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!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, March 28, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Delusion, denial
Webster's dictionary says;
Definition of DELUSION
1: the act of deluding : the state of being deluded
2a : something that is falsely or delusively believed or propagated b : a persistent false psychotic belief regarding the self or persons or objects outside the self that is maintained despite indisputable evidence to the contrary; also : the abnormal state marked by such beliefs
— de·lu·sion·al \-ˈlüzh-nəl, -ˈlü-zhə-nəl\ adjective
— de·lu·sion·ary \-zhə-ˌner-ē\ adjective
See delusion defined for English-language learners »
Examples of DELUSION
He has delusions about how much money he can make at that job.
He is living under the delusion that he is incapable of making mistakes.
She is under the delusion that we will finish on time.
As the illness progressed, his delusions took over and he had violent outbursts.
Origin of DELUSION
Middle English, from Late Latin delusion-, delusio, from deludere
First Known Use: 15th century
Related to DELUSION
Synonyms: chimera, conceit, daydream, fantasy, dream, fancy, figment, hallucination, illusion, nonentity, phantasm (also fantasm), pipe dream, unreality, vision
Antonyms: truth, verity
Related Words: ignis fatuus, mirage, will-o'-the-wisp; brainchild, idea; concoction, fable, fabrication, fiction, invention; envisaging, imaging, visualization; cloud-cuckoo-land, cloudland, Shangri-la, utopia; daymare, nightmareNear Antonyms: actuality, fact, realitysee all synonyms and antonyms
[+]more[-]hide
Synonym Discussion of DELUSION
delusion, illusion, hallucination, mirage mean something that is believed to be true or real but that is actually false or unreal. delusion implies an inability to distinguish between what is real and what only seems to be real, often as the result of a disordered state of mind. illusion implies a false ascribing of reality based on what one sees or imagines . hallucination implies impressions that are the product of disordered senses, as because of mental illness or drugs . mirage in its extended sense applies to an illusory vision, dream, hope, or aim .
I have to add; if one is told a lie often enough, like daily, day in and day out, for years on end without swaying from the lie, most people, especially children, are likely to believe the lie.
For them, delusion or denial is truth.
When someone eventually discovers the truth and has absolute evidence that would stand up in any court, they are no longer deceived or delusional if they believe the truth rather than the lie.
Those who, when given the truth, refuse to believe it, they are choosing denial/delusion over facts, and making up thier own prefered reality.
Hence; that person or those persons are the ones suffering under a delusion.
*******************************************
It is so difficult to wait for family members to wake up to truth, even if they deem it to be ugly, the truth is something we must be bold about and face.
I keep praying for a change in this situation, as it makes a stronger rift between sisters........ myself and one particular sister.
My other sister is able to at least half-believe me. Her fiction of a good father makes her happy. She is always kind to me though, and probably knows deep down I am truthful.
Definition of DELUSION
1: the act of deluding : the state of being deluded
2a : something that is falsely or delusively believed or propagated b : a persistent false psychotic belief regarding the self or persons or objects outside the self that is maintained despite indisputable evidence to the contrary; also : the abnormal state marked by such beliefs
— de·lu·sion·al \-ˈlüzh-nəl, -ˈlü-zhə-nəl\ adjective
— de·lu·sion·ary \-zhə-ˌner-ē\ adjective
See delusion defined for English-language learners »
Examples of DELUSION
He has delusions about how much money he can make at that job.
He is living under the delusion that he is incapable of making mistakes.
She is under the delusion that we will finish on time.
As the illness progressed, his delusions took over and he had violent outbursts.
Origin of DELUSION
Middle English, from Late Latin delusion-, delusio, from deludere
First Known Use: 15th century
Related to DELUSION
Synonyms: chimera, conceit, daydream, fantasy, dream, fancy, figment, hallucination, illusion, nonentity, phantasm (also fantasm), pipe dream, unreality, vision
Antonyms: truth, verity
Related Words: ignis fatuus, mirage, will-o'-the-wisp; brainchild, idea; concoction, fable, fabrication, fiction, invention; envisaging, imaging, visualization; cloud-cuckoo-land, cloudland, Shangri-la, utopia; daymare, nightmareNear Antonyms: actuality, fact, realitysee all synonyms and antonyms
[+]more[-]hide
Synonym Discussion of DELUSION
delusion, illusion, hallucination, mirage mean something that is believed to be true or real but that is actually false or unreal. delusion implies an inability to distinguish between what is real and what only seems to be real, often as the result of a disordered state of mind
I have to add; if one is told a lie often enough, like daily, day in and day out, for years on end without swaying from the lie, most people, especially children, are likely to believe the lie.
For them, delusion or denial is truth.
When someone eventually discovers the truth and has absolute evidence that would stand up in any court, they are no longer deceived or delusional if they believe the truth rather than the lie.
Those who, when given the truth, refuse to believe it, they are choosing denial/delusion over facts, and making up thier own prefered reality.
Hence; that person or those persons are the ones suffering under a delusion.
*******************************************
It is so difficult to wait for family members to wake up to truth, even if they deem it to be ugly, the truth is something we must be bold about and face.
I keep praying for a change in this situation, as it makes a stronger rift between sisters........ myself and one particular sister.
My other sister is able to at least half-believe me. Her fiction of a good father makes her happy. She is always kind to me though, and probably knows deep down I am truthful.
Ignorance is NOT bliss
I was just scrolling down my facebook news posts and found this;
http://www.aolnews.com/2011/03/26/members-of-aleitheia-bible-church-in-wisconsin-charged-with-abus/
How can anyone think striking an infant with a wooden dowel is a good way to correct their grumpiness? What ever happened to rocking the baby, cuddling in a rocking chair, not hurling rocks!
When my son was only a few days old, my mother was changing his diaper, and he was fussing....... so she smacked his bare bottom and made him scream!
I felt sick, and was so upset with her, and she just said "He has to learn sometime."
What was she teaching him? It's not ok to feel uncomfortable?
I just don't know how people can be so dense. I'm disgusted.
http://www.aolnews.com/2011/03/26/members-of-aleitheia-bible-church-in-wisconsin-charged-with-abus/
How can anyone think striking an infant with a wooden dowel is a good way to correct their grumpiness? What ever happened to rocking the baby, cuddling in a rocking chair, not hurling rocks!
When my son was only a few days old, my mother was changing his diaper, and he was fussing....... so she smacked his bare bottom and made him scream!
I felt sick, and was so upset with her, and she just said "He has to learn sometime."
What was she teaching him? It's not ok to feel uncomfortable?
I just don't know how people can be so dense. I'm disgusted.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
a copy of my spiritual journey testimony
as I was going through the process of remembering lost memories and struggling with harsh realities, I was also in formation for a retreat our church was giving called Christ Renews His Parish. Below is the final draft of the testimony I gave.
*********************************************************
my name is Ginny Auldridge Lamb, I just moved to Indiana one year ago, the first weekend of August 2008, tornado night. I thought it was appropriate for starting my life over, as the day I was born; october 11, 1954, was in the middle of hurricane hazel.
If I ramble on a bit, it could be because I'm too full of wind.......
My parents had a very rocky and unfortunate marriage. Mom was raised Catholic and dad was divorced, and not a religious man. in fact, he hated the catholic church. In order to please Mom's parents, he allowed me to be baptised as an infant, but he took every oportunity to make sure I could never be a virgin.
He began molesting me as an infant, and escalated to violent rapes when I was 2 years old, until I was 12. He would also attack my little sisters, but when I would try to defend them, he would attack me.
I was never safe. I never slept peacefully at night, as he would sneak into my bed. I would pretend I was asleep, and when he passed out drunk, I would slide out of bed without a noise other than the pounding of my heart from fear.
I would go wake Mom, and she would come and drag him out of my bed.
I have an older half brother, who was the result of an older married man in my Mom's neighborhood who got her drunk and seduced her, even though she was only 18 and in a body cast from her shoulders to her hips. He never admitted he was D.B.'s father, and my Mom had so much shame, she was easily smitten when she met my dad, who was quite handsome and 14 years older than her. She was naive and desparate to keep her parents from having D.B. adopted off to a cousin in the family. After they married, she had 4 more children, starting with me.
Although everyone believes that J.F. is my brother, he is my son, I gave birth to when I was 12 years old.
I had only started to deal with that fact now that J.F. is 42 years old. Nobody in my family had been told about this, so I am spoke to J.F. and together we GOT DNA for absolute proof. The results came back in a few weeks showing he is my son. Because of the fact that my family has, for the most part, failed to be there for me in most of my struggles, I did not share my information with them until the proof was in my hands.
All through my childhood, I had a few strong desires; to be good, and to be loved and to be an artist and I always wanted to have a husband and children.
When I would go to spend the weekend with my grandmother A., she would
sneak me to Catholic Church and say "What your father doesn't know won't hurt us."
She explained the body and blood of Jesus being real in the Holy Eucharist, and I absolutely believed her. We participated in the Eucharist together, although I
never had any formal religious education, because we had to go in secret.
"Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me." (John 6:56-57)
I was only allowed to go to other non-Catholic churches if I would get up at 5 a.m. and do all of my chores first, and I went to every church my school friends would invite me to because I loved God.
When I was in 10th grade, an 18 year old boy raped me, and he was the best friend of my boyfriend. I blamed myself for that for over 33 years. I felt so ashamed, I broke up with D.S. rather than let him know what happened. I didn't want him to lose his best friend. D.S. was the love of my life, and although we tried on and off over the following 8 years, I could not be honest with him about this secret.
in 1974 I met a guy who was amusing and good looking, and also troubled and had quite a dark side. We dated, and I got pregnant with my daughter M.J.
She was born 3 months before my 21st birthday. Her father ran off, and it was months before I saw him again. We tried to live together for a while, until his drug abuse and control issues got out of hand and he started to become violent with my baby and with me. I threw him out.
