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Memories of my challenging life-good, bad, and whatever, lol

  1. #16
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    Seabreeze,

    Thanks for your response.

    Keesha,

    WOW, lots of questions. I will answer some of them before continuing my story.

    I have been been married twice. The first marriage was a nightmare. A very abusive man, again, every form of abuse. I sure can pick them. I haven't decided if I will talk about those years. I had a miscarriage with him and my first son. When I married my current husband, my son was two.

    My my current husband was able to adopt my son when my son was around 7. I have been married to my current husband for 47 years, and grow more tired of his behavior, which gets worst, every year. I long for a divorce which is impossible. My husband was a combat vet, viet nam era. He has PTSD which has worsened over time. He can be very nice, however.

    We did foster care for about 35 years. My husband was also an abused child. We have to bio children, the infant who died, and our daughter. My bio son who he adopted. Two adopted sons, my totally disabled son who went to live in a group home at 19 and my son with Down's syndrome who went to live in a group home at 22 by his choice.

    I'll call him J. J wanted to be a man like his siblings. I wanted him to stay home for forever which was silly, he I have needed his own life. He is my favorite child. I could have a million children with DS. When he left, he said "don't be sad mom, you can adopt another baby with DS." Lol. If you want to understand unconditional love, get to know someone with DS.

    i could tell a million stories about him, lol, and probably will.

    i didn't leave home. When I graduated from high school, my mother arranged a visit for me to my grandmother. On my way out the door she told me I could not return home and made me homeless. I explained this I think. Yup, this is explained in the first paragraph of this post. How I felt about my in laws is explained in another thread. I'll try and find that title for you.

    I have an Associate Degree (2 years) in early childhood education gotten many decades ago, lol.

    My husband recognizes my obligation to my mother. Like any mother, I was a good mother and a bad mother. Like any mother I made repairable mistakes. I was not an a abusive mother. I raised my children to be independent, self thinkers, self reliant, and responsible people. I did the best I could.



    My daughter is super successful, type A. Put herself though college, has a four year degree. My son is successful. Both my children, like any children given enough freedom to hang themselves, did. Lol. Because of this, they became very accepting of people in all walks of life. They continue to try and teach this old dog new tricks.

    if I could change my life when I was younger what would I change?, you asked. I would have never been born. I have a lot of medical problems. I am in a lot of physical pain 24/7. I would have spared myself this agony.

    As to your statement that you think I deny my feelings. I don't. There are times, I hated my parents when I was a child. But it was not an intense hate. I am not a passionate person. I am laid back. So it was never-I HATE YOU-it was always I hate you. And mostly it was I am going to stay as far away from you as possible so I can stay alive and survive this shit.

    I was not forced into child labor. Farm children were born and raised to WORK. The children of parents, raised on farms, were expected to work even though they now lived in the suburbs. I expected my children to work when they turned 16. They did. They were allowed to keep their money and spend it however they wanted.

    I was a door mat for most of my life. I am not a door mat now.

  2. #17
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    Keesha, the answer to you in law question is in the thread "if you had in-laws were they good or bad or crazy". My response se is one page 2.

  3. #18
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    My sister Ann lived with us for a while, attended high school but didn't graduate. She worked at a donut shop, late hours. She had no chores in our house, nor did my brother. Our house was my responsibility. I was not allowed to date, and had a very restricted life. School, work, home until high school. Still no dates, but increased freedom.

    Probably due to mom divorcing dad when I was 15. She cared less and less what I did as long as I kept the house up, mostly stayed home, didn't date, and left her alone. Once she got home before me, I had forgotten to vacuum before I left for school. I walked into the house, she slapped my face, and broke my nose. "Maybe you'll remember to vacuum". Yup, I did.

    Ann married a truck driver. Had two children. Moved on before the divorce.

    Dad's third marriage was to my mother. Two children, a son, and me. Dad was raised on a dirt farm. I once tried to explain to someone what a dirt farm was. I finally realized that this person barely realized what a farm was, lol. If you don't know what a dirt farm is, and want to know, please google it.

    If I repeat stuff, I'm sorry. Dad was a hands on guy. If he needed to or decided to displine you, he used his hand. A slap, a spanking, later on a fist. He left most of the discipline up to mom. My grandmother, after repeatedly asking where the dog was, told this story.

    This occurred before I was five years old. One day dad decided to spank me. We had a Chow. You don't touch the person the Chow dog owns. He spanked me in front of the dog. Dad made it into the bathroom and shut the door. When the police arrived, the dog had almost eaten it's way through the door. The dog was shot and killed.

