On this page, I really would like us to be able to share our intimate
thoughts, poems, writings that touch our hearts. We
need to be able to convey these feelings to others, even annonymously,
as a part of our cleansing and healing. It helps us to pour our hearts
out and cry a little, getting all that muck and pain out.
Anything that is sent to me for publishing on this site, will be kept
annonymous, unless you choose to use a pseudoname. That's ok, too.
As you can see, I've not included my last name for obvious reasons, but
I have revealed myself to the world, and I'm not ashamed, anymore.
I know that none of what happened to me was my fault. I'm not alone in
my experiences, and I know several of you need an outlet, and comforting
so this is the place to express your feelings, no matter how intense,
whether, sad, angry, frustrated, a revelation, anything....any way to
let it out. It also helps to see your words in print before your very
eyes, and read them back to yourself. This has been a tremendous part
of my therapy. It took a month for me to write a letter to my father, which
was not intended to be sent, and it took me another month to read it to
my therapist. It was so embarrassing, and painful, but it was all true
and genuine. After reading that letter to her, finally, I felt as though
I'd just heaved a great stone from my insides and there it sat on the floor
in front of me.....OUT of MY system!!!
THE FOLLOWING IS A LETTER I RECIEIVED FROM A LADY I'LL CALL "CINDERELLA" FOR
OBVIOUS REASONS....WITH HER PERMISSION:
Sharon,
Thank you for your kind reply reference my guest book entry. Last weekend I
was really hurting for someone to talk to, and went looking in a "Christian
forty something" chat room. Even though I'm (30-something) I thought I might find some
older and wiser person who might relate. I found out quickly that was not
going to work out...So seeing your site seemed like a God send to me. I
felt comforted by what you wrote, and hopeful that we might be able to
correspond and possibly establish a mutual understanding.
I'll give you some background so you'll know something about where I'm
coming from:
When I was a seven month old baby my parents were involved in a traffic
accident. My father survived but my mother was
killed. My dad and I moved back to the United States where he cared for me with the help of his parents and two sisters. My
dad re-married when I was 2 1/2 years old. He corresponded with my (Mom's) relatives up until that time, and then "lost touch" with them.
My step mom gave birth to my 1/2 brother when I was four years old. My
earliest memories of abuse on her part begin here, however I understand she
was frustrated because my 1/2 brother had colic as an infant. My 1/2 sister
was born when I was seven.
Over the years the abuse on her part escalated, she was verbally (and
sometimes physically) abusive. She was very critical and a harsh task
master, requiring me to do a number of chores and criticizing, saying i had
done a "half-assed" job. I was hungry for affection and approval, so I
tried hard to please her, yet my best efforts were never good enough.
My dad had a problem with alcoholism throughout my childhood. He was moody
and rarely smiled. His alcoholism didn't really become an issue with me
until I was nine, when he began to molest me. He didn't actually have sex
with me but he joined me in the shower and touched me in the wrong places.
He wanted me to touch him too. He wanted me to sleep naked, and he would
join me in my bed late at night and fondle me. I developed vaginal
infections that I had to go to the doctor for. I was sick about the abuse
because I sensed it was terribly wrong, but he was a strict authoritarian
and I didn't think I had the right to tell him to stop. I was confused too
because I thought being a good girl meant doing what he wanted. I wanted to
be obedient and most of all loved.
My step mom had given me a talk about "the birds and the bees" which
included the sentiment that I would have to save my virginity or no man
would want to marry me. I was scared to death that my dad might take it,
and I'd become an old maid. So I approached her and asked her if what my
dad was doing was OK. She told me that it wasn't, and that I should tell
her if it happened again. She became ice cold toward me and my dad did
also, apparently they had talked about it. Yet with the passage of time my
dad had another episode with me, and I told my step mom about it. This time
she blamed me for "walking around in my baby doll pajamas." (She was the
one who had given me the baby doll pajamas!)
When my dad began abusing me, I devoloped a compulsive eating habit. I
think I even had the conscious thought that if I were heavier, my dad might
leave me alone. It's true that he left me alone when I was heavier, but
both parents criticized and ridiculed my weight and eating habits. I also
suffered ridicule at school for being overweight, but at least my body was
my own and wasn't being violated. However, when the extra weight caused me
too many problems with my peers, I would diet and exercise and lose the
weight. (I was very concerned with popularity because I just wanted someone
ANYONE to love me, or at least like me.) When I lost the weight my dad
pursued me again. This cycle recurred periodically throughout the years,
always concurrent with my dad's alcohol abuse and my weight loss.
When I was a teenager my step-mom continued to belittle and criticize me.
