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

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
I was 68 the last time I saw my mother. I don't plan on seeing her again. She is now 94. I told her I would never come back. I promised myself I would never go back. I promised my children I would never go back. Why, then, am I thinking of going back to see that nightmare of a human being? I ask myself.

I read K's entire post. I think I understand completely why she goes back; or maybe not. We each have our own particular reasons. We each want a closure we will never get.

I never went to see my mother without my brother and sister-in-law there. It was safer this way. My mother loved my brother, depended on my brother, and mostly behaves when my brother is around. This time was different. This time they were on vacation. But, ok, I am an adult. I'll be with my husband. I can do this.

She sandbagged me.

She had been in her go to Jesus mode for a while. (No insult meant to anyone, her craziness in this matter is hers alone.). She was going to confess how she wronged me. What she did. I would forgive her. I HAD to forgive. If I didn't forgive her I wasn't Christian.

Well, hmm. Convenient for her, that my brother and his wife weren't there to hear this great confession. Just me, mom, my husband, and whatever deity she was counting on.

I am Catholic. She knows I am Catholic. Pretty sure that's a Christian religion. In fact, IMO, she is seeking forgiveness in the wrong place. She should seek it from whatever deity she feels is going to pass judgement on her, and that's not going to be me. I don't control the gates of heaven or hell.

She starts out by saying that she never kicked me out of the house when I was 17. She knows I am angry about that still. She knows I hate her for that. But she didn't do it. She never made me homeless in 1964 in California. When, by the way, there were two active serial killers in the area at that time.

I am puzzled, lol. Why is she asking my forgiveness for something she never did? She is, however, sorry for the other time she kicked me out. What? How many times did she kick me out that I don't remember. And I HAVE to forgive her.

Actually, I don't.

I started school at 4. I graduated at 17. She planned a trip for me to Los Angeles to see my grandmother for two weeks. I was packed, ready to catch the bus, walking out the door. She told me not to come back. What? Do not come back. You do not live here anymore. And out I go.

Later she says she thought my grandmother would keep me. What? My grandmother worked as a childhood nurse/caretaker of two small children. It was a live in job. My mother knew this. No way could I stay past two weeks with her.

Then mother says she thought my father, who lived in Los Angeles would take me. What? She knew my father had married the woman he was seeing during his marriage to her. (No big deal folks, after all mom later married the man she was seeing while they were married.). It was a complex life.

Just what my father's new wife hoped for, a 17 year old step-daughter to move in. Yup, not a chance. I did, however, meet my two year old half sister. Drop dead gorgeous little girl. All his daughters were born with blonde hair which turned brown or black around five. Me as well.

Course his wife was pregnant again. My new half brother would be born right before I left for basic training. Since this was dad's fourth marriage, I also had two other step mothers and each of those mothers had a daughter. And each of those daughters was severly abused by their respective mothers. Dad liked cruel woman. Dad didn't want daughters.

My time was up at grandmothers. I couldn't go home-didn't know why at this point in time. Figured it out years later when I was reading a magazine article. Duh me. What divorced woman wants a 17 year old daughter hanging around her boyfriend? Mine didn't.

Couldn't live with dad. It was three months before I was to join the army. I had to be 18. The street it was.

Except, for the first time in his life, dad came through. He spoke to the commander at the Los Angeles Salvation Army Home for women (You can google info on this place.). If I showed the commander my enlistment papers, he would make an exception and I could live there. And I did.
 

Aneeda72

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Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
The home was great. I shared a room with a 26 year old woman. We each had our own bed, dresser, and closet. There was a Jack and Jill bathroom, shared with the room next door. I got a job as a typist working at a large insurance company in downtown LA. Not far from where I lived. I made a little over 160 a month.

I walked the couple miles back and forth to work. It was pitch black and one day the bus driver stopped, opened his door, and said it was not safe to walk. (Remember, serial killers, gang members, etc). Get on the bus. Unfortunately, the bus cost a quarter. I didn't have a quarter. I explained this. He said get on the bus, plenty of room. Everyday for, hmm, four months or so he gave me a free ride to work.

