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Thursday, July 30, 2009

Thoughtful Thursday.......

Here we are, it's Thursday and time for me to think about my past.....which is NOT something I generally relish. I try to avoid it most days, but I read somewheres that wasn't healthy and that I should look into my life, let go of what's in there and then I will FINALLY be able to move onward. I think it was a message from my older sister through Facebook, but whatever, she's older and wiser than me so I'll take her word for it.


If you are asking what "Thoughtful Thursday"'s the low-down. I was an abused child...was being the operative word! I am no longer a child and other than my husbands poorly chosen words on occassion (like who doesn't choose to use harsh words in an argument right?) I am no longer abused. However I have repressed and hidden a lot of my past away in the furthest regions of my mind, tucked safely away where it can no longer be seen. Problem is that as long as it sits there, it festers like some hidden unknown cancer, eating away at my very soul, causing me undo stress and suffering that I no longer need. It causes me to lash out when I shouldn't, it causes my depression and it makes me sad inside. I don't want to be sad anymore, I don't want to suffer anymore and this is one cancer I CAN and WILL cure! I have come to the conclussion that if I look into my past, if I force myself to remember, then I can release it and move on with my life a much happier person....and why pay someone to sit and listen to my tale when I can blog it weekly for free and PERHAPS someone else will read these words, they will have suffered as I have and they could use my newfound strength to help themselves.

So onward to this weeks therapy's todays Thoughtful Thursday


I feel the need to talk about my father today, it's such a hard topic to discuss because he was a very sick man in so many ways! However, since talking about my mother these past few weeks, I have come to the realization that SHE was evil, but HE was 10 times worse...maybe even more! HE is what I truly need to recover from!

Let me give you a little background....when I was 2 my mother found my father molesting my 8 year old older sister. My mother screamed and hollered and yelled and he swore it would never happen again....did she kick him out? Did she call the cops? Did she do anything other than run her mouth? NO, NO and again NO! Sadly, she let him stay and believed his stupid lie. He just became more careful and made sure he was never cought again. I was the youngest of 7 children, 4 of us were girls, 3 of us girls were blonde the other a brunette...guess what hair color he liked...yep, he only went for the blondes. My one lucky sister has no idea just how lucky she was! Since we're being honest here, let me throw you for a loop and retract that statement......I am number 7 of 8 children, my little sister is also my niece (get my drift) When my older sister became pregnant at 16 everyone thought she was just a "bad girl" although my other blonde sister and myself knew the reality. I was 4 when my "niece" was born, I never saw my sister after she left to deliver the baby because once she realized she had a daughter she was not coming back...and who could blame her??

I was 2 when my father started in on me, still just a baby but that didn't bother him. He bribed me with candy...little orange circus peanuts. He would come home from work around midnight and everyone would be asleep except for me...I often had trouble sleeping, perhaps it was because I had to sleep in the living room on the floor, perhaps it was fear that kept me awake, whatever it was I was always awake and my mother was not. I was easy access, my older sisters all shared a room upstairs on the far side of the house and he would have to creep through without making any moise, go upstairs, try to get one of the girls out of their bed without waking any of the others or he could just walk in the door, wave the bag of circus peanuts and say "psst" really quietly and the little blonde girl would go to him. Why I went to him, why I fell for it, I'll never know. Perhaps it was a desire to be loved and feel loved that made me do it, but whatever it was it was no excuse for what he would do!

