Life can sure catch up with you at times. I keep on getting frustrated when something from my past comes up, and either reminds me of a failure, or just gets me going spiral downward.
Worst when it affects my daughter, in the sense, that she wants to help me but can't really, nor can I really open up to her too much at this time and give her a burden to large to bare.
Like I stated before, I ain't perfect, nor am I a saint. I grow tired, sick and weary when things are not going as I want them to, or when I totally screw up. I tend to be hard on myself whenever I make any mistake, no matter how small or large, it is, I get mad at myself.
Yet, God keeps on telling me, that I cannot control my own life, 100%, and its best to let Him be the one in control and I agree! I am not wise, or smart by any human standard; I am who I am, and you either accept me as I am or dump me like others have most of my life.
I have been told to be patient, and I have tried, yet at times I wish to be over with this long path towards healing. I wonder, will I find peace here on earth, Will I find justice, Will I have the family I have always desired?
Answer to them all is yes, if and only if I let go of my heart and put it in Gods hands and let Him do His work in me. But at times my human pride, and selfishness gets in the way I admit. And i want to live more by human standards then Gods own standards for my life. One path will lead to death, while the other, might bring more pain, yet it will also bring me life.
It hurts, to know that the only family you have ever had, sees you as nothing. Or thinks that you somehow imagined a life of misery when it was a life of happiness?????
Behold, I still have certain pain from my past that haunts my present life, but I hope to overcome it so it may not interfere in my immediate future.
At night, in my dreams, memories come flooding, eventually turning into nightmares, full of pain, fear, and anger. I confront my monsters, and I tell them to leave me alone yet when fighting them off alone they come back, but if I am able to pray and call on Jesus, they leave right away.
Most of my dreams consist of my child being killed or hurt and I having to see her dying in my arms, at other times I have been in odd places, where, many people are walking around aimlessly and I see unborn babies torn from their mother's wombs alive, and tossed into large tanks that crush them to death, and their blood runs into these canals that provide some sort of energy?
At other times I am surrounded by people from my church and someone continues popping in and out, as if looking for me, or at me, but am not sure what to make of it, at other times, I am looking and looking for my daughter, and i see her yet never can reach her.
Other times, my mother is with me, and she always has this sad look on her face, yet I do not do much to confort her, is that so wrong? The other night , I saw my mothers mom, whom died, and she is sick, and I am tending to her, and then it seems as if my father, throws her down a staircase, and there she is in my arms and dies, pleading with me to save her daughter.
What do these mean? I wake with a start, my heart pounding, and I hear a cry deep within my soul, and I wonder is it me, or someone else?
I can't sleep more than 3 hours straight and all my life I have always woken up at 3am and am not sure as to why?
Maybe that is the time my dad would come and hurt me?
As I try to live in the present, and let go of my past, it tends to haunt me more, and I really would prefer not dragging this old monster around once I marry to whom GOd has promised me to and have the other children I so desire to have.
So, as you can see, I am as crazy and as human as all of you, but what keeps me going is GOds Love, Forgivcness and Grace.
Blessings.
Angel 4 Eternity
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
A Mother's Love
Becoming a mother, has been a whole, new experience in so many ways.
Just seeing my baby grow up and mature, and become an independent young girl, makes me wonder, what life would have been, if I had grown up with my real mother.
One thing I do know is this: She loved me, and sacrificed her only love, by giving me a chance to live, and to have what she probably could not give me:
Food and a decent home.
When I found out about my being adopted, I cried, and wondered at that time, if she had hated me so much, or if she had known what a screw up I would become.
I hid all these things in my heart, and I never yearned to seek her out or even demand anything from her. At that time, I was dealing with other things, I just pushed the thought of her aside.
As I grew, and became a young woman, once again, I wondered, " Will I meet her?" ; " Do I look like her or my father?" ; " Do I have siblings?"
Being adopted, is not easy, when your life has not been full of paternal love, or maternal love.
Yet, during the time, I was allowing my daughter's dad, to have my body, but not my heart, at one point, in which I got so sick, I could have died, I believe, God allowed me to go back to that day, in which she was leaving me behind.
Some might have a psychological term, or well, in the end, I was at the brink of death. But it was so real, that I did not want to wake up.
I could hear distant thunder, and feel a cool breeze on my face. At first, when I heard a baby crying, I kept on looking and searching for this baby, to comfort her and hold her, and then its as if my own soul and spirit rested within the body of a baby, that then I realized, it was me.
I was crying as if my life depended on it. And then, as I could see the clouds passing by, and some form of buildings, people were passing or walking by us, but no one stopped to see why a young girl, and baby were crying.
Then, I saw her, kneeling over me, crying so hard, her shoulders were shaking and her sobs were so unbearable. I kept on wanting her to pick me up, that I fought to free myself from the blanket, she had me swaddled in. I lifted my head, but that was all, and this made me more upset. Her hair, was jet black and straight. It shined under the sun's rays and her body looked so frail, and of small built. She was wearing a light purple colored neck collard, buttoned up shirt, Jean skirt, that were up to her knees and some sandals.
It seemed as if an eternity had passed, and then as I tried looking at her face to remember her, she kept on hiding it, behind her beautiful long hair. As if she preferred I not remember her at all.
She got up and I tried putting my arms out, to indicate, that I wanted her to carry me. But she crossed the street, and walked to a corner. Only once, did she look back, only once her face was visible, but I was unable to see it clearly, and then she was gone.
I did not understand, I could not bare the thought of losing her. I was crying in anger, fear, despair, agony and pain, of losing the one person, whom had loved me from the start.
People would glance at me, but no one picked me up. I stared at the sky, crying to God, and then rain drops started falling down, as if it was God's way of crying along with me.
There I was, no more than a month old, laying on the side of a sidewalk, wailing and crying, but no one came for a while.
My mother, was there, then she was gone. But I will never forget her tears. She shed tears for me and her.
I pray she be alive and well, married off, and with more children.
One day I hope to see her again.
Angel 4 Eternity
Just seeing my baby grow up and mature, and become an independent young girl, makes me wonder, what life would have been, if I had grown up with my real mother.
One thing I do know is this: She loved me, and sacrificed her only love, by giving me a chance to live, and to have what she probably could not give me:
Food and a decent home.
When I found out about my being adopted, I cried, and wondered at that time, if she had hated me so much, or if she had known what a screw up I would become.
I hid all these things in my heart, and I never yearned to seek her out or even demand anything from her. At that time, I was dealing with other things, I just pushed the thought of her aside.
As I grew, and became a young woman, once again, I wondered, " Will I meet her?" ; " Do I look like her or my father?" ; " Do I have siblings?"
Being adopted, is not easy, when your life has not been full of paternal love, or maternal love.
Yet, during the time, I was allowing my daughter's dad, to have my body, but not my heart, at one point, in which I got so sick, I could have died, I believe, God allowed me to go back to that day, in which she was leaving me behind.
Some might have a psychological term, or well, in the end, I was at the brink of death. But it was so real, that I did not want to wake up.
I could hear distant thunder, and feel a cool breeze on my face. At first, when I heard a baby crying, I kept on looking and searching for this baby, to comfort her and hold her, and then its as if my own soul and spirit rested within the body of a baby, that then I realized, it was me.
I was crying as if my life depended on it. And then, as I could see the clouds passing by, and some form of buildings, people were passing or walking by us, but no one stopped to see why a young girl, and baby were crying.
Then, I saw her, kneeling over me, crying so hard, her shoulders were shaking and her sobs were so unbearable. I kept on wanting her to pick me up, that I fought to free myself from the blanket, she had me swaddled in. I lifted my head, but that was all, and this made me more upset. Her hair, was jet black and straight. It shined under the sun's rays and her body looked so frail, and of small built. She was wearing a light purple colored neck collard, buttoned up shirt, Jean skirt, that were up to her knees and some sandals.
It seemed as if an eternity had passed, and then as I tried looking at her face to remember her, she kept on hiding it, behind her beautiful long hair. As if she preferred I not remember her at all.
She got up and I tried putting my arms out, to indicate, that I wanted her to carry me. But she crossed the street, and walked to a corner. Only once, did she look back, only once her face was visible, but I was unable to see it clearly, and then she was gone.
I did not understand, I could not bare the thought of losing her. I was crying in anger, fear, despair, agony and pain, of losing the one person, whom had loved me from the start.
People would glance at me, but no one picked me up. I stared at the sky, crying to God, and then rain drops started falling down, as if it was God's way of crying along with me.
There I was, no more than a month old, laying on the side of a sidewalk, wailing and crying, but no one came for a while.
My mother, was there, then she was gone. But I will never forget her tears. She shed tears for me and her.
I pray she be alive and well, married off, and with more children.
One day I hope to see her again.
Angel 4 Eternity
Monday, March 26, 2012
Memories
It seems as if just yesterday, I was a little girl, trying to fit in at school. I cannot believe how many years of my life have gone by, yet the evidence is in my own face.
My baby girl is a preteen, and going through the same changes I did almost 20 some years ago and the only difference between her and me is that she knows more than I ever did at her young age.
Also the fact that she has a more lively personality than I have ever had, and knows what she wants, at least she thinks she does for now. Today, instead of focusing on the negative, I want to focus on the positive side of my life story.
I must say, that in spite of the potentially negative enviroment that surrounded me at home, while visiting relatives, I was able to see the difference between our family and others. One thing, that comes to mind, is the fact, that no matter where we went, everyone would comment on my brother and I, good behavior and manners.
We always said, " Please" and "Thank you". And we were taught to address everyone properly, and always wait, before accepting beveradges and drinks from our aunts or uncles. We never touched any of the fine ornaments that were laid out around the house, and waiting to be told where we could go and play at.
Most of the times, our cousins would take us outside to their patios and play soccer, or just do jumping jacks and such. Most houses we visisted while in El Salvador, everyone had what they called, " Gringo food items", for my brother and myself, as we were not accustomed to eating the salvadorean way. Which mainly consists of eggs, beans, cream, cheese, tortilla and real cows milk.
The part we loved best was that we would always get sick from our stomache and be allowed to drink soda, in order to keep the food down. We relished in this, as our parents did try to avoid giving us too much soda back home. Normally, the soda was only for visistors, but that goes without saying that we never snuck behind mom's back to take sips of the bottles. In our home, here in the states, there was a laundry chute included, and my brother and I would take turns sliding down towards the basement and always made sure there was a laundry basket full of clothes for us to land in.
My mom tried getting us used to eating salvadorean food, but I was the most picky eater of us all, and in the end, she would come up with ways to get me to eat certain foods, but one soup in particular, up to this day, I never was able to hold down less eat or smell it! Ugh! Its called," Sopa De Pata", which basically is made of cows hooves and intestines, blah!
One time, my mom had the intestines inside the sink, letting them soak in water, I believe. I was about 5 years old, and to me, it looked more like a bee honeycomb, and I loved those! So, I decided to take a piece and eat it before getting caught! Well, in it went and out it came out and my mom asked what I had done, and saw the piece missing and scolded me and then took me up and asked my nanny to clean me up. Boy, I am telling you, never, I mean never eat raw cow intestines!
My brother and cousins, all boys would love to play jokes on the only girl, around them. Me. But I would outsmart them everytime. I was a good eavesdropper, and would play, dumb at times, in order to get them to think that they had me. I would love to see their faces when I would not put my hand inside a bucket, or drink a glass of water, Hah!
We loved impersonating Mr. Hulk and Andre the Giant! I even wrestled with them. I was a good fighter, and my brother would give me tips on how to hold someone down ect..my favorite sport was soccer, after that, American football, and baseball.
My brother hated practicing as the goalie for soccer, cause most of the time I would aim the kick right down yonder, not intentionally mind you, and well, poor kid would end up sore on the way home. What I also remember was the fact that we would be outside, with our neighberhood kids, and we would ride our bikes, go to the pond or bike track and just hang out. I loved picking berries, and also chasing down frogs, and tadpoles, while my brother fished for gold fish.
All in all, we got to go to Disney World and Disney Land, several times, plus Universal Studios and Sea World Parks, which I now regret. So, indeed, my brother and I got to go to places alot of kids never have gone to, and I call those blessings, yet in the end, once we were back home, I became the same dead, living zombie of a girl.
