Crawling Out Part V

“I’m in love!”

 

I met a boy at church camp in the beautiful Sequoias in Northern California the summer before my sophomore year in high school. We immediately connected on a spiritual level. I sat down to a piano in one of the chapels and he got out his guitar; I sang while we played music together. Taking every opportunity to be together during that week, we sat by the lake for hours talking. He didn’t try to approach me physically during that time; we barely even kissed. He was so quiet and gentle that I felt safe and protected in his presence. At the end of the week together I knew I had met my future husband.

 

The only obstacle was that he lived in LA and I in San Diego; he was 16 without a car. Thus began correspondence via letters for four years.

 

My heart dared to be vulnerable and accept love from someone whom I trusted.

Though I continued to involve myself with other schoolmates, my heart belonged to him. I felt loved for the first time in my life; home-life seemed a little easier knowing someone cared for me. I began to have a sense of hope about my future. I began sewing all of my clothes and finding ways to create income to pay for my wardrobe by babysitting, ironing, and cleaning homes after school and on weekends.

 

At home the feeling of impending danger always lurked. I tried running away a few times, thinking I could somehow get to LA where my boyfriend lived. My father always found me and dragged me home; my fights with him became more fierce and detrimental for me. My family ganged up against me and supported my dad. I was constantly placed on restriction for weeks at a time because I couldn’t bear the way he intimidated and controlled all of us. At a family party my sister asked if I wanted to spend the night. I was just six weeks away from my eighteenth birthday. My father refused to let me stay; I knew it was because he wanted to control and abuse me. My father chased me as I ran up her staircase. I fought him off, scratching and biting him but he eventually dragged me down the stairs to our car. He threatened to drop me off at juvenile hall. I took one look at my little brother and chose to cooperate in order to protect him.

 

Throughout high school I found many avenues of escape, joining clubs at school, and a citywide religious choir that performed many places all over San Diego; anything I could do to experience some happiness and to avoid the roaring lion that wouldn’t leave.

 

When my boyfriend graduated from high school, I attended his prom and felt like a princess until he shattered it with news that we should just be friends. I was crushed and cried myself to sleep for months. I filled my life with one sexual encounter after another though no one could repair the deep hole in my heart; I thought I would never get over him. We remained friends.

 

I was the soloist for all choir performances at school and my grades remained high. I was shocked when I was nominated as Homecoming Princess, wondering why anyone was interested in me, still feeling dirty and worthless.

When my senior prom arrived no one invited me, confirming my feelings of being inferior. So I invited my former boyfriend in LA to attend the event with me. Though it was still uncomfortable to be in his presence I found a new strength inside of me that overcame the loss of his infatuation for me.

 

After graduation my mother encouraged me to attend a Christian Music College in LA; I was relieved to leave my dreadful environment and felt that I was being freed from a tortured life. Before I left I threw away all my letters of correspondence with my LA friend. I was determined to let him go completely. I immersed myself in my piano and school, getting A’s in every subject. I discovered that I could write musical scores in my dorm without being near a piano and got excellent responses from my professors of music. I also joined another choir and was able to travel all over the state performing with them.

 

I felt free and acted completely out-of-control sexually for three months when I met an older man on campus. He swept me off my feet, took me to concerts, bought me gifts and wined and dined me. Ultimately it was all about sex . . . HIS way, painful and humiliating. I submitted to his abusive behavior because I craved his attention. He was a professor at the college; my roommate informed the Dean and I was required to come to his office to discuss my relationship with my new boyfriend. I kept his confidence and lied during the intimidating interview. Afterward I approached my roommate and threatened her life; I never saw her again.

At one point during our relationship we had a terrible fight because he belittled me. I tried to commit suicide by swallowing the only thing I could find, aspirin; obviously I was unsuccessful. Amazingly, I managed to keep up my grades and choir performances. No one knew the life I was leading.