    I mostly have good memories of dad. His abuse was rare, but bad when it happened. Dad scared me. Mom didn't. I was very careful around him. He worked a lot. He was Vice President of a major aircraft company. Keep in mind this was at the end of WWII. He got a lot of presents from customers. He gave out government contracts, I think.

    Dad had served in the Army-Airforce. Family rumors have him connected to the mob which controlled the area we moved from in the Midwest. I have no doubt that his was true, but I have no proof either. I do know that we went to Las Vegas a lot. I do know that dad never paid for a room or a show. Beyond that I have no ideal. But people didn't mess with dad.

  4. #19
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    Ok Aneeda.
    Thanks for answering my questions.

  5. #20
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    Good memories of dad.

    My brother HATED dad. Mother had him convinced that dad was abusive to her for no reason. (There is no reason for abusive benavior. Walk away! Easy to say, hard to do.). My dad would walk into the house, mom would wink at me, and start a fight. Some of the fights turned physical. Why she did this I have no ideal. I think it was a control issue.

    She did this repeatedly. Then told my brother she was beaten for no reason. My brother believed her and would have nothing to do with dad. But I would.

    Saturday was icehouse day. Dad and I went to the ice house. A big narrow building in which ice came down a conveyor belt. It was so interesting. Then a worker put this block of ice on a towel in your car trunk. We took it home, put it in the sink, and had lots of ice for the weekend.

    Sunday was ice cream day. YAY. Dad, mom, and I went to the drug store. Dad always asked what kind of chololate ice cream I want. Vanilla, I'd scream.

    Then, their were Angel games. His work rented a large bus which drove to a parking lot in our county. Workers and children got on the bus and were driven in LA for the ball games. The dad's got all the beer they wanted, lol, and they wanted a lot. The kids got all the pop they wanted. At the game, all the hot dogs, popcorn, etc. paid for by the company.

    Every Friday night we, the entire family, went to knots berry farm for chicken dinner. It was not amusement park at that time. They had covered wagons in a circle, you would go sit in them and sing along to the old western songs. It was heaven on earth. I loved it there.

    Anyway, you get the ideal. An example of horrific dad.

    Some time during elementary school I got pnemonia. I could not swallow the pills. They were too big and mom tried everything in the book to get them down me. It was a no go. I got sicker. Dad got home one night and I had not taken the pills. I was laying in bed, face up, sick as a dog. Dad came into the room and closed the door.

    He got on the bed, legs on each side of my body, penning my arms down. I was looking up at him. He slapped the left side of my face first. Then the right. This continued for a while, left then right. He got up off me and the bed. He said, "you will take your pills.". He left the house.

    I hated my mother for this. She made no attempt to stop him. She didn't call anyone. She just let him beat me. She never even opened the door until after he left. I blamed her. After he left, she opened the door. Looked at me, and went and called the doctor. He came, called an ambulance, and I was hospitalized for a few days for pnemonia.

    An an example of mom's cruelty.

    I was playing outside in our side yard after dinner. My shoe came off, I stepped on a board with a rusty nail in it. The nail went completely through my foot. Someone goes and gets mom. She comes out. She is wearing her white thick robe with the pink flowers on it. I told you not to play outside barefoot. I do not cry. There is punishment for crying.

    She reaches down, grabs the board, and pulls the nail out of my foot. She grabs my arm and drags me along into the house. With her other hand, she spanks me, saying, again, I told you not to play outside barefoot. I bleed all the way into the house. I bleed on her robe. She gets an old sheet, tears it, wraps it around my foot to stop the bleeding.

    Then she notices the blood on her robe. I am spanked with her hand. She is too mad to wait and grab the belt. When she is done, she says go do the dishes. I go and do the dishes. I don't remember if I ever saw the doctor for this. I assume I did see one the next day.

  6. #21
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    Keesha,

    I went back and reread some posts you wrote and think I missed some of what you said. At times it seemed like you are attempting to psychoanalyze me. Please realize our situations are extremely different. I am not trying to talk about or express my feelings. If I wanted to do that, I would/could see a therapist. I simply mention my feelings in passing.

    At one point you mentioned I should "talk" to my mother about these issues and she probably won't remember the conversation. If that were true, it would be entirely self serving and useless. My mother is as sharp as a whip. She has an excellent memory. She would remember every word. She would feel the need to attack and become upset.