I enjoyed each outing, mainly because we had other relatives around us. I would dwell on that, and enjoy the love and attention some of my aunts would give me behind my parents back.
Memories, we hold on to them forever, the good and the bad, but the bad is what can eat us alive, if we let it thrive.
I thank God each day, I wake up in bed to a new day, even if I am in a bad mood or sick, or just cranky, I still say, " Thank you."
Relishing in the joys of Motherhood can be challenging while single. Yet, I love my daughter no matter what, she is my Guardian Angel.
I relish each moment with her, even in our arguments.
Enjoy each second, you are alive, and you will see, just how beautiful life really is.
Blessings,
Angel 4 Eternity
My baby girl is a preteen, and going through the same changes I did almost 20 some years ago and the only difference between her and me is that she knows more than I ever did at her young age.
Also the fact that she has a more lively personality than I have ever had, and knows what she wants, at least she thinks she does for now. Today, instead of focusing on the negative, I want to focus on the positive side of my life story.
I must say, that in spite of the potentially negative enviroment that surrounded me at home, while visiting relatives, I was able to see the difference between our family and others. One thing, that comes to mind, is the fact, that no matter where we went, everyone would comment on my brother and I, good behavior and manners.
We always said, " Please" and "Thank you". And we were taught to address everyone properly, and always wait, before accepting beveradges and drinks from our aunts or uncles. We never touched any of the fine ornaments that were laid out around the house, and waiting to be told where we could go and play at.
Most of the times, our cousins would take us outside to their patios and play soccer, or just do jumping jacks and such. Most houses we visisted while in El Salvador, everyone had what they called, " Gringo food items", for my brother and myself, as we were not accustomed to eating the salvadorean way. Which mainly consists of eggs, beans, cream, cheese, tortilla and real cows milk.
The part we loved best was that we would always get sick from our stomache and be allowed to drink soda, in order to keep the food down. We relished in this, as our parents did try to avoid giving us too much soda back home. Normally, the soda was only for visistors, but that goes without saying that we never snuck behind mom's back to take sips of the bottles. In our home, here in the states, there was a laundry chute included, and my brother and I would take turns sliding down towards the basement and always made sure there was a laundry basket full of clothes for us to land in.
My mom tried getting us used to eating salvadorean food, but I was the most picky eater of us all, and in the end, she would come up with ways to get me to eat certain foods, but one soup in particular, up to this day, I never was able to hold down less eat or smell it! Ugh! Its called," Sopa De Pata", which basically is made of cows hooves and intestines, blah!
One time, my mom had the intestines inside the sink, letting them soak in water, I believe. I was about 5 years old, and to me, it looked more like a bee honeycomb, and I loved those! So, I decided to take a piece and eat it before getting caught! Well, in it went and out it came out and my mom asked what I had done, and saw the piece missing and scolded me and then took me up and asked my nanny to clean me up. Boy, I am telling you, never, I mean never eat raw cow intestines!
My brother and cousins, all boys would love to play jokes on the only girl, around them. Me. But I would outsmart them everytime. I was a good eavesdropper, and would play, dumb at times, in order to get them to think that they had me. I would love to see their faces when I would not put my hand inside a bucket, or drink a glass of water, Hah!
We loved impersonating Mr. Hulk and Andre the Giant! I even wrestled with them. I was a good fighter, and my brother would give me tips on how to hold someone down ect..my favorite sport was soccer, after that, American football, and baseball.
My brother hated practicing as the goalie for soccer, cause most of the time I would aim the kick right down yonder, not intentionally mind you, and well, poor kid would end up sore on the way home. What I also remember was the fact that we would be outside, with our neighberhood kids, and we would ride our bikes, go to the pond or bike track and just hang out. I loved picking berries, and also chasing down frogs, and tadpoles, while my brother fished for gold fish.
All in all, we got to go to Disney World and Disney Land, several times, plus Universal Studios and Sea World Parks, which I now regret. So, indeed, my brother and I got to go to places alot of kids never have gone to, and I call those blessings, yet in the end, once we were back home, I became the same dead, living zombie of a girl.
I enjoyed each outing, mainly because we had other relatives around us. I would dwell on that, and enjoy the love and attention some of my aunts would give me behind my parents back.
Memories, we hold on to them forever, the good and the bad, but the bad is what can eat us alive, if we let it thrive.
I thank God each day, I wake up in bed to a new day, even if I am in a bad mood or sick, or just cranky, I still say, " Thank you."
Relishing in the joys of Motherhood can be challenging while single. Yet, I love my daughter no matter what, she is my Guardian Angel.
I relish each moment with her, even in our arguments.
Enjoy each second, you are alive, and you will see, just how beautiful life really is.
Blessings,
Angel 4 Eternity
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Motherhood
Tried getting my daughter to take a shower before bed, and a battle ensued;
after getting in bed, and some 45 minutes later she is like, " I need to take a shower," and I'm like, " Your kidding right?"
She is like, " I need a shower!", and I am like, " You most definitely do!"
So, am trying to not lose my mind as I wait for her to come back, and smelling much better than before!
For some reason she hates taking showers at times, and I don't get it! Normally boys are the ones that rather not get in a tub right?
Well, the joys of motherhood, having to put up with some stuff and not that much. Of course, I take a shower daily, even twice a day, when possible, and out of all the things I never cared for doing before, one thing I always did was take a shower daily. And I just wish she could have the same mind set but no, she hates them she says! Maybe once she gets a tad bit older, and without boyfriends, she might get it, or sadly some guy will tell her, " You stink!"
I wish I could keep her in a bubble, but I know I can't and she will continue growing up too!
Ok, going to get some coffee!
Angel 4 Eternity
Feeling Tired today
At this time, my head is hurting and I feel like crawling into bed and never getting up, but why?
I had a good weekend overall, and even had a very informal yet lovely first ever date!
That in itself was exciting indeed! And I had been reading on what to do and not do on first dates and not sure I nailed it all, but he and I were able to enjoy each others company, and I felt as if I was 14 yrs of age verses my real age. Mind you he is slighlty older than me, but his eyes sparkled, and his smile, comforted my own nerves.
Yet, today, here I am at church, feeling tired, and worn out, and mainly cause I had to wake up early to get ready and head on out and been here all day too.
I should be happy, I was, but I know what happened, something that happened today took away my joy and peace as I dwelt in negative feelings toward a person, whom I rather not be around ,or speak with as this person has never been able to respect my own space and took things the wrong way, a few years back, to the extent that I had to tell him, to stop getting in my space, and that I would never date a guy like him! I have this 7th sense, and somehow if I get bad vibes from any guy be it someone I have seen around, and all that, if I get this sense of not being able to trust him, I make sure he knows, that in order to befriend me, he needs to be careful with what he does, says or acts around me. Some guys are good at not rushing into getting me to give them a hug and such, and those I end up loosening my guard, but this one guy just never got the message and I hated him for it.
Yes, I hated his guts and have wanted to hurt him alot, yet in the end I know that I should not desire anything bad to happen to him less, my hurting him. Its a struggle, as I mentioned before I am not perfect and I sin daily; God knows my struggle in regards to this one guy. I prefer to just not talk to him at all in order to not do anything stupid.
Well, today there was this luncheon for singles that were 30 and over at church. I know the leader of this new group, and she is a lovely lady who is married herself, but just wanting to reach out to us single folk too.
He ended up showing up, and I tried being a good sport by not being rough on him, yet it was hard, after he sat in front of me.
And then this other guy whom, I have hated, loved, liked and unlike all at once shows up and he is not single, but is in a relationship with someone else, and stated that he is still single, and looked at me and I was like," Yeah, right!"
I let myself veer towards my heart without fully keeping all these thoughts and ideas coming into my head, and in the end, here I am a grumpy, sleepy, tired woman, for no reason at all.
Ok well got to go. Practice is about to start.
Later,
Angel 4 Eternity
I had a good weekend overall, and even had a very informal yet lovely first ever date!
That in itself was exciting indeed! And I had been reading on what to do and not do on first dates and not sure I nailed it all, but he and I were able to enjoy each others company, and I felt as if I was 14 yrs of age verses my real age. Mind you he is slighlty older than me, but his eyes sparkled, and his smile, comforted my own nerves.
Yet, today, here I am at church, feeling tired, and worn out, and mainly cause I had to wake up early to get ready and head on out and been here all day too.
I should be happy, I was, but I know what happened, something that happened today took away my joy and peace as I dwelt in negative feelings toward a person, whom I rather not be around ,or speak with as this person has never been able to respect my own space and took things the wrong way, a few years back, to the extent that I had to tell him, to stop getting in my space, and that I would never date a guy like him! I have this 7th sense, and somehow if I get bad vibes from any guy be it someone I have seen around, and all that, if I get this sense of not being able to trust him, I make sure he knows, that in order to befriend me, he needs to be careful with what he does, says or acts around me. Some guys are good at not rushing into getting me to give them a hug and such, and those I end up loosening my guard, but this one guy just never got the message and I hated him for it.
Yes, I hated his guts and have wanted to hurt him alot, yet in the end I know that I should not desire anything bad to happen to him less, my hurting him. Its a struggle, as I mentioned before I am not perfect and I sin daily; God knows my struggle in regards to this one guy. I prefer to just not talk to him at all in order to not do anything stupid.
Well, today there was this luncheon for singles that were 30 and over at church. I know the leader of this new group, and she is a lovely lady who is married herself, but just wanting to reach out to us single folk too.
He ended up showing up, and I tried being a good sport by not being rough on him, yet it was hard, after he sat in front of me.
And then this other guy whom, I have hated, loved, liked and unlike all at once shows up and he is not single, but is in a relationship with someone else, and stated that he is still single, and looked at me and I was like," Yeah, right!"
I let myself veer towards my heart without fully keeping all these thoughts and ideas coming into my head, and in the end, here I am a grumpy, sleepy, tired woman, for no reason at all.
Ok well got to go. Practice is about to start.
Later,
Angel 4 Eternity
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Wages of Sin is Death. Sins of our fathers
Just now I was reading the following verse:
“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 6:23NIV
I would have never thought of looking at the last part of this verse, after reading the first half and wold have thrown some type of fit in regards to why would God want us to live if we all sin daily, then that would mean no one would be left alive! Right?
Depending on how you look at this verse you might think to yourself," Is God not a Loving God?" He surely is, for His Love rescued my life from one doomed to more destruction and death, than life.
Yet, in the end, He has promised to give all of us Life within Him, if we only choose to accept and believe, that He sent Jesus, His only Son to die for our sins and redeem us through His blood.
I might not be making much sense at this time, saying all this, but I can assure you one thing, do not take these words as if I am proclaiming to be some type of super being, with powers to overcome anything.
I am as human as any of you are, and I sin daily, I will not confess my sins for all the world to see, but God knows what I struggle with each day. And I am less than a saint. Yet, before knowing His truth, I too, was blinded by the way my adopted father would use verses such as these and pay more emphasis on the part of sin leading to death. He never gave me much hope in living a life full of Love, peace and joy.
I just knew that I had sinned enough, and would keep on wondering, " If I should be dead, then why am I alive?" Well, I kept on expecting God to come down and just blow me out of this world, or worse, crush my body in a way, that I would suffer before dying.
Each day that I awoke in bed, I would wonder, " Is today the day I will die?" Well, I struggled to come to terms with the fact that God could love someone as horrible as me, and yet I would still talk to him, waiting to see if he would tell me, what to do next, but could never hear Him.
My adopted father has committed sins of his own, during his youth and even now, but I cannot account for his sins, only mine. He has lead a life, full of torment and depression, trying to control his family, in order to make sense of his. I honestly feel sorry for him. Yet, in the end, I came to realize, that no matter how hard I tried loving this man he would keep on pushing me back. So I have come to terms with the fact that this man, being the only father on this earth that I have ever known, being as imperfect as I, has had his own failings in life and I cannot force him to accept the fact that I have found the Love and Peace I always sought out in Jesus.
This man, had his own sufferings yet, that does not justify what he did to me and what he has done to our family in whole.
I have chosen to forgive him, and love him as God loves him, but more than that I cannot do. For it is God whom can reach down to this man and heal his own wounds and open his eyes to His truth.