 

When I returned home in the summer my mother informed me that she could no longer pay for my tuition. I panicked, knowing that I couldn’t live in the same house with my abusive father. My life was reeling out of control again; I wanted to die. Even worse, my college boyfriend officiated as a tour guide for a group of students visiting his homeland, Germany and involved himself with one of them.

 

I felt hopeless!

 

Then destiny knocked on my door and I opened it as wide as possible.

 

Crawling out of my prison, I found a new way of escape . . .

What Intimacy ?

“I am so sorry for not trusting you,” I cried to my spouse this morning.

 

“I know,” he replied.

 

“But it keeps me from being close to you,” I spoke through my tears.

 

“It’s okay, honey.”

 

My family annihilated my ability to trust anyone.

 

Another devastating effect of incest.

I was on my way to my kid’s home early this morning and started asking God why I don’t have desire for my spouse when he tries to be intimate with me. He is so good to me and loves my family; he is precious in every way imaginable. 

 

I heard the answer clearly.

 

My father literally stripped trust from my heart, and my mother betrayed me by allowing him to repeatedly do so.

 

My spouse has done NOTHING to deserve this distance that I create between us.

When I think about him while we’re apart during the day, I have an abundance of loving, desirous feelings  toward him. I want to be close to him; he’s quite adorable.

 

I am discouraged right now because I continue to discover new damaged parts within myself. I often wonder if I will really ever recover from all the effects of this incestuous violation lodged in the depths of my soul.

 

God only knows . . . perhaps LOVE will find a way to restore me to wholeness. 

 

Awakening Desires Part IV

“You’re my favorite,” daddy said.

 

My stomach tightened and I immediately felt nauseous; his statement made me uncomfortable but I didn’t know why. I felt ashamed and dirty inside.

 

My level of shame escalated the morning of my first menstrual cycle at age eleven; I thought I was bleeding to death ! My mother was at work so I frantically called a friend’s mother and found out what was happening to me. She was so angry with my mother for not preparing me. I felt betrayed. She didn’t loved me enough to share anything important with me. When I returned to school I thought I was the only girl in my sixth grade class going through this painful and shaming experience !

I was attending a new elementary school because we had recently moved two miles north of our home. Dad bought me a brand new TV and placed a blue princess-style phone by my bed. I had my own bedroom and my own bed for the first time. I felt loved by my dad because he had never given me any gifts in the past. Much later I understood his motive. Our new rental home was much larger with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. I thought we were doing better because dad had a gas station and we had food in the refrigerator.

 

Nothing improved in my relationship with my mother. She ignored me the older I became except when I was performing musically in school and church. Otherwise, we had no connection; I didn’t feel loved and didn’t trust anyone.

 

I became infatuated with a boy in my classroom. I didn’t let anyone know because I thought I was too ugly and poor for anyone to like me though I was at the top of my class academically and was elected as secretary of my school.

Nothing I achieved gave me any sense of self-worth. On the outside I had the appearance of perfection, talent, and intelligence. However, it masked the inner turmoil and lack of self-esteem brewing in my soul.

 

Within a few years I was covering up my promiscuity, feeling ashamed of myself and not able to stop my behavior. I trusted no one so I couldn’t talk about it. I just knew I was flawed deeply and didn’t know why . . . .

Too Young to Know Part III

Sexually charged by age 5, I played doctor with most of my friends. We put objects in our sexual orifices. I looked at pin-up pictures of women and was aroused. It all felt normal to me to be curious about the private parts of girls and boys. I was caught kissing a boy in kindergarten and was publicly shamed by my teacher in front of my classmates.

I had no conscious knowledge of what was taking place in my own home to destroy my innocence !

Our home was a tiny old 600 SF beach cottage with two small bedrooms and one bathroom with a claw-foot tub and pedestal sink. The few furnishings we had were old and the kitchen curtains were torn. No one else had these worn relics in their home thus I felt poor. I hated to bring my friends home because I thought my father would walk in anytime and embarrass me in his drunkenness.

Because of his alcoholism, dad couldn't keep a job. He worked odd hours and came home during the afternoon, making my life miserable with his intimidation. I stayed outside as long as I could until mom arrived home from her full-time job, trying to support the six of us.