When M.J. was 4 years old, I met a really cute Chinese guy named S.L.
We were both attending the same bible study group, which eventually became a cult. Since I had low self esteem and a lack of boundaries, and was always subservient, S.L. would not listen to me about waiting to get married,
and pressured me into a sexual relationship which made me feel guilty and worthless even more than before. I ended up pregnant with G.I.
The bible study group did all kinds of things to interfere with my relationship with S.L., and he decided to marry me. I got the wedding dress and the brides maids dresses and had all of the invitations ready to mail out when he called me on the phone and said "If you make me marry you, I will divorce you in a year."
That was when I found out the group was forcing him, and he thought I put them up to it. He broke it off, and I was crushed.
Girls from the group came to my apartment and were planning to surprise me with a bridal shower, but when they saw me crying, they told me about the shower, so I made them cancel it.
LOTS more interference came at us from all sides, and we were just getting hurt all of the time. He asked me to live with him, but I was not going to live with him and have no security of marriage, he could change his mind and make us homeless at any time, he had a hot temper.
When I got another place for myself and my 2 girls, it was such a struggle,
but my next door neighbors were really nice and we started going to a baptist church with them. I felt better, because the baptist church had been around longer and might be more stable than what I had just been through. When G.I. was about one year old, another couple at church introduced me to a single guy, and my first impression of him was bad. UNFORTUNATELY I chose to give him a second chance,
and one day he came to my door with all of his property and just moved in.
I told him I didn't want him to move in, and he said "If you want me to go, call the police." I should have, but I was Afraid that no man would ever marry me [like my father used to tell me] so I let him stay. I got pregnant with G.N. shortly thereafter.
We got married 3 months later. I had such a horrible experience with him, controling every detail of our lives, pushing me around, kicking the children, One night he had been in my children's bedroom, as I was sleeping, and I awoke when G.I. started screaming. I tried to go see what was wrong, but he tackled me and threw me on the floor several times, before I finally got past him. I had an injured ankle, but got G.I. and took her downstairs, sitting and scooting one step at a time. The next day he took me to the dr, at his HMO [not my dr], and he was trying to stay while I was examined, so I told him to get out. I told the dr he had beat me up. she suggested calling police, but I was afraid to.
after several more episodes of abuse, I took the girls and left for good. We had to go to a womens shelter, as nobody in my family would take us in...... the marriage lasted 1 year and 3 months. I found out later, his father made a bet with him BEFORE our marriage; if we stayed together longer than one year, his dad would pay for our divorce!
It was like living in a den of vipers to be with his family. They suspected me of being after their money, but if they had said so to my face I would never have married him.
so, after leaving and going to a shelter for abused women and children,
G.N., who was less than a year old, was showing signs of having been abused,
and when the court gave her father visiting rights, she began to beg me not to let him hurt her anymore, one day, when she was 4 years old, as I was getting her ready for the court ordered visit, she said so many horrible details of what he did to her and was crying, just then he showed up to pick her up, so I took her out to his car, and got close to him and gently put my hand on his forehead and said "I bind you in the name of Jesus and command you to never harm her again." He tried to break my arms and started ranting and raving, and jumped in the car and drove away.. 3 1/2 years I fought him in court, and finally, after that final visit; when G.N. was 4, she told her therapist explicit details of how he abused her.
The police finally listened, and he was arrested and the warrent to search his apartment turned up lewd photos and a journal of what he had done as well as what fantasies he planned next. He spent one night in jail. His parents were wealthy and his aunt was a judge.... I did get to have all of his parental rights revoked.
I always prayed a lot, and read my bible daily, but my second husband M.H. considered faith to be foolish, so I continued to be alone in my faith. I loved M.H.,
and his 3 children, but they all treated me badly. I worked for him 70 - 90 hours per week and he always paid me $50 a week. He lied to me about letting me adopt more children eventually, because he knew I wanted more children and he had a vascetomy before his first divorce. My child-bearing years got used up while he was getting everything he wanted. Before our first anniversary, I knew he was cheating on me, so I kept trying to be a better wife, and managed his business and took care of everything. After more than 5 years of adultery, he chose to divorce me, and said it was all my oldest daughter's fault, because she was a difficult teen.
I moved downstairs and slept in my art studio, and kept doing the laundry and bringing him coffee....... until he completely moved in to his girlfriend's house. He made me sign papers agreeing to move out in one year, and he got everything. I got minimum wage jobs, as his girlfriend would not give me a good report when employers called to ask about me. I found out he never paid into Social security for 9 of the 10 years I worked for him, which ruined my SSI disability amount. I try to forgive him, but I still have terrible dreams from losing the home we had and all of our plans.
in 1993 my father died of pneumonia. He had been dead to me for years, so I didn't care. the same day, my toy poodle died. That really tore me up.
I was still living in Emmitsburg Md, near the Mother Seton Shrine, and Saint Joseph's Cathedral. Every day I would walk to the prayer garden and pray for direction, as I did not know what to do. I felt called to move to West Virginia near some friends, and camped out that summer and then moved into a small cottage. I did not know there was no insulation, and even after we put a woodstove in, the toilet froze solid and we had to go to the market or the library to use their facilities.
December 13th 1993, my sister S.A. told me to go to the bus depot, she sent tickets, Mom was in the hospital in a coma. When we nearly reached Myrtle Beach, S.C., I closed my eyes for a second, and saw my Mom's face very close up, and heard her saying "It's alright."
I knew she had died. S.A. met us at the depot and was trying to tell me mom passed, but I told her that I had seen Mom and I knew. That apparition was within minutes of her last breath. She was 61.
At Mom's funeral, for the first time in my life, I cried in public.
I didn't stop crying for months, sometimes days on end, sometimes less.
I had been in therapy for depression and childhood sexual abuse, as well as
spousal desertion. My doctor gave me extra pills, and kept increasing the dose.
with a number of misfortunes, I was relieved when J.F. told me my daughters and I could live in Mom's mobile home, because he was moving away. I didn't ask many questions,
and we packed what we could take and left our tiny cottage in West Virginia and moved near Myrtle Beach S.C.
the mobile home was in sorry shape, the floor was breaking through in a number of places, and there was no way to mow the 4 acres of hip high grass. I hired someone in my neighborhood, be he ran off after finding snakes. Snakes got into our home so we ran off too.
We stayed here and there, and started going to baptist church with neighbors.
Jobs were seasonal and there was no work from January 1st until some time in May .
Once a fellow from the baptist church offered to give me work for a day detailing cars with him. I did very good work, and he was happy to see how eager I was to do a good job.
He drove me home and paid me for the day, and as we were talking in the driveway,
a neighbor man came by and asked if he could use my phone for an urgent family matter. I brought the phone outdoors for him. I never invited men into my home.
When the man I worked with saw this, he said "You're a good woman Ms Ginny".
I chuckled a bit, as it occured to me he must have thought otherwise before that.
Now this baptist church my girls and I had been members of for a few years
seemed to not wish to do anything helpful if things were really tough, we were homeless
for a time, and I was always looking for work. In March of 1997 I got a job, 7 days a week, at the Medievel Times dinner theater in Myrtle Beach, and G.I. also got a job there,
as did several of our young neighbors. I was the only one with a van, so we always traveled to work together. After school was out for the summer, G.N. got a job at McDonald's
right next to our work, so we were all working and traveling together, and managing ok.
it was minimum wage, but it was all there was. In July of 1997, my old friend C.P. from
maryland invited me to her wedding in Virginia, and they were getting married on July 4th...
so it was a surprise when I was given the day off. I went by greyhound bus as my tags were expired in my van. G.I. and G.N. both planned to attend the fireworks together at Broadway on the beach with all of their friends.
I spent one night away, and after the wedding, I drove the new couple's car while they rode in the back, as they planned their honeymoon in Myrtle Beach. We got in to their hotel on the beach around 10:00 july 5th, and I phoned our neighbors to come and get me.
P.E., who had my van, was drunk so he sent someone else to get me. We made a surprise stop at his parents house, and he asked me to come inside. when I got inside, I saw the room was full of people, and my pastor was there, and he started introducing me to the coronor. They told me G.N. my 15 year old girl, had been hit by a car..... and the rest of it was like a dream, one I couldn't wake up from. She was dead, they already did an autopsy on her, and nobody would take me to sit with her. I lost the use of my legs and ended up sobbing on the floor.
G.I. had done all of the phoning of relatives, and friends, and they all agreed not to tell me while I was in Virginia, which was the right thing to do. My oldest girl M.J. was there from D.C., and my sisters and my brother D.B. were coming. My best friend C.F. came for the funeral, but had to go right away afterwards. I can't remember a lot of it, I was hardly able to walk without holding on to something for days. My family never made me feel like I could count on them, but my sisters did make all of the memorial and cremation arrangements.
My therapist and doctor greatly increased my antidepressant dosage, and I spent time at my uncle's house.
exactly one month after G.N. was killed, someone broke into my mobile home and killed my cocker spaniel, putting her in the tub and cutting her stomach open.
Some other people came a few days later and started stealing my furniture and ransacking my home.
I got my uncle to agree to let me stay with him and put the rest of my things in storage.
G.N. had become a Christian just 3 months before she died, and I knew she would be with the Lord, as I am determined to be one day.
"Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink." (John 6:54-55)
one year later, at walmart with my uncle, I ran into a couple of ladies I knew from church,
and they asked me if losing my daughter had made me lose my faith.
I looked them in the eyes and told them point blank;
my faith is fine, nobody has offered to drive me to church and I am too medicated to drive.
They never contacted me, nor did anyone else from that church.
My uncle decided to kick me out, although I had paid him $200 dollars a month and was cooking and cleaning for him. Some friends took me to West Virginia were I was house sitting 6 miles from town up a big mountain without a car. there was a tiny 'baptist'
splinter group in walking distance, so I went one wednesday night when I saw cars arriving. the pastor there was teaching a lesson on; Mary never knew Jesus was the Lord
I asked where he heard that from, and he said he had a book at home.
