Migraines

I may just mention migraines on several occassions, as they occur pretty often lately. Terribly often.
Today was better, but only just slightly.

I know the migraines get triggered by stressful thoughts and situations, as well as food allergies, but it seems impossible to keep them from coming over and over again.

I only got 2 hours sleep last night, so I am hoping and praying for better results tonight.

I did remember one thing that I'm not sure I ever really remembered before.
in 1967,Good Friday, March 24th, we had half a day at school. when I was walking home from school due to missing the bus, I noticed a few drops of blood on my white pattent leather shoes, and I remember feeling cramps. It was a pretty long walk, and I was alone.
When I got home, my mother saw the blood and told me I must have had a nose bleed. I never had a nose bleed, and she knew I was near the end of my pregnancy, but she did what she always did; cover the truth. I remember her telling others that I had a nose bleed, and she told me that over and over, like it became true by saying it.
She was nearly right, it seemed true when she always repeated lies.
I don't know where she learned that, but it is always wrong to force a child to live a lie. So, maybe the truth hurts a bit, or is uncomfortable to deal with, but the lie is a death sentence to my spirit. I lost so much of myself with her constant lies.
She lied to herself too, as she fully believed herself to be an honest person.

How revolting.

rough day again

I always look forward to going to group therapy, and the ladies there are all struggling as I do, but today effected me adversely.
I was not prepared for so much of the graphic nature of topics,
and it left me feeling ill and I ended up having a panick attack tonight and am too depressed to enjoy my online games. I left a message for my therapist, and hope we can be a bit more sensitive to my reactions, so it doesn't keep messing me up.
I don't want anyone to get less than their needs met, so I have to find a happy medium for discussions.

Some things hit me like a hammer.

I also had a long talk with my son this evening. He really understands me, and he told me about how my mother shared the misery of the situation I had in my first marrige with her sister, and that her sister cried when she heard what was going on. I never knew they had this conversation, and both women are deceased now. I did share some things with my aunt, and I know she always wanted things to be better for me and my children. I do not believe she knew about my son not being mom's child, but being dad's and mine...... but she was aware that it was unsafe to have my father around. I assured her she was smart to send him away when he came to her house for a place to stay...... he was completely unable to control his own behaviour. Alcohol may have helped him forget what a creep he was, but it never helped him alter his behaviour.

Men that abuse women and children are also torn up wretched souls, and all of humanity needs to come to Christ and be healed, and repent of their wrong doing.
it is not simple, but it is possible.

Pornography

This is a subject that has recently come up in a private conversation, and one that hits my heart so storngly I have to address it. I have heard it refered to as a "Victimless Crime", and nothing could be farther from the truth.

Every person involved in the production of pornography has an internal injury that our eyes can not see. If all of the dehumanizing and objectifying action that have ever been perpetrated on the individuals in these photographs could visually resemble bullet wounds, scourge marks, swollen bruises, stab wounds.......... how could anyone stand to look on the images?

Our statistics show that 1 in every 4 women is a victim of rape. Violence against women does not occur without a root cause. Pornography inspires abuse, and is itself inspired BY abuse. The viewing of such images for "harmless pleasure" in actual fact does great harm, to marriages, to families, to the heart and soul of the viewer....... the harm pervades and perverts all of society.



Imagine if you will, that each and every photo is of someone's daughter, or son, mother or father, sister or brother, and their bodies have been used, their personal self esteem twisted and damaged, and their chance to be truly valued for the beautiful soul that they were created to be is so unlikely to ever be healed...........



Then see how the objectification of those so-called willing parties, when viewed, inspire the twisted objectification of other people in our lives; wives, sisters, mothers, daughters, sons, friends, relatives....... are being viewed by someone, some where every day. Viewed by persons whose lust has been heightened and sent off-center to inspired agression and actions that result in crimes and torment, and deaths........



If your own mother is walking down the street, minding her own business, and such a twisted person encounters her, is she safe from harm? Can you allow your innocent children to go to the playground to possibly come into the grasp of someone bent on vile aspirations?



I see more victims.



And the viewer, 'harmlessly' pursuing the pleasure that seems so 'normal' and 'acceptable' in our society........

how far away from the grand spirit that God intends us to become, in HIS image, does that casual viewer take himself or herself on a journey that often result in a one way trip?



I see more victims.

depression mode

october has always been a difficult month for me, I keep getting older.
it's crazy shifts in weather patterns, daylight slipping away, and just sadness.

my youngest sister called today, she always talks for a good while, and I appreciate it a lot. after that, my son called, and that is always good.
I actually talked to both of my daughters today too, and still I am lonely and depressed. there is just about nothing to eat in the house, and no prospects for getting anything. poverty makes a serios dent in my mental health. hunger sucks. and it isn't productive, like dieting to lose weight, ok, that's rarely productive either. it just makes me drag through the days, I keep busy mentally online, and do a lot of crocheting, but I'm just doggone hungry when it comes down to it.

I left a message for the food pantry at church, but nobody called back. I made sure to say that I have no food for the weekend, but perhaps no volunteers came in to hear the message.

it gets old.

what happened?

I just wrote a long rant, and it disappeared! ok, here's a short one, let's see how this goes.

pains

I have to seriously wonder if emotional pain can cause lupus and fybromialgia....... it is certain that emotional pain excellorates physical pain, and physical pain makes depression worse. it can really be a nasty cycle, one thing growing off the other.

I wait for months to get a visit from my daughter and my grandson, but the visit always is too much physical exertion and I suffer so much pain by the time they go that it takes me days to recover. Anguish is a direct result of that.

Has anyone ever done a study to see how many adult survivors of childhood abuse turn out to have chronic pain conditions? From my experiences with other survivors, I have to say there must be a link. How can men keep getting away with doing so much permanant damage to us and also ruin our medical conditions? The cost is high, so high I don't know why they are even allowed to live. Not just because it effects the one survivor, but it also goes on to future generations and spreads agony through communities and so far there is no end in sight.

If bank robbers were allowed to just go on doing what they do, banks would be out of business and people would go back to the barter system in order to make any purchases. See, if money were taken directly from MEN, police would act imediately. Judges would slam down the gavel and guards would clang shut the barred doors.

Child molestors and rapists roam freely.

poems I wrote in early recognition of my abuse

Day 1
Entered crying
as the hurricane howled
eyes wide open
in the dead of night
leaves all colours
blowing in the streets
torrid forboding
with my first moments on earth
Hurricane Hazel and Midnight
my birth

*****************

Liar in the household
keeper of the keys
Holds us all in prison
keeps us on our knees
Lurks about in shadows
whispers filthy words
Menacing my nightmares
as all my waking fears

In he creeps as all are sleeping
horrid grasping gropes
Muffles my cries
fills my eyes
binds my wrists
strangles my hopes

"Hush, it was just another bad dream
you dirty girl"
Daylight comes
I haven't slept

*******************************

Warped Romance

We're going for a ride tonight
we're going in the car
hush the others mustn't hear
you see we're going far
to a place where it's warm all year
we can live at the beach
No, your mother cannot come,
we'll be happy there alone
Just you and me

Every day will be such fun
no one can stop us
no one will ever know
and one day I'll marry you
one day when you're all grown

*********************************

The boyfriend

are you a virgin?
my boyfriend asked, clear blue eyes
looking out from pale gold locks
I've never been a virgin
never been a child
I'm just 16, but I'm very old
He knew what I was saying
more than I could dare see
he took me to a finer place
I'll always wish to be
He touched my heart
and met my soul
and held me for a time
A time that could never last as long
as this need of mine

*******************************************************

I cannot tell if you like me
or if you wish I'd go away
it's so hard for me to
know these things
Tell me what you think of me
tell me I should stay
hold my hand
embrace me
chase my pain away
call me on the telephone
tell me that you care
invite me to be with you
show me that you care
in ways I
recognize


******************************************

terrible twos

Blonde curls
bright blue eyes
laughing, running in the grass
crisp pink dress
lace topped socks
pattent leather shoes
a happy heart
trusting soul
running on chubby two year old legs
looking to you for guidance
for nurture and for kindness

HOW could you bind and rape me?

*************************************

I have more poems written later on, will post them later.

it's not like the movies and tv

lately it seems the theme of many shows I've been watching is something dealing with a small child plagued by "monsters under the bed" or some other such fear. In these stories, Mom or Dad always comes to make everything better. In my childhood, Dad was the boogeyman. He even told me so. Once my mother heard him telling me that, and she admonished him "Morris, don't tell her that." so I whispered to her "He's not fibbing Mommy, he really is the boogeyman".
She brushed it off.
There was never any comfort. No hero. No Superman, Doctor Who or even Robin Hood to come fix the evil monster, we had to live with him every day and night.

After my son was born when I was 12, my mother became another boogieman, not the kind that sneaks up on you when you're asleep, but the kind that steals your son, your reality and your self. The kind of soul-ripping constant force of control over everything, in a 12 year old's world, where there is no escape.

Except for my books and tv, and there was little time for either once I was foisted into the roll of housekeeper.

I had a lot of migraines, and was never alone with my thoughts, if I went in my room to be alone, I was made to come out and "stop being a hermit".

It seems little wonder of how I started living some altered reality here and there, some of it showed up in my art, and some in my poetry, and there was a persona of "Benonia" who would just zone out and feel painful feelings and speak to nobody. By the time I was 15 or 16 and going to coffee houses I started writing little messages on bathroom walls... "Benonia was here" with the drawing of one sad eye.