To help out, my older brother had a paper route and did yard work. At times we had no hot water, electricity or food. Our church often left paper grocery bags on our front porch. When we visited my mom's relatives they gave us crates of avocados and tangerines. When my father did bring home food he boasted about what a great cook he was and repeatedly told us that mom couldn't make toast. He frequently fished in the ocean across the street and traded some of it for treasures like abalone and lobster. Feast or famine !

During dinner dad intimidated all of us. We weren't allowed to talk at the dinner table. His philosophy of "divide and conquer" worked well to keep us separate and distrustful of our siblings. My mother never said anything and kept distant and uninterested in me. I continued to have fits of rage and fought him, though it only isolated me more from the rest of my family.

At school I felt inferior to everyone around me because I had very few changes of clothes; when I had no shoes to begin second grade I had to wear flip-flops. The only reason I had any nice clothes was because my older sister got a job at a local bakery and bought things for me with her meager income. My feelings of inferiority motivated me to compete in every aspect of my life.

My musical abilities helped give me a sense of accomplishment and self-esteem; I was the vocal soloist at school and church. At age 9 my mom paid for me to take piano lessons for $3/week; I rode my bike to my piano teacher's home and easily all aspects of the piano. Mr. Diano was a jazz pianist at a local bar. I often had a queasy feeling being in his home though he never did or said anything inappropriate. One day when I arrived, Jo Ann Castle, a talented TV pianist frequenting The Lawrence Welk Show was visiting him. Mr. Diano told her that I was his best student; he asked me to play a piano piece for her, She was delighted and encouraged me. Her support was greatly needed and appreciated. My musical confidence escalated; I continued piano lessons through college.

Next, early puberty . . . . .

Lion's Den Part II

"Jesus, please take daddy home or take me !"

The suffering three-year-old, Eileen (my birth name) wanted to be safe, didn't want to be terrorized by her drunken, raging father anymore.

The answer came in a gift.

I heard music and went to the old upright piano in our tiny living room. I began to play a song by ear. My voice opened up and I sang like an angel !

Not only could I sing but I began to stand up against the raging lion in our home. When he came in during the night and began fighting with my mom, I found new courage in my heart. I tried to protect her even though I was so small.

Because I fought back verbally and physically I acquired the name of "brat" by my mom, and "pest" by my older sister and brother.

Nothing deterred me from speaking out; a new level of hatred brewed in my heart. I wanted my dad removed from our lives.

My prayers and wishes didn't change this frightening environment.

In its place I received another gift.

Learning to read in a week at age four, I sailed above all my classmates in school. My teachers adored me and I them. Because everything came easily and quickly I was easily bored, hence given all errands to keep me occupied. I often stayed after school, calculating huge math problems on the green board in my classroom.

I found freedom and a safe haven at the beach and bay that encircled our little town; I felt safer outside than I ever felt in my home.

My energy level produced another gift, athletic ability; none in the school could outrun or outplay me at any game.

The dark side was my competitive and extremely volatile personality that clashed with my closest friends as I often fought with them to confirm my superiority.

At home I threw huge tantrums and often beat my head on the wall trying to get my mother to show interest in me. She was annoyed and walked away; our only connection was a prayer before bedtime.

My only respite was washing dishes because I was left alone unless I didn't scrub the wrought iron skillet good enough after a fried chicken dinner. Then the monster bullied me as I seethed in silence.

I was living two lives by age 5; the pretty little green-eyed blond with the cheerful personality who could do anything; and the tortured, angry child trying to change my mom's decision to stay with my dad.

When I went to the little church right across from our home, I was praised for my angelic behavior and musical talent. There I won all contests for most Bible verses memorized and received positive attention from the teachers.

My life was already a complex dichotomy.

More to come . . . 

Road Signs Part I

A friend informed me that my child was suffering from and eating disorder; I didn't see any signs.

Another friend gave me a book on INCEST, saying that God told him to give it to me; I was in denial.

