Hello. I am 60 years old and have just began my journey.
I have four wonderful, grown children and six beautiful grandchildren. I know I have many blessings and I am grateful.
I was first child of an eighteen year old mom and 36 year old dad. My mom wanted to be a grownup and my dad wanted a little girl. This was the setting for the future of our family.
They had each been abused children of abused children. Dad, I found out later, was a child molester who my uncles, his brothers, somehow always found ways to get him out of trouble. I have one specific memory of myself on my parents' bed being examined my a doctor. My mom was there too, and they were whispering. I had blood, I thought it was tomato sauce.
My sister and brother were born when I was six and eight, respectively. Mom had by this time taken to drinking every day. I think she was truly still a child who found herself in a place she had no idea how to get out of, now saddled with kids she didn't know how to raise. Dad would regularly threaten her with hospitalization to make her stop drinking. Of course it didn't work. He did commit her countless times from the time my siblings were born until they officially divorced, about twelve or so years later. They would have terrible brawls. Two I remember, so far, distinctly are once when he was taking her to the hospital, she was screaming to not go. He was pulling her bodily, she grabbed hold of the door so tightly that when it closed and she wouldn't let go, her fingers popped and there were bloody handprints on that door for as long as I lived in that house. I couldn't wash them off. The other time, she had gone to the pantry to get a drink, he caught her and, by her hair, dragged her down the concrete basement steps. I'm not sure how many injuries she sustained in that assault.
Coming home from school I would never know what was waiting for me. I found my mom in the bathtub, swimming in blood after she had slashed her arms. I will not address the beatings we children had, I am still working this out myself. Nor will I speculate on intimate abuses now. We were removed finally from our family and ended up in homes and foster care. This was not always better. I have great gaps in my memory of years at a time. I had many problems being with people. I always thought there was something wrong with my mind. I couldn't think right, I didn't understand what went on around me. No one saw anything wrong, though I asked for help. I struggled to grow up.
Fast forward. I get married to a man I fell in live with after knowing him only three months. We did have a good beginning. We were in love. Over the next ten years we had five children. Beautiful and healthy. My husband had also endured an abusive childhood. We were going to do it right.
When our youngest was about six, my husband was diagnosed with asthma. He had it very badly, needing frequent emergency hospitalizations. He was given steroids to stabilize him for many years. About five years later he was diagnosed with diabetes. He was slowly dying even then.
He had never had a good self image, and was bullheaded about bosses telling him what to do, and was frequently out of work. Now with illnesses, it became even worse. I worked odd jobs, some shift work to still care for the kids. He began having mind problems. He started beating the kids when I wasn't home. He would be angry about anything in any second. We began having terrible fights.
The kids were teens and had begun working and staying out to avoid home. In 2003 he got very very ill and ended up in a coma for a month. He was diagnosed with hepatitis c. He had infections where parts of his skin had to be cut out. He went through rehabilitation to learn to walk and take care of himself.
Our eldest son, using bad judgement wanting to help quickly, ended up being arrested for trying to sell a fifty dollar bag of weed to an undercover. He was jailed for four months. My mom and I had reconnected when our first child was born. At this point she had been sober thirty-three years, died of a massive heart attack. It had been a rough few years.
Our two younger sons joined the army. Our two daughters began families. In 2007, our oldest son was killed in a car accident.l am still reeling from this.
My husband was now truly an invalid. He couldn't properly do anything on his own. His mind was gone. He died in 2010 after this long suffering. He hardly remembered us, but I had him home under hospice so any chance of anything I would be with him.
Now I live on my own, well with my cats. I have begun having my own mind problems again.
I often misunderstand things, I fear being around people. It takes my entire energy to go to work every day.
I am under care and on meds. Memories have begun slipping uninvited into my present life. I find my self being odd. Hiding. Running away. I am trying to hold on. More and more keep coming. Things I haven't dealt with forever.
