My sweet baby Lee

Today I have held you fro 12 weeks. You are so perfect. Daddy and I saw you dance, and got to hear your heartbeat for the first time. 173 was your measurement. You are about the size of a plum right now and getting stronger. I have your picture on my computer. You leg is waving in the air. Its the most beautiful leg ever. We can’t wait to meet you! Daddyy and I sing to you and talk to you everyday. When he kisses me goodbye, he kisses you too! I can’t believe how much I love you already. Of course, I loved you years before I conceived you. I cant wait to hear your voice, kiss your face and see you smile. You really are my story my love. You and your daddy are my whole lifes work!

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My sweet baby Lee

Today you are 7 weeks old pre birth. I keep looking at your first picture ad seeing your hearbeat flicker for the first time. I still find myself crying from awe. I can’t wait to meet you. I have all the ideas on the kinds of things we will do, and what kind of person you will turn into. I wonder if you will have red or dark curls ; or if your eyes will be like your daddy’s. He loves you so much too. He kisses you every morning and everynight. He tells you jokes(he thinks are funny, sometimes I laugh only because he is funny and the jokes are not). We talk about what you will be like. I cant wait to grow with you. Right now the only thing you are working on is getting your room cleaned so that you have more room. Of course, you are making momma really tired. But it is all worth it, because I know you will be so happy and warm. We call you cupcake. And what you should know, even if you dont fully understand, is that I have waited for you my whole life. I love your daddy. I have never loved anyone as muc has I do him, but since he gave me you, I love him so much more, and I didnt even know that was possible. But you, my sweet baby, I am so in love with. And we havent even met. I know we will have moments when we dont communicate aswe would like, but I cant wait for even that. I am so excited you are on your way. I love you cupcake. More than humanly possible.

PS. If you are a boy we have decided to name you Lavathan James and if you are a girl, Temperance Elizabeth.

Kisses cupcake

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Dear Baby Lee,

Ever since I was a young adult, I knew I wanted to be a mother. That was my biggest dream. I prayed for you for years. I almost had you a twice. But you weren’t ready for me yet. You know baby, I was married for almost 10 years trying so hard to find you. I thought you just didn’t want to come be with me. So I saw doctors for help, and for a year, you just weren’t ready. When I turned 33 I stopped looking and hoping for you. I always wished, but gave up on the hope you would find me. I would be your mommy. Then one day, I met your daddy. He changed my whole life. Everything I ever believed in was in him. You will see, you will love him as much as he loves you right now. You see, my 34th birthday is today, and last night, we found out, you were on your way to be with us. We were finally getting the family we wanted. Today you, baby Lee, are 4 weeks along. We have a long way to go to get you here, but my sweet child, I know we will work together beautifully, and the day I get to kiss your face will be the best day of my life. I love you more than you will ever know, and I will always love you. You are the greatest most beautiful gift I have ever been given. All I ask is that you have patience with me, and stay.


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Dear Baby

Dear baby,



Since I was 18 I dreamed about you. What you would look like? I wonder if you would be a girl or a boy. If you would love life like I do.  How bright your eyes would shine. If you would love music like I do.  If you will have the passion to learn new things…There are so many things I wondered about with you.

Sometimes when I plan for your arrival, I anticipate how many cameras and videos I will have, I will be unstoppable. I can’t wait to hold you, my sweet baby. The first time I get to see your face and kiss your cheek, will be an incredible memory. I can barely hold back how much I miss you.

You see, my baby, I don’t have you yet. I have come close, and have tried so many times to bring you to me.  I want this month to be the biggest and happiest month for me, because I want you to finally be with me.  I promise, my child, I will be the best mommy to you. I won’t be blind to your life. I promise I will always listen, and be there for you. I promise that I will never hit you. No child deserves that. You will never hear a bad name from me. I will give my life, to protect you and encourage you to be the best person you can be. You deserve only the best.

I love you sweet baby. More than you can ever understand. The day we meet, I will have received the best gift of my life.



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Maple Tree

The Maple tree

The Maple tree

You caught me looking at you thru the rear view. You smiled and I looked away into the sky. How your eyes reflected that cold grey day….


I thought about what I saw at that moment over and over again while I stared at that perfect old maple tree in your front yard. How beautiful it was. You said it was at the end of its days.


 I just thought about the reflection in your eyes, and that tree.