The rent at the home was 80 dollars every two weeks as I remember. Although it was long ago so my numbers could be wrong. Breakfast and dinner was included. I never had lunch. I never had the money for lunch. Still, it was great. After I had been there six weeks, mom and her new husband showed up. She only visited that one time.

And now, four years ago-about 2014, she wanted me to forgive her for something she refused to acknowledge. But she wasn't done. Oh, no. not by a long shot. I was sitting on her sofa. She was sitting in a chair. She left the chair, came and sat beside me, raised her hand up in the air to, well, testify. Lord love a duck, the drama of it all.

My husband watched in silence.

You are right she says. I did beat you.

My entire life, I had waited my entire life to hear that acknowledgment. Honestly, for a brief second or two I thought I should raise my hands in the air, shout hallelujah, and praise the lord. (No insult to anyone. As a child grandmother took me to many a revival meeting. Great stuff.). But good sense prevailed. Just as well, the witch wasn't done.

(By the time I was 7 years old she took my dad's thick leather belt, raised it over her head, and brought it down full strength on my back, from the bottom of my shoulder blades to the top of my knees. She beat me like that until I was 17. She had me lay on my bed and went to town. Bleeding raised welts adored my body. Occasionally she hit me with the buckle.

If I cried, and in the beginning I cried, she drew a bath of scalding hot water and set me in it. I had to stay there until it cooled. I learned quickly not to cry. Ever. There were other objects, of course. Rulers, hair brushes, dog leash, whatever came to hand.)

It's 2014, and she continues. I beat you on your butt. No, no that's not true. She looks at my husband. I beat you on your back down to your knees.

OMG, I thought. She's going to do it. She is going to apologize. Closure at last. Yup, and pigs do fly.

Cause she took a breathe and said, "I am not sorry I did it. You had a smart mouth." What? Then she said "And I tried to put you up for adoption when you were two, but the orphanage wouldn't take you." (I mumbled softly to myself, "I so wish you had.") I am in real physical pain. My chest hurts. I'm going into shock. I need to leave. I stand up, as does my husband.

Oh, but she is not finished. Then she says it is my fault she's lead a miserable life. If she hadn't had me, she could have divorced my father. She couldn't take care of two kids by herself. (Of course, she was keeping my brother.). Yup. It felt like someone had stuck me with a spear straight to the heart. I am leaving, I say.

She rushes up to my husband. Tells him how great he is. How much she loves him. Blah, blah blah. He turned sheet white. He knows, I know, he's not a nice guy. He's embarrassed. Lol. A disabled viet nam vet with PTSD. Yup, mom, nailed that one.

I tell her I'm leaving. I tell her I am never coming back. She asked if I am taking her to the mall tomorrow. Nope. I am going home. And I did.

I tell my brother, who wants to know why I didn't take mom to the mall to ask her. He doesn't. I stopped speaking to him for four years until last year when his wife became very ill. We talk occasionally now. I forgave him long ago for what he did to me, the way he treated me. It seemed a fair thing to do.
 

Keesha

Playful Scamp
Joined
Mar 28, 2018
Location
Canada
You want closure. It’s your mom and to this day you still can’t believe she did this to you.
You are hoping that someday somehow she’s going to have an epiphany and realize how wrong she was and what a beautiful person you are. It’s called VALIDATION!
You want the person who caused you this pain to admit it.

If she was a narcissistic person and still is it will never happen.

Ive wanted to update my thread in regards to my parents but have so much to say I need a full day. Lol
Ive been helping them live in their own home and it’s very difficult. Both of them play all kinds of headgames STILL and never pay us the money we spend on them. It’s tough!

Ive had a lot of flashbacks and bad memories creeping back. My brother helps keep me grounded. He knows what happened is true and protects me and so does my husband.

Last month I had a serious conversation with her where I brought up the vicious abuse and the fact that I was used as the family scapegoat. I told her that since she doesn’t understand what love is that she doesn’t understand forgiveness and that forgiveness is a big part of loving. She completely agreed. A lot of things were said but it was said in a controlled compassionate way which she accepted. She looked ready to cry.

I wanted to talk to her before Dementia takes over and the conversation only lasted about 20 minutes. My dad was yelling and screaming in the background. He was definitely trying to stop me from talking but it didn’t. I kept talking until I was finished and I felt great. When I left I said don’t worry you probably won’t remember and she looked at me and said after all I’ve said how could she forget. It seemed like it went well.