Once I got to him he would whisper that we should go to the shed so that mommy wouldn't hear the bag, so we would sneak out the back kitchen door into the storage area where there was a bare mattress lying on the that I picture this in my head I wonder how my mother could have been so blind! How could she see the mattress lying there and think it wasn't being used for something evil and so totally wrong???? Anyway, that is where he would sit me down, help me open the bag and then proceed to kiss me as I ate the candy, then he would lay me back and take off my jammies and whisper "shhhhhhh" Then he would lay on top of me so that I could barely breath but he would hold himself up enough to not smother me...right at the point where if I screamed it would be muffled by his body but wouldn't completely smother me...and then he would penetrate me! A small, frail, helpless 2 year old child! He did this until I was 7, until the day he packed his bags and left. That was one of the happiest days of my life, the day he walked out that door, tossed his suitcase in his trunk and drove away! In the years to follow he would try to get me to come visit him, try to convince me to go on a car ride, but I was not so young and stupid anymore and I could not be bribed with a bag of circus peanuts anymore. Oh I was not stupid, I would take his bag of candy and enjoy it, but I would not get in the car wih him and I would not be anywhere alone with him EVER AGAIN! There was still plenty of pain and suffering in my mother physically abusing me, my older brother sexually molesting me, and the taunting and teasing that went on at school because I was wierd (if only they knew why I was so wierd) but that one bit of suffering was gone and I rejoiced in that fact!

All of this brings me back to a bitter resentment at my might be thinking it's because I think she should have recognized what he was doing, you might think it's because I think she should have stopped him, you might think it's because I feel she should have kicked him out the first time she found him with any of us girls...but it's none of those! The reason I am so bitter at my mother is beacause so many years later, when I was in college, I told her why I hated my father and her response was that I needed to stop fantasizing! Yes, she actually thought it was some sick fantasy of mine, she claims that after she found my father with my older sister that she NEVER let him be alone with any of use girls ever again, she says it was impossible for him to have molested me and that I was so overly jealous of my older sister that I was putting myself into her shoes and fantasizing that her life had been mine! Can you believe that? Who the hell fantasizes that their father raped them on a regular basis from the time they were 2 until they were 7??? Seriously the woman was mad out of her mind to think that anyone would actually fantasize about such an evil and completely wrong thing!!! So yeah, I'm a bit bitter towards her for that and I probably always will be! In the meantime, if she needs so real proof, she can take a look at my ultrasounds of my uterus, she can go talk to my doctors who were amazed that I could ever carry a child to term given the extensive scar tissue and damage caused by his abuse. She can talk to the doctor who told me that I would never carry another child and if I did my uterus would give out by 4 months along killing me and the baby as well....thus my tubes are tied and fried. He took so much away from me and she took evn more when she said it was all just some fantasy!


OK onto something happier...if you got this far THANKS for listening, I hope if you have suffered my fates you will see that I have picked up the pieces and I have made it my goal to be happy in spite of the pain. I have a wonderful husband who loves me, a wonderful son who may drive me bonkers at times but still keeps me happy and well rounded. It is him mostly that motivates me to visit my past and move onward because if I'm not happy inside he can see it and it makes him sad...and I never want to make my boy sad if I can help it. SO I help myself so I can help him grow up into a wonderful man! My life is not what it was, it is what I make of it! I can turn it around, I can make it a happier life and I have the power to make all that stuff in the past be nothing but a bad horror movie that sits on a shelf and doesn't get watched. Occassionally I'll see a clip of it, a preview of a rerun on tv so to speak, but I don't have to relive it, I don't have to repeat it and I certianly can change the channel if it comes onto my screen. I can admit it was a part part of my life, I can recall it so I know what not to do when it comes to raising my son, but it's not me and it's certianly not my life anymore!

This is my life now...

my life as Orions Mom and I LOVE this life, this life makes me happy!

And those are my thoughts for this Thursday! Orion is off to my mother-in-laws for the weekend so I won't be around much the next few days as I enjoy some alone time with hubby!

Monday, July 27, 2009

Stellan Update

Stellan has to be airlifted to Boston Childrens Hospital, it's really one of the best childrens hospitals in the world so he will be in very good hands! Hopefully Stellan pulls through this. I am not sure when he will be airlifted but it will happen. Stellan needs to undergo some procedures that I don't totally understand, but basically they had wanted to wait until he was 4 years old or 20 kilos in weight...but they can't wait for that now. He has been surviving a heartrate of 210+ bpm for 3 days now and there really seems to be no other options. Stellan, his mother and father will all go to Boston for the procedure and hopfully there will be a good outcome. He may end up with a pace maker for the rest of his life, but at least it will be a life and one that doctors never thought would happen. Keep praying and check in at their blog (click on the photo in my previous post) Also follow on twitter if possible (link is also in my previous post) as MckMama seems to be updating that pretty regularly.