How I saw so much beauty, like there was a hidden untapped soul left for me to break free. I sat for hours staring at that tree while you slept. Tears you will never know I had for you blinded me, distorting the picture I had. You found me sitting staring at that beautiful tree. You didn’t know I saw you. You see, you found me when I needed to be saved. You allowed me in for a moment, and showed me into your life. You found me again to show me into your bed. The third time was blinding. This time, you showed me the maple tree. You made me believe you wanted to save me. This time. As I sat staring at that beautiful tree, I realized that maybe you were right all along, maybe that tree had nothing to give, and the beauty I saw, was just a reflection of the possibilities of what could have been…

The beauty that might have been brought forth from that tree, had it been nurtured instead of shut away and neglected, allowed to wither and die…


I was never supposed to see that tree.

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The man

About 2 months into my jail time, my thoughts and lonliness were overwelming. I never had any visitors, nor anyone to call. I really was completely alone. Jail wasn’t what I thought it would be, and though I would never want to go back, that time spent in there opened my eyes, and gave me the oppritunity to see past my own pain into others. What I realised was that not everyone there was bad, just made bad choices. Don’t get me wrong there were a few people there that thrived off the pain of others( including a few of the guards who loved humilating us), but mostly, they were just trying to survive, like me.

Once I got past the wanting to sleep all day, and never wanting to talk to anyone, I began working out. All day, everyday. I began drawing again, which coincidentally was how I was able to get commesary. I would draw charactors for food and shampoo. I seemed to get along with everyone just fine, and only got into 2 verbal fights that I can recall, but other than that, no real problems. Except with myself. I was falling lower and lower, and one day one of the guards came in and advised us that they were having a drug and alcohol class(with a brilliant ex-therapist), and although I didnt have issues of either, I signed up.

He was older, probably mid to late 50’s, as wide as he was tall, and just brilliant. The first few weeks I just observed. He never pressured me into talking, and I was happy about that. I just listened to everyone, and his evaluation of them. Most of the conversations were heartbreaking, and he was sympathetic. Some were total bullshit, and what was so great, was he was calling them out on it. It felt like he was reading my thoughts and verbalize them.

One day, about the 4th month, he came in, and there were only 3 of us. They were engaged in a casual conversation, and I was just watching. He asked me at that moment why I was there. I just admitted it was because I was lonely. He said he knew I had no issues with substance abuse, and found it so interesting I would bother coming to the class. Next thing I knew I was giving him a rundown on why I was there, and about my failed marriage. I didnt go into specifics, but for some reason, he seemed to take a special curiousity to me, and requested that I continue to come to the classes, which I actually began looking forward too. For the first time, it felt like someone saw me, really saw ME. I didnt seem to have to say anything and yet he knew what I was thinking. The class ended, and I was a little more confident because of it.

December of 2003 I was released from that place. I walked outside in the capris and sandals I went in with, and walked to Mcdonalds. I sat there completely terrified because I had NO WHERE to go, and I knew no one. I had a phone number to a woman I met while in jail, and as I saw that as my only option, I called her. Luckily she answered, and I told her that I was released and didnt know what to do. She came and picked me up and took me to her home(which was actually her oldest sons home as I would later find out). I walked in, and met him. The man whom changed everything.

I will never forget that moment. My heart took a photo, and it is a permanent memory there. He was standing in the living room looking at me. He was holding a small dark haired child of 4, and there was another little girl hiding behind his legs, about 8. He was wearing these huge outdated glasses and his hair was all messy. He was beautiful. IMG_1075

He never talked alot that night, but within minutes both small children were enamored with me, and I them. It was the best feeling I had ever felt. I was in a family. I may not have been a part of it, but it was happening around me, and I got sucked in. They were so magnificent. I watched him with those girls, and for the first time I saw what a fathers love was. Those girls LOVED him, and it showed. Looking back now, my guilt for what happened to all of them makes the realization that had only I never showed up, they would be ok. Hind sight is always 20/20.

His name is Jason. He saved my life. He showed me how to be a mother. You see, I always wanted my own children. I wanted a family. Unfortunately until I met him, I believed I would be a monster. If I was with someone with children I would hate them. If I had my own I would beat them, or would not be able to protect them from that in which I endured. I felt so strongly about that, that when I was 21, I was date raped which resulted in pregnancy, and had no clear memory of it. When I realized I was pregnant I was overjoyed! I wanted that baby so bad.

What you the reader must know, is this is such a painful memory, I have been stopping periodically, because its hard for me to type past the tears….