In the end, what I have learned is that each time we sin, what dies is a part of our soul, yet we cannot sense this death so easily, when we are living within the worlds terms, of what is supposedly good and right verses not good and bad.
Once we come to that place in which we find ourselves all alone, with no way out, and no one to turn to, then and only then do we look up and cry out to God, either knowing Him or not. Yet He would prefer we not reach that place, yet we being who we are in our own human nature end up in the place anyways.
Life is full of challenges and tribulations. And one thing I keep on seeing is this:
Somehow the world, has made this conception of the fact that all whom call themselves or consider themselves Christians, will supposedly have a way out from all their troubles and suffer no more. This is entirely false. Also the fact that from night to day, one will be a total saint and never sin. It is true, that as christians we are held to a higher standard of living in the sense of being able to provide an example of living by faith. Yet, one thing everyone else needs to remember is that, no matter how much someone goes to church, attends sunday school or other events, we are still humans by all means, and we are as tempted to sin as anyone, also we are fools, I am a fool! There are those that think highly of themselves and love to go around boasting about all the good deeds they have done or how much money they have donated to charities ect... Yet we are supposed to humble ourselves and admit our own failings and recognize our sinful nature within this world.
Now, I know for sure, that Life does not get any easier following Jesus and reading His Word, and at times, it seems as if we face more tribulations than others, yet, I for one, know that, no matter how many good deeds I have ever done, none will matter if I have not done these in Love. His Love.
Once again I clarify, that yes, I am a follower of Jesus, and believe in God, yet I am no different than the man sitting next to me or the woman in front of me. I am learning to living on my own, within this world, and now am raising my daughter all alone as well.
Believe me there are many times I wish to give up and say, " I can't do this anymore!", yet God keeps on pushing me and encouraging me to go onward, no matter what.
I was dead for almost 29 years of my life, and now for the first time I feel more alive than ever before.
I wish my parents well, and hope that God can reach them and meet them where they are at now, and heal them as He has me.
My journey has barely begun and I have more to go, and overcome myself.
Daily I struggle to defy the lies that creep into my mind, reminding me of my failures ect..
Ok, have a good day,
Angel 4 Eternity
“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 6:23NIV
I would have never thought of looking at the last part of this verse, after reading the first half and wold have thrown some type of fit in regards to why would God want us to live if we all sin daily, then that would mean no one would be left alive! Right?
Depending on how you look at this verse you might think to yourself," Is God not a Loving God?" He surely is, for His Love rescued my life from one doomed to more destruction and death, than life.
Yet, in the end, He has promised to give all of us Life within Him, if we only choose to accept and believe, that He sent Jesus, His only Son to die for our sins and redeem us through His blood.
I might not be making much sense at this time, saying all this, but I can assure you one thing, do not take these words as if I am proclaiming to be some type of super being, with powers to overcome anything.
I am as human as any of you are, and I sin daily, I will not confess my sins for all the world to see, but God knows what I struggle with each day. And I am less than a saint. Yet, before knowing His truth, I too, was blinded by the way my adopted father would use verses such as these and pay more emphasis on the part of sin leading to death. He never gave me much hope in living a life full of Love, peace and joy.
I just knew that I had sinned enough, and would keep on wondering, " If I should be dead, then why am I alive?" Well, I kept on expecting God to come down and just blow me out of this world, or worse, crush my body in a way, that I would suffer before dying.
Each day that I awoke in bed, I would wonder, " Is today the day I will die?" Well, I struggled to come to terms with the fact that God could love someone as horrible as me, and yet I would still talk to him, waiting to see if he would tell me, what to do next, but could never hear Him.
My adopted father has committed sins of his own, during his youth and even now, but I cannot account for his sins, only mine. He has lead a life, full of torment and depression, trying to control his family, in order to make sense of his. I honestly feel sorry for him. Yet, in the end, I came to realize, that no matter how hard I tried loving this man he would keep on pushing me back. So I have come to terms with the fact that this man, being the only father on this earth that I have ever known, being as imperfect as I, has had his own failings in life and I cannot force him to accept the fact that I have found the Love and Peace I always sought out in Jesus.
This man, had his own sufferings yet, that does not justify what he did to me and what he has done to our family in whole.
I have chosen to forgive him, and love him as God loves him, but more than that I cannot do. For it is God whom can reach down to this man and heal his own wounds and open his eyes to His truth.
In the end, what I have learned is that each time we sin, what dies is a part of our soul, yet we cannot sense this death so easily, when we are living within the worlds terms, of what is supposedly good and right verses not good and bad.
Once we come to that place in which we find ourselves all alone, with no way out, and no one to turn to, then and only then do we look up and cry out to God, either knowing Him or not. Yet He would prefer we not reach that place, yet we being who we are in our own human nature end up in the place anyways.
Life is full of challenges and tribulations. And one thing I keep on seeing is this:
Somehow the world, has made this conception of the fact that all whom call themselves or consider themselves Christians, will supposedly have a way out from all their troubles and suffer no more. This is entirely false. Also the fact that from night to day, one will be a total saint and never sin. It is true, that as christians we are held to a higher standard of living in the sense of being able to provide an example of living by faith. Yet, one thing everyone else needs to remember is that, no matter how much someone goes to church, attends sunday school or other events, we are still humans by all means, and we are as tempted to sin as anyone, also we are fools, I am a fool! There are those that think highly of themselves and love to go around boasting about all the good deeds they have done or how much money they have donated to charities ect... Yet we are supposed to humble ourselves and admit our own failings and recognize our sinful nature within this world.
Now, I know for sure, that Life does not get any easier following Jesus and reading His Word, and at times, it seems as if we face more tribulations than others, yet, I for one, know that, no matter how many good deeds I have ever done, none will matter if I have not done these in Love. His Love.
Once again I clarify, that yes, I am a follower of Jesus, and believe in God, yet I am no different than the man sitting next to me or the woman in front of me. I am learning to living on my own, within this world, and now am raising my daughter all alone as well.
Believe me there are many times I wish to give up and say, " I can't do this anymore!", yet God keeps on pushing me and encouraging me to go onward, no matter what.
I was dead for almost 29 years of my life, and now for the first time I feel more alive than ever before.
I wish my parents well, and hope that God can reach them and meet them where they are at now, and heal them as He has me.
My journey has barely begun and I have more to go, and overcome myself.
Daily I struggle to defy the lies that creep into my mind, reminding me of my failures ect..
Ok, have a good day,
Angel 4 Eternity
Friday, March 23, 2012
Looking back
Yesterday, during dinner, my daughter was talking about how she wants her wedding dress to look like, her hair to be done, and so on. I kept on wondering, " Why in the world does she want to talk about her wedding, when I have not had my own!"
It was amusing to see how her eyes widened, and sparkled with expectation, from whom she will invite to what we would eat. She already has her list of things that she would want from her future husband, and I have mine sort of, yet it seems she is way ahead of me!
I feel both old and yet content to see just how much growing she has done, and the other half she still needs to catch up on.
I remember at 10, marriage was the last thing on my mind, less any wedding details. Oh, how I yearned to have the exact conversation, with my own adopted mother; to have sat down and shared my dreams and expectations of life, and becoming a mother myself ect...sadly, I never got a chance to do so.
My dreams were crushed too early, and after that, any mention of marriage, love or sex, had me running to my, "safe place".
At 10, I was already more of a tomboy than any other girl in my class, yet once my body started changing, I felt like a little green monster was being born. I hated the attention I was getting and of course after my ex uncle did what he did, I ended feeling more insecure and hateful of my body.
Most girls, are told to love and accept themselves as they are, and not to depend too much on the magazine covers; well, in my case, my dad was clear stating that I had to look like the women on the covers because the way I looked then, was no way for any girl to look like, and if I really wanted to get married, I had to have a sexy, looking image.
I was like, " So what? I don't care, I will never get married." Fast forward to now, at 33 yrs of age, and most of my friends that are in their mid twenties have 2 kids each and more on the way. My daughter lovingly says to me, " Mom, you better hurry up, cause your getting old pretty fast!"
I'm telling you, kids these days. Well, in the end, the fact that she and I are back together again, is the greatest blessing ever, after being torn apart, for 3 years, in which a battle ensued between my adopted parents and I.
In the end, my parents, kept on giving me negative feedback and never allowed me to figure out my true gifts and skills within me. I assumed, that they were always, "right", but they were so wrong.
They never believed I could survive on my own, less, drive a car. In the end, in spite of the pain and stress caused of not being able to protect my child, less love her or hold her, God used these years to draw me closer to Him, and to reveal His truth into my life. And I was reminded of His own sacrifice, in letting His Only Son, come and die for humanity; as well as Abrahams willingless to sacrifice his only son, in order to obeying His command, and being told to not go onward, as God provided an animal to spare Issacs life.
God pretty much was asking that I trust Him, and let go of my baby girl, in order for God to deal with my hurts and wounds, and that in time He would restore all things. It was not easy letting go of her, and once she left, the second time, after seeing her in 2009, for a month, I almost gave up and died.
I felt like a total failure as her mother, as a woman, and as a human being. I was floored down. I felt all the pain ,hurt and anger come at once, and I had no where to turn, except God. Yet, even as He called me, I still did not want to let go, for fear of what He would say to me, after seeing all my ugliness, and yuckiness inside of me. It was a tug of war between satan's lies and tormenting verses Gods Calling of Love.
I struggled to come to terms with my life in whole. I can recount all my sins, and I always have dealt with feeling so unworthy of friendship, love, less, acceptance from anyone on this earth.
I even felt a worse sinner than Paul, the Apostle. Sure I have not killed any human being with my own hands, but I did kill my pooch once ,and revived her. I was dealing with all I had, within me in wrong ways.
I am good at keeping men away from me, if I want and being in control feels good, yet I know that I am no wiser than the wise men to try and control my life and make my own decisions without relying on God's own wisdom.
At times, I have heard a voice telling me, " Jump. Go jump off a bridge. You are nothing to God, no one loves you. Your daughter has all she needs with your parents. Let her be."
But I would not listen or take heed, and God has reminded me that my fight is not against the flesh of men but of the Spiritual Warfare, that exists between demons and angels, God and Satan.
And this is so true.
I am finally independent, and becoming the woman God wants me to be. I am struggling in raising my child, but I seek His guidance in doing so. Even now, if i fail, He lifts me up and I keep on going.
I missed 3 years of my daughters life and from now until she matures and goes off to college, I plan to cherish each second with her.
I could go on and on about the pain and agony that took hold of me, but I believe I have covered most of it.
Please anyone who has been reading my blog, has any thoughts, questions or quotations, please feel free to do so.
I am going to continue onward in my journey towards healing and the best part of it all is knowing that I am not alone in this.
Blessings,
Angel 4 Eternity
It was amusing to see how her eyes widened, and sparkled with expectation, from whom she will invite to what we would eat. She already has her list of things that she would want from her future husband, and I have mine sort of, yet it seems she is way ahead of me!
I feel both old and yet content to see just how much growing she has done, and the other half she still needs to catch up on.
I remember at 10, marriage was the last thing on my mind, less any wedding details. Oh, how I yearned to have the exact conversation, with my own adopted mother; to have sat down and shared my dreams and expectations of life, and becoming a mother myself ect...sadly, I never got a chance to do so.
My dreams were crushed too early, and after that, any mention of marriage, love or sex, had me running to my, "safe place".
At 10, I was already more of a tomboy than any other girl in my class, yet once my body started changing, I felt like a little green monster was being born. I hated the attention I was getting and of course after my ex uncle did what he did, I ended feeling more insecure and hateful of my body.
Most girls, are told to love and accept themselves as they are, and not to depend too much on the magazine covers; well, in my case, my dad was clear stating that I had to look like the women on the covers because the way I looked then, was no way for any girl to look like, and if I really wanted to get married, I had to have a sexy, looking image.
I was like, " So what? I don't care, I will never get married." Fast forward to now, at 33 yrs of age, and most of my friends that are in their mid twenties have 2 kids each and more on the way. My daughter lovingly says to me, " Mom, you better hurry up, cause your getting old pretty fast!"