    Also why upset her? What would be gained? It is what it is. She is a 94 year old woman. She can say whatever she wants to me, and has. That is her choice, but despite her abuse I owe her a certain amount of respect. She made sure I had food, clothing, and an education. More than my half-sister Ann received. Making her upset would not make me feel better.

  7. #22
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    Genealogy research is interesting and informative. I have printed out certain parts of the phone books from where my parents lived when the were first married. It is amusing to see all three of his wives names listed within blocks of each other. I wonder if mom ever looked in the phone book and wondered who those people were. Lol.

    Mom also gave me quite a few pictures of dad and my grandparents when I was 20 or so. I have a picture of dad with his second wife standing with his parents. It has his second wife's name on the picture. Obviously, she didn't know what she had. Really funny.

    My oldest half-sister was/is obsessed with the order of dad's marriages and which children might be illegitimate. IMO there are no illegitimate children, but I know this is still an issue for some people. In the time period I grew up in, out of wedlock children, in some states, had the word, illegitimate, stamped on their birth certificates.

    But my dad was a bigamist, or so my half-sister thinks. I don't know, and don't care. Most of her life she thought Ann was illegitimate. I am sure she reminded her of it often. A few years back, she told me she made a mistake, My brother and I were the illegitimate ones. I responded that I always known my brother was a bastard, just didn't realize it was official. Lol.

    I am stilling mulling over writing about what happened to me when I was 7, before I move on. I just may move on and come back to this or not.

  8. #23
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    Aneeda72, I know where you're coming from. We can't pick our parents & unfortunately, some have kids for the wrong reasons & those are usually the type that should never have kids.
    My mother was also a raging witch, a controller, an abuser, physically, mentally & verbally. She also was brought up in an abusive home &, unlike me, she became one of the 85% who continue the pattern of abuse.

    When I was around 10, she was on one of her lengthy tirades - "You should have never been born," "You're a piece of s--t," etc. I was sitting next to a solid marble table. I said something really nasty to her & she went to smack me. I waited until the last second & jumped away from the table. Her hand hit the marble table & I heard a loud crack. She immediately let out a scream. My dad took her to the ER & they didn't return until the next day. Her arm was in a cast up to her SHOULDER. My dad told me it was broken in three places & she had major surgery. She tried to make me feel bad, saying, "Look what you did to me, you bastard." I said, "It serves you right for hitting me." She tried to chase me, but that heavy cast made it hard to run. That was the happiest day of my childhood; seeing her in pain - like she caused me, my sister & brother.

    When I was 12, & around her size, she beat me for the very last time. When we were little, she used a broom - the one she swept with, not the one she rode on. This time, she was using an electrical cord. First I grabbed the cord, wrapped it around my hands & said, "If you hit me one more time, I will wrap this cord around your throat & pull on it until you die." It was the first time I ever saw a frightened look on her; she must have sensed I wasn't kidding. I pushed her into a wall hard & her head cracked the plaster & I started hitting her. I almost didn't stop but I got scared when blood started pouring out of her nose & mouth & she really started crying & said, "Wait until your father comes home." I said, "I'll kill him, too." She never hit me again; she confined her abuse to verbal & mental.

    You may be wondering where was my dad in all this? Although I liked him more than my mom, I had to come to terms with the fact that his priorities were screwed up; he let his wife get away with ANYTHING, including harming his kids, as long as he had a woman. Whenever he'd get mad at her, she threatened to leave him. He chose to pretend his wife was normal & failed to protect his kids.

    I thought about that whenever I'd spend time with "Dakota" (my avatar). If anyone harmed him, I'd rip their head off; how could a father allow his wife to abuse his kids?

    When she died, only one of her kids attended her funeral - (my brother who is just like her). My sister & I were too busy enjoying the moment to attend. Honestly, that was the second happiest day of my life.

  9. #24
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    Quote Originally Posted by Aneeda72 View Post
    Keesha,

    I went back and reread some posts you wrote and think I missed some of what you said. At times it seemed like you are attempting to psychoanalyze me. Please realize our situations are extremely different. I am not trying to talk about or express my feelings. If I wanted to do that, I would/could see a therapist. I simply mention my feelings in passing.

    At one point you mentioned I should "talk" to my mother about these issues and she probably won't remember the conversation. If that were true, it would be entirely self serving and useless. My mother is as sharp as a whip. She has an excellent memory. She would remember every word. She would feel the need to attack and become upset.