I was overjoyed. I was confused. I was scared. I wanted to break that abuse chain. God I didnt want to hurt my child. One day, I told my mom I was pregnant. She told me I would hate the child because I would be reminded of what happened. She said that I should give her the child to raise. That thought paralyzed me. I couldnt let my baby go through that. I thought I was saving the evitable, and I had an abortion.

Im so sorry little one, I just couldnt put you through that. I cant forgive myself for what I did, and I think about you everyday.
I had to give you back. I had to. I didnt want to be a monster. Please forgive me, I just thought this is what was for the best. I wanted you so bad, but I couldnt risk hurting you.

So, when I involved myself with Jason, I was confused. I didnt understand when that feeling would kick in that would make me hate his children. I was in love with them. As we progressed in the relationship, I admitted a little about myself. I looked to him, when a situation would present itself to where there was a deciplinary action that needed to take place. I was always in awe, because no matter what, he never even yelled or raised his voice, and they responded to him very respectfully. I watched this, and learned from him. From them. It was the most amazing family structure I had ever seen. And the best part, was I was accepted into it. My relationship with the girls was better then I had ever imagined. I was a stay at home mom like figure, and it was perfect, well in our home anyway. You see, even though I loved them, and they loved me, Jason had shared custody. As I found out, the oldest child was not biologically his, but he assumed fathering after the relationship ended with their mother. It was things like that that made me fall harder and faster in love with him. He was just so, generous and loving. He thought me how to be that too.

Unfortuanately all good things come to an end. Our little home had a shadow constantly looming preventing us from being what we were trying to be. Happy.

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Bringing it all together

I remember waking up about a month after I was sitting in that jail cell, so lonely and angry I finally got that “click” that happens to make people stop being so naive.

Why was I in jail?

Well, there is no basic or simple way to say it so I will timeline it:

1) At 21 I married someone I actually hated, and was convinced I would grow to love him. I was so desperate for a life, I trusted that to be true, and voila! Married. 3 months later he started hitting me- after 3 months of alienation from everyone; 5 months later I suffered the loss of my twins due to an Ectopic pregnancy; 8 months later the beatings and humiliation were at an all time high; 10 months he attempted to kill me. …

2) While running away from him chasing my down the hall with a knife, I ran into a girl I worked with (literally, ran INTO her) and she pushed my into her car and took me to her home. She was 3 years younger than I, with a small child. We became an unlikely pair of friends(another story)based on her needing a babysitter, and me wanting to repay her for saving my life..

3) Right around April of 2003, I realized this “friend” was more potent than she appeared. My life was now penetrated by a villan. She robbed people, got into fights, drank herself into trouble(which if you read the paper on a daily basis, still is), and I watched thinking somehow I could help her. I was very wrong. Instead, I saw things that made me numb, and I actually began laughing her crimes off. Then one day…

4) I was confronted with the information that one of my cousins(from previous posts) had been having sex with my husband. Now I had already left him, seeking a divorce at this time, but the information was confirmed to have happened while we were together. I was devastated. Him, ok…so he was an evil person, but her, she was like my sister. How could she? When I confronted her, she stated so matter of fact-ly that “I didn’t think we were that close“, and went on further to say she just wanted to see if she could…. this led to…

5) I was angry. Infuriated. Destroyed. The feelings I couldn’t let go. The “friend” from 2 and 3, tried to get me to beat up my cousin, but I didn’t want to. So she convinced me I wasnt angry enough, and needed to release it. She came up with a brilliant plan, to break into my cousin’s house and take back everything I had given her(which was pretty much everything she had). Harmless right? I’m so stupid for thinking this made sense. HA!. So together we broke into her home, and I took everything I gave her back. Clothes, pictures, perfume…even sheets. I actually felt justified. SOOOOO wrong….

6) A few months later, my cousin pressed charges stating that my husband gave her my items, and I couldn’t let go; during this same time the “friend” had robbed a lot of people, and got caught using credit cards and check books, and in turned, indicated me stating I forced her to. I was arrested. I was, as the judge stated, being charged based on guilt by association. There was NO evidence in this case except her word. Now I will admit, I did try to seek my own justice by taking back my stuff from my cousin, but I had nothing to do with these other crimes(which were proven, but not justified). I was so trying to prove my innocence I actually attained a recorded conversation with the “friend” who admitted on tape that she had been in trouble so many times that she would go to jail and lose her daughter, and because I never was, they wouldn’t punish me as bad. The entire omission of her guilt was on tape, which I presented to my PUBLIC DEFENDER. I was fucked. Nothing mattered. He didn’t even listen to it telling me I obtained it illegally. I sat in jail for 5 months. 5.