If you are the praying type...PLEASE DO

This is an urgent request!

I'm not one to normally turn to God for things, I constantly question his existance in a world full of evil. I constantly wonder which religion is right, but right now it truly doesn't matter if God is a man or a woman, if he's some fat dude with a big belly or some skinny guy who was tacked to a cross...whatever your belief, if you pray PLEASE pray for this little boy

Stellan is a miracle if ever there was one, I constantly read this blog amazed that this little boy is alive and thriving dispite his diagnosis in the uterus that his heart was too big and he would surely die. They didn't think he would live to be born, they didn't think he would live more than a few hours after birth, yet he's now almost 9 months old and sadly today he is fading. His heart will not stop beating at a dangerously high rate of 230+ bpm...that's beats PER minute!!! He is suffering and in bad shape and his little heart will not be able to take much more, the doctors haven't said as much but if you know anything about the human heart you know it just was not made to beat that fast for any length of time. So please, please go check out the blog (click on the picture) and send out prayers to whatever you believe in because this little boy really needs it!
If you use Twitter, Stellans mom has been updating on there as well it's more up to date than the blog. This was her last post
"Dr B told us "He's in bad shape." I'm trying to hold fast. Dr B is trying to ring Boston again. Will you pray!??! from Tweetie "

Thank you

Thursday, July 23, 2009

Making a change..........