There were always terrible dreams at night, a woman clothed in long black dress with a dark black veil covering her head, she would follow me around in my dreams, and I could never get close enough to find out who she was, as she would disappear before I got close enough.
In other dreams, my father was chasing me through woods with sizzors or a sharp knife, and I would trip on tree roots and get up and run some more.
I could levitate a few feet higher than he could reach, so I always got away. That dream was better than my real life.

High school provided me with some new form of relief, I started smoking pot and a few other drugs, and drinking more heavily, I was drinking when I was able as far back as 10 years old, but it was not often or much. High school I let myself do whatever I could imagine, damn the consequences.
I cut class a lot, and visited friends at different schools, and still kept coming home by my deadline of exactly 20 minutes after school let out, because I was not allowed a life, or friends. O.k., I was allowed 3 friends, but only if I got all of the house clean first, and returned home before the street lights came on, or I would be on restriction for months at a time.

My younger sisters and both of my brothers were allowed to do as they pleased, but I was permanantly punished. I ran away from home for 3 days when I was 15, and when I came back, mom was going to put me on restriction again, but I refused to let her. I told her I am coming and going as I please, just like everyone else around here. So I went out that night, and any other night I wanted to. I smoked cigars, not because I liked them, but because mom hated them, and made me take them outside.
Partial freedom was not the same as freedom to be true to myself. I had lost a big chunk of myself already, and did not get my memory back of my son's birth until 2009, 42 years later.

I can not get 42 years of motherhood back.

changes

it's pretty hard to have my favorite [recent] therapist and her intern both leave at the same time. They have been so great to work with, and I am struggling with their departure. There is additional stress in that the new therapist will be 2 weeks away from beginning anew. 2 weeks is always hard for me to go without group.

I'm also healing from a small surgery, had a lump removed from my arm. It is probably just a fatty tumor, but the lab results have not come back yet.
I am squeemish when it comes to changing the bandages, and it is a bit sore, but not too bad.

Another thing worrying me; no food in the house by some time tommorrow.....
and no money for at least a 6 days or so. Stress is not new in this area, but continuous.

I'm not up to much tonight, so this is a short blog entry.

depressed a lot lately

sometimes my memories really get me down, and sometimes it is a lot worse than that. I start thinking I really need something to look forward to, and nothing comes up.


I remember when I was 18 months old [less than 2 anyway, as it was summer] and we lived on Bonifant St in downtown silver spring maryland. Mom took me and my brother out in back of our apartment to the playground and left us there, with my 4 year old brother in charge, as she went back inside for a while. We were running and playing, and I tripped and fell and badly skinned my knee. my brother could not carry me, so we were calling out loudly for Mom. She finally appeared at a window and then came down and carried me back to our apartment. When she was cleaning my knee and putting tincture of merthiolate on it, her brother J.B. started leaving.
She had my younger brother in his crib, so she was basically having alone time with her brother while leaving 2 small children unattended outside!
I remember he was wearing his sailor whites.

I sure have some issues with my mother.

a dark void

the time lost due to denial and trauma are making me so very uneasy.
To have to face the fact that, verbal abuse and constant subjection to a huge lie by my mother and the way she micro-managed all of my time as a 12 year old, and older, really astounds me when I see how nearly totally my memory of the event of my son's birth was wiped out of my reality.
I say 'nearly totally', not because I was able to figure out what was bothering me at an early stage, but because the edges of memory were always there, and the puzzle always haunted me, day and night, decades.

I have to deal with the fact that, since my reputation as having a very accurate memory of most things from my past, people struggle to accept my blank spots as being valid now that I am finally able to put the pieces in place for the entire picture.
Imagine if you will, that you are seated at a table with a jigsaw puzzle to build, and as you work your way around the edges, your mind tries to figure out what the final image will be like, because the box had no photo to work from. You can identify clouds, bits of sky, tree tops, grass, water, etc., but until you get the entire middle in place, you have to guess if it is a neighborhood, or a zoo, or a park setting, or maybe a farm.
Now, imagine there is a huge hole in your own life like that. You remember the birthdays, the school days, the friends, the kids who bullied you, and you remember fear. Sometimes you remember being attacked, and every tiny detail of it blasts your mind like a Cinemax movie 3 stories high, with 3-D and stereo sound and smell........ the smells are the worst. You can't get rid of them with perfume or extra helpings of hot fudge sundaes.
Going for long drives in the country alone helps put things into focus, but you have to go home, raise the kids, do chores, deal with the simpering idiot-child husband........ and be ignored all over again.

Sometimes you drink too much. Sometimes you watch tv all day.
Sometimes you write a novel, but never finish it. Sometimes you rabidly and ferociously paint on canvas until your emotions spatter the living space. Sometimes you bake massive quantities of fresh breads and cookies and pies, so you won't burst apart in tears, and everyone thinks everything is fine.

Thinking back, you remember only seeing your face and hair and teeth in the mirror, and can't let yourself see what happened to your body.
You would choose your clothing by colors combinations, and always try to bring the focal point to your face, and, unlike other 12 year old girls, are forcing your every increasing girth into a girdle because your mother tells you you can't leave the house otherwise. When you were sitting at home in the living room, you were expected to ALWAYS clutch a big sofa pillow to your chest, like you need a security blanket or a teddy bear and there isn't one. Nobody knows your mother made you do that so your profile of large belly would be hidden.

I still hate to see my body in the mirror. I am dieting again. And exercising a bit. I want tent dresses and monotone dark outfits and jewelry that attracts attention upward, still, 44 years after the fact.

How hard would it have been for my mother to care how I felt?
She never gave me a moment to say. EVER.

depression

I am still suffering from the depression surge that occured when my doctor mistreated me. I'm not recovering as well as I had hoped.
it is really awful when a so-called caretaker/healthcare provider makes your life worse. usually, if I'm depressed, going online and playing games and sharing messages with friends helps a lot, but not tonight, I had to just quit.

Doctors, pains, one and the same

I'm having a bit of a rant today, because it matters to me that my feelings don't matter enough to my doctor to bother to speak to me on the phone, and then yell at me when I am in her exam room!
I had an appointment all set up in advance, arranged to get a ride, and when I realized last week that my pills would run out the day before my appointment, I phoned, got passed around from one person to the next for an hour or more, finally leaving a voicemail letting her know what the problem was going to be in having to wait over 24 hours without meds.
When her receptionist phoned me back, after more phone calls this week, yesterday [one day before the appointment] she told me the dr insists on doing my lab work before letting me have any refills.
No choices, no pills until after my appointment. by that time, I was already in pain from waiting for the call back, and even stopped by the pharmacy on the way home from group therapy, only to find nothing waiting for me.
I was a little short with the receptionist, God forbid! I said "I don't appreciate being made to suffer until the appointment, but I'll tell the dr that when I see her."
I never raised my voice, I just said it was a problem for me.

Well, when I go even one hour past pill time, the pain levels start creeping upward, so after being in agony all night, not even able to sit at the computer and play games or chat with anyone, it hurt too much to sit here, and after never getting any sleep due to pain....... until I finally conked out around 10 am, my alarm was set for 11:30, so I reset it for 1:00pm.
O.k., pain coupled with a severe asthma attack in the middle of the night, and the weather from hell...... I was barely able to walk into the dr's office when Hellen took me there.
So, I got my blood pressure and weight, and the dr came in and yelled at me for being cross with her staff!
I just started crying. I don't just feel horrible, I have far worse depression when I'm in pain.

it was just awful. She mistakenly thought I was still taking the meds that made my vision blurry, although I told her 'staff' well over a month ago I had to quit taking it.
Communication!!!!

nobody knows what that is anymore. maybe they never did.
So, she forced me to suffer for my own good, with the erroneous notion that I was still consuming a dangerous drug.
NOW I can have blood work once a year instead of every 6 months.
Bozo bitch.

I called and left a short voicemail for my therapist, since she needs to know when I suffer worse depression, and it did get bad. I had to make sure my sharp knives are in the drawer and not on display in the wooden rack, so I could go to the frig without wanting to slit my wrists.......
I am determined to survive, in spite of the crap that keeps kicking my ass.

I am starting to feel a bit better, but it still hurts badly under my right arm in the ribs, as well as my back, and my right shoulder......
worse than all of the other pain.

******************************

one good thing, my oldest daughter and I had a few good conversations today. it helps to know somebody cares that I'm hurting and depressed and anguished.

I DID tell my dr that I have major depression and anxiety and such, and that my rides are so terribly much harder to arrange, but I still think she was out of line to insist that I wait JUST IN CASE I failed to show up for the lab work! When in doubt, ASK ME!!!!!

I had to put off most ordinary housework, and finally managed to bathe my dog tonight [emergency pooh-stink] but it killed my back so badly! it's a good thing she only weighs 5 pounds.

*************************
speaking of weight, I have lost 14 pounds dieting since july first.

agony

I can't be unbroken. I can't have my baby boy back. I have my son, but he will never be a baby again. I have dreams, when I CAN sleep, of all of my children being toddlers or infants or very small children, and it kills me when I need to wake up to roll over, and I realize my Gracie is dead, my son is 44 years old and I can never go back and be who I was meant to be.
The motherhood I had in my heart was ripped away for no sane reason, I was smacked down, battered and broken, every damned time I tried to defend myself, I got beaten down verbally or with fists and with knives held to me throat by one damned parent or another. HOW DARE they even be called parents?????

I want my baby back day and night, and it hurts me and keeps me from being whole. The lies destroyed me, and it took so long to get my truth back, and time is something that can never return to me. Yes, I have my son, but when he says "Mom", he is usually refering to her. My tormenter, my punisher, my destroyer.
I am Mom. I am crying and moaning for the sweet baby nobody would ever let me call son.
I can't stop crying.
I got angry at my computer for being so slow to get me to where I can pound out these words. Nothing takes the hurt away.

