he was the only man I knew as a dad and that is what we called him. We grew up in a small town and we were poor, but we didn't live or look poor. I guess John worked, kids don't pay attention to where money comes from or whether the rent is paid, so I really don't remember. As kids, our lives consisted of school and playing outdoors as much as possible. Ron, Erik, and I were play buddies and stuck together when we played with all the other kids in the neighborhood. It was a cute little neighborhood where all the homes were pretty much the same....one-level buildings with a family living on the left half and a family living on the right half. Huge back yards, small streets, lots of trees, no fences, and the only traffic was that of the people who lived there. The home we lived in had 2 bedrooms, a bath, a living room, and an eat-in kitchen...very tiny by today's standards, but large enough for the 5 of us. My brothers slept in a set of bunk beds while I had my own bed, there were two dressers, and we had very few toys, which was not a big deal to us because we didn't know of anyone who had a lot of toys and we rarely played indoors unless it was either frigid outdoors or raining too hard. Then we had coloring books and puzzles to keep us busy most times...I don't remember watching much tv before the age of 8.

John was a hard man to please and was quick with his hand when he was angry. My brothers and I got plenty of spankings and knocks across the ears that sent us sailing across the room from where we stood, but all kids in the 70's were treated that way. I do remember a lot of my summer days spent in my mom's bed while I was bound up in something and I had a lot of pain, but I could never remember what or why or what was happening. An old friend of my mom's told me that John had broken one of my collarbones on three different occasions and that I had to miss a lot of school, but my mom kept me busy at home with what was going on in class so I could keep up. I was a lousy student, but I always passed each grade. Looking in the mirror, I can see where one collarbone looks normal and the other looks shrunken. My mom's old friend also told me that I had a weak arm socket because whenever my hand was held to cross the street or in the store by an adult (she didn't specify who), if they yanked on my hand/arm for me to catch up then my shoulder would pull easily out of it's socket. She said I had to wear a special strap thing each time that happened because for a while after it would just pop out for no reason at all just because it had been weakened. She said that my shoulder had been out of it's socket at least seven times that she knew of. I guess that's why it bothers me a lot and gives me pain. It clicks, too, if I rotate it when I stretch my arms up over my head...weird.

So anyhow, my brother JJ was born in 1974 and we moved to another part of town into a huge yellow house. I loved that house! It was so big with a ton of big rooms and a lot of property all to ourselves! That's when John began hunting, or at least, when we noticed it because we would see the deer carcass strapped in the tree after butchering. My mom had a large garden of mainly vegetables, but we still drove to the local produce market...similar to a farmer's market...and we would go through what was thrown away to find the stuff that wasn't spoiled...you would be surprised at what was good. We did a ton of blueberry, raspberry, and strawberry picking in the fields. My mom and John went fishing a lot. We raised 3 pigs every year, which John named after me, Ron, and Erik. We had to help with butchering them one year and it was so interesting that I used that experience in an essay I had to write for 4th grade and it made my poor teacher sick to her stomach. She asked me not to be so graphic anymore. I got an A, though. My mom loved to bake and she was an excellent cook. I hated to eat the disgusting liver and we had many family nights where I was still sitting at the table refusing to eat it after they had long gone to bed. I hated to eat the chicken hearts that were cooked up, too, but I would force those down. We even ate squirrel one winter and my brothers and I thought it was fun to play with the tails that John had cut off for us to play with until we brought them to school to show them off and we were really put down by the other kids for having them. Yeah, we weren't that popular among the other kids in our new schools. We just didn't fit in. Our clothes were hand-me-downs even though they were very clean and had no holes or stains on them...they were just outdated and everyone knew it. And it seemed as if they could sense that we didn't have money so that meant we didn't own much, especially toys...popular toys. My brothers and I were still great playmates, though.

As we got older, John got meaner. I went through an awkward period where my new front teeth came in and they were bigger than the rest of my teeth so he taught Ron and Erik to sing some song about Bucky the Beaver in order to tease me. John was disgusted by me...I could tell he hated me in his presence and looked for any reason to humiliate me or hurt me. If my room wasn't clean then all my belongings went out the window onto the lawn. After I brought it all in and put it all away I had to sleep in a sleeping bag for however many nights I was punished for down in the basement. Our beautiful house was also very old and had a dirt flower with an old coal furnace on one end that wasn't used anymore, the old coal chute that had been boarded up, and a whole bunch of junk that had been stored down there. It wasn't damp, but it was scary and that is where I had to stay at night when John punished me that way.

My brother's and I learned what it was like to stand in the corner for hours on end. It meant to stand facing the corner, hands behind your backs, and no resting against the walls at all. It was not uncommon to spend half a day in a corner, but whenever John was out of the house we would always lean against the walls or sit on the floor. If two of us were lucky enough to be punished together, then we got to keep each other company in the dining room where two corners were used the most. If a third one of us was unlucky enough to get sent to the corner, too, then they had to stand in a corner that was visible everywhere in the house and you could never get away with resting or leaning.

Then there were the beatings. John really knew how to use his belt and if he felt you really deserved it then you got the buckle end. Odd thing is, back then when kids showed up at school with bruises all over their legs, faces, and arms no one ever asked any questions or became concerned. Kids would ask what you did to get hit, but that was the extent of it. There was no such thing as it being against the law to beat your kids if they stepped out of line back then. And it wasn't considered beating them, either...it was considered punishment and setting them straight. So we never complained because whether we deserved it or not, what was, was.

...

[Broken_Doll_Baby]

I am experiencing some really tough anxiety right now, even with my Klonopin. You see, I have a court trial today against my ex-sister-in-law because when she became sole temporary conservator of my biological father while he lay dying in the hospital, she spent about 95% of his assets on "gifts" that he supposedly approved while he was in a coma, and she spent the rest on bills and such, which is what a conservator is supposed to do.
As I am contesting this in the probate court, she is bringing forth some ugly lies about me by telling the judge that my father told her that she was the daughter he never had and that I was never his daughter. He meant in the emotional sense, of course. Anyhow, some ugly truths came out about my four years of hell when I was forced to live with him, something I haven't yet shared, and she has the nerve to request of the judge that everything I said against my father be sealed from public view because it isn't right for me to say negative things against my father's character when he was the one who suffered from PTSD and was suddenly forced to care for 2 kids he didn't know and the kids were more than he could handle, so it wasn't his fault that he treated them badly.

So my anxiety mainly stems from my having to listen to her garbage in court again. Imagine blaming a child for the abuses she endured at the hands of an adult...as if I was at fault! This brings about a whole lot of BAD memories that had set off my PTSD several years ago and set me off in a downward spiral toward clinical depression, attempted suicide attempts, and now many psychological problems that I had stifled for so long that won't allow me to stifle anymore.

Please, please, if anyone reads this and believes in God and the power of prayer. Pray for me to remain calm enough to breath normally, to speak normally, to think rationally, to say what is important and relevant, and to get through this day. Thank you.

[Obayan]

I do wish you the strength to make it thru these hard times. And I do feel for you with all the pain you are in right now. I hope you find the solutions you need so you can begin living your life again.

[Aprilrose]

I too know what you went through, and your story touched my heart deeply.
It breaks my heart to read or hear about others who have went through the abuse. My heart goes out to you and I am always near if you just need a friend. My prayers are with you and always will be, your friend always Aprilrose