Flashy Friday will become Thoughtful Thursday and here's why...I'm almost never on the computer on Fridays anymore! Some weeks I work late on Thursday night so I am actually here in the wee hours of the morning on Friday, but more often than not I'm just not here on a Friday. Friday is my day off of work and since I work on the computer I try to avoid it on my day off if I can.
Now for those who are new to (what was ) Flashy Friday, it's my own unique twist on a weekly themed post. I pick 2 or 3 things to have a "flashback" on and tell the lessons I have learned from these things. I flash 2 or 3 events each week, one of which will be from the first 11 years of my life....this is because my first 11 years were filled with abuse and unimaginable things. When I was 11 I was placed in foster care because of these horrid events, but I never fully recovered. Flashy Friday is (was) my cheap therapy and hopefully someone will happen upon it and my words will help them heal as well...for some good must come from the evil. And so, without further ado, here is this weeks Thoughtful Thursday.
I've been doing a lot of reflecting this past week, it seems the older my son gets the more stuff comes back to me. I'm guessing this has a lot to do with the fact that it's becoming easier to remember things that happened when I was his age since early memories in general are fewer and further between. People seem to only remember little bits and pieces of their childhood before they were 7 or 8 years old, and it seems to me the older I get the harder it becomes. However as I watch my son struggle with a punishment recently handed out for wrong-doings or even just watching him play with his cats I suddenly find my mind bringing up things I had completely forgotten about and I am amazed with how wonderful the mind is at protecting its human. If I had remembered some of these things years ago I probably would have been too afraid to do so many of the things I do on a daily basis, honestly I think I would be even more afraid of my own shadow than I already am...if that's even possible! My mind has blocked out so much and a part of me thinks it's because if I were younger I wouldn't be able to deal with it, I wouldn't be able to handle the emotional turmoil. Now that I am "older and wiser" as they say, I can handle more so my mind is slowly opening the window into my world, my life that was. Now that I am older I can look at it, learn a lesson or just release it into the wild and let it go. It's kind of like that pesky little moth that gets into the house when I take the dog flutters around the light for awhile and then it dies, never to be thought of again (or it gets eatten by one of the cats which is even more entertaining to watch lol)
My mother was a scary woman on her best days, I feared her like my son fears getting stolen at the mall. When I was his age I practically begged to be stolen...I remember standing on the side of the road when a big truck would happen to come through, I would stick out my leg, hold up my thumb and pray to the powers that be for that truck driver to stop and take me away. However all they ever did was drive on by, occassionally honking their horn thinking I just wanted to hear the big loud mac truck horn. I always walked away sad thinking I was never getting out, I was never going to get out of that world alive. Once my big brother turned 18 I was done for, I just knew it! See big brother was my keeper, he looked out for me and made sure I survived my youth. Yes, he was a mean big brother sometimes, he would tear the head off my doll and throw the pieces over the porch rail into the mud....and then laugh in my face as I cried....but he also kept me alive LITERALLY! I clearly remember the scar he has on his left breast, the scar he got because he stepped in front of me!
It was late evening, it had been my turn to clear the table and I had forgotten a knife. I was the youngest of 7 chldren, there were lots of plates and forks and knives on the table, but I forgot 1, just 1. Mother screamed my name from the kitchen and it was one of those screams that tears right through you because you know it means trouble. Every child in our house knew that scream, it was something out of a horror movie, you just knew you were going to get it. The knot in your stomach grows and tightens, you feel sick with anticipation...the thoughts start going through your brain..."What did I do?" "What did I forget?" "How bad is this going to be?" You slowly walk out through the living room toward the kitchen...all my brothers and sisters eyes upon me. They knew that scream, they knew I had done something and they knew I was gonna get it yet again. I take deep breaths trying to keep myself strong knowing if I walk in there scared and crying I'm gonna get it so much worse, I must be strong, I must be brave but I truly want to run out the door and never come back! As I walk toward the kitchen door I am aware of my big brother, he's right there near me, his very presense giving me strength to walk as she continues to scream for me to get into the kitchen RIGHT NOW! Then as I walk in the door I find myself walking into my brother as he steps in front of me.....I hadn't seen it coming but he had....all I had heard was "What is this doing on the table? You were supposed to clear the table!" Big brother had seen the knife sailing across the room, he had stepped between me and that knife and he took it for me. If he had not done that it would have gone straight into my eye socket I'm sure, instead it went into his chest. I'll never forget that look on his face, not pain, not shock, it was nothing but a calm rage. You could see the rage in his eyes but he had a calmness that was outside the moment, something out of place. He simply pulled the knife out of his chest, tossed it into the sink, glared into her eyes and said "Don't you EVER do that again" It was calmly stated but you could tell there was a rage there behind those words. he turned and walked away to tend to his wound, my mother silenced by my big brother. I washed the knife dripping with his blood, dried it and put it away. I walked out of the kitchen without a beating that night, saved by a big brother who knew the signs of trouble, a big brother who was stronger than I could ever dream of being.
This past week I took my son to the can see the photos in my previous post. He had a great time but while I was there I couldn't help but be reminded of the very first time I ever went to the beach. We were in foster care and my older sister had this blue bathing was one of those swimsuits that had no top straps, just relied on your boobs to hold it up...well my sister she didn't really have a set (still doesn't but that's beside the point lol) My sister was often refered to as a carpenters dream (flat as a board and never been screwed) once I realized the importance of boobs, I felt sorry for her. ANYWAY....the first time we ever went to the beach was Hampton Beach in New Hampshire with our foster family and as the waves hit my sister she did not know their force. they knocked her over and took her swimsuit with it. She stood up wiping the water off her face totally not realizing that her swimsuit was down by her ankles. I believe the swimsuit was thrown away as soon as we got home and she has never worn one without straps to keep it up since. Of course this was a learning experience for me as well....tan lines are ok as long as your suit is gonna stay up!
And on that note I will leave you for the day, probably the weekend. Hope everyone has a great, fun-filled and rain free weekend :)

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Fun day at the beach..........

Took Orion to the beach today to hang out with my you can see in the pictures, he had a lot of fun!