Yes, my pain from Gracie's murder never fades either, and it seems impossible to have this much pain inside.

I know for sure now, why the scriptures say that Mary was blessed, and why we say she was covered with special protection from conception in her mother's womb....... the horrible way women and children are treated in this world, this whole world, as slaves, and sex objects and possessions and kicked around like filth........ the damage done to women and girls is an atrocity that damages the soul so deeply there is no way God could allow the same garbage to happen to HIS son's mother, not for a day, or an hour or a minute....... Mary was blessed by God's grace, and her life was not perfect, but she was undefiled. How astounding it must be to be so absolutely loved as to be undefiled!
How many eons would God have to wait for a child to be born and just loved and protected and not harmed and destroyed by the evil of this world? He knew how disgusting the humans had become, and we could not wait another generation without his intervention. We needed Jesus then, and we sure need him now! Now girls at not just unsafe in their homes, but pushed out into the world unsupervised and predators snatch them up like baby lambs in a meat market. Everyone has blinders on. Our children are NOT safe in our back yards, our playgrounds, our schoolyards and they are not safe in their bedrooms at home or the school houses they go to and their friends are never strong enough, smart enough, fast enough, to save them from the wolf at the door.

We need God to get through our days. We need God to get through our nights. And the evil one creeps into my dreams and kicks me to the curb a few more rounds. Hell can't be soon enough for him.

I have to get out the bottle of Holy Water, and pray again and beg for a moment's peace. A moment where I can rest and know that I won't be that infant being molested by my father while my mother gets her much needed sleep. A moment when I won't be the two year old who is plopped up onto her baby brother's changing table and raped by the bastard who has no right to ever be called Daddy. A moment when I won't be the four year old, tied up in the stable on the cold ground with a knife at my throat because I said "I hate what you're doing." and refused to say I liked it. I refused to lie. I would rather die, and could very well have died for it.
A moment when I will not be the seventh grader going to school dressed to hide the shame and never understanding what was really happening.
A moment when I can hold my newborn son, and name him, and tell him "I'm your Mommy".

He knows I love him. He can never know my pain. and he never should.
He never should have been left alone with my mother's brother, time after time to be molested by that bastard! She knew better. He belonged with me, and I belonged with him.
My daughters deserved to know their brother and not think he was their uncle. My neice deserved to be free from the family garbage falling down on her, as my girls needed to be without bastard 'father/stepfather' men and the whole world full of bastards poised to leap on them, more lambs to the wolves.
I stood up for them. I fought for them. I never had a day go by when I wasn't fighting for their safety. And I took them to therapists, and talked truth with them and let them own their anger and respected their right to kick back at creeps and wolves and devils.

None of should have to.

God, save us all.

so many things in the news

A small child is dead and nobody is found guilty of her murder,
a good priest is slandered and caused to be out of a job......
Lies and murder are a kin.
All of it is too horrible. And too familiar. I constantly struggle with the lies my mother told, as well as the abuse my father imposed, and to see so many others cruely subjected to torments every day is a terrible thing.
If only; Truth were the norm, Laws were just, people were kind, promises kept, dignity honored.
I am certainly going to find these things in God's kingdom, eventually. But why do we wait to make these things a part of us every day, every hour, every minute?
The definition of foolishness.

I have been dreaming of babies again, as so many times in my life my babies were taken from me, one way or another, waking from the dreams takes the babies away again. It's very hard.
People wonder why my tv is on all of the time. I need the distractions.
My mind gets stuck in sorrow and dread.

I want a better life, but do not know how to have one.
I want to help others, but have to struggle to help myself. It is easier to help other people.

My youngest sister called today, as she often does, and she lifts my spirits. I am alone too much, and stuck in this rut..... or is it a fox hole for the wars?

I am currently working on my exterior... weight loss is a job to tackle.
Body image is a huge part of being a survivor of childhood sexual abuse.
Wanting to be invisible so my father would leave me alone, followed by the shame my mother imposed on me to hide my condition when I was pregnant.
She would daily tell me to wear dark clothes; they make you look thinner. Keep my coat fastened, so nobody will see how fat I am, hold a pillow on my lap when I sit in the living room watching tv with the family......
wear a girdle every day to school. That was horrible. It was so hard to squeeze into and squirm into and would make me so worn out and sweaty from the struggle. I didn't know I was pregnant, just that I was supposed to be ashamed of my fat belly.

The lesson of being ashamed of my shape never left me. If I can't find very concealing clothing to wear, I do not go outside. Most of my clothes are dark.

Finding out that my father was turned off by fat women was a wonderful revelation to me, if I was even ten pounds overweight, he would stay away from me. He could say some hurtful and cutting remarks about my looks, but it was better than being violently violated. I noticed that most men in the general public leave me alone when I'm fat too, which makes it all that much harder to go into dieting, I want to be left alone. I do want to feel better and be healthier. I have to pray that I can have both; safety and slimness.

Keeping up the fight.

rough day all around

I found out today that our group therapy is losing not just one intern, but also the therapy facilitator..... and it's like saying good bye to friends, except it's basically forever.
I understand that the rules are made to protect everyone, so caregivers don't suffer burn out and clients don't get too dependant, but it is still hard to deal with. We have been very blessed with good people in this group, and it is the only group I have ever been in where I am actually asked how I feel about the leaders leaving.... it's hard, I really do care about these wonderful women.

I had a very good therapist when I was in Maryland, and fortunately can still contact her from time to time, but not on the same basis as before I moved away.

This whole week is about losses, with the anniversary of my youngest daughter's death coming on july 4th, and not hearing from my son while he is on vacation, and I've been starving with no help coming before friday.

I hope and pray that my life can get more stablized, but so far it's been one doggone thing after another.

My oldest daughter, who I was just bragging about earlier as to how she was doing so much better about not 'drunk dialing' me and making me uncomfortable on the phone...... messed up her record and drunk dialed me tonight and it started to degenerate into her telling me that I'm 'failing as a mother' because I was getting tired of the way she was just repeating herself over and over about the dude-du-jour....... [how do we say that in espanaole?]. I really want her to understand that she can only expect to end up with a stable relationship if she stops bed-hopping and actually gets to know a guy, introduce him to all of her friends, etc., but she never hears me sober or drunk.

Yeah, a real winner of a day.

something I needed to hear

although I have certainly heard it before, it is timely for me to hear this today;

If God seems slow in responding, it is because He is preparing a better gift. He will not deny us. God witholds what you are not yet ready for. He wants you to have a lively desire for His greatest gifts. All of which is to say, pray always and do not lose heart.

-- St. Augustine

How many hours of the night do I waste away, wanting to have things work more in the timing that would better suit me?
I would have wanted, and still want, to have had the oportunity to raise my son myself, rather than have him stolen from me.
Be he is my son now.
How much would I rather be able to spend time with him now, and it is only in the future some day that I will see him?

All of the time, day and night, I keep wanting things to go my way.
God forgive me, for not waiting for your provident timing, and your best will for my life.
It is hard to sit and wait.
Patience has never been my favorite lesson. I never want to have to learn it, I know it will take me all of my life.

Taking a deep breath, trying to find some peace with what I have.

my departed daughter

as July 4th approaches, I pray a novena for Grace Noel's repose every year.
I miss her all of the time, and hope and pray for eternal reunion.

Oh Lord, hear my prayer. And let my cry come to you.
Let us pray:
God, the Creator and Redeemer of all the faithful, grant to the souls of your servant and handmaid; Grace Noel, the remission of all her sins, that through our sincere prayers she may obtain the pardon she has always desired. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.


SATURDAY
Lord God, by the Precious Blood which came forth from the sacred side of Your divine Son, Jesus, in the presence and to the great sorrow of His holy Mother, deliver the souls in Purgatory, especially Grace Noel and those souls most devoted to this noble Lady, that they may come quickly into Your glory, to praise You with her forever. Amen.
Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those that trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.

Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of death. Amen.
Eternal rest grant unto Grace Noel, 0 Lord. And let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.

May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace


Grace Noel born; January 11, 1982, departed July 4, 1997

Keep your children close.
God bless

tribulations

there are so many good people with amazingly bad troubles these days;
blackmail, floods, tornadoes, poverty, confusion, political upheaval.....
thank God I know that, no matter what, I shall not falter in faith.
I pray for those being tested, and know how horrible the darkest days can be.
Parents having missing or murdered children
Priests being maligned without proof
gossip mongers
property damage due to catastrophy
physical ailments
abandonment

the list of terrible dreadful trials of tribulation go on and on.
is it any wonder we cry out to the Lord?

Mercy

a rough day

some days are more difficult than others. I have spent a large part of the day wishing I had a 'do-over' so I would not have missed so many years of being mother to my son. I know, we get one chance, but I have had so very much taken away from me. it makes me so sad, and I always feel an emptiness from it.

it's difficult to even put into words how great a loss, and how unfair the people were who stole from me, as well as from my son and his sisters.
there is no replacement for lost time.

silly thoughts I shared with my son in a short email tonight

I was pondering earlier how all 3 of my girls have their birthdays on the eleventh of the month, just like me, and that your birthday is different, but it occured to me; you were conceived eleven weeks before I finished being eleven years old!

*********************************************************
He was born before I had regular periods.
I was so regular later on, my babies all had the same day of the month to be born.

tough times

some days are worse than others, usually the worst is night time.
I get very depressed and struggle to sleep, and doing household chores
is an uphill battle.