The last time I saw her I told her about my best friend selling her house to get a new one so her parents can move in with them. She looked at me and said don’t think we are going to do that. She wondered who would kill who first.

Soooo I’m not sure how much she actually understood but I’m coming to realize that I probably won’t ever get the closure I want or the validation. It’s never going to happen BUT what HAS happened is that I NOW have the best relationship with my brother that I’ve ever had in my lifetime . We see each other often. Get along great. Trust each other and share things.

At one point in time I may have turned my back and walked away but now I feel compelled to stay and help cause he can’t do this all on his own.

I wish I could tell you something that will help but I doubt that I can. While helping my parents I’ve had to get counselling. It’s THAT difficult.

My heart goes out to you. Good luck in whatever you choose to do.
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
Yes, I wanted closure. Yes, I wanted her to say she was sorry, or some form of sorry. But I also wanted her to acknowledge the abuse and she did. I suppose one out of three is what I'll have to accept. She does not have dementia. I don't know what her mental health diagnosis would be and I don't care.

I don't and won't have a relationship with my brother. We will keep in contact every now and then, because I will call him now and then. He was never abused by them. He was allowed total freedom and spendt most of his time with the family across the street who had three sons. He was more their son than ours. I doubt he realizes this.

He also claims to remember very little of his/our childhood. I believe him. He spendt very little time at home. He hated our dad. He was mom's boy. But our dad was a Jekyll-Hyde kind of guy when I knew him. Although later, with his subsequent families he became all bad. (Lol, can't remember which one of them was the bad guy.)

They live many states away from me. Mom's says her will leaves us everything equally. Whatever she has is to be sold and equally divided. But I know my brother too well and this will not happen. He has already stated his daughter should have her jewelry. Ok. Then he pointed out he purchased several things for her. Ok.

Then he mentioned he kept a record of every dime he has spendt on her. Ok. Lol, dude just say you feel entitled to her bits and pieces. I agree. Besides I want NOTHING from her. What I wanted she was incapable of giving. I asked her to leave everything to my brother, she refused.

To make it easier for my brother, I have emailed him several times saying, he can keep it all. There are some pictures of me I'd like, but hey, if he wants to keep them he can have them too. My agenda is different from yours. There is no house, no land. She sold both long ago.

I don't have your anger, Keesha. I don't have your resentments. I am not sure I know what form your abuse took, as I think you generalize your situation. Which is fine. My memories of certain situations are very clear, others not so much. I have many terrible memories, mostly concerning mom. One horrific memory concerning dad.

This is the problem with child abuse. It takes many forms. Everyone reacts to it differently, but all are wounded. I'm glad you have a better relationship with your brother. I echo what others have said. It may not be what you think it is.
 

Keesha

Playful Scamp
Joined
Mar 28, 2018
Location
Canada
For myself I thought I was fine. I’d done so much self reflection , had plenty of counselling , done meditation , and read plenty of self help books from the great gurus; Marianne Williamson, Wayne Dyer, Depak Chopra, Louise hay, Byron Katie . I had a stress free life so I just let it all go. The easy thing was that I had broken all contact with family for eight years and I not only was fine, i flourished. These DVD’s and books really helped a lot.

Its only since helping them again that I have felt like I’ve need help.
Its a difficult thing to deal with because you can’t open up and talk freely to other friends or family. It’s too sensitive a subject to bring up which is why speaking to a councillor is great. They don’t know you personally which can be very liberating to the soul. It’s very freeing to be able to speak to someone and not worry about hurting anyone’s feelings or feeling guilty about how you feel. You probably have some free councilling available by phone if you ever wanted to decompress .
Sometimes decompressing is needed but you need a safe place to do it.

Another thing I did a lot of was write letters to my parents that I never sent. Many of them were hand written. I’d gather them up and put them in the fireplace on our property out back. I’ve read this method in many books but had never find it and have to say it IS liberating. Maybe you might decide to send them.