A clam and sea worm that Orion found and observed for awhile

A fish that Orion drew in the sand
Orion and his grandmother


It's been over a week since I posted anything on here, just been busy I guess. I had to take Orion to the dentist for his annual cleaning and check-up only to find out that another of his adult teeth grew in without enamel in one spot so we'll have to get that repaired. This has happened with almost every single one of his teeth so far....even his baby teeth grew in this way. When they come through they look great but as they grow in there seems to always be one little spot that has no enamel at all, it's just not there so the dentist has to fill it in so that his teeth don't rot out. What sucks about that is the fact that the dental insurance will only cover the white fill-in material on front teeth, back teeth like molars they will only pay for the mercury based silver stuff that no dentist in our area will use! SO the insurance company pays for what they believe the cost of the silver stuff should be and we get to pay the rest out of pocket...generally about $75 to $100 per tooth depending on how big the spot is! This one is smaller so it'll be closer to the $75 range, but it still bites...I feel the dental insurance company should step up and pay more since there isn't a dentist around who will use the mercury based silver fillings anymore....besides the point that this isn't your everyday kind of cavity, this is just how his teeth grow in. If this were a bone that grew improperly and he needed surgery to fix it the insurance would cover the majority of the cost so why not for his teeth as well? We'll pay for it simply because we have to and we don't want the kids teeth rotting out of his head before he's 12 but it's an added financial burden.

In other news, the weather has been great so we've spent a lot of time outdoors enjoying it while it lasts! We went out to Water Wizz again, played at my mother-in-laws friends pools and enjoyed hanging out with her and her neighbors, but mostly it's just here in the back yard with squirt guns and sprinklers and the like. It's been great seeing the bright yellow ball in the sky all day then having a great thunderstorm for the evening.

One thing we did do recently was Orion and I went to see the latest Harry Potter movie. We had heard it was supposed to be the closest to the book out of all the movies...I say the guy never picked up the book, he briefed through it at best! Some really vital information is left out leaving us wondering how the heck they will bring this information into play in the last movie concidering the majority of it is stuff involving Dumbledore who is now dead! The worst part was the fact that they showed numerous scenes that weren't even in the book and they could have used those scenes to give you the information they left out if they had been smart! This movie left me more angry than the Prisoner Of Azkaban one..... and that one left me pretty mad so that's saying a lot! I have NEVER left a movie feeling so disappointed! I don't know why they keep using this director...the only HP movie he didn't direct....Order of Pheonix....was the only one that was close to the book and kept to the story line! Sadly I have heard he is directing the last boook as well, which will be split into 2 movies, and a part of me doesn't even want to bother because I'm afraid of the hack-job he'll do to it! The HP books are great stories, he should try reading the books before making a movie about them!

That's about it for me, I'm off to make sure Orion ate his breakfast and to make some coffee. We're supposed to be going to the Cub Scout Rocket Derby this afternoon (they all made rockets and today is lauch day) then tomorrow we go have his eyes examined to see how un-lazy his left eye has gotten. I hope we see improvement, they said if he wore his glasses 6 hours a day he probably wouldn't need the glasses anymore by the time he's 10. He going to be 9 soon, so we're holding our breath hoping he can get rid of them for good...he hates wearing his glasses for one simple reason....when he wears them he looks EXACTLY like his mother and what almost 9 year old boy wants to look like a girl???

Friday, July 10, 2009

Flashy Friday

It's once again time to flashback and look into the dark depths that was my life. Review things from the past and see if I can find any lessons that can be learned from these events.


For those who are new to Flashy Friday, it's my own unique twist on a weekly themed post. I pick 2 or 3 things to have a "flashback" on and tell the lessons I have learned from these things. I flash 2 or 3 events each week, one of which will be from the first 11 years of my life....this is because my first 11 years were filled with abuse and unimaginable things. When I was 11 I was placed in foster care because of these horrid events, but I never fully recovered. Flashy Friday is my cheap therepy and hopefully someone will happen upon it and my words will help them heal as well...for some good must come from the evil. And so, without further ado, here is this weeks Flashy Friday


Today my "mother thoughts" are easy...I feel like CRAP...yes I said the "C word" that I keep telling my son to erase from his vocabulary but at least I can get the context right and not use it in every single sentence I say lol Besides I'm feeling miserably sick with back ache (that I have had for about 2 weeks now) sore throat, stomach ache and an overall feeling of ick! Why would this make me think of my mother???? Well, quite frankly, everytime I get sick I am reminded of one event in particular and of course it has to do with her.