I still have not been able to get some papers printed out for requesting files needed to change the 'mother's name' portion of my son's birth certificate, all I need to start is access to a printer.

lost time, making up for lost time

there are 2 kinds of lost time, one where you can't remember, and the other where you just can't turn back the clock.

I really want to have what I lost, and am trying to put together enough replacement items to make it better. I am planning to get a scrap book and make a special memory book about my son, and it won't be easy. I spent a lot of time "babysitting" him as my mother raised him as her boy, but I am at a loss for any of the written notes about when he first walked, spoke, and other firsts. I don't have dates for any of it, I was never allowed to think of him as mine.

I do have his newborn photo, and will make copies so it will be safe.
I have some photos from his pre-school and school age years, but they are sparse, and my mother did not put dates on most of them.

I have his baby shoes, and his Dennis the Menace doll, I am making new clothes for the doll.

Bits and pieces.

I need a future with him in it.

Validation, Victories, positive parts of the journey

I am thinking about how far I have come, and how much closer to my goals I am now.
Back in 1998, as I was living in a trailer, 'house-sitting' for a stranger in the middle of nowhere with no radio or tv, no income and nobody I could count on, griving the loss of my youngest daughter... in the middle of the silence and despair, I had a feeling of hearing a still small voice, like a tiny child. I paid attention to it. I thought, if this is my 'inner child' I need to listen. As I listened, it seemed the tiny voice was crying.
I asked; What are you crying for?
and listening more, I felt the answer was; I'm afraid.
So I asked; What are you afraid of?
in the stillness, listening, I felt the answer again; "I'm afraid you will never be my mother."

I was astonished, and wondered if I was trying to tell myself I needed to have another baby. I knew that, as long as I was on anti-depressants, that must never happen, as it would damage a baby's developement.

I thought about this and prayed about it for months, and finally made the choice to start weaning myself off the meds. I went slowly, reducing the dosage for a few months until I was off them completely.

I absolutely suffered more depression, but I was finally feeling a bit healthier, my hands were not shaking so badly, I stopped the violent vomiting, and eventually the other side effects of the medication all went away too, but some of it lingered on for years, and the loss of focus while reading persists today.

I was not sure why I was having this feeling about a baby. I was very sure I did not want to risk getting involved with another bad man. So, I just kept working on myself.
The therapist I was seeing agreed to have an associate teach me self hypnosis to seek out the missing memories in my life. He showed me how to relax and let my mind focus on something before the missing memories, and then just wait for the memories to come back.
Some results were immediate.
Some results took many more years.

Sometimes I didn't try. Sometimes I journaled my dreams. Some times I just wondered.

Several years went past, and lots of turmoils came and went, keeping my mind to busy to make much progress..... and in 2008, after a big personal crisis, I moved to Indiana to a town I had never seen, to a new church community, a new therapist, everything new, except for my missing memories.
I still needed answers.
I met new friends. I attended the retreat and formation process mentioned in earlier posts...... and finally the reason for the tiny interior crying child's voice made it's way into my awareness. 42 years earlier I had a son.

it is 44 years now, and I am so happy to have my personal history, as painful as it is, finally intact, and finally I am free from the tiny crying voice, the nightmares of faceless people stealing my baby boy from me [which began in 1967]. Finally my self awareness is restored and I feel whole.

******************
I have goals; to get the records of what happened at the hospital my parents took my son to after he was born.
I intend to get the birth certificate corrected, with my name for his mother.
I intend to have siblings and other people accept my truth.

I want to see my son, and have my kids all together and get a family portrait done.

I want positive direction.

rough times

my meds for pain have been altered, and the swelling is worse as is pain and tiredness. I found myself thinking; I'm tired of living like this.

I am trying to get in a better mood.

Ostracism & Isolation

Quote;
Professor: Pain of ostracism can be deep, long-lasting (5/21/2011)
Tags:
self-esteem, social rejection


Ostracism or exclusion may not leave external scars, but it can cause pain that often is deeper and lasts longer than a physical injury, according to a Purdue University expert.
"Being excluded or ostracized is an invisible form of bullying that doesn't leave bruises, and therefore we often underestimate its impact," said Kipling D. Williams, a professor of psychological sciences. "Being excluded by high school friends, office colleagues, or even spouses or family members can be excruciating. And because ostracism is experienced in three stages, the life of those painful feelings can be extended for the long term. People and clinicians need to be aware of this so they can avoid depression or other negative experiences."
When a person is ostracized, the brain's dorsal anterior cingulate cortex, which registers physical pain, also feels this social injury, Williams said. The process of ostracism includes three stages: the initial acts of being ignored or excluded, coping and resignation.
Williams' research is reported in the current issue of Current Directions in Psychological Sciences. The article was co-authored by Steve A. Nida, associate provost and dean of The Citadel Graduate College and a professor of psychology.
"Being excluded is painful because it threatens fundamental human needs, such as belonging and self-esteem," Williams said. "Again and again research has found that strong, harmful reactions are possible even when ostracized by a stranger or for a short amount of time."
More than 5,000 people have participated in studies using a computer game designed by Williams to show how just two or three minutes of ostracism can produce lingering negative feelings.
"How can it be that such a brief experience, even when being ignored and excluded by strangers with whom the individual will never have any face-to-face interaction, can have such a powerful effect?" he said. "The effect is consistent even though individuals' personalities vary."
People also vary in how they cope, which is the second stage of ostracism. Coping can mean the person tries to harder be included. For example, some of those who are ostracized may be more likely to engage in behaviors that increase their future inclusion by mimicking, complying, obeying orders, cooperating or expressing attraction.

from;

http://www.brainmysteries.com/research/Professor_Pain_of_ostracism_can_be_deep_long-lasting.asp?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+BrainMysteries+%28Brain+News+And+Research%29&utm_content=My+Yahoo


**************************************************
the rest of this post is not a quote from anyone, but personal observations.
Isolation was a big factor in the way my parents exerted control over me.
The same day my son was born [I was 12 years old], our family moved to a new house many miles from where we had been living. So, a new school, new neighbors, no phone for the first few days...... suddenly I was in strange territory, even though I had formerly lived in the same neighborhood years prior, I didn't know anyone very well. Our next door neighbor was someone I had known vaguely during early elementary school, as well as the girl across the street, who never spoke to me. I was immediately thrust into a caretaker role, having to walk quickly from my junior high school to my siblings elementary school for the first few weeks to meet my younger siblings and walk them home every day.
This limited the amount of time I had for developing new friendships, although one very nice girl used to walk with me until our paths diverged.

More time constraints were imposed, after arriving home with my siblings, I had to all of the household chores, with the small exception of my mother's laundry and my son's laundry, as my mother "didn't trust" me to do it right. Dish washing, cooking, laundry washing, drying and ironing, folding, putting away for all of the other 6 members of the family, dusting, sweeping, vaccuuming, my older brother fed the dogs and took out the trash, those were considered boys work.

All of my time was taken up with chores and homework, followed by 'babysitting' when my mother went out friday and saturday nights.

I was not allowed to keep in touch with my best friend from all of my life.... and I was terribly shy.

Secrets isolate as well. There were so many things I was never allowed to talk about, even with my grandparents who loved me.

People are NEVER property.
Ostracism and isolation are forms of control/bullying.
We must never tolerate these actions and must learn to recognize these as earmarks of abuse.

praying for our abusers

this is a very difficult thing, and I have to keep trying to do it anyway.
I was just sharing this prayers when I thought about my need to forgive my parents for what they did to me, so I will share it here;

Petition to Mary for the Suffering Souls
O Immaculate Mother, Queen of Heaven, hear the cries of your suffering children in purgatory and intercede for them at the throne of the Almighty. Behold in them, O Mother most faithful, the image of your Divine Son Who offered Himself in their behalf. Recall His bitter passion and death, and see in them His very sufferings. We feel confident, then, O Mother of Mercy, that you will obtain their liberation; so that they, in union with you and the choir of Heaven, may contemplate the Beatific Vision in heaven forever. Amen.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them.
Amen.



I struggle with this so much, especially since so much is still unresolved.
I need to have corrections made to my son's birth certificate, and I want to get all of the info from my mother's stay in the hospital where she CLAIMED to be his mother........... a lot of anger here.

prayers for her and for my father will eventually help me to get past the anger.
Anger only hurts me and makes the injuries worse.

small memory recall

I keep getting small bits of memory come back to me, and today was the first time I remembered my son's first steps. We were in the living room on Henderson Ave. and I had been walking him around holding his hands. Then I got on my knees a few feet in front of him and put my hands out and asked him to walk to me and he did. He was so cute and happy. My mother said he was supposed to walk to her first.

I had the joy of his first steps. I lost the joy for a long time, but now I remember it again.

**********************************
Remarkably, I just had another memory; my son's first tooth.
I remember feeding him and he kept clunking his tooth on the spoon, so I said "Let me see that little toothie" and put my finger on his tooth, and he bit me. I yelped "Ouch" and he laughed and laughed.

What a great night this has been, 2 good memories!

**********************************

make that 3.... I remember that when Mom took my son out and got his hair cut for the first time, I was really sad because all of his blond curls were gone. I told her not to do it.

She didn't want anyone to think he was a girl. He wasn't not dressed like a girl, so I didn't see it as a real valid point.



oh well.

stolen from me

There have been so many things stolen from me, property, my son, my rights to a decent childhood, my virginity, a natural amount of self respect and personal dignity.......

Having my father so deeply betray my trust was severely damaging to my life.
Having my mother help him by keeping it secret, and then betraying my trust herself is double injury. All children naturally count on their mothers for help and protection and love........ finding out that none of these things are available to you is theft.

