I was not considered a girly girl with ribbons, ruffles and lacy socks.
I liked football, fishing and hanging out with my dad.
Mother did not understand me, I wished she wouldn't have spent
so much time on that, since I had three other sisters for her to play
tea party and dress in poker dots.
After graduating Jr. High, the summer before High School.
My best friend Sabrina and I planned a celebration party, with a few others from our graduating class. Sabrina had agreed to make the sandwiches, my assigned task was, to go to the neighborhood market, for sodas, chips and assorted candy.
I was halfway to the market, when Sabrina's dad drove up beside me and ask if i wanted a ride, I didn't want to impose since it appeared he had just gotten off work. But the thought of walking back in the blazing sun with heavy bags and arriving with warm sodas, forced me to immediately agree.
I opened the door to get in, as he tossed his lunch pail and hard hat in the back seat, then turned off the radio, creating an awkward silence, so I removed our party list from my pocket, to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything. Upon arrival to the market as I unbuckled my seat belt, her dad said " Why don't you stay in the car, I will take your list, go inside and get what you need". I handed him the list and turned to reach into my pocket for the money, but when I looked up he had already unbuckled his seat belt, gotten out of the car and closed the door. This was great, I got a ride and saved money. To top it off upon his return, he handed me a large strawberry icee, the first sip felt great siding down my throat, the second sip was even better.
Xena
I pulled out a coin to call home, I knew my mother would answer the phone, she always answered the phone, unless she instructed someone else to do so, which was on very rare occasions. Mother wanted to know who was talking to whom at all times. When mother answered I managed to utter some words through the tears. Her arrival although within minutes, felt like hours. I didn't know what to say, but i managed to tell all that I remembered, as we sat inside the car. I saw the tears roll down my mother face, she dropped her head, gripped the car steering wheel and said " baby I'm sorry this happened but it can't be changed, and most important, we can never tell your father or anyone else". My tears appeared to have come to a halt, I covered my mouth in fear of what I wanted to say. Mother continued by saying " your father is the sole provider, and we as a family can not have him going to jail behind you". I felt like I had been violated all over again, I was not important enough for someone to care about.
I was born the seventh of nine children, my father was considered "the provider or bread winner", as we would call it. Dad was given that title because he worked two jobs, paid all the bills and supplied the needs of this large family. Mother was classified as a stay home mom or housewife.
My father's income placed us middle class, affording our family a nice size home, with a large back yard and two cars. We didn't have everything we wanted but we had what we needed.
Nine months later, I gave birth to a baby girl, my best friend's sister.
Everyone had opinions and assumptions, but they weren't in my position. I was talked about and labeled a whore at the first sight of a bulge in my belly. I was heartbroken to hear the un-silent whispers and stares of disgust. The most hurtful feeling, were my father's looks of disappointment and embarrassment, those looks chipped away at my integrity, my spirit and everything in between.
My best friend Nadein was no longer my friend at all, her mother had forbid her to associate with such a girl and her father, my abuser stood silent and agreed. Nadein was told that I needed to find the kind of friends that did the things I do. My inability to explain or answer any questions, served as confirmation.
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In the Rehab center, I was treated for substance abuse and depression. My counselor was a wonderful man who over time helped me rebuild my self-esteem and independence. I was finally able to look at myself and see that I am somebody and I do matter.
January Monthly Story..........Mother Said
I was In disbelief of what had actually happened, but I knew something had happened...why couldn't I remember? I was in excruciating pain, my shirt was dirty and torn, my jeans had been removed and tossed aside. I was panty-less in what looked like an abandon building. Had this actually happened to me? I was so ashamed. I began to shake uncontrollably as I wiped my face with my dirty hands. Using a broken old chair, I managed to put on my jeans and stand to my feet . I staggered to a nearby service station in search of a phone, as I walked I felt something oozing down my legs, this was so disgusting. I reached into my pocket for the money I was to spend on sodas and snacks. For a brief moment I thought about our celebration party, I never made it back .
That's all I remember...
I woke up hours later, cold, alone, afraid and raped.
Mr. Wonderful and i have been married five years. There is now laughter in the eyes where tears use to be and joy where there had never been love . I have three other children, none of which Mr. Wonderful is the biological father. Each of my children represent a period of my life I would like to forget, but need to remember.
I, the victim was now portrayed to be the villain . My experience and the father of my child remained a secret. By the time I turned 16, I was everything, everybody said I was. I gave myself to anyone that wanted me, I began to use drugs and alcohol to numb the pain I felt inside.
My popularity became my image, I used men like they were disposable trash bags. I didn't know who I was anymore, I had placed my heart under lock and key. I didn't want love nor did love want me. Everyday became a challenge, there were many days I wanted to give up. Every morning I opened my eyes, I wished I had stayed asleep. I would lay in bed for hours, searching for a reason, a purpose for my life. I would ask myself, who am I?
I had plans of being brilliant, talented and fabulous. I could not continue like this, I realized I needed help,. For so many years I had been locked in a room I didn't even know I was in and kept there. My strength came from the realization that I entered this room all by myself. So I walked out of my delusion and into a rehab counseling center, I would no longer be the victim or the villain.