I'm telling you, kids these days. Well, in the end, the fact that she and I are back together again, is the greatest blessing ever, after being torn apart, for 3 years, in which a battle ensued between my adopted parents and I.
In the end, my parents, kept on giving me negative feedback and never allowed me to figure out my true gifts and skills within me. I assumed, that they were always, "right", but they were so wrong.
They never believed I could survive on my own, less, drive a car. In the end, in spite of the pain and stress caused of not being able to protect my child, less love her or hold her, God used these years to draw me closer to Him, and to reveal His truth into my life. And I was reminded of His own sacrifice, in letting His Only Son, come and die for humanity; as well as Abrahams willingless to sacrifice his only son, in order to obeying His command, and being told to not go onward, as God provided an animal to spare Issacs life.
God pretty much was asking that I trust Him, and let go of my baby girl, in order for God to deal with my hurts and wounds, and that in time He would restore all things. It was not easy letting go of her, and once she left, the second time, after seeing her in 2009, for a month, I almost gave up and died.
I felt like a total failure as her mother, as a woman, and as a human being. I was floored down. I felt all the pain ,hurt and anger come at once, and I had no where to turn, except God. Yet, even as He called me, I still did not want to let go, for fear of what He would say to me, after seeing all my ugliness, and yuckiness inside of me. It was a tug of war between satan's lies and tormenting verses Gods Calling of Love.
I struggled to come to terms with my life in whole. I can recount all my sins, and I always have dealt with feeling so unworthy of friendship, love, less, acceptance from anyone on this earth.
I even felt a worse sinner than Paul, the Apostle. Sure I have not killed any human being with my own hands, but I did kill my pooch once ,and revived her. I was dealing with all I had, within me in wrong ways.
I am good at keeping men away from me, if I want and being in control feels good, yet I know that I am no wiser than the wise men to try and control my life and make my own decisions without relying on God's own wisdom.
At times, I have heard a voice telling me, " Jump. Go jump off a bridge. You are nothing to God, no one loves you. Your daughter has all she needs with your parents. Let her be."
But I would not listen or take heed, and God has reminded me that my fight is not against the flesh of men but of the Spiritual Warfare, that exists between demons and angels, God and Satan.
And this is so true.
I am finally independent, and becoming the woman God wants me to be. I am struggling in raising my child, but I seek His guidance in doing so. Even now, if i fail, He lifts me up and I keep on going.
I missed 3 years of my daughters life and from now until she matures and goes off to college, I plan to cherish each second with her.
I could go on and on about the pain and agony that took hold of me, but I believe I have covered most of it.
Please anyone who has been reading my blog, has any thoughts, questions or quotations, please feel free to do so.
I am going to continue onward in my journey towards healing and the best part of it all is knowing that I am not alone in this.
Blessings,
Angel 4 Eternity
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Love
Love seemed to never come my way,
as I looked here and there,
it would seem to slip away...
Love, is it even real?
How can I find this Love?
It seems that I might try too hard?
Love, is like a dove, flying here and there
yet it never seems to stay, but in the end
ONce I stopped looking for it, it simply came
and took me into its Arms and held me tight.
Yet I struggled to accept it, for I felt
unworthy, and after a while my walls started crashing
down, and once they came down,
My heart started living.
I have finally found Love.
My Perfect Family
I will just continue from where I left off, and also please pardon any spelling mistakes at this time.
So, I decided to become my mom's hero, and you might be wondering whatever became of my older brother and younger half cousin brother; The oldest one, learned to drive in order to be out of the house as often as possible. To escape the negative environment. So, he basically, did not witness most of what I say my dad doing to our mom.
The other one, left us and returned to his real mother, once we got back to El Salvador. He joined the gang and started going down a bad, bad road. Currently he is in jail.
So, it got to the point that each time my dad was around, I would be on the look out for my mom, and myself. He left me alone much of the time, and I avoided him as much as possible. My mom would step around him, and in the end, she tried reaching out to my hardened heart. Yet, it was not easy to come out and trust her. In the end she slowly, opened up about her failed relationship with my dad, and her life story.
Also, she and I would go out together, and avoid him at all cost. I do not know if my brother noticed all this or not. If he did and chose to ignore it with beer and cigarettes, I am not sure.
I just started fighting back, and my dad did not like that I was not submitting myself as before, and each time I tried finding my voice he would keep me quiet.
At times he would use my weight as an excuse as to why I would never be accepted less respected by others within society. He kept on saying that, everyone that was fat or fatter than me, were to blame, and to not expect anyone to want to befriend me, or even talk to me. I kept on telling him that this was a lie, cause I had teacher who were big yet I never dare disrespect them less hate them.
I never judged anyone by their looks and in the end, I disagreed with my dads own point of view. There were other instances in which he and I would fight physically, and he knew I was strong enough to withstand him.
Once my daughter came into the picture, he tried avoiding to argue or discipline me in front of her, as he noticed how she was already defending me at such a young age.
Yet, at times, they would use her as bait to get me to submit to their ideas. And more than once, if my dad was mad enough, he would take her from me, and keep her in their room for the night.
Other times, he made me sleep on the floor outside my room as punishment for fighting him back. While all this was going on, my brother was getting drunk, sleeping around and started smoking inside his room.
My mom never said a thing, and my dad tried controlling him, to no avail.
He was their favorite and still is to this day. Anything he asked or complained about, they would look to improve or give him. My mom preferred his high social class friends verses mine whom came from either middle low to low class society within our country.
My friends were from humbled homes, and even if they lacked things materially speaking, what I always found within their own homes was parental love.
I preferred being with them and would even lie about a homework assignment just to get out of my parents home.
My friends did not mind. I was wanting to become independent, but my parents, mainly my dad was not wanting to let go of me so easily.
During all those years, I shed many tears of frustration, anger, loneliness, hurt, confusion, a sense of losing my life, and never being treated as part of the family nor seen as God sees me.
Even now, as they choose to call me crazy and nuts, and my dad continues to deny all I have said about him, my brother keeps on saying that we grew up in a loving environment, yeah right, maybe he did, but I felt, saw and knew more than he has ever known.
I will lose them in the end, and it will hurt but I rather be with my baby girl than with them.
Ok, well, I just needed to get this out, you know.
Thanks to all whom have come and read my story.
As I continue on this journey towards healing.
Angel 4 Eternity
So, I decided to become my mom's hero, and you might be wondering whatever became of my older brother and younger half cousin brother; The oldest one, learned to drive in order to be out of the house as often as possible. To escape the negative environment. So, he basically, did not witness most of what I say my dad doing to our mom.
The other one, left us and returned to his real mother, once we got back to El Salvador. He joined the gang and started going down a bad, bad road. Currently he is in jail.
So, it got to the point that each time my dad was around, I would be on the look out for my mom, and myself. He left me alone much of the time, and I avoided him as much as possible. My mom would step around him, and in the end, she tried reaching out to my hardened heart. Yet, it was not easy to come out and trust her. In the end she slowly, opened up about her failed relationship with my dad, and her life story.
Also, she and I would go out together, and avoid him at all cost. I do not know if my brother noticed all this or not. If he did and chose to ignore it with beer and cigarettes, I am not sure.
I just started fighting back, and my dad did not like that I was not submitting myself as before, and each time I tried finding my voice he would keep me quiet.
At times he would use my weight as an excuse as to why I would never be accepted less respected by others within society. He kept on saying that, everyone that was fat or fatter than me, were to blame, and to not expect anyone to want to befriend me, or even talk to me. I kept on telling him that this was a lie, cause I had teacher who were big yet I never dare disrespect them less hate them.
I never judged anyone by their looks and in the end, I disagreed with my dads own point of view. There were other instances in which he and I would fight physically, and he knew I was strong enough to withstand him.
Once my daughter came into the picture, he tried avoiding to argue or discipline me in front of her, as he noticed how she was already defending me at such a young age.
Yet, at times, they would use her as bait to get me to submit to their ideas. And more than once, if my dad was mad enough, he would take her from me, and keep her in their room for the night.
Other times, he made me sleep on the floor outside my room as punishment for fighting him back. While all this was going on, my brother was getting drunk, sleeping around and started smoking inside his room.
My mom never said a thing, and my dad tried controlling him, to no avail.
He was their favorite and still is to this day. Anything he asked or complained about, they would look to improve or give him. My mom preferred his high social class friends verses mine whom came from either middle low to low class society within our country.
My friends were from humbled homes, and even if they lacked things materially speaking, what I always found within their own homes was parental love.
I preferred being with them and would even lie about a homework assignment just to get out of my parents home.
My friends did not mind. I was wanting to become independent, but my parents, mainly my dad was not wanting to let go of me so easily.
During all those years, I shed many tears of frustration, anger, loneliness, hurt, confusion, a sense of losing my life, and never being treated as part of the family nor seen as God sees me.
Even now, as they choose to call me crazy and nuts, and my dad continues to deny all I have said about him, my brother keeps on saying that we grew up in a loving environment, yeah right, maybe he did, but I felt, saw and knew more than he has ever known.
I will lose them in the end, and it will hurt but I rather be with my baby girl than with them.
Ok, well, I just needed to get this out, you know.
Thanks to all whom have come and read my story.
As I continue on this journey towards healing.
Angel 4 Eternity
Domestic Violence, Verbal, Physical and Mental Abuse
Besides having been sexually abused, and raped, I have not gotten into detail about the other types of abuses I suffered or witnessed within our family home.
So today I am going to do that. From before the time my brother and I came to be living with this couple, they had had marital problems from the day they got married.
Honestly, their wedding picture is very depressing, my mom looks as if she will faint, and my dad looks so stern and as if he wants to rip her arm off!
My mom states its because she arrived late to the wedding ceremony, being that she went to get her hair done, and the salon was full, and she being of a very quiet nature, did not say anything and was waiting patiently for her turn.
Finally someone saw her and asked what she was in for, and my mom quietly answered," Oh, I am just getting married today, but its ok..." The lady screamed to the others that she would not see anyone else, and worked on my mom's hair.
When she was finally ready, she was an hour late to the church. My dad was livid. The priest had wanted to call off the wedding and so did my mom
s parents. In the end, my mom says when the time came for him to put the ring on her finger, he pinched her hard and dared her to scream and she remained silent.
If that had been me, I would have slapped him and knocked him down and gone out of that church!
During their first year of marriage my mom was working at some bank, and one of her co workers was falling in love with her and she kept on telling the guy that she was married, and for some reason he chose to not believe her.
Well, one day he saw my parents together or something, and then he decided to apologize and dropped some flowers off at their home, while my dad was at work.
Well, he came home and saw the flowers, and almost killed her, from what her sisters have said. She ran, and lived with one of her sisters for a year, and my aunt states that my dad kept coming around begging her to come back to him. Eventually, she did.
So by the time my brother and I were around, they were pretty good at not fighting much in front of us, but would do so at night. I could hear them and at times I would go to my brother and we would cuddle together and he would soothe my fears.
Then he would quietly take me back to my bed, and kiss me goodnight. As I rew up, I noticed how my parents would act in front of family and friends, but at home, they were anything but close.
Each time us kids misbehaved, my mom would send us to our rooms, and tell us," Just wait till your dad comes home."
That was pure agony! There were alot of times, my parents would watch tv and want us to be with them, but I would prefer to be alone, yet my dad would demand I be present. If I refused, he would hit me with his belt, and I always screamed out for my mom, but she would barely say anything, and just wait for him to finish hitting me. After he was done she would come and soothe my trembling body and after a while she would say," Go to your father and ask him to forgive you, for not obeying him." I would look aghast and say,"No, I did nothing wrong, all I want is to be alone, whats wrong with that?" and she would say," We are family, we need to be a family, please go so he can calm down."
Eventually I would go, in spite of not feeling I had done anything to merit his anger, and he would call me," My queen", and pet my head and say," I know you love me and I love you, all I ask is that you listen to me, so this does not happen again." I hated standing in front of him, letting him touch my hair, and talk so sweet and innocent to me.
I preferred being grounded if anything. As I got more into my teen years, and once we moved back to El Salvador, I was able to witness first hand, the abuse my mother had suffered for many years from him.
He would pretty much, treat her as an object, and say hurtful things to lower her morale. He would get upset if there was no rice to eat along with his beans, or if someone moved his pen from one end to the other end of the table. I started feeling as if it was my duty to protect my mother.