I'm sorry this is so long.
I have four wonderful, grown children and six beautiful grandchildren. I know I have many blessings and I am grateful.
I was first child of an eighteen year old mom and 36 year old dad. My mom wanted to be a grownup and my dad wanted a little girl. This was the setting for the future of our family.
They had each been abused children of abused children. Dad, I found out later, was a child molester who my uncles, his brothers, somehow always found ways to get him out of trouble. I have one specific memory of myself on my parents' bed being examined my a doctor. My mom was there too, and they were whispering. I had blood, I thought it was tomato sauce.
My sister and brother were born when I was six and eight, respectively. Mom had by this time taken to drinking every day. I think she was truly still a child who found herself in a place she had no idea how to get out of, now saddled with kids she didn't know how to raise. Dad would regularly threaten her with hospitalization to make her stop drinking. Of course it didn't work. He did commit her countless times from the time my siblings were born until they officially divorced, about twelve or so years later. They would have terrible brawls. Two I remember, so far, distinctly are once when he was taking her to the hospital, she was screaming to not go. He was pulling her bodily, she grabbed hold of the door so tightly that when it closed and she wouldn't let go, her fingers popped and there were bloody handprints on that door for as long as I lived in that house. I couldn't wash them off. The other time, she had gone to the pantry to get a drink, he caught her and, by her hair, dragged her down the concrete basement steps. I'm not sure how many injuries she sustained in that assault.
Coming home from school I would never know what was waiting for me. I found my mom in the bathtub, swimming in blood after she had slashed her arms. I will not address the beatings we children had, I am still working this out myself. Nor will I speculate on intimate abuses now. We were removed finally from our family and ended up in homes and foster care. This was not always better. I have great gaps in my memory of years at a time. I had many problems being with people. I always thought there was something wrong with my mind. I couldn't think right, I didn't understand what went on around me. No one saw anything wrong, though I asked for help. I struggled to grow up.
Fast forward. I get married to a man I fell in live with after knowing him only three months. We did have a good beginning. We were in love. Over the next ten years we had five children. Beautiful and healthy. My husband had also endured an abusive childhood. We were going to do it right.
When our youngest was about six, my husband was diagnosed with asthma. He had it very badly, needing frequent emergency hospitalizations. He was given steroids to stabilize him for many years. About five years later he was diagnosed with diabetes. He was slowly dying even then.
He had never had a good self image, and was bullheaded about bosses telling him what to do, and was frequently out of work. Now with illnesses, it became even worse. I worked odd jobs, some shift work to still care for the kids. He began having mind problems. He started beating the kids when I wasn't home. He would be angry about anything in any second. We began having terrible fights.
The kids were teens and had begun working and staying out to avoid home. In 2003 he got very very ill and ended up in a coma for a month. He was diagnosed with hepatitis c. He had infections where parts of his skin had to be cut out. He went through rehabilitation to learn to walk and take care of himself.
Our eldest son, using bad judgement wanting to help quickly, ended up being arrested for trying to sell a fifty dollar bag of weed to an undercover. He was jailed for four months. My mom and I had reconnected when our first child was born. At this point she had been sober thirty-three years, died of a massive heart attack. It had been a rough few years.
Our two younger sons joined the army. Our two daughters began families. In 2007, our oldest son was killed in a car accident.l am still reeling from this.
My husband was now truly an invalid. He couldn't properly do anything on his own. His mind was gone. He died in 2010 after this long suffering. He hardly remembered us, but I had him home under hospice so any chance of anything I would be with him.
Now I live on my own, well with my cats. I have begun having my own mind problems again.
I often misunderstand things, I fear being around people. It takes my entire energy to go to work every day.
I am under care and on meds. Memories have begun slipping uninvited into my present life. I find my self being odd. Hiding. Running away. I am trying to hold on. More and more keep coming. Things I haven't dealt with forever.
I'm sorry this is so long.
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