My recent events have taken me back to a time in my childhood that causes nightmares to this day. When I was 12 years of age or so, it seemed divorce hit an all time high of in my class of friends in our small Arizona neighborhood and mine was not exempt. My Mother had met a man in the healthcare field were she worked at a tiny hospital that took in enormous views of the sun rising over the Superstition Mountains. I remember the day I had gone by to see my Mother at work, she sat at a desk and a tall, male with what I could tell was brown thinning hair coming from beneath the hat he had fitted over his head that tided in the back, his skin was lighter with round rosy cheeks and his body had a somewhat plump appearance, which was covered in blue surgical scrubs was watching in our direction. He slowly made his way to stand behind my mother and politely flirt her way as we were introduced for the first time.
The next time I seen the jolly man at my Mothers work was a few weeks after, my younger brother and sister woke me in the early morning hours peering through the my brothers bedroom door, a direct view to our Mothers bed. My sister was the first to state with agitation and confusion that there was a man in Mom’s bed and it was not Dad, my bother, the youngest nodded with her every word to confirm that was my sister was saying was true!
Our once family and household had been tipped upside down very rapidly and it was not long before I noticed marks on my Mother, which she always had an excuse for having. Then the attacks became comfortable enough to him that He would emotionally and physically assault our Mother before our eyes. It was not more than a couple of months after that my brother was abused, his room being destroyed and him and his tiny 8ish year old frame be held off the ground by his neck. Our Father came to take custody of my brother but due to fights between our parents and child support it was decided that the “girls” live with my Mom.
The abuse became worse and worse, then He made his first ventures into the room my sister and I shared. I remember the heavy breathing as He stood between our beds, I remember on some night I would feel so guilty to wish he would go to my younger sister instead of me. I would lay very still, pretending to sleep but so terrified all I could do was squeeze my eyes shut and try not to let Him see my trembling young body. Some nights he would stand there for what seem eternity before he would leave, other nights it was not that easy for me or my sister.
The abuse continued with ebbs and flows throughout my childhood, never a word spoken about it, expect for one time my sister confronted our Mother. It was easier to be quite than the be called a liar and trouble maker. He became a “thing to accept” for my Mothers happiness.
I didn’t think about those years much after I left home at 17 years old, see unlike my Sister I had blocked it all away in the deepest, darkest part of my mind in hopes of never finding those nights again. It was not until adulthood, not too many years ago the anguish of ALL that happened came flooding back into my mind and replaying over and over again, I could not make it stop! I still wake from nightmares where I am screaming and I have soaked my night gown and sheets. I like to say I have forgiven Him, yet I find I have to continually say, “I forgive Him and hope he finds peace in soul and gets everything in life I would want in mine.” It helps most days with the sadness and anger in me. They say forgiveness is not so much for the person your forgiving, this is true for me, but it took years to get there and not a day goes by that I am not reminded of it for some reason. Maybe one day I will eventually have true forgiveness if I keep doing the foot work to keep my mind and body healthy. I heard, “there is a bit of bad in the best of us and a bit of good in the worst of us and we are all children of God and each have a right to be here, when I complain about me or about you I am complaining about God’s handy work, I am saying that I know better than God.”