Looking back, I think that is the punishment I deserved. I deserved to be punished for breaking into my cousin’s house, because that is a crime, and no matter what she had done, I should have never done that. I deserved to be punished for knowing what my “friend” was capable of, and not reporting it. Absolutely. But I don’t believe the punishment I did receive, was just. I was so innocent of the crimes I was being charged with, I was even receiving letters from my “friend” and her friends apologizing to me for what was happening. Why wasnt that enough to be released?

7) After 5 months of sitting in jail, I was advised to plead guilty(and at that time I just wanted to go home, and didn’t understand what the plea was). That is not a cop-out, it is fact. I was not advised of any information about my plea, and my own public defender never even showed up to enter my plea, or my sentencing. It wasnt until 3 months after I plead out ( 2 felony and 2 misdemeanor counts)that my probation officer explained what had happened. You see, I plead to not only the 4 counts, but 2 years of probation and over $20,000 in court costs. I wanted my case reexamined, and pursued that public defender for information. He was no longer there, and all the files were gone. I was fucked again.

8) There were 2 bright and shinning pieces of silver in that thing called lining in this entire ordeal. The first, the therapy. Second, the man who saved my heart, and inspired my soul….

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The failing to cope

I believe that everyone has a right to be heard. I also believe that no one should have to keep quiet for fear of making someone else mad. Fact is this: If you did nothing wrong, there would not be a need to make someone stay quiet.

There was a constant need for me to keep quiet, and mostly, it was so the world would not know what was happening behind our family doors. I didnt really appreciate my own voice until I was long grown and on my own. I believed for so long, I was just going to be considered a liar, and when I tried to reach out, I was held back by that string of fear. I just kept to myself, and stuck to the outside walls in my own heart. I would close my eyes, and sit all alone anywhere I could, just to sing. I sang all the time. Everywhere. Music really was my only friend. It never hurt me, it never failed me, it seemed to always cheer me up.

After Tony was arrested, my mother relocated my brothers and I to Pennsylvania. I later found out she was court ordered to seek counseling for me, my assumption was to prevent me opening my mouth about the physical abuse. During the years of the direct sexual abuse, I found myself unable to be alone with ANY males. Teachers, friends of my brothers, relatives, etc. I could not do it. I requested female teachers, and never developed normal crushes until I was about 17. Even if I found myself attracted to a boy, I would never be alone with them. I was just terrified of the thought of just being in the same room with a man, let alone any other contact. I was the lonliest shell of a girl I could have ever been. I had no friends, and was picked on by even my own brothers. Until I was 15, I was severely depressed, and during my freshmen year in high school, attempted to kill myself on mulitple occasions. Looking back, my attempts would have never gotten me anymore then just mildly ill, however, feeling that low and alone, and no one seemed to notice? I mean for fuck sake I was failing out of all my classes? I was getting beat for failing but no one wondered why? You see, there was another predator in that home, someone whom even after saw first hand what I went through day after day, took it upon themself to add insult to injury, and push the envelope further with the abuse. The sexual abuse he bestowed upon me was so graphic, I can not bring myself to endure the details of it. However, I did not tell a soul about the years this person took from me, until I met one girl. She, I beleived in my heart, would be my best friend forever. I was wrong. After confiding in her ALL the abuse I had gone through, she was my rock. Until she married the abuser years later, denying ever knowing anything, and actually going out of her way to mock me regarding it.
The only humor I find in that chapter of my life, is that the abuser in this case, was actually the one who came forward to admit the details of what he had done to me. When confronted by my mother, I actually denied it until she put her arms around me and told me he had come to her to admit his guilt. That was the first time I felt like my mother saw me. The abuse was never reported, and I was asked to not ever talk about it again. When I turned 19, I broke that word, and did talk about it. I thought I was doing the right thing by warning a mother of a 6 year old girl. I admitted what had happened to me, and wanted to make sure it did not happen again. All hell broke loose, and one night I was standing in the kitchen surrounded by a group of “family and friends” screaming at me calling me a liar, when all of a sudden my mother comes barreling into the kitchen towards me, and pushes me up against the sink, as a shield, and began screaming back that it was all true. That the abuser themself came forward NOT ME. No one said a word, they just disappeared. My mother turned to me crying and hugged me for the longest time. End of relationship with the final abuser. To this day, no relationship, and I am ok with that.