Or you might decide to have that talk with your mother and tell her exactly how you feel.
If your mom is 94 there’s a really good chance that she won’t remember. While I did bring up the subject of abuse to my mother I made sure to cushion the conversation with a lot of love and praise for the good points I did get from the relationship with her ( them ). She’s 85 years old. If her mind was warped years ago and she’s had no help whatsoever, the chance of her changing or even understanding the depth of pain she’s caused is probably impossible for her.

Another thing that really helped me was remembering that others have had it worst than me.
Some people went from home to home. I met someone who had lived in 54 different homes and been to 71 different schools.
Hes a beautiful man but a broken one and it’s very sad. I met a women who’s brother killed 4 of their neighbours. I met someone who lost their entire family all at once.

Journaling - Writing down how you feel like you are doing here in this diary is a good idea.
Painting- I did a LOT of painting
Woodcarving - I carved a lot of things out of different types of wood
Music- I sing and play an instrument

Finding a creative outlet can really help
Write poetry
Write a book
Write a song

We don’t always get closure from the people we need it from but we can create other ways of expressing our pent up frustration and they will help you decompress
 

Keesha

Playful Scamp
Joined
Mar 28, 2018
Location
Canada
Yes, I wanted closure. Yes, I wanted her to say she was sorry, or some form of sorry. But I also wanted her to acknowledge the abuse and she did. I suppose one out of three is what I'll have to accept. She does not have dementia. I don't know what her mental health diagnosis would be and I don't care.

I don't and won't have a relationship with my brother. We will keep in contact every now and then, because I will call him now and then. He was never abused by them. He was allowed total freedom and spendt most of his time with the family across the street who had three sons. He was more their son than ours. I doubt he realizes this.

He also claims to remember very little of his/our childhood. I believe him. He spendt very little time at home. He hated our dad. He was mom's boy. But our dad was a Jekyll-Hyde kind of guy when I knew him. Although later, with his subsequent families he became all bad. (Lol, can't remember which one of them was the bad guy.)

They live many states away from me. Mom's says her will leaves us everything equally. Whatever she has is to be sold and equally divided. But I know my brother too well and this will not happen. He has already stated his daughter should have her jewelry. Ok. Then he pointed out he purchased several things for her. Ok.

Then he mentioned he kept a record of every dime he has spendt on her. Ok. Lol, dude just say you feel entitled to her bits and pieces. I agree. Besides I want NOTHING from her. What I wanted she was incapable of giving. I asked her to leave everything to my brother, she refused.

To make it easier for my brother, I have emailed him several times saying, he can keep it all. There are some pictures of me I'd like, but hey, if he wants to keep them he can have them too. My agenda is different from yours. There is no house, no land. She sold both long ago.

I don't have your anger, Keesha. I don't have your resentments. I am not sure I know what form your abuse took, as I think you generalize your situation. Which is fine. My memories of certain situations are very clear, others not so much. I have many terrible memories, mostly concerning mom. One horrific memory concerning dad.

This is the problem with child abuse. It takes many forms. Everyone reacts to it differently, but all are wounded. I'm glad you have a better relationship with your brother. I echo what others have said. It may not be what you think it is.
Oh!
Yes I generalized my situation because I don’t think it’s suitable or appropriate to post the type of abuse I endured on an open forum. Most of my memories are very clear still but some parts are compartmentalized and will probably stay that way. That’s the brains natural way of dealing with things it can’t handle. ( that’s a hard one to explain nor will I even try )
Some things I wish I could start forgetting.
I’m certainly not about to compare abuse with you.
I’m here in your thread trying to offer you a helping hand.
I don’t particularly care about the inheritance either
In fact this would be FAR FAR easier to just walk away from
I have no idea why you’d want to even plant the idea that my brother had bad intentions after what I’ve just said.

WOW!
Just wow!
Why do I even bother trying to help ???:shrug:
 

Keesha

Playful Scamp
Joined
Mar 28, 2018
Location
Canada
And I no longer have the anger like I had. The thread you read was started almost one year ago.
Many things have changed since then and many things have happened since then that I haven’t spoken about

If you don’t have any anger or resentments then what are your first two posts about?
What are you expressing?
Which emotion are you trying to express?