    Also why upset her? What would be gained? It is what it is. She is a 94 year old woman. She can say whatever she wants to me, and has. That is her choice, but despite her abuse I owe her a certain amount of respect. She made sure I had food, clothing, and an education. More than my half-sister Ann received. Making her upset would not make me feel better.
    Im not trying to pschoanalyze you at all. Of course I understand our situations are different. We are different people. How could they possibly be the same; we’re two different people. I explained all I needed to in one long post thinking perhaps we could share similarities but you ignored it all except for the questions I asked which is perfectly fine.

    This is your diary and although the forum rules state that others may contribute to people’s diary, I decided to delete it all except for the questions because this is YOUR DIARY!

    You’re right. Nothing will be gained by trying to talk.
    I never once mentioned that you should try and upset your mother.
    You’ve turned everything I said to you around.

    My intention was to try and connect with you.
    I tried. I failed. I’ll move on now and wish you well

  10. #25
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    Win231,

    Thanks for replying to my post and writing about your situation. It seems very similar to mine in terms of the abuse you endured at the hands of your mother. How did you get the courage, at the age of 12, to confront her like you did? As I said I was a doormat. I remained a doormat until my, hmm, late fifties.

    When I changed, my daughter was the first to notice. I started to stand up to my husband endless stream of verbal abuse. My daughter was completely shocked, lol. Actually, so was I. But I only stood up to my mother that one time when I was 17, and never to my father. However, I did once get a "little" back at her.

    We were in the car driving to the laundry mat. I was sitting in the front seat and trying to talk to her. She told me to shut up. Alrighty, then, I did. When she went around a corner we heard a thump, she noticed the bleach, on the floor behind my seat, had fallen over. As she reached back to straighten it, she turned the wheel to the right.

    I saw we were headed for the curb. I thought about saying something, but didn't. Lol. She ran up the curb and hit a small tree. "Why didn't you tell me I was going up the curb?", she asked. I said nothing back to her, but inside I was laughing myself sick.

    I sometimes think the verbal/mental abuse is far worst than the physical abuse. The physical wounds heal, but the verbal stabs seem to remain forever. Being told you are stupid, for 17/18 years sinks in and stays with you for your entire life IMO. When I do a stupid thing, and we all do stupid things, I tend to "beat up" on myself.

    Did your mother also stop beating your siblings?

  11. #26
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    Keesha,

    I feel I must walk on egg shells with you and I have tried to be very careful in my responses. Apparently, I am not successful. I will accept that the flaw is mine. I have mentioned my social isolation. I have been socially isolated most of my life as I have worked very little. Work is where people get most of their socialization.

    I was home raising my kids, foster kids, and then my two disabled adopted kids. Saw neighbors now and then, teachers now and then, but such encounters where limited to conversations about children, lol. I worked, in my sixties, as a phone rep for a major credit card company, but again I was on the phone. Socialized a little on my breaks.

    I see your posts are still here, at least they show for me. Just leave them, why would you want to delete them? I did say I missed reading some of your posts. I did answer most, if not all, of your questions. You can, if you want, say whatever you want on this thread. You can point out things you'd specifically like to discuss.

    I am glad you agree that nothing will be gained by my attempting to speak to my mother. You stated "you never mentioned" I should upset my mother. No, you didn't, and I never said you did. I think you sometimes misread what I write, that's fine. I misread things as well. In fact, I've noticed that sometimes when I write I use the wrong word.

    Using the wrong word, can make my meaning misunderstood. Sigh.

    You haven't failed to connect to me. I don't believe I have turned around what you've said to me. If, by moving on, you mean you will no longer post on this thread that is your decision. But, feel free to post here if you want. I have no problem with your doing so and your comments are welcome.

  12. #27
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    Quote Originally Posted by Aneeda72 View Post
    Win231,

    Thanks for replying to my post and writing about your situation. It seems very similar to mine in terms of the abuse you endured at the hands of your mother. How did you get the courage, at the age of 12, to confront her like you did? As I said I was a doormat. I remained a doormat until my, hmm, late fifties.

    When I changed, my daughter was the first to notice. I started to stand up to my husband endless stream of verbal abuse. My daughter was completely shocked, lol. Actually, so was I. But I only stood up to my mother that one time when I was 17, and never to my father. However, I did once get a "little" back at her.

    We were in the car driving to the laundry mat. I was sitting in the front seat and trying to talk to her. She told me to shut up. Alrighty, then, I did. When she went around a corner we heard a thump, she noticed the bleach, on the floor behind my seat, had fallen over. As she reached back to straighten it, she turned the wheel to the right.