He would grab her by her arm at times and shove her, or lock her out of their room or house and let her bang the door like crazy; One night, I was upstairs, in my room, trying to ignore their screams ect..when I heard someone banging a door, I ran and saw him sitting on a stool, completely cool, and with a look I had never seen before, I went to see who was banging the door and it was my mom; she told me to go back to my room, and to not get in between, as we both walked into the kitchen, my dad flew at her and grabbed her by her neck and lifted her off the ground with such rage and hatred, as I stood right behind her, in shock, and I ran and tried prying his hands off her, as my mom tried telling him," Stop, please stop"; as I struggled to get him off her, he took a swing at me and I jumped out of his way, and he looked at me with such red eyes, and said," Try that again, and I will kill you," I got a knife out, and he started laughing and my mom kept on begging me to just go to my room and to not worry that everything would be alright, I finally conceded. But I hid in the study room on the same floor, and after a few minutes she passed by me in tears, and looked at me as if to say," Stay quiet and do not say a thing about this." I was angry, hurt and so pissed, then my dad came following her and saw me, and just took one long look at me, and I dared him with my eyes, to do something to me, I was ready to beat him up however I could.
After that each time, I heard them yelling or just any noise I would run to her rescue, or so I thought and made sure he was not hurting her, and he would laugh and tell her, " Look your scornful daughter is wanting to be your hero, she is so pathetic." I started yelling at him, whenever he wanted to accuse me of something, and I even started cussing which is something I rarely did and even now, I avoid at all cost.
The first time he literally beat me up was when I was 19 yrs old. I had been sitting downstairs, on a sofa chair, and was just watching tv. A cousin of mine had just died in Panama and my dad was going over to his funeral. Well, my mom had given me permission, yes you heard that right, permission to watch tv.
My dad came down half naked, as he normally dresses at home, more so when he gets depressed. Which means he does not take a shower for a week or more, his breath stinks like rotten eggs and he literally looks like a bum living in such a lovely house.
So, I pretty much chose to ignore him, in order to not get anything started. I had the chair near a division in the living room that was near two steps that led to the other living room, and I had made sure my chair was not close to the border in order to not fall on over.
I am a known klutz. Well, all of a sudden, he called out my name, and I was like, " What did I do now?", turned and said," Yes?", he was like, " Move your chair right next to that other table." I replied," Oh you do not have to worry, dad, the chair is not even near the border, so I am safe, but thank you." Which then he replied," I am not asking you, I am ordering you to move that chair now!" I literally was like," Ok, sure I don't see what difference it will make but if it makes you happy I will." Now, I tend to mumble whenever I get nervous, and I was mumbling more to myself to keep myself calm, while my heart was beating like crazy, and I picked up the chair and moved it to where I was told. I had just finished, setting it down, and about to sit down, when, out of nowhere, I felt pain as never before, and my head was being shaken so hard from side to side, as he grabbed me by my hair from both sides and started shaking my head, so hard he pulled me off the sofa. I started screaming and crying, and asking him," Why are you doing this? I obeyed you didn't I? What did I do wrong?"
I kept on screaming, " Stop!" but he started dragging me all over the floor, kicking at me with his feet, and I was trying to get his hands off of my head.
Eventually, I knew if I did not fight back, I would die, so I dug my nails hard into his hands and he would only pull harder, slamming my head on the floor and screaming in rage," I'll show you about respect, you little B***! How dare you cuss at me!!!" and I was like," What are you talking about??? I did not cuss at you!" and he kept on going on and on.
Finally, I got angry at the fact that my mom once again was not coming to my defense, and I was calling out for her as usual; she finally came down and by that time, my head was pounding, my back and sides were aching, and my dad was bleeding from my nails digging into his skin. She just stood by the staircase and was like, " Whats going on?? What did you do?? Please stop, if you hurt her anymore, you will get caught, leave her alone, what did she do this time?"
I pretty much struggled to get up and managed to get to my room and my mom as always, was comforting me and telling me to just accept what he said so he could calm down!!! Really!!!! I was so tired and the next day he was leaving to Panama, and my mom once again told me to apologize for disrespecting and dishonoring my father and going against the 10 commandments!!! I was like Bull!!!!!! I did nothing Wrong!!!!! He hates me!!! He has never loved me!!!! HE owed ME and APOLOGY!!!!!
Yet in the end, as always I submitted to her wishes and went and said, " I'm sorry. but I had to dig my nails in your hands or you would have killed me." He was like," I cannot forgive you, if this plane crashes and I die, that will be it for you. Your life is over!"
After he came back we did not talk for almost 4 months! I did not care really, but my mom was upset....
He always blamed me for blowing up, I was the cause of all his troubles, shame and guilt! I was a trouble maker, and much worse...
And then, as if nothing has ever happened, whenever we had visitors or went to family events, my mom would always caution me by saying, " What goes on within our family stays in the family."
I hated pretending that everything was alright! I got tired of pretending and lying pretty much! I lived a double life as well as they did!
What I hated the most was how she would defend him no matter what!
It hurts, to have been accused of so much, and blamed for most of it, when I never wanted to get beaten up in the first place.
Yet, I am still alive and breathing only because Of God's hand in my life.
This is just part of my life story, there are so many more events, and signs but one thing for sure, I was always on high alert, and never could sleep through the night, even now.
Ok, well this is it for today.
Angel 4 Eternity
So today I am going to do that. From before the time my brother and I came to be living with this couple, they had had marital problems from the day they got married.
Honestly, their wedding picture is very depressing, my mom looks as if she will faint, and my dad looks so stern and as if he wants to rip her arm off!
My mom states its because she arrived late to the wedding ceremony, being that she went to get her hair done, and the salon was full, and she being of a very quiet nature, did not say anything and was waiting patiently for her turn.
Finally someone saw her and asked what she was in for, and my mom quietly answered," Oh, I am just getting married today, but its ok..." The lady screamed to the others that she would not see anyone else, and worked on my mom's hair.
When she was finally ready, she was an hour late to the church. My dad was livid. The priest had wanted to call off the wedding and so did my mom
s parents. In the end, my mom says when the time came for him to put the ring on her finger, he pinched her hard and dared her to scream and she remained silent.
If that had been me, I would have slapped him and knocked him down and gone out of that church!
During their first year of marriage my mom was working at some bank, and one of her co workers was falling in love with her and she kept on telling the guy that she was married, and for some reason he chose to not believe her.
Well, one day he saw my parents together or something, and then he decided to apologize and dropped some flowers off at their home, while my dad was at work.
Well, he came home and saw the flowers, and almost killed her, from what her sisters have said. She ran, and lived with one of her sisters for a year, and my aunt states that my dad kept coming around begging her to come back to him. Eventually, she did.
So by the time my brother and I were around, they were pretty good at not fighting much in front of us, but would do so at night. I could hear them and at times I would go to my brother and we would cuddle together and he would soothe my fears.
Then he would quietly take me back to my bed, and kiss me goodnight. As I rew up, I noticed how my parents would act in front of family and friends, but at home, they were anything but close.
Each time us kids misbehaved, my mom would send us to our rooms, and tell us," Just wait till your dad comes home."
That was pure agony! There were alot of times, my parents would watch tv and want us to be with them, but I would prefer to be alone, yet my dad would demand I be present. If I refused, he would hit me with his belt, and I always screamed out for my mom, but she would barely say anything, and just wait for him to finish hitting me. After he was done she would come and soothe my trembling body and after a while she would say," Go to your father and ask him to forgive you, for not obeying him." I would look aghast and say,"No, I did nothing wrong, all I want is to be alone, whats wrong with that?" and she would say," We are family, we need to be a family, please go so he can calm down."
Eventually I would go, in spite of not feeling I had done anything to merit his anger, and he would call me," My queen", and pet my head and say," I know you love me and I love you, all I ask is that you listen to me, so this does not happen again." I hated standing in front of him, letting him touch my hair, and talk so sweet and innocent to me.
I preferred being grounded if anything. As I got more into my teen years, and once we moved back to El Salvador, I was able to witness first hand, the abuse my mother had suffered for many years from him.
He would pretty much, treat her as an object, and say hurtful things to lower her morale. He would get upset if there was no rice to eat along with his beans, or if someone moved his pen from one end to the other end of the table. I started feeling as if it was my duty to protect my mother.
He would grab her by her arm at times and shove her, or lock her out of their room or house and let her bang the door like crazy; One night, I was upstairs, in my room, trying to ignore their screams ect..when I heard someone banging a door, I ran and saw him sitting on a stool, completely cool, and with a look I had never seen before, I went to see who was banging the door and it was my mom; she told me to go back to my room, and to not get in between, as we both walked into the kitchen, my dad flew at her and grabbed her by her neck and lifted her off the ground with such rage and hatred, as I stood right behind her, in shock, and I ran and tried prying his hands off her, as my mom tried telling him," Stop, please stop"; as I struggled to get him off her, he took a swing at me and I jumped out of his way, and he looked at me with such red eyes, and said," Try that again, and I will kill you," I got a knife out, and he started laughing and my mom kept on begging me to just go to my room and to not worry that everything would be alright, I finally conceded. But I hid in the study room on the same floor, and after a few minutes she passed by me in tears, and looked at me as if to say," Stay quiet and do not say a thing about this." I was angry, hurt and so pissed, then my dad came following her and saw me, and just took one long look at me, and I dared him with my eyes, to do something to me, I was ready to beat him up however I could.
After that each time, I heard them yelling or just any noise I would run to her rescue, or so I thought and made sure he was not hurting her, and he would laugh and tell her, " Look your scornful daughter is wanting to be your hero, she is so pathetic." I started yelling at him, whenever he wanted to accuse me of something, and I even started cussing which is something I rarely did and even now, I avoid at all cost.
The first time he literally beat me up was when I was 19 yrs old. I had been sitting downstairs, on a sofa chair, and was just watching tv. A cousin of mine had just died in Panama and my dad was going over to his funeral. Well, my mom had given me permission, yes you heard that right, permission to watch tv.
My dad came down half naked, as he normally dresses at home, more so when he gets depressed. Which means he does not take a shower for a week or more, his breath stinks like rotten eggs and he literally looks like a bum living in such a lovely house.
So, I pretty much chose to ignore him, in order to not get anything started. I had the chair near a division in the living room that was near two steps that led to the other living room, and I had made sure my chair was not close to the border in order to not fall on over.
I am a known klutz. Well, all of a sudden, he called out my name, and I was like, " What did I do now?", turned and said," Yes?", he was like, " Move your chair right next to that other table." I replied," Oh you do not have to worry, dad, the chair is not even near the border, so I am safe, but thank you." Which then he replied," I am not asking you, I am ordering you to move that chair now!" I literally was like," Ok, sure I don't see what difference it will make but if it makes you happy I will." Now, I tend to mumble whenever I get nervous, and I was mumbling more to myself to keep myself calm, while my heart was beating like crazy, and I picked up the chair and moved it to where I was told. I had just finished, setting it down, and about to sit down, when, out of nowhere, I felt pain as never before, and my head was being shaken so hard from side to side, as he grabbed me by my hair from both sides and started shaking my head, so hard he pulled me off the sofa. I started screaming and crying, and asking him," Why are you doing this? I obeyed you didn't I? What did I do wrong?"
I kept on screaming, " Stop!" but he started dragging me all over the floor, kicking at me with his feet, and I was trying to get his hands off of my head.
Eventually, I knew if I did not fight back, I would die, so I dug my nails hard into his hands and he would only pull harder, slamming my head on the floor and screaming in rage," I'll show you about respect, you little B***! How dare you cuss at me!!!" and I was like," What are you talking about??? I did not cuss at you!" and he kept on going on and on.
Finally, I got angry at the fact that my mom once again was not coming to my defense, and I was calling out for her as usual; she finally came down and by that time, my head was pounding, my back and sides were aching, and my dad was bleeding from my nails digging into his skin. She just stood by the staircase and was like, " Whats going on?? What did you do?? Please stop, if you hurt her anymore, you will get caught, leave her alone, what did she do this time?"
