My Mother and Father met in a bar in Biloxi, Ms. He was 26 and she was 14. My Mother looked and dressed much older. She wasn't drinking. She was looking for someone to rescue her.
My Father was a sort of celebrity. Aside from being a clerk in the Air Force, he was their champion welterweight boxer. That title gave him plenty of room to get away with a lot, at work and with the girls.
Soon after meeting they got married. I suppose, I was born a few months later.
My Father who, for 4 years, was recognized as a champ suddenly, became only a Father and husband. The honeymoon didn't last very long. Before I was 1 year old they divorced and my Mom took me with her back to her parents house in Ms.
My Mom still needed a rescurer. Within a year of moving back to Ms., she was remarried to my stepfather.
My Mother was extremely attractive and anyone who was lucky enough to win her wanted to keep her. At that time she was only 16 and 16 year olds didn't have kids, they were still virgins. So thought my Step-father. He naturally assumed I was my Mothers little brother and noone was going to make him any wiser.
Then one day, my Mother and Grandmother had an argument. During the heat my Grandmother said she wouldn't keep me with her any longer, to come pick me up and take me with her.
Obviously, my Stepfather was a little blown away when he found out the truth. He could have sent her packing but, like I said, she was a real FOX. From that moment on I paid the price for her deception.
I don't remember exactly the age that the Physical abuse started. I was still sleeping in a babybed but, I could ride a tricycle.
I missed my Grandmother and we only lived less than a mile from her house. I remember riding the trike on a busy road then, turning down my Grandmothers street. I remember standing in the doorway of my aunts bedroom and saw my uncle asleep. He was on military leave and liked sleeping late.
I heard the phone rining and my Grandmother walked through the door and answered it. She had just gotten home from the store.
It was my Mother asking if she had seen me or if I was there. My Grandmother brought me back to Mom. She was livid.
Mom told me she had to teach me a lesson. She sent me out to a bush, the kind that grows thin brances from the ground with smaller branches and hard buds on the stem, and told me to get 3 good switches. I was too small to pull them myself so she came out and asked me which 3 I had chosen. I showed her and she cut them for me.
She took me back into the house, stripped me naked and told me that I had better stand still. That was impossible. The beating seemed to last foever and each time she hit it burned. i managed to get switch marks all over my body. The ones that hurt worse wore the ones to my back and face.
When she was done she put me in my crib naked, bleeding, and crying fiercly. The physical pain didn't subside easily. I hurt also from the buds and bits of switch that had become imbeded in my skin.
That type of lesson teaching went on with that same bush, at times near equal wounding and other times it didn't hurt as much, until we moved to another house. I believe I was about 5 1/2 years old. And Damned if there wasn't another one of them bushes at that house too. My Step-father pointed that out to me. By that time he had become pretty well established with my mother and could join in the fun also.
The physical wounds healed, leaving no marks. The psycological wounds became infected and festered for many years.
I have a background similar in violence. Have you seen the CAS board here? We are all Childhood Abuse Survivors, though many of them have suffered sexual abuse, the board is also for survivors such as you and I.
love in recovery,
amanda
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do your best and God does the rest, a step at a time
Wow Chris, I think you are telling my story. Did you ever see the movie "Mommie Dearest" with Joan Crawford? There are some scenes in there that were my reality. Particularly the "no more wire hangers!!!!" scene. Wire hangers were one of my mother's favorites, but then again so were jump ropes and fly swatters basically anything she could get her hands on. I ran away before I turned 4 y/o to my brother and his wife's house (he is 20 yrs older than I) and was severely punished. However, I did not learn my lesson and tried again not so long later. I am sure you are acutely aware of the result. So began my course in self-loathing. Anyway, I have been running and hiding and numbing and fighting to get away from those psychological wounds for a long time. I have come to realize that none of the running and hiding, numbing and fighting works. That's why I am here. Anyway, to thank you for sharing your story, I thought I should share some of mine.
I just want to give you my support for what you are doing. It can't be easy thinking about the emotional and physical pain then putting it out for the whole world to see. You are a great example for me and many others I'm sure.
Greg
ps. on a light note, every time I read your name "chrisb" I want to go get a chrisb kreme doughnut.