I said [in front of the whole group] Mary was the first to know, when the angel came to her and she agreed to it. He gave me a look like I was going to hell, so I left.
John 6 51. I am the living bread which came down from heaven. (6-52) If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, for the life of the world.
52.
(6-53) The Jews therefore strove among themselves, saying: How can this man give us his flesh to eat?
53.
(6-54) Then Jesus said to them: Amen, amen, I say unto you: except you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you.
I could see that group did NOT have the life of Christ in it.
When I got home, I picked up the yellow pages and found Saint John Neuman church in Marlinton,
and Fr. George sent Sr. Pat to start me in RCIA.
Matthew 7
7.
Ask, and it shall be given you: seek, and you shall find: knock, and it shall be opened to you.
8.
For every one that asketh, receiveth: and he that seeketh, findeth: and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.
FINALLY! teachings that I could believe fully! I loved going to that church, and when it was nearly Easter Season, my time was coming to a close for house sitting, and I had suffered
a bad depression as I had no place to go, and then my uncle said he was sorry he sent me away, and asked me to come back! a friend in Maryland rented a uhaul truck for me over the phone, and I packed up and went. Sr. Pat and Fr. George sent a good reccomendation for me to Saint James in Conway, S.C., so I was set up with a sponsor and completed my confirmation at Easter Vigil 1999. My first Holy Communion after my first confession........ was entirely different from anything I had ever felt before. The Catholic church is my home, my family, my acceptance without judgement....... all of the things I never had before, and also, my real hope to be reunited with my dear daughter in heaven.
When I first began to participate in the Holy Eucharist, I was overwhelmed by how much more intense an experience it was for me than it had ever been when I participated in Communion at Baptist or other churches. It was like a veil was lifted from my eyes,
as it was no longer just receiving the objects of the sacrament, it was profoundly
intimate, far more intimate than anything I had ever experienced, and if I had to compare it with an ordinary kind of intimacy that we can all relate to, it was more like going on a honeymoon with my new spouse, in comparison to our first kiss.
Mark 14:
22.
And whilst they were eating, Jesus took bread; and blessing, broke and gave to them and said: Take ye. This is my body.
23.
And having taken the chalice, giving thanks, he gave it to them. And they all drank of it.
24.
And he said to them: This is my blood of the new testament, which shall be shed for many.
More importantly to me, as the family I grew up with and the family I tried to build with a husband both terribly deserted me when I needed them, my family of Catholics in the body of Christ has amazingly embraced and accepted me;
Matthew 12:
49.
And stretching forth his hand towards his disciples, he said: Behold my mother and my brethren.
50.
For whosoever shall do the will of my Father, that is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother.
all of us here, and all over the world, who participate in the Holy Eucharist are not only joined individually to the body of Christ, but also completely united as family of the Lord and of one another.
I feel totally blessed to be in communion with Christ and with you all.
By the way, my friendships formed here at Christ Renews His Parish retreat and formation gave me the courage to get the DNA test done and prove I am J.F.'s mother! Meeting such fine sisters is better than 18 years in therapy for abuse and depression.
I am very glad that my relationship with J.F. has always been a strong friendship, but it has certainly grown since we have discovered we are mother and son. Now all of the confusion in our lives makes sense,
and we can understand some things we could never figure out before.
He makes me laugh and shares his aspirations with me, as well as things that trouble him, and he even calls me "Mom".
My daughters are glad to have a big brother, and have been much more
understanding of me since this all came out.
2 scriptures I could use if I figure out where to put them;
Romans 12:
4.
For as in one body we have many members, but all the members have not the same office:
5.
So we, being many, are one body in Christ; and every one members one of another:
*******************
************
1 Corinthians 12:
12.
For as the body is one and hath many members; and all the members of the body, whereas they are many, yet are one body: So also is Christ.
13.
For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Gentiles, whether bond or free: and in one Spirit we have all been made to drink.
*********************************************************
my name is Ginny Auldridge Lamb, I just moved to Indiana one year ago, the first weekend of August 2008, tornado night. I thought it was appropriate for starting my life over, as the day I was born; october 11, 1954, was in the middle of hurricane hazel.
If I ramble on a bit, it could be because I'm too full of wind.......
My parents had a very rocky and unfortunate marriage. Mom was raised Catholic and dad was divorced, and not a religious man. in fact, he hated the catholic church. In order to please Mom's parents, he allowed me to be baptised as an infant, but he took every oportunity to make sure I could never be a virgin.
He began molesting me as an infant, and escalated to violent rapes when I was 2 years old, until I was 12. He would also attack my little sisters, but when I would try to defend them, he would attack me.
I was never safe. I never slept peacefully at night, as he would sneak into my bed. I would pretend I was asleep, and when he passed out drunk, I would slide out of bed without a noise other than the pounding of my heart from fear.
I would go wake Mom, and she would come and drag him out of my bed.
I have an older half brother, who was the result of an older married man in my Mom's neighborhood who got her drunk and seduced her, even though she was only 18 and in a body cast from her shoulders to her hips. He never admitted he was D.B.'s father, and my Mom had so much shame, she was easily smitten when she met my dad, who was quite handsome and 14 years older than her. She was naive and desparate to keep her parents from having D.B. adopted off to a cousin in the family. After they married, she had 4 more children, starting with me.
Although everyone believes that J.F. is my brother, he is my son, I gave birth to when I was 12 years old.
I had only started to deal with that fact now that J.F. is 42 years old. Nobody in my family had been told about this, so I am spoke to J.F. and together we GOT DNA for absolute proof. The results came back in a few weeks showing he is my son. Because of the fact that my family has, for the most part, failed to be there for me in most of my struggles, I did not share my information with them until the proof was in my hands.
All through my childhood, I had a few strong desires; to be good, and to be loved and to be an artist and I always wanted to have a husband and children.
When I would go to spend the weekend with my grandmother A., she would
sneak me to Catholic Church and say "What your father doesn't know won't hurt us."
She explained the body and blood of Jesus being real in the Holy Eucharist, and I absolutely believed her. We participated in the Eucharist together, although I
never had any formal religious education, because we had to go in secret.
"Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me." (John 6:56-57)
I was only allowed to go to other non-Catholic churches if I would get up at 5 a.m. and do all of my chores first, and I went to every church my school friends would invite me to because I loved God.
When I was in 10th grade, an 18 year old boy raped me, and he was the best friend of my boyfriend. I blamed myself for that for over 33 years. I felt so ashamed, I broke up with D.S. rather than let him know what happened. I didn't want him to lose his best friend. D.S. was the love of my life, and although we tried on and off over the following 8 years, I could not be honest with him about this secret.
in 1974 I met a guy who was amusing and good looking, and also troubled and had quite a dark side. We dated, and I got pregnant with my daughter M.J.
She was born 3 months before my 21st birthday. Her father ran off, and it was months before I saw him again. We tried to live together for a while, until his drug abuse and control issues got out of hand and he started to become violent with my baby and with me. I threw him out.
When M.J. was 4 years old, I met a really cute Chinese guy named S.L.
We were both attending the same bible study group, which eventually became a cult. Since I had low self esteem and a lack of boundaries, and was always subservient, S.L. would not listen to me about waiting to get married,
and pressured me into a sexual relationship which made me feel guilty and worthless even more than before. I ended up pregnant with G.I.
The bible study group did all kinds of things to interfere with my relationship with S.L., and he decided to marry me. I got the wedding dress and the brides maids dresses and had all of the invitations ready to mail out when he called me on the phone and said "If you make me marry you, I will divorce you in a year."
That was when I found out the group was forcing him, and he thought I put them up to it. He broke it off, and I was crushed.
Girls from the group came to my apartment and were planning to surprise me with a bridal shower, but when they saw me crying, they told me about the shower, so I made them cancel it.
LOTS more interference came at us from all sides, and we were just getting hurt all of the time. He asked me to live with him, but I was not going to live with him and have no security of marriage, he could change his mind and make us homeless at any time, he had a hot temper.
When I got another place for myself and my 2 girls, it was such a struggle,
but my next door neighbors were really nice and we started going to a baptist church with them. I felt better, because the baptist church had been around longer and might be more stable than what I had just been through. When G.I. was about one year old, another couple at church introduced me to a single guy, and my first impression of him was bad. UNFORTUNATELY I chose to give him a second chance,
and one day he came to my door with all of his property and just moved in.
I told him I didn't want him to move in, and he said "If you want me to go, call the police." I should have, but I was Afraid that no man would ever marry me [like my father used to tell me] so I let him stay. I got pregnant with G.N. shortly thereafter.
We got married 3 months later. I had such a horrible experience with him, controling every detail of our lives, pushing me around, kicking the children, One night he had been in my children's bedroom, as I was sleeping, and I awoke when G.I. started screaming. I tried to go see what was wrong, but he tackled me and threw me on the floor several times, before I finally got past him. I had an injured ankle, but got G.I. and took her downstairs, sitting and scooting one step at a time. The next day he took me to the dr, at his HMO [not my dr], and he was trying to stay while I was examined, so I told him to get out. I told the dr he had beat me up. she suggested calling police, but I was afraid to.
after several more episodes of abuse, I took the girls and left for good. We had to go to a womens shelter, as nobody in my family would take us in...... the marriage lasted 1 year and 3 months. I found out later, his father made a bet with him BEFORE our marriage; if we stayed together longer than one year, his dad would pay for our divorce!