You see, I never was allowed to talk about it. I was never allowed to heal. I was forced to act like life was normal, and nothing had ever happened. Maybe out of embarrisment, maybe out of fear, or maybe because abuse seemed to be such a part of this family that no one knew how to deal with it. This fear did continue with me. I was always afraid of my capabilty. I was afraid of men. I believed I was a trouble maker and incapable of love. I somehow believed that maybe I just made it all up in my head and none of it really happened. If that was true, why was I so afraid of everyone? The effect of not healing caused so many wornd paths in my early adulthood.

When I turned 19, I wanted a new start, and moved to Tombstone Arizona. The invisible quality I seemed to hold, no longer exsisted here. You see, EVERYONE noticed me. The worst part, I liked being noticed. I was a woman now. I still had yet to have a real relationship with a man, but I was becoming increasingly aware of my attractiveness. I was still very shy, but my body was changing and I was starting to look at men differently. I never trusted them, but wanted to explore that area. Enter first real problem with never coping.

April of 2000, I met a military boy. I fell very hard, very fast. As did he. We were inseperable. For the first time in my life, I knew what an “appropriate” male/female relationship was. I fell in love with him. I wanted him to be my first. We talked about it, and planned it out for my 20th birthday. The day before we were going to…you know….he called me. This was the call that set me over the edge. He was a robot. He was cold. He told me he didnt like me, and never did. He stated he just wanted to get into my pants, then told me to leave him alone. I instantly went into a severe depression. I, who was a good girl, began drinking, and partying with people I didnt know. I lost my virgnity in a trailer, with a guy I met that day, completely drunk. After that I couldnt stop. I never knew how to say “no”. I slept with a dozen men within a few months. I began hating myself even more. I didnt even want to sleep with them, but didnt know how to stop. One day, I met a man, whom I really liked. We went out, and for the first time I called it a night, and left. That moment was empowering. A baby step. I was learning how to establish trust…with myself.

After that night, I changed my whole self again. I stopped putting myself in the postitions that led me to having to say no. I began seeking more serious men, looking for substance. Enter issue two.

The men I found myself attracted to were older. Not just a little, several years (me-20 them-40ish). Shortly after I turned 20, I met my 2nd fiance. The first one didnt count as it was not a relationship so much as two kids who passed each other in the hall in school. Anyway, the man I found, was too good to be true.
Long story short, he entered my life, asked my father for my hand in marriage, met all my friends and family, fooled everyone into believing he was my someone…..just to admit to me the a month before our wedding(after convincing me to move back in with my parents while planning the wedding, and designing our future home) that he was not only already married, but had two children and couldnt have anymore. He went on to ask if I would continue our relationship. I was very calm, and asked him to take me home. After in which, I told him to lose my information. My trust issues were just NOT getting any better.

Enter issue three: Going against my intuition. Up until I turned 23, I ignored my intuition, believing the bad men were good and the good men were bad. I kept finding myself, no matter how hard I tried, attracted to men that were unattainable to me. That sabatoged me. That tried to control me. I finally, at age 23, sought out professional help. You see, by this time, I had been married, divorced, lossed 3 babies, beaten my the now ex husband, cheated on, and now, in jail for a crime I didnt commit, but was aware of. I was deseperate for help.

I found more then I hoped for…..

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Introduction about my past

This is not my life story, but merely a few events that may shed some light on who I am, where I have come from, and my survival in this world. There will be graphic details of abuse, and moments of ranting. I will change some names, as this is only my story, my words and my emotions. here I go:

My name is April. I am 32 years old. My whole life I have been told to shut up and not tell anyone about my past, as it would be used against me. Now, I understand that people by nature are selfish, but I have a voice, and if I can help just one person with what I have to say, then that is my goal.