I was about 7 or 8 years old, sick as a dog, barely able to stand on my own two feet. I was running a pretty good fever, dizzy everytime I stood up (or even sat up for that matter) and vomiting like there's no tomorrow. I'm sure it was a very nasty case of the flu....since I now know what the symptoms are and they fit. I had stayed home sick one day, which irritated my mother to no end but she had let me stay home and I slept pretty much all day. I couldn't keep anything down so she didn't have to worrry about feeding me or anything like that, and I was pretty good at crawling to the bathroom to throw up so I wouldn't have to change my own sheets on my bed or even worse, lay in my own throw up because she sure as heck wasn't changing any sheets.

Day 2 she decided I had been home long enough and that I needed to go to school. I woke up throwing up still, feverish and feeling aweful. She made me get out of bed anyway. I cried to her that I was sick, I begged and pleaded with her to let me stay home, I knew there was no way I was walking the mile to school (actually it was just under the mile line so that's why I had to walk) YES I walked to school UPHILL BOTH WAYS! (As I have explained to my son who does not believe that's possible, I lived on one side of the hill, the school was on the bottom on the other side of the hill, therefore it was uphill then downhill going to and from school) Anyway (sory to get sidetracked there but most people laugh when you say such a thing and I feel the need to explain my pain and suffering lol ) Anyway.....onward here....I remember getting out of bed and walking across the living room floor directly into the wall. I remember my sister laughing at me and my mother yelling at me that I was faking just to get out of going to school. I don't know where she got that idea since I simply LOVED was my one escape from her, why wouldn't I love it and why would I want to stay away from it.....never claimed the woman had any common sense! So I walked into the wall and she yelled at me, forced some clothing onto me and had my brother and sister assist me in walking to school. I managed to get to school, threw up in the bathroom (and a few times on the walk) then I went to my classroom and lay my head on my desk. I felt simply horrid! I was sent to the school nurse who ever so kindly called my mother to come and get me. She explained how sick I was and that I would be in the nurses office until my mother got there. She never came! I remember lying in the bed at the nurses office hearing the kids run out to recess, wishing I could go out with them. I remember hearing them line up outside her office as they waited for lunch, some of them talking about me and how my mother hadn't showed up yet...I was humiliated and embarrassed that they all knew she had not cared enough to come. 2:30 rolled around and the nurse allowed my brother and sister to walk me home with a note for my mother saying I should stay home for a couple more you think she let me???? NOPE she sent me back every single day. I spent all week sleeping in the nurses office all day and being walked to and from school by my brother and sister. Not once did the school call social services...I don't know why they didn't. I mean seriously, think about it, a mother sends her sick kid to school refuses to keep her home regardless of the fact that the school has suggested she stay home. By day 3 I remember hearing the nurse say to my teacher that it would be useless to call the mother and to just let me sleep in her office until the end of the day. She was a great nurse and took great care of me but I can't help but wonder if they couldn't have saved me from a few years of suffering if they had only called social services instead of my mother!