Stealing my right to have a decent parent is not all that she took.
When my grandmother gave me a lovely 3 strand crystal necklace, Mom took it away from me. When grandma gave me a sweet rhinestone tiara, Mom took it away from me. I had a little orange tabby cat that I loved, Mom took it away from me and sent it to the animal shelter [probably to be killed].
An uncle gave me a pair of parakeets in a cage, and I named them Paul and George, and cared for them and taught them to stand on my finger and reply to my whistles.... I came home from school one day to find an empty cage in my room. Mom said they died. I found out she was lying because I saw them flying around with sparrows outside.
When I was 15, she went into my bedroom and pulled a box out from under my bed where I kept all of the Barbie and Ken dolls I had collected for all of my childhood, all I ever got for birthdays and Christmases.... and she took all 32 dolls, the Barbie car and furniture and gave it to a little girl up the street. When I came home she told me what she had done.
She knew I would never go take toys away from a little 4 year old child.
I was livid, I was saving them for my own daughters.

My uncle gave me a guitar, as his daughter was bored with it. I was learning to play it and loved it and kept it polished and felt some pride in what I was doing. One day it was gone, Mom suggested that my younger brother must have sold it to buy drugs. Years later I found it in her bedroom closet after she had died.

When I was living in my own first apartment with my baby daughter, Mom gave me some Christmas tree ornaments, she had hundreds, so she gave me some as a gift. Years later, when I was married and living with my second husband and 3 youngest children she came to visit for Christmas and I took Mom and my in-laws on a trip to New York for a Star Trek convention. I paid for the hotel rooms, the food, the convention tickets and did the driving. She got to meet some movie stars, one of her bigest dreams come true. We had a wonderful time, and I loved to have the opportunity to treat my Mother and my in-laws. We returned to my home, and after our visit was done, I took Mom to the train and sent her back to Myrtle Beach. I had also paid for her round trip train tickets.
When she got home, she phoned me and said "Oh, by the way, I took my ornaments off the tree.".
After all that I did, spending hundreds of dollars and making her dream of meeting movie stars come true, she stole from me again.


All of the thefts from my mother set up a pattern of thefts from other people. When I re-collected all of the Barbies and Kens and Skippers, they got stolen by people who broke into my home.

I am on my third try at collecting them back, but it is not the same as having the originals which I kept in pristine condition.

My first husband stole all of my fine china and leather bound books and tupperware..... he even stole my house plants, as well as a whole house full of furniture when he divorced me, all of those things were mine before I ever met him.

My second husband followed his example, kicked me and the childern out of our home, took my name off our joint checking account and put his girlfriend on it, locked me out of our office where I had worked for him [she replaced me there too]. So, homeless and jobless and kicked to the curb.

Many terrible thefts occured later on, but the very worst of it all was when my mother stole my son from me and passed him off as her own and NEVER gave him back.
It took me 42 years to come to terms with that horrible betrayal, and I have my son back, and he is a joy to my heart. If Mom were still alive I would never have had a chance to reclaim him.

****************************************

Why is all of this theft significant?
It is one method of brainwashing. To stip one of their belongings, their place in family [my motherhood of my son] and my ability to feel safe, all of these things build a wall of denial and fear.
Was she smart enough to know that brainwashing was a way to control me?
No, but she came by it naturally. I don't know how she learned it, but she
systematically tore down everything I cared about and pushed me into the background.

I could not figure out for years why she let my younger sister have the cutest clothes and the groovy go-go boots when I had to wear shift dresses, tent dresses and penny loafers. It is obvious now, the more of the spotlight being shone on my sister, the less everyone noticed me, so my pregnant condition was not noticed. If anyone did notice, I was never told.

more brainwashing; servitude. Having all of my time used up with school and household chores broke my spirit. it also facilitated the other part of brainwashing; isolation. When we first moved to our new home the day my son was born, I was never allowed to write letters to my best friend from elementary school. She had moved away and we were pen pals, but I was forbidden to keep in touch with her when we moved. I tried to send her a letter once but Mom caught me and tore it up. I was 15 before I was allowed to do anything fun.
It was still micromanaged though, I was only allowed to be at the homes of 3 different friends, and my mother would call and make sure I was really there.
I was the only 15 year old I knew who had to be home when the street lights come on, which was 5 pm in the winter, after having to come home directly from school and do chores...... so I might get 45 minutes a day out of the perview of my mother's strict regime.

Somehow, I managed to start sneaking cigarettes, about 30 of them per day.
Between classes at school was no problem, I carried a forged note from my mother saying I was allowed to smoke...... thanks to my friend J.A., who could write just like mom.
Sneaking after school at home hours was significantly more difficult, but it was a point of rebellion, a long over-due rebellion.

Fortunately I was able to quit smoking as an adult. But it served it's purpose back then. It was like spitting in her face, behind her back.

good things

I had a short phone conversation with my son tonight. He always makes me laugh. We talk about all sorts of different things, and it's always very uplifting.

It has been raining for about 2 days now, I'm sure somebody thinks it's 'good for the flowers' or something, I tend to think sunshine is better.

My oldest daughter calls me every day, sometimes 3 times in the same day.
It is a big improvement over how things were for one really bad year.
I'm glad she will be getting divorced from that creep soon, so is she.

My second girl is not very much in touch, I keep hoping that will get better.

When you grow up in a worse-than-disfunctional family, it isn't easy to form the best relationships. I keep trying my best.

Grief

I know grief is somewhat off-topic, but all of us have some sort of grief in our lives. Grieving our lost innocence, our lost hopes, our cruel scars.......
But this is going to be about my daughter's death. Gracie was only 15 years old, it was July 4th 1997. I had gone to an old friend's wedding in Virginia, and Gracie was supposed to stay with our next door neighbors.
She went home alone to take a nap, and when she got up, she realized the neighbors had gone to the fireworks at the beach without her.
She walked to their parents home about a mile away to seek a ride, and after making some phone calls, nobody was willing to drive her, so she headed out hitch-hiking. Somebody in a white van picked her up, and shortly afterwards threw her out the back of the van at 55+ mph, and she was struck by the following car, and dragged 200 yards before the driver realized it was a person they hit. The driver panicked and flipped their car over in a ditch.
Grace was dead imediately.

On my trip to Virginia for the wedding, as I was riding the greyhound bus,
I saw a car completely engulfed in flames in the slow lane, and a horrible feeling came over me. I wanted to turn around and go home. Bus drivers don't do that though, so I continued on the trip.
My friend and her family met me at the bus, and we went to see fireworks near their home. around 10 pm, I suddenly started having my period, 2 weeks early. Again, I felt something was really wrong. I had no way to go home that night, so I stayed for the wedding as planned.
After the wedding on July 5th, I drove my friends car as they rode in the back seat, and we headed to Myrtle Beach where they were honeymooning.
I lived about 15 miles from there. When we arrived at their hotel, I phoned my next door neighbors to come and get me, P. E. said he was too drunk so he sent someone else to get me. The ride back was strangely quiet, and the driver insisted we stop at his parents house. When we came inside, I suddenly felt like I was walking through heavy fog. There were lots of people there, and my pastor and I was introduced to the coroner.
They told me there had been an accident...... Grace was dead. They had already done an autopsy. They lied to me and told me that she had just been standing in the highway and it was an unavoidable accident. They suggested she must have been on drugs. I told them they were wrong, she was not using drugs and would never stand in the road. It was shortly after 10 pm July 4th when she died.

The following days were a blur to me. I had to be heavily medicated and could hardly walk without holding on to someone or something.

It was years before I started to function in anything like a normal way.
I have never slept normally since then. When I sleep, I have nightmares.
Even a short nap like earlier today, and I have dreams of Grace and images of death.

I try to get out of sleep and get something done around here. It is crippling.

**************************************

Other grief - nightmare things are attached to my childhood abuse.
If you have read the rest of the blog it will come as no surprise.
I have finally stopped having the nightmares about faceless people stealing my baby boy, it plagued me constantly since 1967 when J.F. was born until we finally dealt with the truth of his birth in october 2009.
42 years of nightmares and visiting baby stores to look at baby boy clothes..... and sometimes hearing a small child cry [inside my head like interior locution]. My mind was trying for years to push me to remember.
There is a lot of grief, and anguish. Now I am struggling with anger at my mother, for not only covering up my father's crimes, but for forcing me to live a lie and treating me like crap. My parents are in my nightmares too, and I just want them to go away. They just can't stay dead. Sometimes I dream of them climbing out of their graves......... and the rest of the dream I am trying to get them back into the ground.

It's all grief.

tip toe on egg shells

otherwise known as pussy-footing around....... is it the right way to get through life or not?
no simple answer here. Blessed are the meek, eventually. But in healing family relationships, should we tap dance around the issues and avoid addressing the elephant in the room?

I don't know. I keep pondering this point. I don't want to hurt anyone, but I am constantly hurt. I want us all to be able to face the truth, and get past it. to overcome the stumbling blocks set up in front of our every step by our parents in all their dreadful ways, and make a clear path with a more rewarding future.

I do not know how to accomplish any of it.

I just pray and hope.

grappling with self

sometimes I have to face hard truths about myself, like my fear of being judged. I know, it seems like that isn't one of my big problems, but it really is. I had to look at myself a bit harder today, because it was clear I wasn't being completely upfront and honest about my self image. It started as a simple thing, a friend offered me clothing, which was very kind of her. I was dismissive and unintentionally hurt her feelings. It was entirely because of how I was covering up the extent of my depression....... I don't actually need MORE clothing, I am simply not taking care of the ones I have properly, or even caring for myself as I should, and running into a laundry pile and the depression slump is not getting better.
I hope I can make sure my friend sees how sorry I am about slighting her, she didn't deserve it and I didn't realize I was doing it. I was just trying to avoid having anyone know how poorly my emotional state is doing.