Both of my parents laughed at me and compared me to (dum blonds or dingy
characters that were popular on TV at the time.) I was
awkward, lacked confidence and felt I could do nothing right. My parents
only allowed me to take two 15 minute showers a week. I felt gross all the
time. I have oily hair that still needs to be washed daily. I would sneak
into the shower whenever my parents went out. My younger brother used to
threaten to tell on me. I was not allowed to use a hairdryer or curling
iron. I also suffered the ridicule of my classmates due to my oily,
unstyled hair. My step mom was also insistent that I clean the whole house
to her specifications, even though she was a stay at home mom without a job,
and I was going to school full time.
When I was 17 years old I made a bold move, I signed up for delayed entry
for the Marine Corps. I couldn't wait to free myself from my parents, and
at the same time I thought becoming a Marine would result in my earning
their respect. My dad wanted me to join the Air Force so I could possibly
be stationed near them, which is precisely why I didn't join the Air Force.
In the Marines I had hoped to become a world traveler, but instead found
myself in a state I had lived in for half of my life. I served the
remainder of my time here and got out at the end of my contracted time. I
have many aunts, uncles and cousins here but I really hoped I would land
elsewhere. I got married and was expecting my first baby when my parents,
brother and sister moved to this state also.
I was apprehensive about them moving here, and actually liked having a
couple of states between us. Yet I was somewhat hopeful of an improved and
more real relationship with them. Instead I found the relationship to be
surface and phony, where everyone pretends we've been a model family. Not
only that, but there is the expectation that we attend family gatherings,
even though most of the time they are not convenient for us because my
husband and I both have odd work schedules.
When I was 29 I saw a therapist who specialized in incest. She was a very
nice lady and very helpful to me. I learned beyond a shadow of a doubt that
I was not at fault for the abuse, and my parents are sick people. Around
the same time I read a book titled "Toxic Parents" by Susan Forward. I felt
that the author's writings were very insightful about various forms of child
abuse. One of her recovery suggestions was to confront the abusers and "put
the blame where it belongs." I wrote both of my parents a letter detailing
their abuse and how it affected me. These letters were met with angry
denial and my step mom engaged in brutal letter wars with me. After
receiving one such letter from her and crying about it, my husband called up
my parents and told them off.
Since then, my husband and I were going to a support group at church for
awhile. We committed ourselves to God as a family, and He has done a lot of
healing work for us in our hearts and in our home. Our marriage is better
for it. Of course I know if I want God to forgive my sins, I have to be
forgiving toward my parents. I tried extending the olive branch to my
parents so to speak. I told them I was sorry for anything I've said or done
that hurt their feelings, and from now on I am committed to thinking of them
with only love and respect. They never did acknowledge that they did
anything wrong, so of course they don't need or want my forgiveness.
So we're back to having a surface relationship where we pretend everything
is OK. Once again it's expected that we make it to family gatherings for
appearances sake. The holidays are especially hard for me because it's hard
for me to pretend. My step mom still engages in mean spirited "digs" toward
me. For instance, she knows my son and I have difficulty with milk products
(my son has been allergic to milk since infancy) so she makes some milk
based dish EVERY SINGLE TIME she is expecting us! Then I get angry with her
and it destroys my peace. Often times my mind goes back, WAY back to the
laundry list of complaints I have concerning her treatment of me. Believe
it or not I haven't told you everything, however you get the idea I think.
How I wish they lived in another state!
I am thinking of making an appointment with one of the pastors of our church
to talk.
I have often wondered about taking Prozac (or something) as I have had
repeated bouts of depression, especially with the holidays. Then I go
through spells of compulsive eating. I want very much to lose 30 pounds.
I'm trying to get a better job (one without shift work) and feel I could
approach it with more confidence if I could gain control and lose the
weight.
Concerning medication, I wonder if it's true that some of us have chemical
imbalances and we need it to feel normal? And I wonder what a Christian
perspective might be on taking something? (Something to ask a pastor I
guess.) You have to get psychoanalysis to get medication right? Maybe I'll
go to a health store and get St. John's Wort, I hear it's a natural anti-
depressant.
Well I've bent your ear enough for now! I'd be interested in knowing what
your thoughts are about any of this. Hope I didn't completely overwhelm
you. Thanks for being there and listening. You have permission to use my
story on your page if you would like. Just give me a nickname and let me
know which parts your considering using OK? If you'd rather not use it
that's OK too! I'd like to be here for you also if you would like to talk
about what's bugging you!
May you have many blessings in 1998! Take care!