I pretty much struggled to get up and managed to get to my room and my mom as always, was comforting me and telling me to just accept what he said so he could calm down!!! Really!!!! I was so tired and the next day he was leaving to Panama, and my mom once again told me to apologize for disrespecting and dishonoring my father and going against the 10 commandments!!! I was like Bull!!!!!! I did nothing Wrong!!!!! He hates me!!! He has never loved me!!!! HE owed ME and APOLOGY!!!!!
Yet in the end, as always I submitted to her wishes and went and said, " I'm sorry. but I had to dig my nails in your hands or you would have killed me." He was like," I cannot forgive you, if this plane crashes and I die, that will be it for you. Your life is over!"
After he came back we did not talk for almost 4 months! I did not care really, but my mom was upset....
He always blamed me for blowing up, I was the cause of all his troubles, shame and guilt! I was a trouble maker, and much worse...
And then, as if nothing has ever happened, whenever we had visitors or went to family events, my mom would always caution me by saying, " What goes on within our family stays in the family."
I hated pretending that everything was alright! I got tired of pretending and lying pretty much! I lived a double life as well as they did!
What I hated the most was how she would defend him no matter what!
It hurts, to have been accused of so much, and blamed for most of it, when I never wanted to get beaten up in the first place.
Yet, I am still alive and breathing only because Of God's hand in my life.
This is just part of my life story, there are so many more events, and signs but one thing for sure, I was always on high alert, and never could sleep through the night, even now.
Ok, well this is it for today.
Angel 4 Eternity
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Changes
Well, I seem to have forgotten to give the date of birth of my baby girl.
She was born on the 23rd of April in the year, 2001.
My life changed once she entered my life. It was no longer, me, but her. I put everything aside to tend to my baby girl, and give her the love, I managed to find within myself to pour into her. Each day, I was awed by how alert, her eyes were, and how she would move her legs and arms. The fact that she could recognize my voice, and turn seeking me out, just the little things, that at times can go unnotice, I would take it all in.
In spite of still being in the dark in regards to what my dad had done to me, I just knew I had a precious bundle I had to protect and love.
The funny thing was that my mom thought I did not love her, and one night, I had left her on my bed, drinking her bottle, as I went downstairs for the first time to eat in the kitchen area. Call it," Mothers Intuition", or God Himself, but I felt a sense of alarm that kept on telling me to run upstairs, and I did, as I got to the door, I could see, that she was vomiting milk and was choking on the nipple of the bottle at the same time! I ran and picked her up and wiped her nostrils and cleared her mouth to let her breathe, and she was all purple, that I put her tummy down and hit her gently, yet firmly on her back in order to get her to breathe. Poor thing, finally screamed out, in fear, and I just held her.
The next day, my mom's helper, yelled and screamed at me, asking why I had done such a thing, and I asked what thing? She stated that my mom told her I had hit her hard.
In the end, as my daughter grew, my mom would intervene during times in which I would discipline her for something, taking away authority.
At this point, I was made to feel as if I was failing her as a mother, and told I only thought of myself.
So, verbal abuse came out more, and it got to the point that by the time she was 2 years old, and saw me arguing with either parent, but mainly my dad, she would get in between us, and stand firmly next to my legs, and yell," Leave Mommy!", or " NO Hit mommy!", and other times she would just scream," Mommy mine!"
I felt bad, that she was being exposed to such negative enviroment, and it was already affecting her. I admit that at times, I would just want to run away, but to where?
I love my child to death, yet I felt like a total failure.
Tomorrow, I will continue.
Angel 4 Eternity
She was born on the 23rd of April in the year, 2001.
My life changed once she entered my life. It was no longer, me, but her. I put everything aside to tend to my baby girl, and give her the love, I managed to find within myself to pour into her. Each day, I was awed by how alert, her eyes were, and how she would move her legs and arms. The fact that she could recognize my voice, and turn seeking me out, just the little things, that at times can go unnotice, I would take it all in.
In spite of still being in the dark in regards to what my dad had done to me, I just knew I had a precious bundle I had to protect and love.
The funny thing was that my mom thought I did not love her, and one night, I had left her on my bed, drinking her bottle, as I went downstairs for the first time to eat in the kitchen area. Call it," Mothers Intuition", or God Himself, but I felt a sense of alarm that kept on telling me to run upstairs, and I did, as I got to the door, I could see, that she was vomiting milk and was choking on the nipple of the bottle at the same time! I ran and picked her up and wiped her nostrils and cleared her mouth to let her breathe, and she was all purple, that I put her tummy down and hit her gently, yet firmly on her back in order to get her to breathe. Poor thing, finally screamed out, in fear, and I just held her.
The next day, my mom's helper, yelled and screamed at me, asking why I had done such a thing, and I asked what thing? She stated that my mom told her I had hit her hard.
In the end, as my daughter grew, my mom would intervene during times in which I would discipline her for something, taking away authority.
At this point, I was made to feel as if I was failing her as a mother, and told I only thought of myself.
So, verbal abuse came out more, and it got to the point that by the time she was 2 years old, and saw me arguing with either parent, but mainly my dad, she would get in between us, and stand firmly next to my legs, and yell," Leave Mommy!", or " NO Hit mommy!", and other times she would just scream," Mommy mine!"
I felt bad, that she was being exposed to such negative enviroment, and it was already affecting her. I admit that at times, I would just want to run away, but to where?
I love my child to death, yet I felt like a total failure.
Tomorrow, I will continue.
Angel 4 Eternity
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Back tracking on my life
Morning to all,
As promised today, I will go back to the year 2000, as this is a very significant point and time within my life. At the time, I was struggling into not giving up on school, and in spite my cutting school at times, I still went most of the time.
By this point, I had many nicknames, such as," Trucutu", and others more like, " Warrior". A few were more demeaning, but by this point I no longer cared what was said nor not about my person, and I pretty much was a tough chic, and any boy tried pulling anything on me, would have it.
From the time I entered 8th grade, and after suffering the worse type of bullying I ever had in my own life, I snapped, and started fighting back against anyone who dared cross my path, be it boy or girl. I started hanging out with kids that came from either poor upbringing, to not so civilized homes, most of which were part of some gang, and hung out to drink and smoke. I thought, " Why should I continue not doing the things I have always been told not to do, what will God do, kill me?"
So I started drinking beer, and smoking cigarettes. I made sure people knew how tough I was. So by the time I was in 11th grade, I would wrestle with my male classmates either for fun or fighting. I had my group of friends, but I never took them home, cause I knew my mom would never approve.
It was interesting that this school, my parents sent me too, was supposedly christian, but most kids were less than that.
And most were having sex, and so on. I started wondering, what if, I let some boy, have me, and actually do it? Will it be as great as everyone states it will be? What will I feel? So I decided to let the boys know, I needed a guy to have sex with me with no strings attached.
And someone got me his best buddy. This guy was not ugly, nor pretty, but in the end he would do. So we met, and we sorta took into getting to know each other, but we never got into falling in love ect...
In the end, I had sex with him like 3 to 4 times within a month and a half. Yet in the end, the only one who benefitted was him. Each time we were in the act, its as if I would leave my body, and hide, my heart was never moved, and I never felt good about it, less did I enjoy it.
Before I conceived my daughter, he actually asked me what I would do if I ever got pregnant. I told him, that in no terms would I abort the baby, due to my own personal belief, and that I would face my family, and take full responsability in raising him or her.
He then told me, that if I did that, that he rather I keep the baby, and he would never bother with him or her. And he knew I would give his son or daughter a better life, plus he knew I did not love him to marry him.
Thank God! So, the last time we saw each other, she was conceived, and I just knew. Well, upon knowing I tried telling him, and could not find him. It turns out that this guy had raped a 12 yr old mentally illed girl whom was about to have his son!!! I was horrified!!! and shocked!!!!
He denied it but that was that. I hid my pregnancy for the first 8 and a half months of gestation. I am 4ft 11 inches tall, and so my having been overweight, helped in hiding it. My mom kept on telling me to lose weight!!! I was like," Yeah, mom I will soon."
It was not easy, going through all the changes, while hiding it from everyone. I got lucky that I only vomited for one whole week, and after that I just ran to the garden if I got nauseas, from the food smell or such.
So when my parents finally found out, they were not happy, as I say," the bomb exploded!"
It was not a pretty situation; my dad wanted to kill me; my mom did not know what to do and my brother was no help at all.
In the end, one of my mom's sister told her that in order to prevent me from having more babies, that they should have me sterilized. I overheard my aunt talking to her doctor, and the doctor wrote a note out stating that I was severely mentally retarded, and had no idea I was having a baby!
I could have said no, and not signed the consent form, yet in the end, due to everything, I decided to sacrifice this gift, in order to redeem myself before God and family.
When the time came, my mom dropped me off at a public hospital. ( take note, public hospitals in a third world country are far worse than here!) and she was like, " Good luck." Well, I was told to undress and get in a gown, and to lay still on this bunk, that was so uncomfortable!, I tried walking around, but was scolded for doing so and told to go back to bed! At this time I did not know of the false statement in regards to my mental health and did not understand why the nurses were treating me like a 5 yr old!
I was in labor for 2 whole days and a half! It hurt! And well, being a public hospital, I did not have any option to receive an epidural, and I had been warned to not scream out, yell or cry. So I did my best in not screaming or causing much noise, and with each contraction, I held my breath, and gripped the side bars as hard as I could.
I had no support from family or friends. It was just me and the old rusted bed, or at least I thought God was too angry to be with me at this time.
I was given the medication to make my contactions stronger, and taken to another room where a girl about 15 yrs of age was crying out for her mommy. The nurses around her bed, were taunting her, saying," When you were with your man you never called out for her, so why do it now?" and other things.
Finally, my turn came, I felt her head, and was rushed to the delivery room, and was told to move to the steel bed, on my own, I almost fell off the table! So the resident doctor, was taking his time, in getting ready, and I got tired of waiting and warned everyone that I was going to push, and out she came, tearing everything she could and was rescued by a nurse!
When she was lifted up from her butt, I was like," wow, she fit inside me!" The relief came, but I was not allowed to hold her for half an hour. Finally they brought her to me, and I was awed at how perfect she was, her round, rosy, cheeks, such big eyes, and she looked whiter than me!
She weighed 5 lbs 9oz and was 23 inches long. I named her Beatrice, but was forced to change her middle name to, " Theresa". She and I both hate that name.
I was sterilized the next day. The pain came afterward, the pain of losing such precious gift. But al does not end bad.
I was imprisoned at home for 8 months before allowed outside. It was horrible.
Well, I will take a break for today.
And will continue tomorrow.
Good day,
Angel 4 Eternity
As promised today, I will go back to the year 2000, as this is a very significant point and time within my life. At the time, I was struggling into not giving up on school, and in spite my cutting school at times, I still went most of the time.
By this point, I had many nicknames, such as," Trucutu", and others more like, " Warrior". A few were more demeaning, but by this point I no longer cared what was said nor not about my person, and I pretty much was a tough chic, and any boy tried pulling anything on me, would have it.
From the time I entered 8th grade, and after suffering the worse type of bullying I ever had in my own life, I snapped, and started fighting back against anyone who dared cross my path, be it boy or girl. I started hanging out with kids that came from either poor upbringing, to not so civilized homes, most of which were part of some gang, and hung out to drink and smoke. I thought, " Why should I continue not doing the things I have always been told not to do, what will God do, kill me?"
So I started drinking beer, and smoking cigarettes. I made sure people knew how tough I was. So by the time I was in 11th grade, I would wrestle with my male classmates either for fun or fighting. I had my group of friends, but I never took them home, cause I knew my mom would never approve.
It was interesting that this school, my parents sent me too, was supposedly christian, but most kids were less than that.
And most were having sex, and so on. I started wondering, what if, I let some boy, have me, and actually do it? Will it be as great as everyone states it will be? What will I feel? So I decided to let the boys know, I needed a guy to have sex with me with no strings attached.
And someone got me his best buddy. This guy was not ugly, nor pretty, but in the end he would do. So we met, and we sorta took into getting to know each other, but we never got into falling in love ect...
In the end, I had sex with him like 3 to 4 times within a month and a half. Yet in the end, the only one who benefitted was him. Each time we were in the act, its as if I would leave my body, and hide, my heart was never moved, and I never felt good about it, less did I enjoy it.