    I saw we were headed for the curb. I thought about saying something, but didn't. Lol. She ran up the curb and hit a small tree. "Why didn't you tell me I was going up the curb?", she asked. I said nothing back to her, but inside I was laughing myself sick.

    I sometimes think the verbal/mental abuse is far worst than the physical abuse. The physical wounds heal, but the verbal stabs seem to remain forever. Being told you are stupid, for 17/18 years sinks in and stays with you for your entire life IMO. When I do a stupid thing, and we all do stupid things, I tend to "beat up" on myself.

    Did your mother also stop beating your siblings?
    Yes. I think she learned her lesson when I hit her back. She lost two teeth but it could have been much worse for both of us. Maybe she realized they could do it, too. I got the worst of it because I was the talented one. Some idiotic parents (like Michael Jackson's father) think unless they are tough on their kids, they won't work hard enough - that's how they justify abuse. When kids are abused, they grow up thinking they are "bad" kids, otherwise their "loving" parents would have to beat them & they always try harder & harder to please their abusive parents. They usually have low self esteem as adults. That's why they will take abuse from a spouse, supervisor, co-worker, etc. They don't think they deserve being treated well. That's how I was for many years...until I realized why I let people walk all over me.
    Sometimes abused kids grow into adults that are always on the defensive, thinking everyone is out to hurt them - financially, verbally, etc. so they are quick to strike out at people first. That's the type of person my sister became & she doesn't realize the connection to our mom. My brother is a real dirtbag - convicted felon, thief, deadbeat dad (hasn't seen or supported his daughter for 20 years) & has absolutely no conscience.
    Sometimes there is justice. My mom was bedridden for the last 4 months of her life & she hated it more than anything. She frequently told me, "Each night when I go to sleep, I hope I die." I remember thinking, "Yeah...so do I."

  13. #28
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    I agree. My mother is 94, just die. Will you just die. I feel guilty about my attitude, but I would be spared the never ending judgmental phone calls.

    I was surprised when, in a recent conversation, my brother and his wife complained that mom wanted to move again. They told her they were too ill to help her pack up, which is true. Then they said, "why doesn't she just die." Totally surprised me. First thing we have agreed on in forever.

    You are completely right about self esteem issues. Plus I lack self confidence except concerning my children. I know I am right concerning their welfare. Educated myself on the issues.

    It's too bad about your siblings. Sounds like they haven't done as well as you emotionally. My brother is arrogant and mean. A very successful man, but not well liked by his children. His son, who I don't know well, is super successful. But it seems he has issues as well toward woman. Abuse is so destructive.

    Talented? What is your talent? I really have no talents. I wish I could dance, but with two left feet and no rythmn-lol, no chance at that particular dream.

  14. #29
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    Quote Originally Posted by Aneeda72 View Post
    I agree. My mother is 94, just die. Will you just die. I feel guilty about my attitude, but I would be spared the never ending judgmental phone calls.

    I was surprised when, in a recent conversation, my brother and his wife complained that mom wanted to move again. They told her they were too ill to help her pack up, which is true. Then they said, "why doesn't she just die." Totally surprised me. First thing we have agreed on in forever.

    You are completely right about self esteem issues. Plus I lack self confidence except concerning my children. I know I am right concerning their welfare. Educated myself on the issues.

    It's too bad about your siblings. Sounds like they haven't done as well as you emotionally. My brother is arrogant and mean. A very successful man, but not well liked by his children. His son, who I don't know well, is super successful. But it seems he has issues as well toward woman. Abuse is so destructive.

    Talented? What is your talent? I really have no talents. I wish I could dance, but with two left feet and no rythmn-lol, no chance at that particular dream.
    I'm what is referred to as a "Child Prodigy." When I was around 4 years old, I was at my mom's friend's house. They had a piano. I started playing a tune I heard on the radio. My mom took me to a university professor who told her, "I don't care if you have to mop floors & clean public bathrooms; you should give him piano lessons. After a few years, she paraded me around everywhere, giving concerts & saying, "Look what I made my son...what did you do with your son?" While I was practicing, she'd stand next to me & every time I made a mistake, she'd hit me.
    The abuse & stress made me hate music & I quit playing when I was old enough to tell her to go to hell - around 17. After 45 years, I started playing again, just for fun. It's nice to play when no one is beating you.

  15. #30
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    Smile

    Wow!.............. Just WOW! I was so lucky to have the MOM and DAD I did......
    We are either growing or dying.

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