There is not a bushel basket big enough to hide me under.
I feel so stupid. I know it is more important to be open and honest than it is to fear judgement, but I have suffered cruel judgement so many times in my life it seems automatic to expect everyone to just detest me if they know me well enough.

That is pretty depressing right there. My sister, J.T., is judgemental of me, and seems to be rattling my cage a lot lately..... NOT the interaction I have hoped for. Expecting anything to change may be useless too, but I do keep praying. and waiting. and praying.

I'm very frustrated and sad.

Anyone who has been the target of abuse probably knows this feeling well, but it is doggone hard to face anyway. Fear of judgement, fear of rejection, self loathing are all things our perpetrators foist on us to cripple and confuse us, to keep their evil betrayals in operation.
Making the victim look feeble, foolish and possibly insane are such great ways to hide the truth of the abuse, and the abuser goes merrily on.
Leaving the scarred and pathetic victim demoralized and broken and ripe for repeat offenders to jump right into their lives..... like sharks frenzied after chumming the waters.

Self respect. it is still a distant goal.

strong emotions

I just saw a photo from my family on my 12th birthday, posted by one of my sisters on facebook, and it makes me feel just sick inside. It was one picture of me, my brother and sister, our dog and my mother, disguised in a maternity outfit. October 11, 1966 was the day I got the camera from my grandmother for my 12th birthday, and I was the one who was pregnant.
Mom was posing for the big lie......... and it was way too soon for anyone to be 'showing' in the pregnancy that resulted in my son'e birth on April 30, 1967.
I do not know why my sister posted it, or why she 'tagged' me in the post, maybe she was trying to get a reaction from me? I'm very upset.
I am trying very hard to get this situation resolved in my family, and trying very hard to not start any fights over it.

I deserve to have a clear and reasonable conversation with those who fail to believe me. I know the lie was well established, but I still have a right to own the truth of my own history, and the parenthood of my own son.

my hands are shaking and I need an excedrin.

******************************
originally posted may 1st, the day after my son's 44th birthday. one of my daughters suggested my sister likely posted the photo on that day to jab at me.

turmoil and disfunction

there are a lot of things that come from having been abused, everybody knows there is depression, anger, cycles of more abuse/victimizations in families, spousal abuse, elder abuse. What is bothering me most often is the post traumatic stress; horrible nightmares, insomnia, family members who are in various stages of denial, and poverty. Obviously not all victims become poverty stricken, but poverty is often the result of abuse, and certainly comes from bad spouses who abuse then abandon you to let you scrape together whatever you can after they have used you up and left you penniless.

Our government is partially responsible, for not enforcing it's own laws about fair division of household monies in all divorces, and by punishing the downtrodden every time we try to make a step forward, they keep pushing us back and taking away our livelihood.

Making better laws is crucial. Women and children will always be the most abused and dispossessed if we do nothing to stop it. All spouses with earnings should be required to put in to social security for their spouses, and gender has no boundries here, wives can abuse husbands too, so don't think this is a 'man-hater's club, not at all. Equality in finances is simply the first and most important thing to make us free from more abuses.

If I had been working for someone other than my husband for 10 years, my social security would be almost double what it is, I had no idea he cheated me out of my work earnings by never claiming me as an employee.
Does the government care to intervien? Nope.
Big surprise.

Life is hard enough without bullies in every direction. We need to grow better people.

2:47 am Wednesday

I just finished the 26th day of my devotional total consecration, and prayed the glorious mysteries of the rosary.
I am getting a lot more out of my devotional this year, since it is helping me to deal with the anger at my mom....... meditating on the purity and wisdom of Mary, as a model of motherhood, reminds me of how short I fall of perfection, and also reminds me that my mother was also an abuse victim.
Being a victim does not excuse her becoming an abuser, but it does show that she remained in the cycle of abuse by not facing her abusers and by allowing them to continue in their depravity.
I did not do that. I stood up to dad, to my first husband, to men who abused me [for the most part] as well as to men who were wrong to my children.

I got part of it right. I hope to someday be a better person than I am, so my children can be proud of me. Maybe I can even be an inspiration for them in outliving the abusers of this world, and being determined to thrive rather than meerly survive.

Survival is really not enough.

Palm Sunday 2011

I went to late Mass with Gerry Markham @ Our Lady of Grace in Highland.
it is a very big church, a bit too big for my comfort.

I am still going through the Total Consecration to Jesus through Mary, and am on day 24 now.
When I was praying the joyful mysteries and meditating on how Mary gave birth to Jesus and then wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in the manger, it made me cry, because I wanted to hold my son when he was born, and he was just taken away from me and never given back. I would have loved nothing more than to hold him and make sure he was alright.

People comment on how rough it must have been giving birth in a stable, and I'm sure if you compare it to a nice clean hospital or even a cozy room in a house, it was poor conditions. But modern people forget how many women in the world never have a hospital or a warm comfortable place to stay when they are having their babies. I prefer to think of how very wonderful it was for them that angels guarded them, and shepherds came and guarded them all night...... and wise men came from far away lands to kneel and give gifts.
It could have been worse.

Angels also warned Joseph in a dream to hide in egypt rather than have the baby killed by Herod's men. All of the other male babies there were killed.

Today, millions of babies are killed every year all over the world, as we have a new "Herod" called planned parenthood, which should be named planned genocide.

All babies are precious. All babies deserve life and love.

cycle of abuse

I have read that abuse goes through families, generation after generation,
and it is certainly true in my family. My mother was abused by a neighbor when she was 6 years old, and said that 2 of her brothers were inappropriate with her at some time. I think that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Having been vicitimized by my father, and not protected by my mother...... who eventually became more than an enabler for him, but planned and carried out a terrible cover up at my expense. And my son's expense. And my daughters, who lost years of family time with their brother because of the lies and trauma inflicted by my parents.

Some people actually teach their daughters about the proper way to date, how to pick out a decent boyfriend/husband.... but this was not taught to me, mainly because neither of my parents had a clue or a desire to teach me anything useful. Cooking and household chores were the only things I was taught by them. Those very talents were used to punish me for having a baby, when I had no voice in any of it.

When I was aware of what was going on, I wanted to keep him. Even when I was too traumatized and in denial, I still wanted to figure out a plan to get him away from them. I never figured out a way, and my life became too full of crisis situations to even think straight for decades.
I did my very best raising my girls, and battling for their safety from my first X........... years of hiding and worrying, followed by massive amounts of grief when my youngest was murdered.

Abuse is a cycle we must put an end to. We absolutely must put our foot down and refuse to allow it. Speak the truth loudly and clearly, and don't give in to any bullying tactics and manipulations of the perpetrators.
EVER.

I have certainly found inspiration and solace in scripture, and can relate to how Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus had to flee and hide from evil perpetrators.
God is faithful to provide their needs, and always provides for us when we trust in Jesus.

There is a time to run, and a time to hide, and a time to stand firm and a time to fight. You can more easily discern these times when you keep close to the Lord in prayer.

I'm not talking about looking for mysterious signs, but for opportunities, directions and wisdom. Surround yourself with women of faith and wisdom. Share concerns, ideas and support. Be a friend to those in need, keep your eyes open and your mind sober.

tuesday april 12

this is the first year I did not start a novena for dad's birthday, which will be on sunday. I have been very depressed and having lots of nightmares when I manage to sleep.

I got up after 2 hours sleep this morning and went to 8:15 Mass with my friend S. deJ. and attended the rosary meeting afterwards. I had a minute to talk privately with Fr. M., and shared with him how important the Christ Renews His Parish retreat and formation was to me, as I finally got the acceptance and support and encouragement I needed to face some hard truths, and get the DNA results for me and my son.
Fr. was astonished, which also proves everything I shared at the retreat really was confidential......... a big room full of ladies without gossip!
Anyway, I wanted to make sure he knew how powerful this group is and to keep looking towards having more retreats in the future.
He gave me a hug, he's a very nice priest.

I did get to have a ride for group therapy on wednesday, my neighbor is driving me.

spiritual journey

I am currently doing the Total Consecration to Jesus through Mary, and am on day 16 of 33. When I pray this prayer aloud;



Ave Maris Stella

Hail, O Star of the ocean,
God's own Mother blest,
ever sinless Virgin,
gate of heav'nly rest.
Taking that sweet Ave,
which from Gabriel came,
peace confirm within us,
changing Eve's name.
Break the sinners' fetters,
make our blindness day,
Chase all evils from us,
for all blessings pray.
Show thyself a Mother,
may the Word divine
born for us thine Infant
hear our prayers through thine.
Virgin all excelling,
mildest of the mild,
free from guilt preserve us
meek and undefiled.
Keep our life all spotless,
make our way secure
till we find in Jesus,
joy for evermore.
Praise to God the Father,
honor to the Son,
in the Holy Spirit,
be the glory one. Amen.



I cannot help but see how perfect a Mother Mary was and is, in comparison to my earthly mother, and also compared to me.
even the part about 'undefiled' is not possible for us to be, as were were violated against our will. I know my mother was a shy and anxious type of person, quite different form myself, and she probably did not even voice objections to the ones who violated her, while fought tooth and nail.

I do know, when I became aware that my husband was harming my daughters, I put a stop to it. It was not a simple thing to do, monsters do not quietly go away. But I was willing to die to save my children.
My mother was unwilling to suffer shame for my sake.