Before I conceived my daughter, he actually asked me what I would do if I ever got pregnant. I told him, that in no terms would I abort the baby, due to my own personal belief, and that I would face my family, and take full responsability in raising him or her.
He then told me, that if I did that, that he rather I keep the baby, and he would never bother with him or her. And he knew I would give his son or daughter a better life, plus he knew I did not love him to marry him.
Thank God! So, the last time we saw each other, she was conceived, and I just knew. Well, upon knowing I tried telling him, and could not find him. It turns out that this guy had raped a 12 yr old mentally illed girl whom was about to have his son!!! I was horrified!!! and shocked!!!!
He denied it but that was that. I hid my pregnancy for the first 8 and a half months of gestation. I am 4ft 11 inches tall, and so my having been overweight, helped in hiding it. My mom kept on telling me to lose weight!!! I was like," Yeah, mom I will soon."
It was not easy, going through all the changes, while hiding it from everyone. I got lucky that I only vomited for one whole week, and after that I just ran to the garden if I got nauseas, from the food smell or such.
So when my parents finally found out, they were not happy, as I say," the bomb exploded!"
It was not a pretty situation; my dad wanted to kill me; my mom did not know what to do and my brother was no help at all.
In the end, one of my mom's sister told her that in order to prevent me from having more babies, that they should have me sterilized. I overheard my aunt talking to her doctor, and the doctor wrote a note out stating that I was severely mentally retarded, and had no idea I was having a baby!
I could have said no, and not signed the consent form, yet in the end, due to everything, I decided to sacrifice this gift, in order to redeem myself before God and family.
When the time came, my mom dropped me off at a public hospital. ( take note, public hospitals in a third world country are far worse than here!) and she was like, " Good luck." Well, I was told to undress and get in a gown, and to lay still on this bunk, that was so uncomfortable!, I tried walking around, but was scolded for doing so and told to go back to bed! At this time I did not know of the false statement in regards to my mental health and did not understand why the nurses were treating me like a 5 yr old!
I was in labor for 2 whole days and a half! It hurt! And well, being a public hospital, I did not have any option to receive an epidural, and I had been warned to not scream out, yell or cry. So I did my best in not screaming or causing much noise, and with each contraction, I held my breath, and gripped the side bars as hard as I could.
I had no support from family or friends. It was just me and the old rusted bed, or at least I thought God was too angry to be with me at this time.
I was given the medication to make my contactions stronger, and taken to another room where a girl about 15 yrs of age was crying out for her mommy. The nurses around her bed, were taunting her, saying," When you were with your man you never called out for her, so why do it now?" and other things.
Finally, my turn came, I felt her head, and was rushed to the delivery room, and was told to move to the steel bed, on my own, I almost fell off the table! So the resident doctor, was taking his time, in getting ready, and I got tired of waiting and warned everyone that I was going to push, and out she came, tearing everything she could and was rescued by a nurse!
When she was lifted up from her butt, I was like," wow, she fit inside me!" The relief came, but I was not allowed to hold her for half an hour. Finally they brought her to me, and I was awed at how perfect she was, her round, rosy, cheeks, such big eyes, and she looked whiter than me!
She weighed 5 lbs 9oz and was 23 inches long. I named her Beatrice, but was forced to change her middle name to, " Theresa". She and I both hate that name.
I was sterilized the next day. The pain came afterward, the pain of losing such precious gift. But al does not end bad.
I was imprisoned at home for 8 months before allowed outside. It was horrible.
Well, I will take a break for today.
And will continue tomorrow.
Good day,
Angel 4 Eternity
Monday, March 19, 2012
Battling my tormentors
So, life takes on its toll, after much years of confusion, lack of self esteem, and seeking the true meaning of love, by simply yearning what I saw or thought others had, in the end, I came to a place in which, I simply decided to make my heart grow cold, and never, love, nor be loved, never set out foot, from my hiding place, and trying to just get through each day.
Now, in order to not go on and on about my life, I want to let y'all know that I grew up, here, for the first 14 yrs, of my life, and the second half, I lived over in El Salvador. My parents decided to move back, and I was so against it. I wanted to stay here, and yet, in the end, my voice went unheard.
By the time my 15th birthday, came around, I was overweight, and just did not care about myself at all. My mom wanted to celebrate my 15th Birthday, big time, I did not want to.
In the end, I conceded, and she worked hard, to make the day, so grand, and spectacular, but all I wanted to do was hide. I had to wear a pink dress, which made me want to puke! And high heels, which I am against to a certain point. Most family members came out, and I had to take pictures, and in the end, I never ate and tried enjoying myself, but could not.
The presents were from make up kits to just purses and such, which I hated! When I was a tad bit younger, I had tried using make up but my adopted father was against, it, afterwards, I did not care as much. In the end, a few months after my birthday, I got abused twice, once by a school bus driver and the second time, by a family friend, who was supposedly a role model for young adults whom were," christian."
This did it for me, and I was like, " God how can this guy call himself a christian and do what he did to me?" I could have stopped believing right then and there, but I somehow felt I could not let my faith die in God quite yet, but my faith in men, died right then.
I struggled more throughout middle and highschool years, more so that I did not know spanish! In the end, I failed 8th but was bumped to 9th grade by a favor, and then failed 10th grade twice. By that point I was just tired of going to school. While in 10th grade, I got abused and was exposed as a whore, by some classmates.
After that, my parents let me go to an Art School for a year, before, my mom sent me back to 10th grade and then I finally passed, and once in 11th grade, I graduated.
School system is different from here. Anyways, by the time I got to 11th grade, I was 21 years of age. I was still overweight, and my pimples were bad, but all I thought was, make yourself as ugly as can be so the men leave you alone.
I ended realizing that the men preferred fat and overweight women verses not so chubby women, at least down there, and would get whistled at, or called out. I would get so mad, and the funny thing, my being at almost 300lbs, I still walked fast.
I returned to the states back in June of 2008. And I have lost around, 130 lbs, to date. And I have lost around, 130 lbs, to date.
Now back in May of 2000, I got to a point, in which, I started wondering, why everyone made a big deal about sex?
Tomorrow I will continue on about this point. But I have overcome many things and am continuing to move forward.
Good day to all.
Angel 4 Eternity
Now, in order to not go on and on about my life, I want to let y'all know that I grew up, here, for the first 14 yrs, of my life, and the second half, I lived over in El Salvador. My parents decided to move back, and I was so against it. I wanted to stay here, and yet, in the end, my voice went unheard.
By the time my 15th birthday, came around, I was overweight, and just did not care about myself at all. My mom wanted to celebrate my 15th Birthday, big time, I did not want to.
In the end, I conceded, and she worked hard, to make the day, so grand, and spectacular, but all I wanted to do was hide. I had to wear a pink dress, which made me want to puke! And high heels, which I am against to a certain point. Most family members came out, and I had to take pictures, and in the end, I never ate and tried enjoying myself, but could not.
The presents were from make up kits to just purses and such, which I hated! When I was a tad bit younger, I had tried using make up but my adopted father was against, it, afterwards, I did not care as much. In the end, a few months after my birthday, I got abused twice, once by a school bus driver and the second time, by a family friend, who was supposedly a role model for young adults whom were," christian."
This did it for me, and I was like, " God how can this guy call himself a christian and do what he did to me?" I could have stopped believing right then and there, but I somehow felt I could not let my faith die in God quite yet, but my faith in men, died right then.
I struggled more throughout middle and highschool years, more so that I did not know spanish! In the end, I failed 8th but was bumped to 9th grade by a favor, and then failed 10th grade twice. By that point I was just tired of going to school. While in 10th grade, I got abused and was exposed as a whore, by some classmates.
After that, my parents let me go to an Art School for a year, before, my mom sent me back to 10th grade and then I finally passed, and once in 11th grade, I graduated.
School system is different from here. Anyways, by the time I got to 11th grade, I was 21 years of age. I was still overweight, and my pimples were bad, but all I thought was, make yourself as ugly as can be so the men leave you alone.
I ended realizing that the men preferred fat and overweight women verses not so chubby women, at least down there, and would get whistled at, or called out. I would get so mad, and the funny thing, my being at almost 300lbs, I still walked fast.
I returned to the states back in June of 2008. And I have lost around, 130 lbs, to date. And I have lost around, 130 lbs, to date.
Now back in May of 2000, I got to a point, in which, I started wondering, why everyone made a big deal about sex?
Tomorrow I will continue on about this point. But I have overcome many things and am continuing to move forward.
Good day to all.
Angel 4 Eternity
Friday, March 16, 2012
Puberty+growing up+Abuse
Good day to all once again,
Yesterday I pretty much gave an introduction of myself and my beginnings upon the face of this earth.
So, lets start off, from where I left off. As I continued to grow up and struggle with my many fears and insecurity, God, in some way was able to draw me towards Him, without my really knowing.
Each test I failed, each project that did not get any reward, brought me to a state in which I started believing the things my adopted father would say to me:
You have poop in Your head!
What are you, a retard?
Your stupid.
You are dumber than a dog, pig ect..
Why can't you be more like your brother?
You are so unstable.
Stop cowering.
And the list goes on and on, and eventually changes as I grow older. In the end, I tried finding comfort in my adopted mother, but she was too weak to give me the assurance I lacked that things would be ok, or to even get a hug or kiss from her. My brother did not mind me much as a toddler but between the ages of 7-9, he would get annoyed at my playing with his legos, or mini race cars verses playing with the Barbie dolls I would get each christmas.
I hated those dolls so much, that I would take their clothes off and burn their miniture breasts and yonder, with matches, and tear the legs off and arms off. Its funny, my parents would get mad at my doing this, but they never wondered why I did it. Its obvious now, but back then, I just knew that seeing any barbie doll, made me feel so angry and disgusted with myself, I would do what I could to make that doll, as ugly as could be. I never liked being a girl, nor did I like playing tea time, less wearing dresses.
Each sunday, a new battle ensued in which my mother and nanny would try and put a dress on me and shoes to go to church. I would end up taking the dress off and hiding the shows. My poor mother, would get frustrated with me, and in the end, my big brother would come to her rescue and mine. He was the only one I would ever tell, where my shoes were, and he would get me to comply with my mother's wishes of wearing the dress. And afterwards, at church, my brother and I would be together, no matter what. I enjoyed going to Sunday School and memorizing verses. I would love to hear the stories about Abraham, Moses, ect... yet each time we would talk about God's Love, I would feel alienated. And I had this yearning to know more about this Love, that was not earned but just given.
Overall, having extracurricular activities helped me survive being home each day. I loved soccer and it was an outlet for me. Yet, at the same time being surrounded by my teammates and watching them interact with their own dad's reminded me of what I did not have within my own family.
I would day dream at times, about the what if's of life. What if I lived with Emily and her parents? What if I looked more like Tiffany, will my parents love me more? What if I was smarter than my brother? What if I never had been born?
I always attracted kids that would mock me and make fun of me, as I rarely talked much, and when I did I would talk too soft. I never did much to defend myself, and would just let them talk. At times, I would cry, but that was all. I developed a very quiet character, and at home would prefer to be left alone then having to watch tv with the whole family. My art teacher in each grade would tell my parents that I was gifted and that they should invest in my talent, but I was told that by no means would I seek to become an artist as they never made enough money.
I was told I needed to aspire to being a doctor, which has always been our dad's dream, or a secretary like my mom. Neither ever appealed to me.
I struggled with math, science, biology and chemistry yet I excelled in Language arts and Literature, History and Art Class.
Life would be both happy and sad, many a time, and at times, I would talk to God asking Him why He loved so and so more than me?
And you know the funny thing about all this? Well, our dad would accompany us to church each sunday but by the time I turned 7 yrs old, he just stopped going. Up till the last few years, my brother and I would always question him on this and he would never give us a straight answer, but I know why. He stopped going afraid I would speak up about what he had done to me, and he felt guilty enough to stop going.
My mother has put up with alot stuff from my dad as well, but I never saw the extent of manipulation and abuse she suffered until my teen years. Before that, I thought, they would fight over me, and that I had let them down and that was why my dad would take it out on her. Each time I would cry out for her, she would come but always kept a safe distance. At first I thought it was because she could not bare being near me, but then I figured it was because she was afraid of my dad too.