"Cindy"
AFTER MY REPLY TO HER, SHE AGAIN WROTE TO GIVE A MORE COMPLETE PICTURE TO
HER PLIGHT, WHICH FOLLOWS....REMEMBER "YOU" ARE NOT ALONE, THERE ARE
MANY OF US OUT THERE, REACHING OUT, OR MAYBE HIDING EVEN FROM OURSELVES!
Sharon,
Thank you (once again) for your kind reply. You certainly have great
compassion and insight concerning abuse issues. Your situation has so much
in common with mine. In fact you were the one to mention having short
haircuts and out of style clothes, which completely applied to me also, I
just neglected to mention it in my previous message to you. Long hair was
in when I was a kid too, with feathered bangs. But I was stuck with short
haircuts, often with a bad home perm. (Why on earth did our moms try to
turn us into Shirley Temple?) My step mom used to insist that I wear dresses
with knee high socks when everyone else was wearing nylons with their
dresses (if they even wore dresses that is, usually they wore jeans, which
was out of the question for me.) I had hairy legs and I wasn't allowed to
shave them. When I told my step mom I was being teased about my hairy legs,
she told me if I didn't shut up, she would make me where anklet socks with
the dresses instead of knee highs. In the winter I would sneak a pair of
pants under my coat and try to get to school before the other kids so I
could hurry up and change, just to avoid them seeing me in my stupid dress
and socks!
She also insisted that I clean the bathroom every day before school, and
Saturdays I couldn't do anything at all until I cleaned the whole house.
For bathroom cleaning she gave me a can of scouring powder and a sponge,
that was it! She insisted that I clean the toilet with the sponge too,
including the inside of the toilet bowl! I mentioned that I thought that
was gross, and asked why I couldn't use a toilet brush (she had one for her
toilet,) but she wouldn't hear of it. Yes, I do believe your idea for the
name of Cinderella is fitting, (or Cindy for short.)
As for my dad, I do believe he felt guilty in the death of my mother, and he
very well could have been. I have photos of him and my birth mother from
their courtship days, in many of these photos there are bottles of alcohol
on the counters and shelves. His friends are holding up their drinks in
these photos as if they are so very proud of them (Cheers!) So I suspect
his alcoholism began before the death of my mother, possibly even before his
marriage to my mother.
I don't think I mentioned to you that I didn't know anything of my birth
mother until I was nine. She died when I was a baby, so I had no memory of
her, and my dad remarried when i was 2 1/2. When I was nine I began to have
questions about the differences between my brother, sister and I. My
brother and sister had red hair and green eyes. They were also very
light skinned and burned easily in the sun. I on the other hand had brown
hair, brown eyes and tanned easily in the sun. I used to think my brother
and sister were getting "cleaner in the bathtub than me", because their skin
was much lighter than mine. My step mom had blond hair, so I stuck out in
the family photo like a sore thumb. So to answer my questions my dad
finally told me of my birth mother. He told me that her parents were very
old, and he suspected they had already passed away. He didn't remember the
names of my mother's brothers or sisters. He had fallen out of touch with
them and apparently didn't know how to reach them.
He even mentioned to me that my grandparents wanted to keep me. I asked him
why, and he said they lost their daughter, so they wanted me around. I
didn't understand, I thought a child was a terrible inconvenience. I asked
him why he kept me, and he told me it would bring dishonor to his parents,
aunts and uncles if he would have left me. Over the years I
have known both of my parents to be more motivated by appearances than love,
in all things.
I had many other questions that were met with short answers. I asked if my
mother was pretty, and Dad said "Yes." I asked if I looked like her and he
said "No." Then I asked him if he loved her and he said "Yes." He told me
he would give me photos of her at some later time, when he thought I was
ready. I asked for the photos repeatedly until he finally gave me my
mother's photo album. He looked at it with me. There were photos of some
of my aunts, uncles and cousins included in the album, but he apparently
"couldn't remember" their names. I gazed at these photos many times when I
was alone, wondering who my aunts, uncles and cousins were. There was even
an odd feeling that I could pass a relative on the street, and not know that
this person was family.
Then when I was a teenager he said my mother had tricked him
into marrying her by telling him that she was pregnant when she wasn't. He
said she had also lied about her age, and he didn't know her true age until
her death (he was 22 and she was 29 at that time.) Then he went into the
back yard and chopped wood. My step mom watched him from the window, and
told me that I was very lucky that he went out there chopping wood rather
than giving me a (physical) beating. That day was devastating to me because
I had the impression that my very existence was a mistake in his eyes. He
(supposedly) reluctantly married a woman he had been playing with, to do the
"honorable" thing. Never did I feel sorry for him because I can't imagine
what woman wants to be played with and then discarded, especially women from
past generations...