 When I was 17 I watched the movie “PATCH ADAMS”. Now, the reason I mention this, is because there is a line in the movie that stuck with me these last 15 years. The line is,”My entire life men have been attracted to me…my entire life….When I was a girl I would look out my bedroom window at the caterpillars; I envied them so much. No matter what they were before, no matter what happened to them, they could just hide away and turn into these beautiful creatures that could fly away completely untouched.”.. I felt that for the first time, if it was in a movie, then I wasn’t the only one, that there were more like me. I didn’t feel better, I just felt, relieved. As  I got older I gathered more information from my mother, to have a better understanding, that she too, knew how I felt. I can honestly say without prejudice, the worst feeling in the world, is having the people you love KNOW the truth, but deny your heart that acknowledgement for whatever reason. They don’t know that a simple yes, I believe you, would give a sense of closure to that past you want so desperately to forget. My mother knew, and she gave me that closure a long time ago, I used to say  I wish I could have been your mother, because I would have protected you too.  What you the reader need to understand is, my pain stems from myself, not the abusers. The biggest fear I have is myself. I don’t know that I can make that more understandable. I always wanted children. Always. But I was so afraid that I would be blind, or I wouldn’t be able to protect my child, that I thought for years, maybe I just shouldn’t. That probably sounds so stupid, but hopefully as I write, and you read, you will understand more.

Having stated all that emotional side of it, here are the facts. When I was 6 years old TONY BOUCHER(actual name)began molesting me. I didn’t know what he was doing, I was only 6, how would I know? It started off with duct taping my hands and feet to the bed, and mouth shut. I thought it was a game. He used to walk around in a red robe and drop stuff on the floor to make me pick it up. He would completely expose himself to me. I still didn’t understand. Around that same time, my mother began beating me. Most of this was encouraged by Tony. My mother, just obeyed. I went to stay with a family in foster care at that time, because I was acting out. It seemed everyone was unaware of Tony’s behavior. I was still 6.  I liked it in Foster care. My foster mother was so nice to me. I got to call mom on Sundays after church, but when I was sent back, I was terrified. I did not want to go. I really don’t remember if anyone knew about the abuse. I don’t remember telling anyone at this time.

Not long after going back home, was I sent to live with my grandmother and her boyfriend Rueben(again actual name). I fucking HATED it. My 2 younger cousins were also living with my grandmother. You see, my grandmother was a kleptomaniac, and it was horrifying. She would make us go into stores with her, and humiliate us by screaming at us in front of the Customer service while faking lost receipts to get money back on theft-ed items. Home life wasn’t any better. For some reason, she would make me go lay in her bed with Rueben, until she was ready for bed, and at that point would put me into my own bed. Every night. I don’t know why, and I didn’t like it. He would crawl into bed and rub himself against me. He would try to get me to touch him. He would tell me(and later I found out my cousins) that grandma already knew and said it was OK.  My cousins were so much different then me. I was 7, and they were younger but knew so much about sex. Things I still don’t understand. Close to the time I was sent back home, Rueben made one of my cousins and I lay in be with him, while he tried to get both of us to “touch” him. This was so frequent that it is hard to believe my grandmother did not know. We tried to tell her at that time and she laughed at us. She told me she now understands why my mom beat me, and my cousins mom gave her up. I was fucking 7 years old!

Well, around Easter I went back to live with mom. We were getting ready to move to Kalispell, Mt. At first things were really OK. Mom seemed happier and Tony was so preoccupied he left me alone.  Then mom started working.

I was 8 when he began actually touching me and making me touch him. It was always right before I went to school, or at night before bedtime. He told me mom was doing this to my oldest brother, so it was OK.

 I was so afraid of everyone, and so desperate to have a friend that I molded myself into the girl who tried to hard to be accepted.  At 9, I did tell one of my brother’s what Tony and Rueben were doing to me. He told me he wouldn’t tell, but he did. He told my aunt, while we were visiting her that summer. She told my uncle who hated me anyway, and he told me I was a liar and my mom was going to beat me to death. I was so terrified I didn’t wanna go home. I was always accused of lying by everyone anyway, no one was going to believe me. My uncle told my mom, and she confronted me with Tony present, in front of everyone. I lied and said it didn’t happen, because my bother was shaking his head for me to say no. He was trying to protect me. So I did say no. She punched him in the face. I cry even as I write this, because I will never forget that moment. He was trying to protect me. ….breath…OK….so Tony left alone for a little while after that. I guess because it was a close encounter.  He began again, this time progressing to trying to get me to perform oral sex, which I never did. He called it “giving him a treat”.  I was 10 years old. My mother was always angry with me. I know they say you can never say always, but as a child, it was always. The beatings were so bad, when she was in a calm state, she would tell me to hide if I saw her in a bad mood, and to not respond to her when she called for me. I never listened. She would call me name and I would come running with a smile on my face. I don’t want to talk about the severity of the physical abuse, because my steps to mend those wounds have been taken, and my mother and I are working through all of that. On a personal note, I know now my mother loved me as a child, I also know the abuse she went through herself, and the struggles she still faces because of it. After long discussions, my understanding to the mental state she was in, is extensive, and my forgiveness has been given solely to her. She has been daily working towards planting loving seeds, hoping to erase the hateful ones. Having said that, these are still my memories and my words that can not be taken from me.