Ive read quite a few posts mentioning the abuse you’ve had from your parents and it doesn’t come across as lovingly.
Sorry BUT if you are going to talk about feeling with me then we need to get more specific.
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
I wasn't planting an idea that your brother had bad intentions, at least I don't think that's what I said. I think I was echoing some concerns that I saw expressed in your other post. In fact, I said I was glad you had an improved relationship with your brother.

I actually understand about compartmentalizations in the brain. Many of the kids I fostered had muliple personalities. No need to explain but thanks.

I wasn't wanting to "compare" abuse. Abuse, like pain, cannot be compared. I even remarked that generalizations were fine. But I am being more specific, because I want to remember every bit of it. By remembering every bit, I can deal with it better. We are different people, we deal with things differently.

I seriously don't know what you mean by trying to "help". I don't understand what you are upset about. Since we can't compare abuse, we can't compare parents either. I know my parents backgrounds. Yeah, their life was rough. That in no way excuses their actions toward me.

In my dad's situation, he abused 10 children. I received a lot of information from an older half sister, the first female child of my father's. Sadly, although she had a very good life and never actually lived with our father, she is quite embittered. She also escaped her mother's abuse. Raised by loving relatives. She has become a little afraid that people want her money. Lol.

My second older half sister died last year. She had a very hard life and at fifteen came to live with us. Her story is a sad one. I can't compare myself to them, let alone to you. The younger half sister I met when I was 19 and she was two; and the newborn half brother I met at two days old probably had the worst, most abusive lives of all. And strange, very strange.

His fifth marriage was to a girl one year older than me. Their child died in womb. His sixth marriage, hmm, 4 or 5 children. I had limited contact with them, and never met them in person. So you see, nothing in common but an abusive childhood. I don't think we can "help" each other. As for dad. He's dead, kept in a box in his last wife's garage. A fitting place.

Well, bedtime for me.
 

SeaBreeze

Endlessly Groovin'
Joined
Mar 19, 2012
Location
USA
Aneeda, you've been through so much, you're very strong to have gotten through all that in your younger days. When I read stories like this, I realize how blessed I was never to have suffered any abuse from either of my parents. My heart goes out to all here who have had difficult childhoods that affect them their entire lives.
 

Keesha

Playful Scamp
Joined
Mar 28, 2018
Location
Canada
I’m sorry Aneeda. The last sentence really got to me.
Ive really worked so hard at this relationship and it hurts to think that my brother might have other intentions which is what some other people stated in my thread. The only other family member I have.

After that your entire post was coloured.

I spent my entire life wondering why my parents stayed together but I can’t imagine my dad having 10 wives either or having step sisters. And no you weren’t asking for help so I’m not sure why I felt the need to write down some things I did when I went through my torment.

While reading your posts I could sense your frustration or perhaps I just imagined that.
You said you were kicked out of the house when you were 17 and that she knows you are still angry about that. Several other sentences you talk about your anger. Then you say you don’t have the same anger as me so it’s a bit confusing to me.

Im ok now I expressed my feelings to you honestly
Thank you
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
Keesha, the problem is my "story" is going back and forth between several time lines and I am by no means a professional writer. The story does get a bit confusing and will remain so. I am also mentioning her feelings and my feelings in various time lines. Also the feelings that she tries to impose on me so.

I do mention that "I hated her" because she felt that I hated her. I don't remember hating her, but I accept that she might be right. I was 17. On the other hand, my feelings were very muted for years. At the age of 68, I didn't hate her. I was deeply hurt my her words, which was what she in

I might misstate something by accident. For that I apologize. My family was extremely complex and at one time or another I knew most of them. Dad had 6 wives that we know of. Perhaps 7. There were 10 children that I am aware of, but my older sister thinks since there were more wives there were more children.

At this time, my main feeling is the frustration I have with this whole situation! I think this is a feeling we both might share. Although, you help your parents in a great many ways I do not and would not. My brother and his wife help my mother a lot, not in person so much but setting up programs etc. Although they are there in person when needed. She lives quite close to them.

Her grandchildren, my brother's children have very little interaction with her so I am torn. Had she chosen to live next to us, I would have hated it, no doubt about that, but like any sibling I am jealous she chose, once again, my brother. Whenever, there was a choice to be made, she choose him. Age apparently doesn't make sibling jealousy improve. Lol.