Growing pains....anyone remember having them??? I sure do! I remember that burning sensation in my shins and rubbing them really hard and fast because the heat of the friction made them feel better. I remember my brothers and sisters saying that I was exagerating, my mother saying I needed to stop trying to get attention, and my legs hurting so bad I could barely walk. After a few days the pain would subside and I would be a bit taller...I distinctly remember those days and it's a good thing I do because now I can sympathize with my son who apparently has inherited these same growth spurts and growing pains. He cries out in the night with pain in his legs, he kicks and thrashes around all night long, if I rub his shins it helps ease his pain and he manages to get some sleep. Motrin helps some, tylenol is useless, nothing but the rubbing or a heating pad will truly help ease the pain enough to help him sleep. I have this bag I put in the microwave that heats up, he likes that on his shins and it seems to help, but he says the rubbing is even better so I sit up most the night rubbing his shins so he can sleep (and I wonder why I'm sick) The poor kid has been suffering the past 3 nights...on the plus side he's grown 1/4 inch so far and it should only be a couple more days if he stays on pattern. Yes...I posted that correctly he's grown 1/4 inch..I measured him on Tuesday and he was 55 1/4 inches tall. Then yesterday morning he was saying he felt taller so I put him against the chart and he was 55 1/2 inches tall. Barefoot both times and I made sure he wasn't on tip-toes! He is now less than 1 foot shorter than me...less than a foot!!!! He is the same exact height I was when I went into foster care at just over 11 years old and he weighs about 15 pounds heavier than I was at the time (I was 4 feet seven 1/2 inches and weighed in at 47 pounds) Orion is 4 feet seven and 1/2 inches and weighs in at 63 pounds...and the doctor and I are working to get that up...the adderrall makes it hard for him to gain weight! Needless to say, he's a bit healthier than I was and concidering I was that height at 11 years old he'll definately be taller than me in no time! I just wish there was a way to make it less painful for the poor kid, growing pains are no fun!


I'm feeling pretty ichy still and Orion is watching cartoons quietly. I think I'll get off this computer and go join him...he's a good enough kid that if I'm lucky he'll make me some tea and tuck me up in a blanket and cuddle with me until I start to feel better. He hates it when mom is sick but he likes to take care of me so I'm off to be pampered. I hope everyone has a great weekend, enjoy your loved ones and have some fun!

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

A funny story that I just have to share....

I was driving Orion over to his friends house to play today when we pass a couple of teenagers. One of the boys happens to be wearing the same shirt that Orion had is our conversation.....

Me: "Hey Orion look that boy has on the same shirt as you"

Orion: "Is he with a girl?"

Me: "What?"

Orion: "Is he with a girl?"

Me: "Why do you need to know that?"

Orion: "Well I was just wondering if he was with a girl or not"

Me: "But WHY are you asking that?"

Orion: " Well I was wondering if a girl would like me in this shirt!"

Apparently girls opinions are very important!