Because I experienced abuse from both parents, I used to think of running
away from home A LOT. When I mentioned to my step mom that I had thoughts
of running away, she said "if you don't like it here, GO!" If only I had
somewhere to go, I would have been long gone! When I was upset over
anything, writing was therapy for me. Often I'd get angry with my step mom
and I would write angry letters about how I hated her, and wished I had my
real mom, maybe my real mom would love me! My step mom used to snoop around
in my room and find the letters. She would approach me and I would say that
I was sorry, but I wasn't.
Over the years the curiosity regarding my mother's
family came in cycles, I just didn't know how to go about finding them. Then, with the internet I began to think I could find out something of my
family. I started researching.
I began
to think that finding them would be like finding a needle in a haystack. I
plugged the words "finding family" into my search engine, and it brought up
a bunch of genealogy societies. I didn't know what genealogy was
at the time. When I looked up the web pages I found that it had to do with
researching ancestry, or completing a "family tree." I looked at the back
of my birth certificate for the only information I had about my mother; her
full name, date of birth and place of birth. My mother had also written the
names of her parents in my baby book. Then I prayed to God, telling Him
that if it were His will, I would like to find my mother's family. If it
were not His will, I wanted His help in order to accept this answer. Then I
sent e-mail to two genealogy societies in New York. I said
I didn't know if they could help me or not, but I would like to contact
someone in my mother's family. I thought I might find one or two aunts or
cousins who might be willing to talk on the phone or write letters...
Well, the Lord blessed me beyond my wildest dreams. Within two weeks a
cousin of mine called from New York. He had only been in the U.S. for two
months, and was a member of one of the genealogy societies I sent e-mail to.
In that one day I received five phone calls from aunts and cousins!
Some of my cousins remembered me as a baby, having baby-sat me. Others who
were born after me grew up hearing about me. All expressed wondering where
and how I was all this time, (it's been 32 1/2 years!) About every weekend
they call me, or I call them. I met three of my
mother's sisters there and all four of her brothers. One of her sister's
lives in New York, we've talked on the phone but haven't met in person yet.
Occasionally they ask me a question I have great difficulty answering; "How
was your childhood?" or "Was your step-mother nice to you?" I decided it
would do no good at all to tell any of the ugly truth to these nice people
who wanted to keep me when their beloved sister died, so I try to give
positive answers.
Boy I sure did go on forever! But you're right, it is healing to write it
all out, something i (obviously) haven't done in a while. I also have
intentions of writing a book, but I want to make it a positive one about
finding my family, steering completely clear of the abuse issues (could be a
short book, ha ha bad joke-not funny.)
I did tell my dad about finding my mother's family, it was his father's day
surprise;) Once he got over his shock, he told me it was a good thing I
found them. He now says that he loved my mother "in spite of the
deception." He asked for the addresses of my relatives and I gave them to
him. He exchanged Christmas cards with some of them. In one way I feel
that he is encroaching on my domain, after all they're my family, they are
no longer his. He hasn't been in touch with them for 32 1/2 years! But I
realize I'm being selfish, and I should hope and pray that this might be a
healing experience for all.
Well, believe it or not I haven't told you everything, but I do believe I
got the bulk of it out of the way. I don't mean to neglect mentioning what
you've shared with me, I really appreciate what you've written. In thinking
of all the years I was made to feel like a freak, it's caused me to realize
I wasn't the only "freak" out there (if you'll pardon the expression.)
Certainly we know now that there are many more out there like us. Yet being
an abuse victim was such an isolating experience, particularly during the
years of being shrouded in shame (so to speak.) Certainly the same was true
for you and many others. I respect and admire your ability and desire to
help, I would like to help too. I don't yet know how to construct a web
page, and don't feel bold enough to do one at this time. Surely when the
good Lord wants me to help someone, He will put someone in my path, when He
decides I'm ready.
About the meds, I will probably try that St. John's Wort and see how that
works out (no doctor or prescription needed.) Kind of sounds ugly though,
doesn't it? (Wort, wart! Oh yes, give me the wart!) OK I'm getting goofy
here.
In the midst of writing all the ugly stuff, I have to count my blessings.
I'm glad to have a good marriage to a very kind and patient man (he's been
through so much with me, I thank God for him!) I also have two beautiful
young men, ages 11 & 12. And I now know a very large and wonderful family,
the family of my mother!
Once again, thank you for being there and listening. Surely after you post
my story and your reply, someone else will feel encouraged to come forward
and share with you. This could be the start of something glorious! May God
bless the work you've set out to do!
"Cinderella....Cindy"