Add that to the fact that my brother had permission to "beat" me anytime he wanted. He did. He was a child. He did not know any better and would do anything to please my mom. A few decades back he called and apologized for his behavior. He was fully forgiven. But we were never close, never would be, and never will be close.

When I was 17, my mother knocked me down to floor and got dad's belt which she kept after the divorce. They divorced when I was 15. She tried to beat me with the belt, I tried to crawl away. Finally, I found my voice and screamed at her not to hit me. Surprised, she paused and at that point my brother walked into the house.

She handed the belt and told him to him to beat me with it. He refused. He was 17. He was becoming aware that the way I was treated was wrong. This probably was the beginning of the end of my childhood life with her. This little bit of loss of control over me. I was an extremely compliant child and teenager. The beatings, the fear of the beatings kept me so.

Until that one point in time. I hadn't made this connection until just now. Wow, this is going to be helpful!

Its funny odd because while my brother spendt as little time as possible with our dad, he picked up a great deal of his traits. Once, in front of my husband and my self, he told his wife to shut up. I had noticed for several years he wasn't a nice guy. Also, on a particular long visit, both his children came up to me concerned about what they would do "with them" in their later years.

These children will be in the same position, to an extent, that we are now. Taking care of parents that they don't particularly care for. My brother has already complained to me, on a rare phone, that they rarely help them. I am so reminded of a old song that's says " he's grown up just like me". A reference to a parent that worked too much and wasn't there.

The situation amuses me. These children were raised in a, hmm, high income bracket home. Given all the advantages. While my children were raised somewhat poor and in some years lucky to have food and clothing with no "advantages" except a mother that would do anything for them.

I remember the day we got our seven eleven credit card in the mail. YAY! Finally a way to buy milk when we had no money. Good times, lol. My son is always saying how great a mother I was (and am) and acknowledges that he knows I made many sacrifices for them. My daughter not so much. LMAO.

Both my children are "on call" adults. We call, they arrange to come and help. Mostly my son since my daughter's daughter and granddaughter live with her and she and my son in law work full time. But my son works two jobs, has children, and grandchildren; and has a very busy social life. It is hard being the "sandwich" generation. I am sure.

Anyway, Keesha, I hope this has "cleared the air" between us. Always feel free to question whatever I write. Same goes for anyone else. I do get confused.
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
Thanks SeaBreeze.

My children always say I am a strong woman. I might prefer they substitute "smart" for "strong" or incredible beautiful, LOL. Oh, well. One of my teenage grand daughters said she loved me in spite of the wrinkles. Gee, thanks :), I think.

I was so touched by Keesha's story on the forum, despite some negative responses from some members. I recognized her courage in writing it. After some (little, lol) thought, it gave me courage to write this. Perhaps our stories can help others on the forum dealing with these issues in silence, but suffering none the less.

Anyone who escapes childhood abuse, has good parents, and grows up whole is so blessed. It warms my heart that you realize your good fortune. Strangely, a lot of people don't. I was lucky to have a decent grandmother so I realized not every adult was terrible. Although, she never lifted a hand to stop the abuse. She loved her son, my dad, a great deal.

My interactions with a therapist have been much less than Keesha's have been. I first saw one about three years ago in connection with dealing with my husband's PTSD. Only had about 4 visits.

The therapist actually wanted me to write about my life on a previous forum I was on. I recently quit that forum and now I'm here. I feel very lucky to have found you all. But, if you find my story too hard to read, please don't read it. I don't mean to cause others pain or open old wounds. In my own way, I am trying to find peace.
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
When I look back dad was an interresting guy, and not nearly as abusive (until later) as his wives. Sometimes he was horrible, other times great. You never knew which you were getting.

1. His first wife had a daughter-my first half sister. They divorced. He never contacted her or his daughter again. This child, my oldest sister, remembers going to court with her mother against him. On the way out of court, dad stepped on her big toe. She talks about this a great deal, dad and her toe.

It seems to be the only memory she has of him, and she is fixated on it. She seems greatly embittered by his abandonment of her; and resentful when I try and tell her how lucky she was. I learn of her when I am 17. She and her husband come to our house looking for my second oldest half-sister, Ann. Ann had already left. But I learn now that I have another half-sister.