Anyway, the fact that our heavenly mother is so perfect helps me to see my own faults, and to be a bit more forgiving of my mother's, although I can not understand the inaction and enabling she did.

I still have a long journey to forgiveness.

emotional moment

I just got an email message from my sister who has not spoken to me in over a year and a half, since I first announced that J.F. is my son, not my brother.
I have prayed for some kind of breakthrough, and even though she only asked some personal medical questions since she had a medical event of her own a few months ago, it is still some kind of communication.

I will keep praying, and try not to get too much hopes up....... we have had a difficult relationship since 1967 or so.

I am currently going through the Total Consecration to Jesus through Mary by Saint Louis de Montfort, and it is helping me to feel some relief from the anger at my mother, because God has given me a heavenly mother, one who will never betray me or leave me like an orphan.
If you are reading this blog, you might find it as I post it on one of my other blogs as I go though it daily.

patron of rape victims

Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Blessed Pierina Morosini

Today's saint of the the day is Blessed Pierina Morosini, virgin and martyr (1931 - 1957), patron of rape victims and martyr of purity.


Martyr for Purity and Dignity of the Woman

Pierina Morosini, daughter of Roque Morosini and Sara Norris, was born on January 7, 1931 in Fiobbio di Albino, Bergamo, Italy. Pierina was the eldest of nine children in this impoverished family. She was a young, devout woman, known as to be deeply in love with God and a faithful Catholic. Pierina received the Sacrament of Confirmation at age 6 and began attending daily mass, rising at 5 am in order to attend mass at 6 am. After mass, she would return home and then travel ½ hour to the village to go to school. Pierina was very talented and was the best student in her class but her family was poor and at the age of 11 she had to leave her studies in order to go to learn the trade of tailoring. At age 15, she began working at a cotton spinning mill in Albino. Still attending daily mass, she joined the Third Order Franciscans, taking vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

Pierina was very active in the Church, working as a catechist, collecting offerings for seminarians and doing other works. An important event in her life was her pilgrimage to Rome, in 1947, to attend the Beatification of Maria Goretti, during which she said, “It would be a great happiness for me to die like Maria Goretti.” Her friends responded by saying,” If you die as she did, we promise to come to your beatification.” Pierina was ready to suffer and having already received suffering from the Lord…she never complained.

Pierina was attacked by a 20 year old man on April 4, 1957. In defense of her virginity, she took a stone to hit her aggressor, but he took the stone from her and struck her on the head with it.

She fell down on the path where she was later found by her brother, Santo. The parish priest, who was called immediately, gave her the Last Sacraments and was then sent to a hospital in Benevento. She died on April 6, 1957.

Pierina was buried on April 9, 1957. Even then, she was already believed to be a saint and everyone wanted to touch her coffin. On April 9, 1983, her remains were carried from the cemetery to the parish church. Her body appeared to be in a good state of preservation.

When Pope John Paul II beatified her in Rome in 1987, he spoke of her as a symbol of purity in our violent, modern world.

Her canonization is pending.

Impaired judgement

We have all had some occassion to make bad choices, but never so much as when judgement is impaired by the use of alcohol and drugs. Certainly this is not a new problem, I'm sure that men have taken advantage of impaired women for centuries, or longer. We probably all know better than to meet strangers in bars, or maybe not. There are some men that will tilt the scales in their favor by drugging you without your knowledge or consent, and then rape you when you can't defend yourself. We should never have any open drink when we are not among trustworthy friends. Notice, I did not say trusted, but trustworthy. Women that have been abused as children can often not tell the difference between trustworthy and untrustworthy men, so becoming impaired is never a good idea.

Teens need to be made aware of this danger before they find out the hard way. Peer pressure makes bad choices all of the time. Teach your children how to have safe boundaries, and how to stand their ground when being pressured by ANYONE. Girls can push other girls into bad situations as certainly as boys can.

Being aware of your surroundings, not too busy texting or on the phone or with ear-pieces for music........ do not make yourself a target by being oblivious to what is going on around you. When using your cell phone in public places, NEVER talk loudly telling your plans of where you are going or [pay attention teens] announce that your parents think you are really going somewhere else...... TARGET! Any predator hearing such information will gladly follow you until they can gain easy access to you.

Avoid jogging/running alone, traveling alone on public transportation, walking on dark streets where nobody is able to assist you.
I know, this is harder to accomplish if you're a single woman living alone.
One way to be safer, believe it or not, is to readily look strangers in the eye and say hello as they walk near you, getting a clear look at their face makes you less of a target, and saying a cheerful greeting puts them in mind of the fact that you have seen them.

That kinda flies in the face of the old standby; never speak to strangers....
but really makes better sense.
Avoid getting within arm's reach of strangers. This is always best, maintain an area of space around yourself, your personal zone of comfort.
No trespassers!

Some women want to carry a weapon. Keep in mind, it could be taken away from you and used against you. Mace [or pepper spray] is safer than a knife or gun, but the simplest things are best; wear enough clothing to cover your body well. Skin showing, or underwear showing can trigger bad acts from some men. The porn industry relies on that fact.
Advertising companies rely on that fact. Men are visually aroused before anything else.
If they see it, they want to see more, if they see more, they want it.
Make good use of your full length mirror before going out every day.
Turn your back on the mirror, then turn around quickly, and see what is the first thing you notice about yourself. If your eyes are drawn to your hair or face, that's good, if your clothing makes you notice any of your private areas right away, you need to rethink your outfit.
Designer jeans direct the eyes towards your private areas.
Tops that are low cut in the neckline advertise too much.
Fitted clothes with decoration along the bustline or patch pockets on the backside can give the wrong attention to others.

Personally, I avoid wearing a belt and shoe laces, because both items have been used when my father attacked me to tie my wrists. I wear slip on shoes and no belts.
I don't make all of the safest choices though, as I do like to wear a scarf in the winter, so I make my own of bulky yarns so they are less useful for making strong knots.
It is still possible to be strangled, and if you are already subdued,
your own pantyhose or stockings can be used against you. I don't wear those either, but wear socks [short ankle ones].

If you are out driving by yourself, NEVER open your window or door to speak to a male policeman, insist they get a female officer on the scene.
This goes double if someone hits your car, some guys cause an accident so they can get you out of your car.
It is also true that, some guys will hit you with your car when you are walking, so they can get out to take you 'to the hospital', and get you into their car and take you away.

Get self defense training as soon as possible. Get your girl friends together for self defense lessons. You might get a group rate.

We are not safer just because we get to be old and unattractive either, and should never think all of our efforts make us entirely safe,
there is likely somebody out there that targets old fat and shabby looking women, so don't be caught off guard.

Nursing homes have offenders in them too. Elder abuse is a serious problem, since you may really be at their mercy. I keep my finger nails sharp, in a nursing home, sharp toenails might be a good idea too.
Our legs are stronger than our arms. If you can't run, kick.

BE LOUD and don't be silent. Offenders don't want anyone to notice what they are up to. Make a whole lot of noise.

I have been blessed with really strong teeth. I am not afraid to bite, and draw blood. I once badly bruised a guy right through his denim jeans.
He didn't make any mistakes with me again.

Yeah, I knew him. He complained about the bruise. I bit until HE was screaming.

Children need special self defense instructions. Tailor the general ideas of boundaries and awareness to their understanding.
ALL children need to know their own name, parents names and address and phone number.
Make up a song and they will learn it and remember it.
Take them around their own neighborhood when they are very young, and teach them the names of the streets, introduce them to neighbors by name,
and mention that "Mommy doesn't know those people, they are strangers".
Teach them to never go away with an adult who promises candy or a puppy or kitten if they come along. "Not without my Mommy/Daddy" is something they can practice saying.

Check the security in your children's schools. Are all faculty members and staff finger printed and background checked?
Is there someone watching all doors for intruders?
Can parents roam the halls unattended?
Is the playground safe?
Is the parking lot safe?
What is the proceedure if you are late picking them up?
Are they aware of any special need for protection from an estranged family member?

Do you have ideas I didn't think of including? Make comments.

Survival

I'm all about survival. Not just my own, but everyone's. Our society is in a bad spiral down in the wrong direction, unless we act to stop child abuse, spousal abuse, human trafficking, porn......... all of these things diminish us all and tear down morality and debase humanity.

We must be active in our own communities, volunteer to work in teen centers, nursing homes, your church sunday school and religious ed programs,
be involved in your own children's lives, and get to know their friends well, well enough to guide them towards a better future.

One person can make a difference, even a few hours a month, doing good and inspiring others, good is contageous. Spread it viral!

I tried to get some sleep

it's 3:20 am, and I was in bed trying to sleep, but my thoughts are troubling me too much. I keep thinking about the one time when we lived on Gainsboro Rd when Mom came out of her bedroom around 5 in the morning and found me awake, having gotten up to use the bathroom and get a drink.
And for the first minute when I saw her, I was dumbfounded, because I had not seen her without the fake pregnant belly before, and there she was, in her night gown with a flat belly. I felt a burning tingling sensation up the back of my neck and my head was filling with fright. I asked her what happened to her, and was pointing at her belly, and she said "Oh good grief, what are you doing up this early?" and she went back in her room and came back a few minutes later with her large belly and a robe over her night gown.
I could not figure it out. She told me she was pregnant, everyone thought she was. She acted like nothing happened, and sent me back to bed.