It was like living in a den of vipers to be with his family. They suspected me of being after their money, but if they had said so to my face I would never have married him.
so, after leaving and going to a shelter for abused women and children,
G.N., who was less than a year old, was showing signs of having been abused,
and when the court gave her father visiting rights, she began to beg me not to let him hurt her anymore, one day, when she was 4 years old, as I was getting her ready for the court ordered visit, she said so many horrible details of what he did to her and was crying, just then he showed up to pick her up, so I took her out to his car, and got close to him and gently put my hand on his forehead and said "I bind you in the name of Jesus and command you to never harm her again." He tried to break my arms and started ranting and raving, and jumped in the car and drove away.. 3 1/2 years I fought him in court, and finally, after that final visit; when G.N. was 4, she told her therapist explicit details of how he abused her.
The police finally listened, and he was arrested and the warrent to search his apartment turned up lewd photos and a journal of what he had done as well as what fantasies he planned next. He spent one night in jail. His parents were wealthy and his aunt was a judge.... I did get to have all of his parental rights revoked.
I always prayed a lot, and read my bible daily, but my second husband M.H. considered faith to be foolish, so I continued to be alone in my faith. I loved M.H.,
and his 3 children, but they all treated me badly. I worked for him 70 - 90 hours per week and he always paid me $50 a week. He lied to me about letting me adopt more children eventually, because he knew I wanted more children and he had a vascetomy before his first divorce. My child-bearing years got used up while he was getting everything he wanted. Before our first anniversary, I knew he was cheating on me, so I kept trying to be a better wife, and managed his business and took care of everything. After more than 5 years of adultery, he chose to divorce me, and said it was all my oldest daughter's fault, because she was a difficult teen.
I moved downstairs and slept in my art studio, and kept doing the laundry and bringing him coffee....... until he completely moved in to his girlfriend's house. He made me sign papers agreeing to move out in one year, and he got everything. I got minimum wage jobs, as his girlfriend would not give me a good report when employers called to ask about me. I found out he never paid into Social security for 9 of the 10 years I worked for him, which ruined my SSI disability amount. I try to forgive him, but I still have terrible dreams from losing the home we had and all of our plans.
in 1993 my father died of pneumonia. He had been dead to me for years, so I didn't care. the same day, my toy poodle died. That really tore me up.
I was still living in Emmitsburg Md, near the Mother Seton Shrine, and Saint Joseph's Cathedral. Every day I would walk to the prayer garden and pray for direction, as I did not know what to do. I felt called to move to West Virginia near some friends, and camped out that summer and then moved into a small cottage. I did not know there was no insulation, and even after we put a woodstove in, the toilet froze solid and we had to go to the market or the library to use their facilities.
December 13th 1993, my sister S.A. told me to go to the bus depot, she sent tickets, Mom was in the hospital in a coma. When we nearly reached Myrtle Beach, S.C., I closed my eyes for a second, and saw my Mom's face very close up, and heard her saying "It's alright."
I knew she had died. S.A. met us at the depot and was trying to tell me mom passed, but I told her that I had seen Mom and I knew. That apparition was within minutes of her last breath. She was 61.
At Mom's funeral, for the first time in my life, I cried in public.
I didn't stop crying for months, sometimes days on end, sometimes less.
I had been in therapy for depression and childhood sexual abuse, as well as
spousal desertion. My doctor gave me extra pills, and kept increasing the dose.
with a number of misfortunes, I was relieved when J.F. told me my daughters and I could live in Mom's mobile home, because he was moving away. I didn't ask many questions,
and we packed what we could take and left our tiny cottage in West Virginia and moved near Myrtle Beach S.C.
the mobile home was in sorry shape, the floor was breaking through in a number of places, and there was no way to mow the 4 acres of hip high grass. I hired someone in my neighborhood, be he ran off after finding snakes. Snakes got into our home so we ran off too.
We stayed here and there, and started going to baptist church with neighbors.
Jobs were seasonal and there was no work from January 1st until some time in May .
Once a fellow from the baptist church offered to give me work for a day detailing cars with him. I did very good work, and he was happy to see how eager I was to do a good job.
He drove me home and paid me for the day, and as we were talking in the driveway,
a neighbor man came by and asked if he could use my phone for an urgent family matter. I brought the phone outdoors for him. I never invited men into my home.
When the man I worked with saw this, he said "You're a good woman Ms Ginny".
I chuckled a bit, as it occured to me he must have thought otherwise before that.
Now this baptist church my girls and I had been members of for a few years
seemed to not wish to do anything helpful if things were really tough, we were homeless
for a time, and I was always looking for work. In March of 1997 I got a job, 7 days a week, at the Medievel Times dinner theater in Myrtle Beach, and G.I. also got a job there,
as did several of our young neighbors. I was the only one with a van, so we always traveled to work together. After school was out for the summer, G.N. got a job at McDonald's
right next to our work, so we were all working and traveling together, and managing ok.
it was minimum wage, but it was all there was. In July of 1997, my old friend C.P. from
maryland invited me to her wedding in Virginia, and they were getting married on July 4th...
so it was a surprise when I was given the day off. I went by greyhound bus as my tags were expired in my van. G.I. and G.N. both planned to attend the fireworks together at Broadway on the beach with all of their friends.
I spent one night away, and after the wedding, I drove the new couple's car while they rode in the back, as they planned their honeymoon in Myrtle Beach. We got in to their hotel on the beach around 10:00 july 5th, and I phoned our neighbors to come and get me.
P.E., who had my van, was drunk so he sent someone else to get me. We made a surprise stop at his parents house, and he asked me to come inside. when I got inside, I saw the room was full of people, and my pastor was there, and he started introducing me to the coronor. They told me G.N. my 15 year old girl, had been hit by a car..... and the rest of it was like a dream, one I couldn't wake up from. She was dead, they already did an autopsy on her, and nobody would take me to sit with her. I lost the use of my legs and ended up sobbing on the floor.
G.I. had done all of the phoning of relatives, and friends, and they all agreed not to tell me while I was in Virginia, which was the right thing to do. My oldest girl M.J. was there from D.C., and my sisters and my brother D.B. were coming. My best friend C.F. came for the funeral, but had to go right away afterwards. I can't remember a lot of it, I was hardly able to walk without holding on to something for days. My family never made me feel like I could count on them, but my sisters did make all of the memorial and cremation arrangements.
My therapist and doctor greatly increased my antidepressant dosage, and I spent time at my uncle's house.
exactly one month after G.N. was killed, someone broke into my mobile home and killed my cocker spaniel, putting her in the tub and cutting her stomach open.
Some other people came a few days later and started stealing my furniture and ransacking my home.
I got my uncle to agree to let me stay with him and put the rest of my things in storage.
G.N. had become a Christian just 3 months before she died, and I knew she would be with the Lord, as I am determined to be one day.
"Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink." (John 6:54-55)
one year later, at walmart with my uncle, I ran into a couple of ladies I knew from church,
and they asked me if losing my daughter had made me lose my faith.
I looked them in the eyes and told them point blank;
my faith is fine, nobody has offered to drive me to church and I am too medicated to drive.
They never contacted me, nor did anyone else from that church.
My uncle decided to kick me out, although I had paid him $200 dollars a month and was cooking and cleaning for him. Some friends took me to West Virginia were I was house sitting 6 miles from town up a big mountain without a car. there was a tiny 'baptist'
splinter group in walking distance, so I went one wednesday night when I saw cars arriving. the pastor there was teaching a lesson on; Mary never knew Jesus was the Lord
I asked where he heard that from, and he said he had a book at home.
I said [in front of the whole group] Mary was the first to know, when the angel came to her and she agreed to it. He gave me a look like I was going to hell, so I left.
John 6 51. I am the living bread which came down from heaven. (6-52) If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, for the life of the world.
52.
(6-53) The Jews therefore strove among themselves, saying: How can this man give us his flesh to eat?
53.
(6-54) Then Jesus said to them: Amen, amen, I say unto you: except you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you shall not have life in you.
I could see that group did NOT have the life of Christ in it.
When I got home, I picked up the yellow pages and found Saint John Neuman church in Marlinton,
and Fr. George sent Sr. Pat to start me in RCIA.
Matthew 7
7.
Ask, and it shall be given you: seek, and you shall find: knock, and it shall be opened to you.
8.
For every one that asketh, receiveth: and he that seeketh, findeth: and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.
FINALLY! teachings that I could believe fully! I loved going to that church, and when it was nearly Easter Season, my time was coming to a close for house sitting, and I had suffered
a bad depression as I had no place to go, and then my uncle said he was sorry he sent me away, and asked me to come back! a friend in Maryland rented a uhaul truck for me over the phone, and I packed up and went. Sr. Pat and Fr. George sent a good reccomendation for me to Saint James in Conway, S.C., so I was set up with a sponsor and completed my confirmation at Easter Vigil 1999. My first Holy Communion after my first confession........ was entirely different from anything I had ever felt before. The Catholic church is my home, my family, my acceptance without judgement....... all of the things I never had before, and also, my real hope to be reunited with my dear daughter in heaven.
When I first began to participate in the Holy Eucharist, I was overwhelmed by how much more intense an experience it was for me than it had ever been when I participated in Communion at Baptist or other churches. It was like a veil was lifted from my eyes,
as it was no longer just receiving the objects of the sacrament, it was profoundly
intimate, far more intimate than anything I had ever experienced, and if I had to compare it with an ordinary kind of intimacy that we can all relate to, it was more like going on a honeymoon with my new spouse, in comparison to our first kiss.
Mark 14:
22.
And whilst they were eating, Jesus took bread; and blessing, broke and gave to them and said: Take ye. This is my body.
23.
And having taken the chalice, giving thanks, he gave it to them. And they all drank of it.
24.
And he said to them: This is my blood of the new testament, which shall be shed for many.
More importantly to me, as the family I grew up with and the family I tried to build with a husband both terribly deserted me when I needed them, my family of Catholics in the body of Christ has amazingly embraced and accepted me;
Matthew 12:
49.
And stretching forth his hand towards his disciples, he said: Behold my mother and my brethren.
50.
For whosoever shall do the will of my Father, that is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother.
all of us here, and all over the world, who participate in the Holy Eucharist are not only joined individually to the body of Christ, but also completely united as family of the Lord and of one another.
