stolen from me

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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