Who Am I?

I am starting these stories so I can release my true emotions and memories without judgement. If this gets into anybody's hands and it hurts anybody's feelings, I am sorry however I must add a disclaimer that my life does have a lot of pain and a lot of secrets. None meant for judgement for anybody in these stories or blame. These are my thoughts and my life and nobody is perfect.

Day one,

I am 49 years old and i am facing an entire life change. I feel i am beginning to really be forced to learn who i am . So who am I!? what does any of this mean? What have I learned in this life? Well, lets talk about this journey together.

Reflection:

I am finding myself reflecting a lot on my past. My journey that brought me here. Who was that person who went through all of the challenges, losses, trials, ups and downs and victories? I look back and I want to pinch myself because I cant believe that was even me. I remember the little girl but I look at what she has gone through and I feel so sorry and sad for her. Nobody should ever go through what she went through let alone a child. Then I see that young teenager and wonder why wasn't she given the resilience that other kids get? Why did she stay so naïve and unprotected? Where were her adults in her life and why was she floating around lost, searching for something , or to rephrase that, running from something that she didn't even know she was running from? And wow, the young mother and lover. The girl with the dramatic high school relationships, the huge hurts and the desperation to keep what hurts to much to lose yet doing everything that causes her to lose it. This woman still lost and still naïve. Going through her 20's in love, with babies, going with the flow. Letting life decide for her what comes next. Trying to survive mentally and spiritually.

The next era of adulthood is a blur. Abuse and control and losing self was a huge part of this time. How did I let that happen? How could I let one person control me, my family, my relationships with my kids? Some of the best memories and some of my worst memories in my life. Indirectly hurting my own children all while still being very vulnerable and naïve.

What is with my mindset or my spirit that stays so childlike? Why did I let so much hurt and pain into my life and not protect my kids? Why did I let other people tell me how to live, how to think and how to feel? Why was I a victim , always. With excuses for everything ?

Chapter 1 The little girl with the big blue eyes. Nick named Gumba

I have memories from a very young age. I must have been 3 or so years old. I remember living with my mom and her husband. I remember my height even. I couldn't reach the top of the counter, so I blindly reached up and dipped the butter knife in the jam and wiped it over a piece of white wonder bread. Then I did the same with Skippy peanut butter. I even remember the amount of peanut butter and jam that was on the bread. It was enough to add some color but that is it. Basically not enough to call it a sandwich at all. You have to remember , I couldn't see anything I was doing due to the height of the counter. I did eat that sandwich with pride though. In the living room on the recliner that sat in front of the tv.

There were a few other nice memories, but most of them are terrifying. Again, I was under 4 years old. L (the step dad, we will call him L) was very controlling and scary. I had to clean my room every weekend. He would check the sheets and blankets to make sure they were tucked under the mattress properly. Not just shoved under the mattress, but smoothly tucked under. I had to lift the mattress to get a clean fold under it.

The way L would check to make sure there wasn't any bunching was by using a wooden 12 inch ruler. He would slide the ruler in-between the mattresses. If the ruler slid without getting stuck or jamming, it was done right. However, if the ruler got jammed at all, it would mean that the sheets were not straight in-between the mattresses and he would yell at me saying that I was lazy and just shoved the sheets in to betray him. Every time the ruler would get stuck he would proceed to tell me to put my hands out, palms down. I would be crying trying to explain to him that I did not mean to that and that I really tried to do it right! He would not believe me. I remember the fear of what to come was extremely intense and then it would happen. My hands out , palms down and with every time the ruler would not slide in-between the mattresses he would slap the back of my hands with the ruler. It hurt so bad and I am not sure what was worse, the ruler slaps or the fact that I was trying to tell him I did nothing wrong but he hit me anyways. I felt like he purposely made the ruler get stuck just so he could hit me. Once he was done "checking the bed" he would tell me to fix it. He would come back and if it wasn't fixed worse would happen. I did everything in my power to lift that mattress and lay those sheets straight in-between them. When he would come back and see that they were straight, he would say "see , I knew you could do it.. Next time don't try to lie to me and do it right the first time". He then proceeded to tell my mom that I was grounded to my room for lying.

I don't know where my mother was during moments like this. I don't remember her ever being around when L was being mean.

There are many memories like this but the ones that are still hidden but known are pretty dark. I remember I used to have a reoccurring dream. I would be playing with dolls with a little monkey. Like 3 inches tall, dressed in a marching band jacket and hat. We would be told by L that it was bed time. When we were told it was bed time the monkey and I would play "who makes it to bed first wins" . My heart would race and I would get so much anxiety and try my hardest to make it to bed first. But the monkey was so small and fast it was impossible to win. When I would reach the bed I would end up on top of the monkey, which would for some reason make my entire body tingle. Like the feeling of pins and needles when your leg goes to sleep, but all over. I would always wake up scared and crying and my body still tingling. And for some reason my mom never heard my cries. It was always L, standing there over my bed. He would touch my back and as soon as he touched me the tingles would go away.

This dream happened often and apparently I told a few aunts about it. I found out later as an adult that they remembered it. The monkey dream. They laughed talking about it, not knowing how terrifying it was for me.

As the memories began to come to surface and speaking to family members, I realize that I was being assaulted. My behaviors got worst as I one time cut all of my fingers with a razor blade. I didn't feel pain and didn't even realize I was doing it until my mom found me, bloody. She said "what are you doing!" I looked down at my hands and said " I don't know". I didn't know. I still don't know. I remember all of the Band-Aids on my little fingers.

It got to the point to where my dads side of the family began wanting to have me more. My dad, I remember one night, was pounding on the front door. I heard him say "let me see my daughter!" . L refused to let my dad see me. My mom had me in the bathroom. I was crying hysterically. I wanted to go with my dad. My mom had her hand over my mouth saying "shhhhhhh". There was somebody else in the bathroom with us, I dont remember who, but all I can remember was the hard pounding sounds from my dads fist or kick hitting against the front door. Until finally it went silent. Once my dad was gone, L made me go to bed. I cried myself to sleep that night.

Soon after that, I stopped eating and talking. It went on for 4 days. My mom finally reached out to my dads sister (we will call her K ) and she came at got me right away. The minute I was in her care, I began talking and eating again. I was happy and safe.

I ended up back at my moms. There were some memories that were good. I remember play dough.. I had fun with it. I had stuffed animals in my room. We had two dogs, Layla and Bruin.

One memory I have is when my mom was pregnant with my sister. L was gone and my mom called me to her room. She was laying down and told me to come lay with her. I was so happy and scared at the same time because I knew if L found out I would be in so much trouble. But she told me to lay my head on the baby. I did, and I listened. She said "that's your sister in there" . It was a very rare but important moment for me. L never found out, I never got into trouble for it.

Eventually my sister was born. We were baptized and one day my mom asked me if I wanted to spend the weekend at grammas house. Ofcourse I was excited and said YES! I remember my mom putting my suitcase in the trunk of the Nova and off we went. Little did I know that my mom would drop me off and never come back.....

And this is a summed up first chapter of that little girls life that I look at and wonder, why? Why wasn't she loved ? Why was she abused? Why wasn't she protected? Why was she left behind and forgotten... and why did she survive?