I feel totally blessed to be in communion with Christ and with you all.
By the way, my friendships formed here at Christ Renews His Parish retreat and formation gave me the courage to get the DNA test done and prove I am J.F.'s mother! Meeting such fine sisters is better than 18 years in therapy for abuse and depression.
I am very glad that my relationship with J.F. has always been a strong friendship, but it has certainly grown since we have discovered we are mother and son. Now all of the confusion in our lives makes sense,
and we can understand some things we could never figure out before.
He makes me laugh and shares his aspirations with me, as well as things that trouble him, and he even calls me "Mom".
My daughters are glad to have a big brother, and have been much more
understanding of me since this all came out.
2 scriptures I could use if I figure out where to put them;
Romans 12:
4.
For as in one body we have many members, but all the members have not the same office:
5.
So we, being many, are one body in Christ; and every one members one of another:
*******************
************
1 Corinthians 12:
12.
For as the body is one and hath many members; and all the members of the body, whereas they are many, yet are one body: So also is Christ.
13.
For in one Spirit were we all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Gentiles, whether bond or free: and in one Spirit we have all been made to drink.
what's on my mind a lot
Ever since April 30, 1967, the day my baby was born and my parents stole him away, I have had nightmares of faceless people kidnapping my baby boy.
After discovering the truth, those nightmares finally stopped.
Ever since April 30, 1967, the day my baby was born and my parents stole him away, I have had an agony inside me, every waking hour, possibly three times every waking hour, with my heart crying out "I want my baby back!"
this continues daily, and although I now have the truth, and a fine son,
he will never ba a baby again, and I will never get the lost years back.
This agony continues to haunt me.
The truth is always the best answer to any situation. Denial is crippling.
Forcing a child to live a lie is horrific and damaging beyond words.
When my daughters were young, I always told them reliable truth, tempered with age appropriate ommitions. I always encouraged them to speak their minds, even when it was hard to hear teen angst..... but most of all, I was determined to give my children what I never had growing up; unconditional love and respect. I also spent time with them, teaching, having fun, going for walks, self defense instructions, I taught them the buddy system, so nobody gets left behind and defenseless in a bad situation.
Yes, it is a lot of information, but given in small amounts over time,
caringly........ is far better than not arming them to deal with the world.
We absolutely went to amusement parks, country drives, trips to the beach,
picnics, shopping excursions....... we actually had "Mom & Me" days, where I spent the whole day with one child at a time for special attention.
Childhood can be a blessing instead of a curse. The parents have to choose.
If the parents are horrible, they need to be replaced.
I love all of my kids, and am very glad that my son actually spent time at my home in Emmitsburg and worked with my then-husband and got to know his sisters better. I am sorry we did not have the truth of their being siblings back then, but we always loved him.
His sisters love him now, and are glad to have a brother.
After discovering the truth, those nightmares finally stopped.
Ever since April 30, 1967, the day my baby was born and my parents stole him away, I have had an agony inside me, every waking hour, possibly three times every waking hour, with my heart crying out "I want my baby back!"
this continues daily, and although I now have the truth, and a fine son,
he will never ba a baby again, and I will never get the lost years back.
This agony continues to haunt me.
The truth is always the best answer to any situation. Denial is crippling.
Forcing a child to live a lie is horrific and damaging beyond words.
When my daughters were young, I always told them reliable truth, tempered with age appropriate ommitions. I always encouraged them to speak their minds, even when it was hard to hear teen angst..... but most of all, I was determined to give my children what I never had growing up; unconditional love and respect. I also spent time with them, teaching, having fun, going for walks, self defense instructions, I taught them the buddy system, so nobody gets left behind and defenseless in a bad situation.
Yes, it is a lot of information, but given in small amounts over time,
caringly........ is far better than not arming them to deal with the world.
We absolutely went to amusement parks, country drives, trips to the beach,
picnics, shopping excursions....... we actually had "Mom & Me" days, where I spent the whole day with one child at a time for special attention.
Childhood can be a blessing instead of a curse. The parents have to choose.
If the parents are horrible, they need to be replaced.
I love all of my kids, and am very glad that my son actually spent time at my home in Emmitsburg and worked with my then-husband and got to know his sisters better. I am sorry we did not have the truth of their being siblings back then, but we always loved him.
His sisters love him now, and are glad to have a brother.
from my private journal
here it is 7:54 am and I have not slept a wink. I am struggling so much all of the time with the terrible losses, how much I missed from my relationship with J.F., 42 years of not being able to be his mother.
I'm struggling with the betrayal of my mother, how she kept him from me, and lied to everyone that she was his mother. She never took me to a doctor, and completely shut me out of my own emotions by her denial of my life. No twelve year old should be so horribly betrayed by both parents.
she cut me off from my best friend T. M., and never let me send her a letter once J.F. was born. I still have not located T.M., although I remember she lived on Holly Berry Lane in Rosehaven North Beach Chesapeke Bay Md. There are too many people on the internet with the same name.
I am sending letters to the Vital Statistics department in Baltimore to request corrections to J.F.'s birth certificate, as well as to the board of education in Montgomery County Md for copies of my school records, and child protective services in Rockville to request copies of all of the file they have on my departed daughter G.N.. I am going to get all of the information I can to verify my life struggles, and try to write an autobiography. Perhaps my life can be of help to someone who struggles with similar circumstances.
Writing it might help me too.
I didn't buy any sleeping pills, and now I am regreting it.
I suspect that the real reason G.I. [my second daughter] is being so harsh with me is because she is struggling with this information too, about her brother and about what happened to me. I find it hard to believe she could be so upset over a political disagreement like she claims.
I don't want my family to suffer the way I have, so I have tried to minimize the amount of information I share with them, emotional abuse is a very real result of too much information in this area. I have only told them bits and pieces to keep it from being too much for them to bear.
Sometimes I can not bear it. I haven't seen J.F. since 1994, and we talk on the phone all of the time, but it's not the same. I really need to give him a big hug. I could stand one myself.
*****************************
being angry at Mom is hard on me, since she is not available to tell off....... I have always made excuses for her, and now, so long after her death, I find myself angry, because she had choices, and she chose to subjugate me and steal my son. She chose a lie over the truth, and her fantasy of a happy family instead of the facts. She chose to protect dad, instead of me, and I am the one who was defenseless. I was just 5 feet tall and 103 pounds, and as timid as a rabbit in the wild hiding from the fox. he was 6 inches taller and had about 55 to 60 pounds on me, as well as his age....... he was 48 years old when I was 2 months shy of my twelfth birthday. NOT a fair fight, and he strangled me until I lost conscienciousness. I remember when I came to, and he was still on top of me, and my older brother came into the basement and started screaming at dad. I got up and ran to the bathroom and had to vomit. My hands were shaking and I was so terrified. My mind was swirling with hysterical thoughts. I had a torn shirt and was just a mess. I couldn't think, I just wanted to die.
When Mom came in the house I tried to tell her what happened, how dad tore my shirt and beat me up.... and he told her I had been stuffing my bra to entice him! I said it wasn't true, my bra was all bunched up from being the wrong size so I had put a bit of fabric in it to smooth it out. I showed Mom the bruises on my throat, and she made me wear a turtle neck shirt, in August, it was 90 degrees out and I had to wear a turtle neck. I was put to shame for being a victim.
9 months of victimization, followed by the next 42 years of inability to own my own life.
I'm struggling with the betrayal of my mother, how she kept him from me, and lied to everyone that she was his mother. She never took me to a doctor, and completely shut me out of my own emotions by her denial of my life. No twelve year old should be so horribly betrayed by both parents.
she cut me off from my best friend T. M., and never let me send her a letter once J.F. was born. I still have not located T.M., although I remember she lived on Holly Berry Lane in Rosehaven North Beach Chesapeke Bay Md. There are too many people on the internet with the same name.
I am sending letters to the Vital Statistics department in Baltimore to request corrections to J.F.'s birth certificate, as well as to the board of education in Montgomery County Md for copies of my school records, and child protective services in Rockville to request copies of all of the file they have on my departed daughter G.N.. I am going to get all of the information I can to verify my life struggles, and try to write an autobiography. Perhaps my life can be of help to someone who struggles with similar circumstances.
Writing it might help me too.
I didn't buy any sleeping pills, and now I am regreting it.
I suspect that the real reason G.I. [my second daughter] is being so harsh with me is because she is struggling with this information too, about her brother and about what happened to me. I find it hard to believe she could be so upset over a political disagreement like she claims.
I don't want my family to suffer the way I have, so I have tried to minimize the amount of information I share with them, emotional abuse is a very real result of too much information in this area. I have only told them bits and pieces to keep it from being too much for them to bear.
Sometimes I can not bear it. I haven't seen J.F. since 1994, and we talk on the phone all of the time, but it's not the same. I really need to give him a big hug. I could stand one myself.
*****************************
being angry at Mom is hard on me, since she is not available to tell off....... I have always made excuses for her, and now, so long after her death, I find myself angry, because she had choices, and she chose to subjugate me and steal my son. She chose a lie over the truth, and her fantasy of a happy family instead of the facts. She chose to protect dad, instead of me, and I am the one who was defenseless. I was just 5 feet tall and 103 pounds, and as timid as a rabbit in the wild hiding from the fox. he was 6 inches taller and had about 55 to 60 pounds on me, as well as his age....... he was 48 years old when I was 2 months shy of my twelfth birthday. NOT a fair fight, and he strangled me until I lost conscienciousness. I remember when I came to, and he was still on top of me, and my older brother came into the basement and started screaming at dad. I got up and ran to the bathroom and had to vomit. My hands were shaking and I was so terrified. My mind was swirling with hysterical thoughts. I had a torn shirt and was just a mess. I couldn't think, I just wanted to die.
