The scars that are unseen are always worse than the ones you can see.

L

Leotie

New Member
Location
North Carolina
I chose that title simply because most of my scars ARE hidden. The scars from the beatings have gone, but the ones from her screaming how much she hated me are still there, still wondering WHY? Why did she hate me so much? If she had ever old me she loved me just one time, I would have been thrilled. She could tell the other three that were younger than I was hat she loved them all the time, but when it came to me, it was a slap across the face and telling me to shut up.

When I was about 13,she called me names, her favorite one was "slut", I didn't even know what it was till I looked it up at school. At 14, she tried to sell me to a travelling salesman and at $2,000 he told her I wasn't worth it. That just made my day, take that for the truth. It wasn't that I was ugly, I was tall, thin, had blue eyes ad a decent figure from what my cousins told me. One of them even told me I ought to be a model. That came when I was in my 20's!

By the time I was18, I graduated from farm work to other things that I could make money at. These jobs were all legal and nothing for anyone to be ashamed of.


Let me know if you all want more, let me know, it get's good at times, and funny as all get out, too.
 

How sad, good that you can write about these things and perhaps ease the pain and put them to rest. I can't even imagine what you've gone through...hugs. :love_heart:
 
I am going to be doing more if people are interested in reading it. To give you an example, I drove a taxi in New York for 9 years, interesting stories from then. I mewt George Maharis in Atlanta and called him a liar and he showed me his drivers license to prove it.
 

Leotie said:
I am going to be doing more if people are interested in reading it. To give you an example, I drove a taxi in New York for 9 years, interesting stories from then. I mewt George Maharis in Atlanta and called him a liar and he showed me his drivers license to prove it.
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By all means Leotie tell your story, some say it's therapeutic. I won't judge that claim, but it helps me. From your biography it appears you have interesting, humorous or somewhat sad memories to tell. We are reading and can lend a shoulder to unburdened your feelings.
 
Thank you, Son_of_Perdition, I do appreciate that. Sometimes, people don't want to hear stuff like this, but I think EVERYONE has a story to tell, and yes, it does help to get it out, especially when you can feel safe in doing so.

When I met George Maharis in Atlanta, he was in a play, and I was working at a small ice-cream d yogurt shop on the corner of Peachtree and 14th St. He came in for some ice cream and I mentioned that he looked mighty familiar. He told me that he played in "Route 66". That was one o my favorite shows and I had such a crush on the dark haired man.


He told me his name, and me being the mouthy person I am, called him a liar and demanded proof. He pulled out his drivers license and showed me. I was SO embarrassed, I almost cried, but he got a good laugh and went on his merry way. I have ALWAYS loved to talk to people , but there are times that my mouth can cause some problems for me.
 
You are very brave to share such details; I've rarely ever opened up on a public forum and usually with limited details of some things of my past, I don't dare get too specific on here about the most horrors and painful episodes, barely knowing anyone. But, I very much appreciate your sharing and say good for you for being so brave, it may very well be a great and cathartic experience for you to tell your story here. Reading what you've written so far certainly is an interesting read and I hope it brings you some peace to know some people do care and will be supportive in your efforts. So sorry you've endured such pain, I hope you find much joy in today and the days to come.
 
See not so hard after all, my one brush with fame was the time I entered an Idaho man's store to buy some golfing duds. I noticed a Rolls at the curb as I entered. Made my selections and went to pay, at the check stand was a tall blond man walking with crutches (the metal forearm kind) I watched as he made his purchases with a wad of cash. His companion picked up the clothes and both smiled at me and left. The clerk excitedly asked me if I knew who that was. 'Nope', then he said, 'That was Evel Knievel!', 'Who the hell is Evel Knievel?' said I. It was right after his hospital stay trying to jump the fountains at Caesar's Palace.

Keep up with your posts and don't worry much about responses, people are reading.
 
April, I thank you very much for our comments. There is one incident that won't go in here unless I change my mind. What you've seen so far takes care of the ad except for the one I just mentioned. Most of it concerns the jobs I've had tat women were not normally working at that time. When I start on them, I know there are people that will accuse me of fibbing about, but they are all true. I'm happy also that you are reading these, and glad to know that you will get a laugh out of some of them.
 
Just tell your truth as you know it and don't worry about those that question it, sometimes what we experience in our own lives are just too much for others to ever comprehend considering their own sequestered existence. Not that that's wrong everyone has their own life and need to cling to their own reality to keep grounded or feel safe or even suppress their own memories and or emotions.

Son_of_Perdition is right and I quote, "Keep up with your posts and don't worry much about responses, people are reading".
 
When I was in my late teens and early 20's, I was 6' 2" and weighed about 125; I looked like a walking skeleton. Some folks got the bright idea that I should be a model. That was hilarious to me, cause I had been called "ugly" and a host of other names and never thought my looks were anything to brag about. I'd laugh and tell them that if I got a chance o mode, I would do it.

