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
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