When Mom came in the house I tried to tell her what happened, how dad tore my shirt and beat me up.... and he told her I had been stuffing my bra to entice him! I said it wasn't true, my bra was all bunched up from being the wrong size so I had put a bit of fabric in it to smooth it out. I showed Mom the bruises on my throat, and she made me wear a turtle neck shirt, in August, it was 90 degrees out and I had to wear a turtle neck. I was put to shame for being a victim.
9 months of victimization, followed by the next 42 years of inability to own my own life.
copy of a letter to my sister
I wrote this to her after she told my daughter "Your mother is delusional and always has been."
afterwhich, she denied disrespecting me.
[names withheld]
letter, June 14, 2010
Sister JT,
I'm writing this on paper instead of email because it takes longer, and more thought has to be put into it. Also; I won't accept a speedy or terse reply.
Actually, if you want to say something to me or ABOUT me that is unkind or unsupportive in any way, just keep it to yourself. I don't need it.
I have been in therapy for the abuse I suffered from childhood through adulthood, starting with Dad and continuing through until I have had to keep men away from me completely. That is, from 1992 through now [2010]and continuing, more than 18 years of work both in and out of therapist's offices - and if I NEVER had an epiphany of previously undiscovered truth, it would be a real shame.
It was anything but easy to face what happened to me in August before my 12th birthday, but I did it. Mom saw the bruises on my throat and the completely
destroyed torn lavendar blouse, she knew what Dad had done to me. She made me wear a turtle neck shirt to cover the bruises, in AUGUST through most of September with 80 and 90 degree weather I had to suffer with a turtle neck.
It was not MY shame that was being covered up.
I told Mom when it became uncomfortable to sleep on my stomach, she told me to sleep on my side. She knew what was going on with me. One day I was in my bedroom doing homework, at my desk next to the accordian door that led to the kitchen. I hear Mom talking to Grandma A. on the phone, and misunderstood that half of the conversation. I though Mom was pregnant. I didn't know why she said she wanted to take me to New York where "it could be taken care of"..... I never heard of doctors doing abortions in 1966 [autumn].
Thinking Mom was pregnant, I told my friends in the neighborhood the good news [including our cousin who lived down the street] and when Mom came outside, they all rushed up and congratulated her and asked when the baby was due. Mom was pissed.
She told me off for eavesdropping and telling a private conversation.
Sometime afterwards, Grandma came by with something she had made for Mom, and they went into Mom's bedroom. It was an undergarment in skintone fabric with eye hooks behind the waist, and an interior pocket in the tummy where stuffing could gradually be added. Some of us saw it and asked what it was, and Grandma said "it's to protect the baby."
How would kids know that extra padding is not needed to protect the baby?
Mom started wearing maternity clothes and told Dad she was pregnant. As long as his focus was on her, my secret was safe. Every day Mom would give me some of her liquid prenatal vitamins, she said she didn't want me getting anemic like she did when she was young. One time our older brother saw and asked for some too so she gave him a taste. He remembers that.
Eventually I was being harrassed in the girls locker room at gym class, because of my shape. I told Mom and she got a doctor to write me a note saying I was to be excused from gym due to asthma. My gym teacher said she would fail me if I didn't wear my uniform, but I refused. She made me stand in the doorway holding my books for the duration of class every day. One day I fainted and was taken to the sick room. She let me sit after that.
*************************************************
In the winter [ I think January 1967] Granddad came by to see if our older brother and I wanted to go with him to visit Great Aunt Nora in the nursing home. I had finished breakfast and was watching cartoons still in my flannel nightgown. I really wanted to go so I ran and got dressed. Before I came out to the hallway, Mom came and told me "You have to keep your coat on and fastened until after your Grandfather leaves. He is not to see you without your coat !"
I agreed. I was used to wearing a girdle every day and covering my shape with tent dresses and loose sweaters.
When we got to the nursing home, it was hot inside. I kept my coat on and fastened. We walked down long tiled hallways and when we got to Great Aunt Nora's room, I was shocked to see how bad she looked. She was so skinny and pale, she had refused to eat since she broke her hip, she looked like a skeleton with skin.
The next thing I knew, I was face down on the floor. I heard Granddad say "Ginny's fainted."
Some nuns came and took me down the hallway and gave me smelling salts and told me to put my head between my knees. I told them I knew, it happened all of the time. I continued to refuse to remove my coat. I always did what Mom told me.
Our older brother remembers this incident because it scared him. He says I knocked over a tray and things all crashed to the floor when I fainted.
When we returned home and Granddad told Mom, she said I had skipped breakfast,
and was probably overheated from keeping my coat on. I tried to say I did have breakfast. but she sent me to my room to lay down.
Granddad was not allowed to know.
The previous Halloween I attended a party with my friend T. M. at her cousin's house off Shady Grove Rd. There was a magician and lots of kids running around. After the magic show, I was standing too close to the swing set and got knocked in the head with the swing and was unconscious a few minutes. T.M.'s Mom, took me inside and put ice on the bump and said she would call Mom to come and pick me up. I started crying and told her not to, because she would send Dad to get me and I was terrified to be alone with him. Mrs. M. was alarmed, I had told her about abuse before, and she asked me what she should do because she couldn't leave the party and wasn't going to let me sit there injured. I told her to call Granddad A., he could pick me up. She phoned him, she also told him I was afraid of Dad. Granddad picked me up and talked to me a bit. When we got home he told Dad that he had better not ever touch me again, and Dad stood there denying it.
I was not taken to a doctor even with the head injury. I never saw a doctor for anything that year, except early September 1966 when I had pink eye in both eyes.
***********************************************
Mom never spoke to me about what was happening to me.
Easter in March of '67, Grandma had taken me to Woodie's on a shopping trip and got me a cute bright pink tent dress that had gold buttons at the shoulders and an inverted pleat in the front just below the yoke front.
There was a white eyelet lace middrift top with puffy sleeves that was worn under it. She also got me white pattent leather shoes with a slight heel and matching purse with a gold chain shoulder handle.
She also gave me a silver mesh art deco hand bag that Mom only let me use when Grandma took me and our older brother to visit Aunt G.C., a nun, at St. Mary's in Rockville on Easter day.
I never thought twice about the fact that we found that dress in the maternity section. Grandma refered to it as "the chubby section".
On April 30th 1967, as everyone was packing to move away from 2001 Gainsboro Rd. to our new home at 2629 Henderson Ave., all day I kept having gas pains. I went to the bathroom a number of times with no result. Dad & our older brother & uncle F.A. were loading the truck Dad borrowed from his boss. Somebody was using the bathroom so I went down to the basement even though I didn't want to use the toilet down there because there was no privacy.
When I got down there, I started having extreme pain and there was a splash of water everywhere, I was just a couple of feet from the door, nowhere near the toilet, and I fell on the floor and could not get up. I was doubled up in pain for quite some time, until some of the kids came and found me. They ran to get Mom. She yelled "Oh good grief!" and she sent for Dad. All of the kids were sent away to keep packing and wait in the car. Dad got a brown glass bottle
of chloroform from the metal shelving unit near the shower stall. He got a wash cloth with it and held it over my face. The next thing I knew, I heard them saysing "it's a boy." and Mom told Dad "not my good towel Morris, get the brown one." I looked next to me was a baby boy wrapped in the brown towel. I was groggy and confused, but I asked if I could hold him. Mom said he had to be cleaned up first. Dad got a cardboard box and put the baby in and carried him away. Mom mopped the floor. After a few minutes I was getting my wits about me and Mom got me off the floor and wrapped a large towel around my waist. She made sure nobody was in the breezeway and sent me to my room to change clothes. I had kotex and a belt to use with it in my closet, so, even though my hands were shaking, I used them and put on clean clothes. The next thing I knew, Mom told me to get my Barbie doll cases and go to the car, so I did. Everyone was waiting in the car. We went to Henderson Ave., and Dad took the open cardboard box out of the trunk and put it in the back seat of the car and rolled the windows down a bit. Mom was worried, but he said "It's not too hot and the car is parked in the shade."
I was told to keep an eye on the kids, Dad was going back in the truck with uncle F.A. and our older brother, and Mom stood looking out the front door until they returned. She told us she was going to have the baby that night. I was confused from the chloroform and the trauma and just did what I was told. After all the moving was done, Dad and Mom got in the blue chevy and went to the hospital. He came back later and told us to go to bed. Our beds weren't assembled yet, but we had our matresses on the floor. You and sister S.A. were guessing it would be a boy, I said "It's a boy."
that night, for the first time in ages, I was able to sleep on my stomach.
The next day Dad enrolled everyone in schools, Highland Elementary for M.C., J.T. and S.A., Newport Jr. High for me and our older brother. The school had not received our transfer papers yet, so our older brother and I had to sit on a bench in the office lobby all day. I was struggling with cramps and was glad I had enough kotex, but sitting on the bench all day was stressful and I got sick and had to go lay down in the health room.
That evening after work, Dad took us all to the hospital and our older brother watched the rest of you while I was taken up to the nursery to see J.F.. He was so cute, I was happy to see him. When we went to Mom's room she said "What are YOU doing here?" I told her I wanted to visit, and that the baby was cute. She was really cross with Dad for bringing me, he told her I had a right to come.
Nobody ever took me to a doctor. Mom falsified the birth certificate by putting her name as Mother. I was expected to shut up.
When we got home, Dad told me "You are in charge of all the chores around here, your mother has done enough."
I was being punished for having a baby. When J.F. was a few days old and Mom brought him home, she was showing me how to dress him and change his diaper. I already knew how to do those things, I had babysat infants since I was 10.
He was so little and sweet, I told Mom "I want to keep him." and
she said "of course we're going to keep him, he's part of the family."
and I said "No Mom, I want to keep him."
She went on a rant, with a crushing litany of how inadequate I was... no job, no money for an apartment, diapers, bottles, doctor bills,...... and followed it with how crazy and ungrateful and stupid and lazy...... she kept barraging me until I broke down crying and went to bed with a migraine.