Continuing….being at home was terrifying for me. I had no one. When I turned 10, my two cousins previously mentioned, were living with us. One day, while my mother was on a trip with my aunt, for some unknown reason, the oldest cousin and myself decided to once again tell the SAME brother from before, what Tony was doing to now, both of us. This time my brother didn’t believe us. The details to which we described to him(almost word for word by the way), were unbelievable. He stated at that moment,”If you tell me what Tony’s dick looks like I will believe you”, as if on cue, my then 5 year old cousin walks in and says “Uncle Tony’s?”…and proceeds to describe it, never missing a beat. We all looked at each other is shock. For I thought it was only me he was hurting, and my cousin thought it was only her….. well, we decided to “run away”. That didn’t work out so well. We ultimately got busted, and Tony(looking back was totally afraid we would tell mom again) began bribing us with candy and games. Of course, stupid us, we went for it. We never said anything.

A little while later(time was maybe 2 months if that), my aunt showed up to confront my mom. My cousins told her everything. My mom confronted me, and this time I admitted everything. She seemed to believe me. I was so relieved. She kicked him out, and everything seemed I guess normal. Then one day we came home from school and he was there. Back. She beat me that day to make me say it wasn’t true. I caved in between blows and denied it again. He picked right back up and this time his threats to shut me up were that my mother was going to beat me to death or have a heart attack because of me. I never said a word after that. I just didn’t understand why no one believed me. Anyway, one day end of spring, on my way to school, Tony was fondling me in the truck. I was against the passenger door looking up at the sky praying to god to make it stop. Prayed so hard that I swear god himself showed up that day to save me. I was taken from class from a woman from CYS, who told be she believed me, and wanted to know exactly what he had done.

Note: I later found out that one of Tony’s previous children he had abused to the point of mental hospitalization, actually was released that day, and went straight to the police with his story. This was how I was found.

I told her everything. I was beginning to feel relief, until she started telling me that he had to have done this, and this, and this…… I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I began to feel like maybe what he did to me was not enough. She made it seem like if I didn’t admit to what she was saying he did, then I would have to go back to live with him. I was terrified of that idea, so I just agreed with the the rest of what she said. I tried to tell her what he did, she wouldn’t listen. He was arrested that day.

I tried to tell my mother what he had done to me, but the more horrible stuff seemed to be what everyone was focusing on, because it felt like that is all that mattered.  She went into a denial state and began beating me more frequently. Begging and pleading with me to say it didn’t happen. This time I never did. This was one of the worst beatings I had ever taken. I can still hear my oldest brother in the background pleading with her to stop. The last thing I heard him say after she did stop, was, “momma I think shes dead”.

Shortly after he was arrested my grandmother showed up for “support”. One day at lunch, she put a recorder down on the table and asked me to tell her the details of what Rueben had done and she recorded them. At the end, she stopped the recording, shook her head, and told me if I didn’t deny what Rueben did she was no longer going to be my grandma. I got up from the table, looked her in the face and said well, I guess your not my grandma, and I went straight in and told mom. She was furious. It was strange that she believed me when I told her about Rueben, but not about Tony.

Tony plead guilty, went to prison, and died a few years ago after released. I feel not painfully enough. Rueben was never prosecuted and died several years ago, again I say, not painfully enough.

Mom moved us to Pennsylvania, then back west to Idaho and Montana. She met my step father, whom is the only father I have ever had that never laid a hand on me. He wanted only to love me as a daughter. I think my mother was trying to protect me because she didn’t want him to love me at, all for fear he would hurt me. So I never established a father relationship with anyone. The abuse grew to more humiliating forms. No one tried to stop it. The physical abuse ended at age 15, when she almost damn near killed me. After that night, she never put her hands on me again. I believe her eyes were opened even wider to what she believed possible. 

So that is the background of my early life abuse.  I hope this gives a little more understanding to the future blogs.

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