Their marriage picture is the most depressing and just wrong. She could have gotten away from him, never married him, and had a better life. Who knows?
I always felt that something was not right between them, but as a child, one can only imagine so much about the adult world, right?
In the end, besides the nightmares I would suffer daily, there were also the constant yelling, and things being thrown in their room, that would invade my sleep. Hearing your mother crying and weeping, as her husband is screaming and cursing at her, does not put any child to sleep. I would lay awake, alert and just waiting to see if someone would end up dead.
I entered puberty at the age of 10. Not what I expected, less was I even prepared for the whole change! I actually thought I was dying! Really, so my mom gave me the bees and flower story, which did not really help me fully understand a thing. So, in the end, she announced to my dad I had entered puberty and I was so scared of what he might do, but he was smart enough to know I would fight him off, and did not do much, except tell me to never lock my door at night, because I had no earned my right to privacy.
I would put a chair or something against the door, every night. But all in all he never did anything to me, after he stopped abusing me at the age of 6.
I was entering 6th grade, when an uncle was moving in with us. Now mind you, I had nothing to do with the fact that my dad decided to let him stay with us, while he waited to get his green card.
I had seen him once or twice whenever we would go visit relatives in El Salvador every two years. But I just knew he was married to an aunt of mine and they had 3 kids.
His name is,*Dave( I know all will understand its not his real name.) He was in his mid forty's close to his fifty's. Had barely any hair on his head, was chubby and taller than my dad, and had an ugly nose, stuck on his face.
Well, my brother and I did not know him, and he started trying to reach out to us, in order to gain our trust. By the way, I have left out something important, my parents ended adopting my mom's nephew when I was 9 years old and my brother was 11. He was 2 years younger than me, and we never got along well. I was jealous of the attention and love he was getting, that I never had, and boy we fought hard, and almost killed each other many a time. So, he was part of our lives back then, not anymore. I call him my half brother/couisin.
Anyhow, my uncle started taking us out in his rented car, and get us candy bars or take us to Mcdonald's, and would buy the boys cards and slowly, he started paying me a bit more attention, and I naively believed that he was just seeing me, and was willing to give me the love I lacked from my parents. He would tell me to act more like a girl, as I was a tomboy and would make remarks about my hair, eyes and face. I started trusting him, but deep down, its as if my heart knew all along that this was not leading to anything good.
He made sure my brothers loved him to death, and then one day, out of the blue, he took us down to his room in the basement and swore us to secrecy, before showing us a book that had drawing's of naked couples, in different sex positions. I was shocked, and my brothers, well being boys, were more eager than I to see that stuff.
I wanted to tell so bad, but my brother and half brother made sure I did not.
Before long, the abuse started, and it was weird, but now I see why I would give in to his commands. Its as if a button was shut off, and I became a robot. Each command given I would do, but somehow I was not really there.
In the end, I recall him saying, " I am only doing what your father has already done to you."
Each time he said that I would turn something off, within me, and ignore it, but at the same time I would let him touch me in order for him to stop saying that.
I ended failing 6th grade, and he had threaten me if I told. He ended living with us for a year. Before leaving our home, he tried raping me, and that is where I snapped and kicked him hard in his private part that he fell straightforward.
I felt so good. Yet ashamed. And I had prayed before doing so, asking God to show me what to do. I have been told I had a powerful left foot kick. Still do.
I waited for a year before telling my parents. Once I did, all hell broke loose, no not as you might imagine, it was more directed towards me than him.
My dad denied that my uncle had done such thing and up to this day will continue doing so. My mom says she believed me, but she never gave me the support needed. My brother said it was a lie and I just gave up trying. It hurt so much, I wanted to die. And I tried killing myself but only managed to hurt my hand.
I thought God had forgotten me, and why live, if everyone thought I had made this all up? I ended asking Jesus into my life, hoping that somehow He would come down and erase all bad memories and make me new just like that, but that never happened.
I could have just decided right then and there to not believe in God, yet my faith had not died, I was just hurting.
I have a theory as to why my dad never brought charges and helped my uncle be freed. My uncle threatened to tell on him, if he did not let him have me. And my dad allowed him and knew of the abuse, and preferred that it happen, as long as he was safe.
Ok, well, that is all for today. Tomorrow I will continue on.
Angel 4 Eternity
Yesterday I pretty much gave an introduction of myself and my beginnings upon the face of this earth.
So, lets start off, from where I left off. As I continued to grow up and struggle with my many fears and insecurity, God, in some way was able to draw me towards Him, without my really knowing.
Each test I failed, each project that did not get any reward, brought me to a state in which I started believing the things my adopted father would say to me:
You have poop in Your head!
What are you, a retard?
Your stupid.
You are dumber than a dog, pig ect..
Why can't you be more like your brother?
You are so unstable.
Stop cowering.
And the list goes on and on, and eventually changes as I grow older. In the end, I tried finding comfort in my adopted mother, but she was too weak to give me the assurance I lacked that things would be ok, or to even get a hug or kiss from her. My brother did not mind me much as a toddler but between the ages of 7-9, he would get annoyed at my playing with his legos, or mini race cars verses playing with the Barbie dolls I would get each christmas.
I hated those dolls so much, that I would take their clothes off and burn their miniture breasts and yonder, with matches, and tear the legs off and arms off. Its funny, my parents would get mad at my doing this, but they never wondered why I did it. Its obvious now, but back then, I just knew that seeing any barbie doll, made me feel so angry and disgusted with myself, I would do what I could to make that doll, as ugly as could be. I never liked being a girl, nor did I like playing tea time, less wearing dresses.
Each sunday, a new battle ensued in which my mother and nanny would try and put a dress on me and shoes to go to church. I would end up taking the dress off and hiding the shows. My poor mother, would get frustrated with me, and in the end, my big brother would come to her rescue and mine. He was the only one I would ever tell, where my shoes were, and he would get me to comply with my mother's wishes of wearing the dress. And afterwards, at church, my brother and I would be together, no matter what. I enjoyed going to Sunday School and memorizing verses. I would love to hear the stories about Abraham, Moses, ect... yet each time we would talk about God's Love, I would feel alienated. And I had this yearning to know more about this Love, that was not earned but just given.
Overall, having extracurricular activities helped me survive being home each day. I loved soccer and it was an outlet for me. Yet, at the same time being surrounded by my teammates and watching them interact with their own dad's reminded me of what I did not have within my own family.
I would day dream at times, about the what if's of life. What if I lived with Emily and her parents? What if I looked more like Tiffany, will my parents love me more? What if I was smarter than my brother? What if I never had been born?
I always attracted kids that would mock me and make fun of me, as I rarely talked much, and when I did I would talk too soft. I never did much to defend myself, and would just let them talk. At times, I would cry, but that was all. I developed a very quiet character, and at home would prefer to be left alone then having to watch tv with the whole family. My art teacher in each grade would tell my parents that I was gifted and that they should invest in my talent, but I was told that by no means would I seek to become an artist as they never made enough money.
I was told I needed to aspire to being a doctor, which has always been our dad's dream, or a secretary like my mom. Neither ever appealed to me.
I struggled with math, science, biology and chemistry yet I excelled in Language arts and Literature, History and Art Class.
Life would be both happy and sad, many a time, and at times, I would talk to God asking Him why He loved so and so more than me?
And you know the funny thing about all this? Well, our dad would accompany us to church each sunday but by the time I turned 7 yrs old, he just stopped going. Up till the last few years, my brother and I would always question him on this and he would never give us a straight answer, but I know why. He stopped going afraid I would speak up about what he had done to me, and he felt guilty enough to stop going.
My mother has put up with alot stuff from my dad as well, but I never saw the extent of manipulation and abuse she suffered until my teen years. Before that, I thought, they would fight over me, and that I had let them down and that was why my dad would take it out on her. Each time I would cry out for her, she would come but always kept a safe distance. At first I thought it was because she could not bare being near me, but then I figured it was because she was afraid of my dad too.
Their marriage picture is the most depressing and just wrong. She could have gotten away from him, never married him, and had a better life. Who knows?
I always felt that something was not right between them, but as a child, one can only imagine so much about the adult world, right?
In the end, besides the nightmares I would suffer daily, there were also the constant yelling, and things being thrown in their room, that would invade my sleep. Hearing your mother crying and weeping, as her husband is screaming and cursing at her, does not put any child to sleep. I would lay awake, alert and just waiting to see if someone would end up dead.
I entered puberty at the age of 10. Not what I expected, less was I even prepared for the whole change! I actually thought I was dying! Really, so my mom gave me the bees and flower story, which did not really help me fully understand a thing. So, in the end, she announced to my dad I had entered puberty and I was so scared of what he might do, but he was smart enough to know I would fight him off, and did not do much, except tell me to never lock my door at night, because I had no earned my right to privacy.
I would put a chair or something against the door, every night. But all in all he never did anything to me, after he stopped abusing me at the age of 6.
I was entering 6th grade, when an uncle was moving in with us. Now mind you, I had nothing to do with the fact that my dad decided to let him stay with us, while he waited to get his green card.
I had seen him once or twice whenever we would go visit relatives in El Salvador every two years. But I just knew he was married to an aunt of mine and they had 3 kids.
His name is,*Dave( I know all will understand its not his real name.) He was in his mid forty's close to his fifty's. Had barely any hair on his head, was chubby and taller than my dad, and had an ugly nose, stuck on his face.
Well, my brother and I did not know him, and he started trying to reach out to us, in order to gain our trust. By the way, I have left out something important, my parents ended adopting my mom's nephew when I was 9 years old and my brother was 11. He was 2 years younger than me, and we never got along well. I was jealous of the attention and love he was getting, that I never had, and boy we fought hard, and almost killed each other many a time. So, he was part of our lives back then, not anymore. I call him my half brother/couisin.
Anyhow, my uncle started taking us out in his rented car, and get us candy bars or take us to Mcdonald's, and would buy the boys cards and slowly, he started paying me a bit more attention, and I naively believed that he was just seeing me, and was willing to give me the love I lacked from my parents. He would tell me to act more like a girl, as I was a tomboy and would make remarks about my hair, eyes and face. I started trusting him, but deep down, its as if my heart knew all along that this was not leading to anything good.
He made sure my brothers loved him to death, and then one day, out of the blue, he took us down to his room in the basement and swore us to secrecy, before showing us a book that had drawing's of naked couples, in different sex positions. I was shocked, and my brothers, well being boys, were more eager than I to see that stuff.
I wanted to tell so bad, but my brother and half brother made sure I did not.
Before long, the abuse started, and it was weird, but now I see why I would give in to his commands. Its as if a button was shut off, and I became a robot. Each command given I would do, but somehow I was not really there.
In the end, I recall him saying, " I am only doing what your father has already done to you."
Each time he said that I would turn something off, within me, and ignore it, but at the same time I would let him touch me in order for him to stop saying that.
I ended failing 6th grade, and he had threaten me if I told. He ended living with us for a year. Before leaving our home, he tried raping me, and that is where I snapped and kicked him hard in his private part that he fell straightforward.
I felt so good. Yet ashamed. And I had prayed before doing so, asking God to show me what to do. I have been told I had a powerful left foot kick. Still do.
I waited for a year before telling my parents. Once I did, all hell broke loose, no not as you might imagine, it was more directed towards me than him.
My dad denied that my uncle had done such thing and up to this day will continue doing so. My mom says she believed me, but she never gave me the support needed. My brother said it was a lie and I just gave up trying. It hurt so much, I wanted to die. And I tried killing myself but only managed to hurt my hand.
I thought God had forgotten me, and why live, if everyone thought I had made this all up? I ended asking Jesus into my life, hoping that somehow He would come down and erase all bad memories and make me new just like that, but that never happened.
I could have just decided right then and there to not believe in God, yet my faith had not died, I was just hurting.
I have a theory as to why my dad never brought charges and helped my uncle be freed. My uncle threatened to tell on him, if he did not let him have me. And my dad allowed him and knew of the abuse, and preferred that it happen, as long as he was safe.
Ok, well, that is all for today. Tomorrow I will continue on.
Angel 4 Eternity
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