The same kind of 'SHAME RANT' she pulled on me everytime I told on Dad, the same way she tore into me at your place in Florida when I tried to share what I remembered.
you didn't know why I sat there and took that verbal lashing, but it always shut me down.
She imediately insisted I drive her back to s.c., although that was never the plan. She was furious that her stuff had to be sent on the train, although I had S.A. and J.L. and M.J. and G.I. and G.N. with us, and all of their luggage.
She wouldn't speak to me the whole drive to s.c., and Dad and J.F. met us at the train station. She took J.F. away and wouldn't let me speak to him.
She was afraid I remembered everything. She was determined to keep J.F. to herself.
On his 42nd birthday, as I was speaking to him on the phone, my heart started pounding and I found myself thinking "My baby boy is 42."
I didn't say anything to anyone, except friends at church and my therapist. When all of the details started coming back, I got up the courage to ask J.F. to do a DNA test with me. He was wonderful about it, because we have always had a close friendship.
It was a terribly stressful few weeks before we got the results in Otober 2009.
15 out of 15 markers an exact match.
I was so relieved! If it had come back negative, I would never know what happened to my baby. could Mom possibly have a baby boy the same day I did? Yes. Was it likely? No.
How did she get the doctor convinced it was her baby? I will never know if he was aware of the deception or not.
I don't even care.
I DO care that my sisters think I 'm delusional or a liar.
Why do you think I made sure you knew that our oldest brother was born before Mom met Dad when you were going to tell her you were pregnant?
I knew she could plow right over you with shame, unless you were armed with HER shame.
Why do you think I suggested she take you to holy cross clinic? I knew a catholic hospital would try to stop you from having an abortion.
When your daughter was a baby and Mom & Dad found you having a beer in the front yard with a boyfriend, and when they went in the house they started conspiring to have you declared unfit and take your daughter away from you.
I got mad and defended you, being a full time mom and going to school and having a tiny infraction like a beer DID NOT mean they were better than you! I told them if they took you to court I would testify against them and they would be lucky to avoid jail and could lose the kids they already had!
They backed down.
What did they think I had on them?
REALLY!!!
I would never let them harm you the way they had me. And they certainly had no right to take your daughter.
There were no DNA tests in the 60s, 70s, 80s.......
even if I had total recall back then I would not have had any proof.
When my first boyfriend read my FB post about being JF's Mom, he wrote me privately and said "That explains a lot."
He was my first lover, but there were no signs of virginity, and I had stretch marks and a strong fear of Dad.
I never told anyone for 42 years.
How would you feel if it happened to you?
How would you feel if I went behind your back and told your daughter you were delusional?
I would NEVER consider such a thing.
When you were fighting with your daughter because she believed me, I told her not
to push you if you were in denial, because we can't force the truth.
I don't know if I will ever mail this.
Force is wrong.
Ginny
well, I did mail it, a little over a year after writing it, and now it looks like my sister is happy to never speak to me, as it has been nearly a year and a half since I first told everyone I am his mother.
afterwhich, she denied disrespecting me.
[names withheld]
letter, June 14, 2010
Sister JT,
I'm writing this on paper instead of email because it takes longer, and more thought has to be put into it. Also; I won't accept a speedy or terse reply.
Actually, if you want to say something to me or ABOUT me that is unkind or unsupportive in any way, just keep it to yourself. I don't need it.
I have been in therapy for the abuse I suffered from childhood through adulthood, starting with Dad and continuing through until I have had to keep men away from me completely. That is, from 1992 through now [2010]and continuing, more than 18 years of work both in and out of therapist's offices - and if I NEVER had an epiphany of previously undiscovered truth, it would be a real shame.
It was anything but easy to face what happened to me in August before my 12th birthday, but I did it. Mom saw the bruises on my throat and the completely
destroyed torn lavendar blouse, she knew what Dad had done to me. She made me wear a turtle neck shirt to cover the bruises, in AUGUST through most of September with 80 and 90 degree weather I had to suffer with a turtle neck.
It was not MY shame that was being covered up.
I told Mom when it became uncomfortable to sleep on my stomach, she told me to sleep on my side. She knew what was going on with me. One day I was in my bedroom doing homework, at my desk next to the accordian door that led to the kitchen. I hear Mom talking to Grandma A. on the phone, and misunderstood that half of the conversation. I though Mom was pregnant. I didn't know why she said she wanted to take me to New York where "it could be taken care of"..... I never heard of doctors doing abortions in 1966 [autumn].
Thinking Mom was pregnant, I told my friends in the neighborhood the good news [including our cousin who lived down the street] and when Mom came outside, they all rushed up and congratulated her and asked when the baby was due. Mom was pissed.
She told me off for eavesdropping and telling a private conversation.
Sometime afterwards, Grandma came by with something she had made for Mom, and they went into Mom's bedroom. It was an undergarment in skintone fabric with eye hooks behind the waist, and an interior pocket in the tummy where stuffing could gradually be added. Some of us saw it and asked what it was, and Grandma said "it's to protect the baby."
How would kids know that extra padding is not needed to protect the baby?
Mom started wearing maternity clothes and told Dad she was pregnant. As long as his focus was on her, my secret was safe. Every day Mom would give me some of her liquid prenatal vitamins, she said she didn't want me getting anemic like she did when she was young. One time our older brother saw and asked for some too so she gave him a taste. He remembers that.
Eventually I was being harrassed in the girls locker room at gym class, because of my shape. I told Mom and she got a doctor to write me a note saying I was to be excused from gym due to asthma. My gym teacher said she would fail me if I didn't wear my uniform, but I refused. She made me stand in the doorway holding my books for the duration of class every day. One day I fainted and was taken to the sick room. She let me sit after that.
*************************************************
In the winter [ I think January 1967] Granddad came by to see if our older brother and I wanted to go with him to visit Great Aunt Nora in the nursing home. I had finished breakfast and was watching cartoons still in my flannel nightgown. I really wanted to go so I ran and got dressed. Before I came out to the hallway, Mom came and told me "You have to keep your coat on and fastened until after your Grandfather leaves. He is not to see you without your coat !"
I agreed. I was used to wearing a girdle every day and covering my shape with tent dresses and loose sweaters.
When we got to the nursing home, it was hot inside. I kept my coat on and fastened. We walked down long tiled hallways and when we got to Great Aunt Nora's room, I was shocked to see how bad she looked. She was so skinny and pale, she had refused to eat since she broke her hip, she looked like a skeleton with skin.
The next thing I knew, I was face down on the floor. I heard Granddad say "Ginny's fainted."
Some nuns came and took me down the hallway and gave me smelling salts and told me to put my head between my knees. I told them I knew, it happened all of the time. I continued to refuse to remove my coat. I always did what Mom told me.
Our older brother remembers this incident because it scared him. He says I knocked over a tray and things all crashed to the floor when I fainted.
When we returned home and Granddad told Mom, she said I had skipped breakfast,
and was probably overheated from keeping my coat on. I tried to say I did have breakfast. but she sent me to my room to lay down.
Granddad was not allowed to know.
The previous Halloween I attended a party with my friend T. M. at her cousin's house off Shady Grove Rd. There was a magician and lots of kids running around. After the magic show, I was standing too close to the swing set and got knocked in the head with the swing and was unconscious a few minutes. T.M.'s Mom, took me inside and put ice on the bump and said she would call Mom to come and pick me up. I started crying and told her not to, because she would send Dad to get me and I was terrified to be alone with him. Mrs. M. was alarmed, I had told her about abuse before, and she asked me what she should do because she couldn't leave the party and wasn't going to let me sit there injured. I told her to call Granddad A., he could pick me up. She phoned him, she also told him I was afraid of Dad. Granddad picked me up and talked to me a bit. When we got home he told Dad that he had better not ever touch me again, and Dad stood there denying it.
I was not taken to a doctor even with the head injury. I never saw a doctor for anything that year, except early September 1966 when I had pink eye in both eyes.
***********************************************
Mom never spoke to me about what was happening to me.
Easter in March of '67, Grandma had taken me to Woodie's on a shopping trip and got me a cute bright pink tent dress that had gold buttons at the shoulders and an inverted pleat in the front just below the yoke front.
There was a white eyelet lace middrift top with puffy sleeves that was worn under it. She also got me white pattent leather shoes with a slight heel and matching purse with a gold chain shoulder handle.
She also gave me a silver mesh art deco hand bag that Mom only let me use when Grandma took me and our older brother to visit Aunt G.C., a nun, at St. Mary's in Rockville on Easter day.
I never thought twice about the fact that we found that dress in the maternity section. Grandma refered to it as "the chubby section".
On April 30th 1967, as everyone was packing to move away from 2001 Gainsboro Rd. to our new home at 2629 Henderson Ave., all day I kept having gas pains. I went to the bathroom a number of times with no result. Dad & our older brother & uncle F.A. were loading the truck Dad borrowed from his boss. Somebody was using the bathroom so I went down to the basement even though I didn't want to use the toilet down there because there was no privacy.
When I got down there, I started having extreme pain and there was a splash of water everywhere, I was just a couple of feet from the door, nowhere near the toilet, and I fell on the floor and could not get up. I was doubled up in pain for quite some time, until some of the kids came and found me. They ran to get Mom. She yelled "Oh good grief!" and she sent for Dad. All of the kids were sent away to keep packing and wait in the car. Dad got a brown glass bottle
of chloroform from the metal shelving unit near the shower stall. He got a wash cloth with it and held it over my face. The next thing I knew, I heard them saysing "it's a boy." and Mom told Dad "not my good towel Morris, get the brown one." I looked next to me was a baby boy wrapped in the brown towel. I was groggy and confused, but I asked if I could hold him. Mom said he had to be cleaned up first. Dad got a cardboard box and put the baby in and carried him away. Mom mopped the floor. After a few minutes I was getting my wits about me and Mom got me off the floor and wrapped a large towel around my waist. She made sure nobody was in the breezeway and sent me to my room to change clothes. I had kotex and a belt to use with it in my closet, so, even though my hands were shaking, I used them and put on clean clothes. The next thing I knew, Mom told me to get my Barbie doll cases and go to the car, so I did. Everyone was waiting in the car. We went to Henderson Ave., and Dad took the open cardboard box out of the trunk and put it in the back seat of the car and rolled the windows down a bit. Mom was worried, but he said "It's not too hot and the car is parked in the shade."