I read it and trembled in fear, no longer in denial.

While making love one night I screamed for my spouse to get off me NOW !!! I thought he was my dad.

My first counselor said that he could feel the spirit of sexual victimization as I sat in his waiting room.

At the dinner table I felt a hand on my inner thigh and smelled a repugnant odor from my dad.

My counselor asked me to SEE who else was victimized; I saw many family members in a circle in the dark.

My grandmother made a blood sacrifice for my soul.

I couldn't sleep, had night sweats, nightmares filled with dark figures, demons, all chasing me.

I stopped seeing my first counselor because I couldn't talk about sex with a male.

I no longer could function outside of my home; I stayed in bed most of the day for months.

I told my sister what I remembered in my dreams; she said, "They're only dreams!"

My niece was hospitalized in a children's psychiatric facility for threatening her sister; I talked with her mom about my memories.

My brother said that my father had been molested by his father while in the bath tub.

My sister came to see me; called me a witch and crazy.

My older brother came over and said that I had better stop talking; my life was threatened.

I was referred by another friend to a female counselor.

My new counselor asked me what my nightmare was about the night before though I hadn't mentioned that I had one.

The ceiling was dripping with blood from a cat on a rope; I was strapped to a table in a dimly lit room.

I thought I was going crazy, hallucinating, shaking, frightened, not sleeping, developing phobias.

I checked into a women's facility because I could no longer function as a mother, wife or business partner.

Three weeks in, I started screaming due to deep, horrifying fear.

All I saw and felt was utter darkness.

I prayed and prayed and prayed to be rescued from my internal torture.

LOVE was with me all along; I found comfort and respite at times during the storm.

So the journey begins . . . .

The Familial Disease

I have been in emotional pain for the last four days.

My mother 91, fell and was taken to the hospital, suffering two lumbar fractures. I wasn't informed for over nine hours until I received a call from an administrator at her assisted living facility asking to authorize pain medication for her. I was distraught to think that mom was in pain and hadn't received any relief.

I was angry when I discovered that my sibling was notified, didn't go to the hospital and didn't pass along the information to the rest of the sibilings. Lack of communication is a chronic, negative effect of our family disease of incest.

As the messenger of the truth regarding my father as my perpetrator, I was immediately accused of lying, and promptly ostracized from the family. When I did have the courage to walk into my parent's home uninvited 10 years later I was accepted back with lingering unforgiveness from most of my family members.

When my father was dying of cancer God gave me the knowledge and love to take him to the hospital and set up hospice assistance. I stayed with him until his death eight weeks later, sang for him before he died, and sang AMAZING GRACE at his memorial service.

Three days before his death my father told me that I was the only person he trusted because "I know", and asked me to take care of mom. My mother lived with my husband and me for two years until my sibling removed her with his own ulterior motives. Shortly thereafter his spouse didn't want her and placed her in an assisted living environment which did not meet her medical needs of increasing frailty and dementia.

After my husband visited her residence and insisted that we be called in an emergency, the next night she had another fall. Because I was sick with fever, my dear husband got up after midnight, drove to the hospital and called all of my siblings on his way. She was returned to her residence in the early morning. He came home, slept two hours and got up for work. After my siblings found out what had transpired, mom was immediately removed from her residence back to my sibling's place rather than to a skilled nursing facility.

We are in crisis mode unnecessarily; two siblings made the decision to move her without consulting me or my other sibling. This is so typical of my family and so painfully disrespectful.

Yesterday my husband and I helped move her belongings because I didn't want all of her precious possessions thrown around without regard.

I have cried myself to sleep for three nights now because I know my mom is suffering and I have no control over her living situation.

This is a direct result of the devastating damages of incest in our family.

I have been very irritable, guilt-ridden, frustrated, discouraged and angry; unfortunately for my husband, my anger has been misdirected.

Right now I feel like I am never going to completely heal from the emotional damage of incest.

Thankfully, I know this is NOT the truth; I will overcome this !