How could I know my mother was a liar? How could I guess what her plan was? When ever I complained of any of my physical symptoms, she would give me some lame explanation and pretend there was nothing odd about it.
I had no way of knowing I was the one who was pregnant. I knew I was supposed to be ashamed of my shape, but I was never told why. I was certainly never told what to expect when I went into labor, up until then, I thought all babies needed to be born in hospitals, I thought ceasarian was the only way to give birth.... an operation.

I was only twelve after all.

I keep trying to forgive her for the lies and the shame imposed on me.
I don't know how long it will take me to deal with this though, it did take 42 years for me to finally face the truth.

It also took me 35 years to recognize that a young man who had sex with me when I was still fifteen actually raped me. It was not violent, it was sneaky. He had gotten me really stoned on pot, and tried really hard to make out with me, but I kept turning him down. Finally he left, and I went to sleep. He came back a while later and put his hand through the window screen where I was spending the night and woke me up and told me he was locked out of his house. I went and let him in the front door, stumbled back to bed, and continued sleeping. I didn't even know he was in the room with me until I awakened in the middle of sex.
He gave me a bunch of lines, pretended he was in love with me, and i was confused, because I did not remember saying yes to him.
I never did say yes to him that night. He was very manipulative for an 18 year old, and I was naive.

Taking years to deal with stuff seems the way I tend to manage, with the exception of protecting my girls from a monster, I stepped up quickly on that one. My children always make me braver and faster.

Being brave is not easy, especially when all alone. I'm still learning.
Hey, I'm only 56 years old now.

Betrayal

We are betrayed by the parents who are supposed to protect us.
We are betrayed by spouses.
We are betrayed by friends and family.
Now, here in the Chicago area, we can not trust the police!
http://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory?id=13270308
Police pick up a woman in distress and then sexually assault her, drive her home and continue the assault at her home!
We need to do something about this kind of deep betrayal. We need to be safe, and we need to know who to trust!

Child Abuse Prevention Month = April

Child abuse prevention month begins on April 1st, and here is a cause site on facebook;
http://apps.facebook.com/causes/posts/711957?m=ef65e483&user_viewed=1

join the cause, send invitations for it to all of your friends online.
Awareness is the first step to stopping this horrible crime. Learn what you can do.

find your strength

as I shared in a private conversation;
Jesus is the only love of my life....... ;-)

"I am glad that when my first husband turned out to be a child molestor, I left him and ran as far as I could and hid my girls and fought him in courts for 3 1/2 years. I know how much courage it takes to fight the beastly man and the system, but God is gracious and provides when we are weak.
My mother never seemed to know this. "

If we are weak and scared and unable to face the danger, we MUST always seek assistance, from police, from pastors, from therapists, from neighbors, from relatives, from strangers....... but above all; from God.
He is my source and my supply. I might think I can come up with an answer all on my own, but the only answers that work out well are the ones I pray about diligently.

It is great that, these days, most cities have some resources for women and children that are being abused.
It is unfortunate, and also true, that those very places set up to help can often fail us in one way or another.
The child protective services in the county where I fought to rescue my girls from my first husband was littered with clout-clobbered 'social workers', I call them clout clobbered because the ex-husband's family had both wealth and a relative who was a judge....... and they twisted everything and made the abuse continue for years.

I was very blessed by a few certain circumstances that worked in our favor;
The ex moved to a different county, and i moved to still another one.
After we were no longer entirely controled by the affore mentioned social workers, things began to change. A new therapist for my youngest daughter,
and as she turned 4 years old, she began telling the therapist with dolls what abuses were being done to her.
I took all of my courage in rebuking the bastard [I mentioned in an earlier post] and before we knew it, he was arrested and we finally had an end in sight.

an end to the legal problems of his having joint custody, but we always had to be looking over our shoulders and he stalked us where we lived, where we vacationed, and where we moved, again and again.

Evil bastards must be jailed permanently, or until they are incapible of bad acts. My sweet daughter was murdered when she was 15, and police failed to investigate, so we will never be able to find out if the ex was involved or not. I don't know of anyone else who hates us.

When you find you must run and hide, never leave a forwarding address with the post office, they will sell it for one dollar. Never register to vote,
voter info is not protected. try to get an apartment with utilities included, so the utility companies do not release your info online, NEVER have your phone number published, and don't give your actual address to anyone, not even relatives and friends you trust. One of my relatives told info to another relative, who betrayed me under oath in court, so we were found and I was arrested for 'kidnapping' my own daughter!

Hiding may not ever end. Get used to it. Work under the table, change the way you look, the things you do, the places you go...... your children are worthy to be rescued. Trust in God, he did, after all, trust you to be their mother.

NEVER let the fox in the henhouse.
Once a creep, always a creep.

You might want to forgive him. This in NO WAY means he needs a second chance to damage your children. Cut him off for good.

random stuff

when I was 16, and not at all aware of myself, I went to an OB/GYN
considering options for birth control, since I was sexually active with a boyfriend......
The doctor, upon examination, said to me; "You've had a baby already."
I was in denial, so naturally, I denied it. He went on to tell me that my breasts showed signs, I had stretch marks, my pelvic exam revealed the expansion of my bones [like for delivery] and I also had a condition he said he had only seen in textbooks; vaginal hemoroids.
I always remembered he had told me these things, but I could not make a connection.

I also started realizing that I wanted to get replacements for things my mother took away from me in 1966-67......... never understanding why she kept stealing my stuff. She actually went so far as to give away all of my Barbie dolls and other dolls in 1970, to a neighbor girl when I was at school. I had them in a box under my bed, saving them for when I had daughters, and she just gave them all away. That was every last birthday and Christmas gift I had ever gotten before turning 13.

Anyway, I started a new Barbie doll collection when I lived in Emmitsburg with my second husband, and made wonderful things for my girls with their dolls, like a big doll house with hand made furniture.
It took a lot of antique shopping to find the original Skipper, and the Barbie vanity with mirror and stool..... as well as the Allen doll with sailor outfit, but was making quite a good collection once again.

All of those things got stolen from me too, when my mobile home was broken into in 1997.

In 1999 I started over again, mainly with the Happy Holidays Barbies, one here and one there.... then in the 21st century... I discovered ebay!
Suddenly I was finding what I wanted without even leaving home!
I got the Pink Sparkle outfit my Barbie had in 1966-67 and another vanity,
another "Barbie Babysits" set with baby in kimono...... somehow the Allen doll was overlooked by thieves, and I have made my own doll house and a special wall display with Barbies and G.I. Joe "JFK" sitting to tea.

Silly? Perhaps, but with a result; reclaiming my history.
Did my mother actually know that stealing my stuff would help her make a bigger gap in my understanding and recall? I suspect she was just behaving badly, dismissing me, punishing me for having a baby, whatever, she never seemed smart enough to be sinister. Sorry, but it's true, I was smarter than her in second grade. Maybe earlier. I knew dad belonged in jail, I told him so when I was 4 years old. When he held a knife to my throat and tried to force me to say that I loved what he was doing to me, saying "if you don't say you love it, I'll cut your throat from ear to ear and you'll be dead."
I told him "Go ahead and kill me then, I'm not going to lie."
He laughed at me.
Later I tried to kill myself and failed.

O.k., about re-collecting stuff connected to the past; the 3 strand crystal aroura borealis necklace my grandmother gave me, Mom took away imediately. Same with the rhinestone tiara grandma gave me..... when I was 12 the tiara was cool, but I stilll love crystal necklaces, so I got an identical one.
When memories of the abuse came back, after seeing a tin sand pail and shovel like the one I had at age 6, I was pretty shaken up. I bought the pail and hid it in my closet. Somebody stole that too, possibly Mom when she visited for Christmas, she did take back all of the tree ornaments she had given me years ago.
Anyway, the tangible things had a connection with lost memories, and they did come flooding back. I went and visited all of the places we ever lived growing up, and compaired the places to my memories, and the details all fit very well. I thought I had remembered it all.
Years went by, and the bad dreams of faceless people kidnapping my baby boy continued, and the heart ache of 'I want my baby back' haunted me forever...... I didn't know why.

In 2008, when my first inkling of having a baby boy surfaced, I started to tell my new therapist. She cautioned me that I might be wrong. I'm braver than that, so her cautions fell on deaf ears.
I remembered the episode in the basement on Gainsboro Rd., when I fell to the floor thinking I was dying from the pain in my abdomen.

I got out some poster paper and made a graph of the basement, tiles on the floor, and a cut out of the sink, the washer and dryer, the toilet and shower stall,the metal shelf unit, my brother's matress on the floor where they both slept. I even stained it with a teabag to make it look like theirs, which was badly urine stained as they were both still bedwetting. [at ages 14 & 11]
Also; a paper cutout of myself, curled up on the floor.
The visual made it all tangible, I remembered the chloroform in the brown glass bottle dad kept on the shelf unit in the basement and the rag he held over my nose and mouth.

I phone my younger brother and asked him if he remembered chloroform, and he did remember it, he had even mixed some of it with other stuff making 'formulas' experimenting as a kid.

The other memories came back in different ways, like when I heard a car horn, just like the day J.F. was born, there in the basement while my siblings were in the car waiting as they were told, one of them honked the horn to make us hurry. They had no idea what was going on.

so, tangible things, smells, sounds, flavors, photos...... can all form a link to our memories, and it is a very effective tool to recovering what is lost. I don't know if anyone reading this has lost memories, but finding them is a long journey, and filled with migraines [for me] and feelings of fear and anger and anxiety and depression.
Fortunately, I have my faith instead of combat boots, my knowledge that my God is stronger than the unknown, and if I lived through it before, I can live through it again.
I suspect it is a lot like being a P.O.W. or other torture victim, and my childhood was certainly full of torture.

I have survived it.