This half sister and I wrote each other a couple of times, then she lost interest. Life moves on. I was so disappointed. Even at a young age family was everything to me. I am not entirely clear on how she ended up with relatives, but she did. Her bio mother was abusive. She was raised by very loving relatives, and had the best life of us all.

Those relatives never adopted her. Despite their care, she clings to the fact of her biological parents. She seems to have no appreciation of how fortunate she was. I come in contact with her again in, I think, my forties or fifties. Then again in my late sixties. Currently, she is, again, not speaking to me.

2. Here's where it gets a little fun. My dad's second wife has a daughter-my half-sister, Ann. (Who is now deceased.). He divorces (or leaves Ann's wife). Her mother is extremely abusive. Eventually she goes to live with my/our grandparents. At some point, she goes to live with our oldest half-sister who exchanges room and board for housework.

I am not sure of the time frame when Ann lives with the oldest sister. I think it was after she ran away from her husband and left her sons. I know it's difficult to understand as the frames of time flip back and forth. Sorry.

When I am in junior high, Ann comes to live with us. My mother learned about dad's first marriage (and first child) when his first wife took him to court. My mother learns about his second marriage, and second child, when granddad calls and says he's bringing Ann to live with us. SURPRISE! Lol.

A little background history.

We moved from the Midwest to Los Angeles when I was five. My memories start at the age of five, during that move, crowded into our car. Dad, mom, my brother, me, and grandmother headed west. Grandmother was divorced at this time from granddad. She leaves behind a disabled, but functional son.

(I think it's important to the story to remember that, when I was 68, my mother tells she tried to put me up for adoption when I was 2 years old. What happens to me when I am 7 is horrific, and changes the whole course of my life. It effects my parents attitude towards me, but is not the cause of that attitude.)

We live in a rented house. Then we live in a second rented house. Then we move to a different county, buy a house, and live there for several years.

The house we owned has four bedrooms, and two baths. Dad and mom in the master. My brother and me in one bedroom(twin beds), grandma in one bedroom, and dads study in the fourth bedroom. Eventually my brother has a fit about sharing a room. He gets his own room, I get to move in with grandma. We share a double bed.

Grandma finally moves out and gets an apartment in Los Angeles. I have my own room until Ann comes. Ann moves in, and, yup, we now share the room and the double bed.
 

SeaBreeze

Endlessly Groovin'
Joined
Mar 19, 2012
Location
USA
The therapist actually wanted me to write about my life on a previous forum I was on. I recently quit that forum and now I'm here. I feel very lucky to have found you all. But, if you find my story too hard to read, please don't read it. I don't mean to cause others pain or open old wounds. In my own way, I am trying to find peace.
Aneeda, I can see where writing about your life can be very therapeutic and can bring you peace. This is your diary thread and you should feel comfortable speaking about things in your life that have touched you, whether positive or negative. It's been very interesting to read your story, and I'm sure it may help others also when you share your experiences, please continue on, glad you're here with us now. :)
 

Keesha

Playful Scamp
Joined
Mar 28, 2018
Location
Canada
I think it’s wonderful that your son at least acknowledges the sacrifices you made for your family.


When did you leave home ?


Did you ever have the chance to live on your own before starting your own family?


Did you get a chance to go to college or university?


How long did you look after foster children and how did your children feel about this?


Did all the children get along?


Do you think your experiences made you a better mother to your children?


How is your relationship with your husband?


How does your husband feel about your parents?


How did you get along with your husbands family?


If you could have changed your life when you were younger , what things would you have changed?


I think the thing that bothers me the most about being raised by two narcissistic parents is that I’ve picked up narcissistic tendencies myself and it’s a difficult thing to change.
 
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Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
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.
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
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.
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
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.
 

Aneeda72

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Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
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.
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
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.
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
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.
 

win231

Well-known member
Joined
Mar 13, 2019
Location
CA
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.
 

Keesha

Playful Scamp
Joined
Mar 28, 2018
Location
Canada
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
 

Aneeda72

New member
Joined
Mar 3, 2019
Original Poster
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?
 


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