Well, I DID get the chance, and true to my promise, I did. This was in the late 70's and I'm sure many of you can remember what the minimum wage was then. This part time job paid $9.00 an hour! The woman that hired me told me to bring a robe, and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why she wanted me to bring a robe. When I showed up for the first time, I found out!

This job was at the Atlanta College of Art, and I as supposed to do this naked! The instructor told me to pull off the robe and strike a pose. The robe came off and I was so scared that I couldn't move if I wanted to! When this class was over, she told me I had done a wonderful job and asked how long I had been doing that. I told her this had been my first time and I was scared poopless! It was easier from then on, and at one point, the instructor told me to lay on the couch wit my back to the room and took a nap!
 
I've never modeled nude for an art class, but I did make a few bucks in college being a "breast exam" patient at the medical school. It paid $5 an hour when the minimum wage was $1.25, which is what I was making working in the dorm cafeteria. It was pretty embarrassing and I only did it twice. Some of those medical students had really cold hands.
 
Hi, jujube, and thanks for the reply! I didn't know if anyone would be offended by that post or not, but I aim for the truth. A couple of years back I another forum about the nude modeling at the college. One of the guys in there told me he was in class when a woman was sitting sideways in the pose, and he thought it might be me. I would think all the pictures would be long gone by now, but who knows?
 
Leotie, I bet you have some good stories about your cab driving days. My husband was a taxi driver before we got married, interesting job. Nice that you were a model like that too, did you get to see the drawings or paintings from those in the class?
 
Good morning, SeaBreeze! Yes, I saw some of the pictures, and they really were good. I liked the one sitting in the chair with my arm over the back the best.

Cab driving is an interesting experience to say the least! I think I scared the passenger more than they scared ME! I was a Southern Belle with the accent, and liked to think I showed no fear. I did go into areas that other drivers didn't want to go to. And it didn't matter what color you were as long as you had the fare. I was never taught to be afraid of or hate anyone base on skin color.

I picked up a passenger at JFK airport that loaded about $2,000.00 in computers in the rear of my station wagon. He wanted to go to lower Manhattan, BUT he wanted to go over the Brooklyn Bridge. That man didn't realize that we'd be going through Bed-Stuy which is predominately Black. I always watched my passenger's in the rear view and did so with him.

The man kept looking from side to side and his eyes got bigger an bigger. I couldn't figure out what was going on with him, but kept driving. Finally, he leaned over the seat and loudly whispered "I don't see any white people here." I told him he wasn't going to see any white people till we crossed the bridge. The next time I glanced in the mirror, I didn't see him. He hadn't escaped

He was laying on the floorboard hiding from his fear of a color! I wanted to laugh but didn't.
 
I've known some good people who lived there and spent some time visiting Bed-Sty, it is a poor area that is predominately black, but that doesn't mean everyone there is a criminal. It always amazes me that some people are so isolated in their existence that they don't ever mingle with those of other races and ethnic backgrounds. Cool that you got to see the pictures, and even better that you were please with them!
 
SeaBreeze,I do my best to treat people the way I want to be treated. Sometimes it works, sometimes not.

I had a young lady on my car that went from Howard Beach area to Bed Stuy, and we had a wonderful informational conversation. Neither one of us could understand why the races had such problems getting along and just talking to each other. She was about 16 or so, and I thought to myself, if she kept the attitude she had, she could make such a great difference in this world. I often wonder about her and how she's doing.

The people I had the most problems with were the young fellows that thought they were the top dog in any kennel. My favorite passenger out of all of them was Peter Gotty. He was always polite, always tipped well, and if he had any of his friends with him, they minded their manners. I see Peter on tv every now and then and it's funny to see him now and remember back when he was a skinny kid,
 
Yes, it does bring back some memories, some good ones at that! I would love to be back up there driving again. I'd go down Cross Bay or any of the streets with the radio blasting away with some good music. Someone asked me one time if I knew anything other than country music (southern and all that) I popped in a tape of Guns N Roses, then asked them what else they wanted to hear.

I always got a kick out of them asking me where I was from, I'd always give them a big grin, and say with a heavy southern accent, Howard Beach or Queens. People there are much nicer than what we have been led to believe.

It's nap time for me, eyelids are flopping like a sheet on the clothesline.
 
I dare say what you've said comes right out of some story you've read or want to write.Sounds like fiction. But if it's intriguing we all will want to hear what you have to say.
 
Coleman, I LIVED what I wrote. It's not from something I read, dreamed or anything but LIVED. I chose not to live the life that I was told I had to. And you know something? Looking back at it, I enjoyed it. The rough spots I went through made me as strong as I am now. At 66 years of this life I am not at all as afraid as a lot of men and women are. I can and will stand my groundagainst anyone or anything.
 
Thank you, and I will continue, just have to get my ducks in a row after sleeping in an old bank vault for four nights after the fire in the building that I live in.
 
Leotie said:
I am going to be doing more if people are interested in reading it. To give you an example, I drove a taxi in New York for 9 years, interesting stories from then. I mewt George Maharis in Atlanta and called him a liar and he showed me his drivers license to prove it.
Click to expand...
Write a book about how you went through the roller coaster of life
 


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