Friday, July 3, 2009

Flashy Friday

Time again to Flashback into my past and see what lessons I have learned
Let's get my mother out of the way since I have the hardest time talking about her.
This memory is a one that I don't think I'll ever forget, it was the day the little girl who lived across the street got me the beating of a lifetime.
At school I had talked about "my cat" We had a lot of cats living in our house and I really liked to call one of them in particular (her name was Kit Kat) mine. So I had been talking about "my cat" and Patty had overheard. She was a year or 2 older than I was and very very nosey! So that afternoon I was out in my front yard playing with a couple of the cats and she yells across the street "Hey Deb, which one is yours?" I knew that she was being sarcastic, I knew that she didn't believe that any of the cats actually belonged to me, so I just ignored her. Afterall, the cats were all family cats so they were technically all part mine right??? WRONG!!
My older sister overheard Patty calling to me from across the street and laughed, she knew I was gonna be in trouble. My mother came out and sat on the step waiting and Patty again calls across the street "Deb, I asked which one is yours?" then she proceeds to walk her nosey butt across the street to my yard just to be sure I had heard her. My mother yelled at her to get back home and grabbed me by the arm, drags me into the house demanding to know why Patty would ask me such a question. I tried to worm my way out of it....Patty must have misunderstood what I was saying to someone else, I was sorry but I couldn't help what other people thought. She didn't buy it for one I had to tell the truth, that I had called one of the cats "my cat" in a conversation that Patty overheard. That woman made me march to the living room door where she hung the leather belt and bring it back to her. She made me stand there with my hands on the back of the couch and simply said "you cry you get more!" She whooped my behind so many times it was impossible not to cry so I got plenty and was sent to bed with no supper...all because Patty had to go and open her big fat mouth!
That day I simply learned to not call anything that wasn't mine...mine and to never let Patty overhear anything I ever said again! I know she didn't mean to get me into trouble and I am sure she didn't know I was gonna get such a beating for saying one of the cats was mine, but I was pretty bitter with her for quite some time after that one for sure.
When I was in 6th grade I learned about how unfair life can be (as if I hadn't already learned this lesson from my parents) Anyway, I was new to foster care, having been placed just a few months prior to starting this new school. It was a BIG school compared to my tiny one level 4 room school. This one had 2 classrooms for every grade k thru 6th and even though each class only had maybe 12 or 15 kids in it, it was still a lot bigger for me. I had just come from a tiny school where the entire 6th grade class would have consisted of about 10 kids!
Anyway, I was out on recess...there was no field, no dirt, no trees. My old school had a giant field, tons of dirt, trees we could play in etc. This place was all blacktop and I was not overly thrilled. There was a chainlink fence and I would just go sit beside it, missing my old school wishing I could have stayed there. It was here against the fence that it happened....this boy named David pushed me against the fence, he held my hands behind my back, forcing himself on me. I tried to yell, I tried to holler, but he threatened me and went about his business....and when he was done he released me promising me that he would do that to me every day!
I screamed at him "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!" The teacher heard me and told me to get against the wall, swearing was not allowed! I tried to tell her what had happened, trying to figure out why she couldn't see the fence marks on my face or the torn clothing, but she would hear none of it. She simply said that there was no excuse to use such language and I was to go sit against the wall until the end of recess.....David walked away smirking, I walked to the least here I would be safe from him. My friend Angel came over and asked what happened, I told her and she went inside. The end of recess bell rang and I lined up with the other kids, once I got to my classroom I put my head on my desk and cried. The school nurse came in shortly after that, said something to my teacher and escorted me out of the classroom. Apparently Angel had told her what happened. She asked why I didn't tell the teacher on duty, I explained how I tried but the teacher was more concerned with the fact that I had said the word "fuck" than WHY I said it or why I was using it to tell this boy to get away from me. The nurse shook her head, I was allowed to go home early and the next day I returned to school as if nothing had did David.
I later found out that David was in his 3rd attempt at 6th grade, had attempted to do this to other girls but I was the first that he succeeded with. I never went to that corner of the fence again, I never went more than 10 feet from a teacher because I was so afraid of him and I knew the only way anyone would do anything was if they saw him doing it. I was the broken child, the foster kid, so therefore I didn't seem to be believed as much as the other kids. Perhaps they thought I was trying to get attention, perhaps they thought I was exagerating since I had ben molested and abused so much, perhaps they thought it was just me being fearful because of my past...but whatever it was...IT WAS WRONG! They should have listened to me, they should have gone to the police, they should have helped me, they should have punished him and not me. I was the victim, yet I was the one standing against the wall.
From this experience I learned not to trust even more. I also learned how unfair life is and ways to commit suicide...or at least ways to attempt it. It wasn't until almost 10 years down the road that I would learn to stand up for myself and fight back, my freshman year of college I took some self defense courses thinking how great they would have been back in 6th grade! Just the other day I was looking through a photo album of one of my classmates on facebook...he is Davids younger brother. In his album I came across a photo of David and a knot built in my stomach...I remembered the event like it was yesterday and decided to post about it and leave it there....sitting in my yesterdays, gone but not fully forgotten.
4th of July....I love the fireworks! One good memory I do have as a kid is going to the big field, laying the blanket out on the hood of the car and watching the fireworks. They never cease to amaze me, whether in real life or on a TV I still feel a childish giddy feeling everytime I see them! I hope this year we don't have rain so I can go with my family....I'm taking the night off so that we can go together but I can't take too many nights off or I won't make any money and will fail to pay my bills lol SO here's hoping for some good weather for everyone so that everyone can feel like a child again and enjoy some fireworks!
And so I close this weeks Flashy Friday. I hope everyone has a safe and happy 4th of July and remember to be thankful to all those soldiers out there fighting to keep us safe and free!
God Bless the Soldiers and their families!