I was told to keep an eye on the kids, Dad was going back in the truck with uncle F.A. and our older brother, and Mom stood looking out the front door until they returned. She told us she was going to have the baby that night. I was confused from the chloroform and the trauma and just did what I was told. After all the moving was done, Dad and Mom got in the blue chevy and went to the hospital. He came back later and told us to go to bed. Our beds weren't assembled yet, but we had our matresses on the floor. You and sister S.A. were guessing it would be a boy, I said "It's a boy."
that night, for the first time in ages, I was able to sleep on my stomach.
The next day Dad enrolled everyone in schools, Highland Elementary for M.C., J.T. and S.A., Newport Jr. High for me and our older brother. The school had not received our transfer papers yet, so our older brother and I had to sit on a bench in the office lobby all day. I was struggling with cramps and was glad I had enough kotex, but sitting on the bench all day was stressful and I got sick and had to go lay down in the health room.
That evening after work, Dad took us all to the hospital and our older brother watched the rest of you while I was taken up to the nursery to see J.F.. He was so cute, I was happy to see him. When we went to Mom's room she said "What are YOU doing here?" I told her I wanted to visit, and that the baby was cute. She was really cross with Dad for bringing me, he told her I had a right to come.
Nobody ever took me to a doctor. Mom falsified the birth certificate by putting her name as Mother. I was expected to shut up.
When we got home, Dad told me "You are in charge of all the chores around here, your mother has done enough."
I was being punished for having a baby. When J.F. was a few days old and Mom brought him home, she was showing me how to dress him and change his diaper. I already knew how to do those things, I had babysat infants since I was 10.
He was so little and sweet, I told Mom "I want to keep him." and
she said "of course we're going to keep him, he's part of the family."
and I said "No Mom, I want to keep him."
She went on a rant, with a crushing litany of how inadequate I was... no job, no money for an apartment, diapers, bottles, doctor bills,...... and followed it with how crazy and ungrateful and stupid and lazy...... she kept barraging me until I broke down crying and went to bed with a migraine.
The same kind of 'SHAME RANT' she pulled on me everytime I told on Dad, the same way she tore into me at your place in Florida when I tried to share what I remembered.
you didn't know why I sat there and took that verbal lashing, but it always shut me down.
She imediately insisted I drive her back to s.c., although that was never the plan. She was furious that her stuff had to be sent on the train, although I had S.A. and J.L. and M.J. and G.I. and G.N. with us, and all of their luggage.
She wouldn't speak to me the whole drive to s.c., and Dad and J.F. met us at the train station. She took J.F. away and wouldn't let me speak to him.
She was afraid I remembered everything. She was determined to keep J.F. to herself.
On his 42nd birthday, as I was speaking to him on the phone, my heart started pounding and I found myself thinking "My baby boy is 42."
I didn't say anything to anyone, except friends at church and my therapist. When all of the details started coming back, I got up the courage to ask J.F. to do a DNA test with me. He was wonderful about it, because we have always had a close friendship.
It was a terribly stressful few weeks before we got the results in Otober 2009.
15 out of 15 markers an exact match.
I was so relieved! If it had come back negative, I would never know what happened to my baby. could Mom possibly have a baby boy the same day I did? Yes. Was it likely? No.
How did she get the doctor convinced it was her baby? I will never know if he was aware of the deception or not.
I don't even care.
I DO care that my sisters think I 'm delusional or a liar.
Why do you think I made sure you knew that our oldest brother was born before Mom met Dad when you were going to tell her you were pregnant?
I knew she could plow right over you with shame, unless you were armed with HER shame.
Why do you think I suggested she take you to holy cross clinic? I knew a catholic hospital would try to stop you from having an abortion.
When your daughter was a baby and Mom & Dad found you having a beer in the front yard with a boyfriend, and when they went in the house they started conspiring to have you declared unfit and take your daughter away from you.
I got mad and defended you, being a full time mom and going to school and having a tiny infraction like a beer DID NOT mean they were better than you! I told them if they took you to court I would testify against them and they would be lucky to avoid jail and could lose the kids they already had!
They backed down.
What did they think I had on them?
REALLY!!!
I would never let them harm you the way they had me. And they certainly had no right to take your daughter.
There were no DNA tests in the 60s, 70s, 80s.......
even if I had total recall back then I would not have had any proof.
When my first boyfriend read my FB post about being JF's Mom, he wrote me privately and said "That explains a lot."
He was my first lover, but there were no signs of virginity, and I had stretch marks and a strong fear of Dad.
I never told anyone for 42 years.
How would you feel if it happened to you?
How would you feel if I went behind your back and told your daughter you were delusional?
I would NEVER consider such a thing.
When you were fighting with your daughter because she believed me, I told her not
to push you if you were in denial, because we can't force the truth.
I don't know if I will ever mail this.
Force is wrong.
Ginny
well, I did mail it, a little over a year after writing it, and now it looks like my sister is happy to never speak to me, as it has been nearly a year and a half since I first told everyone I am his mother.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Pro-life message
I have always winced when I hear people say that abortion "in cases of rape or incest" is reasonable. Why should the child be executed while the sex offender goes free [generally]?
I love my son. I am very blessed to have him in my life.
Does anyone ever think that a child can be exactly the healing
opportunity a victim needs? How can adding another violent act to a woman's life ever do anything but harm? How can increasing her chances of infertility and cancer do her any good?
Where is the love, compassion and caring?
I have to say for certain; a clinical situation, sterile gown, cold machinery and a passionless crew of abortionists is a horrible thing,
and is far worse than what women really deserve.
I love my son. I am very blessed to have him in my life.
Does anyone ever think that a child can be exactly the healing
opportunity a victim needs? How can adding another violent act to a woman's life ever do anything but harm? How can increasing her chances of infertility and cancer do her any good?
Where is the love, compassion and caring?
I have to say for certain; a clinical situation, sterile gown, cold machinery and a passionless crew of abortionists is a horrible thing,
and is far worse than what women really deserve.
about my photo
the photo I have just placed on my blog is of me with my son.
He was 2 years old, I was 14 years old.
Because of the way my mother chose to cover up what my father did to me,
taking my son and telling everyone he was her son, followed by telling me I had no rights and controling every aspect of my life, she managed to create a false history for me, and for the whole family. It took me fourty two years to come to terms with the reality, and to get my son to have a DNA test with me to prove he was my son.
I am completely thankful he has allowed and assisted me in this, and that we finally have the truth. Many family members dismiss what I have to say,
but they have their own denial to deal with. My daughters are glad to have a brother, and I hope to make things as comfortable for my family as possible.
Most of the people who know me do not have any idea this happened, and I'm sure more than a few of them wonder what is the matter with me.
I suffer from depression and post traumatic stress, but no longer suffer from lost memory [gaps].
He was 2 years old, I was 14 years old.
Because of the way my mother chose to cover up what my father did to me,
taking my son and telling everyone he was her son, followed by telling me I had no rights and controling every aspect of my life, she managed to create a false history for me, and for the whole family. It took me fourty two years to come to terms with the reality, and to get my son to have a DNA test with me to prove he was my son.
I am completely thankful he has allowed and assisted me in this, and that we finally have the truth. Many family members dismiss what I have to say,
but they have their own denial to deal with. My daughters are glad to have a brother, and I hope to make things as comfortable for my family as possible.
Most of the people who know me do not have any idea this happened, and I'm sure more than a few of them wonder what is the matter with me.
I suffer from depression and post traumatic stress, but no longer suffer from lost memory [gaps].
the reason for this blog
this blog is for my journey to become empowered the way I should have been as a child.
all children deserve respect, love and kindness, and above all else; a voice. when we have parents that destroy instead of build, ruin instead of nurture, debase instead of encourage, it leaves a void that can take decades or a lifetime to repair.
This is hopefully, more than just my journey, but possibly the connection that others might need to make their own journey easier. If one child gets better parents because of this blog, I will feel completely blessed.
I intend not to use the real names of other people I mention herein, as innocent relatives and friends could be harmed, but my own real name is Ginny,
I was born Virginia Ann Brown october 11, 1954 to my parents; MG & MC [both now deceased] at Columbia Hospital for Women, Washington, D.C., also now defunct.
I have labored hard in deciding to blog this subject, as my own children, although adults, may feel more sorrow if they should read it's details. I never intend to hide anything from them, as they know the basic information about my life, but I have a therapist and a group in my life, so making my family sad is something I hope to avoid by not sending them the link.
this is hard.
all children deserve respect, love and kindness, and above all else; a voice. when we have parents that destroy instead of build, ruin instead of nurture, debase instead of encourage, it leaves a void that can take decades or a lifetime to repair.
This is hopefully, more than just my journey, but possibly the connection that others might need to make their own journey easier. If one child gets better parents because of this blog, I will feel completely blessed.
I intend not to use the real names of other people I mention herein, as innocent relatives and friends could be harmed, but my own real name is Ginny,
I was born Virginia Ann Brown october 11, 1954 to my parents; MG & MC [both now deceased] at Columbia Hospital for Women, Washington, D.C., also now defunct.
I have labored hard in deciding to blog this subject, as my own children, although adults, may feel more sorrow if they should read it's details. I never intend to hide anything from them, as they know the basic information about my life, but I have a therapist and a group in my life, so making my family sad is something I hope to avoid by not sending them the link.
this is hard.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)