It's a sad time for the home team.

School, hell school

Was this really necessary?

Ah school the bane of my very existence.

First school is a wonderful place to learn and to socialize. I gained my first best friend who rode the same bus as me.  We're still friends to this day. Irene was the same as me but stronger, things didn't seem to bother her too much.

It's also the worst place possible for those who are shy and easily intimated. Such as me. I was fine through kindergarten and pre-first... (that's a grade that was between K and 1st. for those who weren't ready to advance to first grade but were too advanced to be held back. I got the normal amount of teasing at first, and that was fine. But soon I became the target. Every mistake I made sent the others into peels of laughter. If I stuttered or stammered the teasing was relentless. Because of my weight I got all the course rude names added to my name. Animal noises were called out behind my back. 

I was pushed, my clothing as pulled at, my hair yanked so hard I saw stars, tripped, dropped off the seesaw, shoved down the slides. 

Things thrown at my head. Always picked last for games and gym. I ended up playing alone or making excuses to not go outside at all.

Then came middle school. OMG middle school. Those soul crushing years.

I know what you're saying. "Everyone goes through teasing at some point or another." Yeah that may be true, but I was extra sensitive. I couldn't process things properly. 

Why was the milk stolen off my tray? Why did I have to sit far away from everyone? My purse was stolen, all my money was taken out and they just threw my purse in the middle of the lunch room floor. I had chairs pushed out from under me. One even went out of her way to put her feet on the back of my chair and push me forward, every class we were in.. More hair yanking, more clothes pulling and damage. more names and noises aimed in my direction. I still stammered when I spoke. Math and numbers were a mystery to me. (still are) 

and then there was gym.  Oh how I hated gym. (typical fat girl reaction?)  Suddenly there were no towels left for me, My brand new gym shoes stolen right out of my locker to the gales of laughter. "Hey why don't you wear that long dress for dance class, it'll look great"   Joke on me, it was a set up to be laughed at. I was easily fooled and tricked into thing. 

I was naive to the max. Finally I just kept making excuses to skip gym. "my period just started," "i've got cramps really bad."  "I hurt my leg the other day."   I didn't care if I failed the class I didn't want to be there. The teasing and torment was relentless. 

Being tripped down the stairs. Spraining my ankle and having NO ONE offer to carry my books to the annex while I was using crutches. Having the crutches kicked out from under me. Laughing as soon as I walked into one of the bathrooms.

The names, the names the names. GODDAMMIT THE NAMES. I did nothing to deserve this treatment except for being the odd fat girl who was so shy she couldn't talk or do anything right. 

I did find a few favorite classes and one group that I belonged to. I was on the school newspaper and even got an award for it. Art class was great. Home Ec... dear lord how I loved Home Ec. the cooking, the baking, the feel of getting something accomplished *same with art*  and one semester we swapped with the boys and we got to take shop class, working with wood and metal, plastics and making thing.... YES this I could understand. I liked some science and history. The day we were to dissect frogs I stayed home. And I discovered I didn't like american history but ancient Europe and middle east  history were my favorites. It kind of went along with my love of fantasy and science fiction.

High School was basically more of the same. I focused on art, home ec and working in the school library. And I met my best friend. I was sitting in art class and the teacher looked out the door to check for stragglers. He let out a yelp and said "Oh god it's Haberle" and attempted to block the door from the inside. *doors opened out* She strolled into the class like it was her god given right and sat down across from me. It was instant like. We'd bounce ideas off each other, our likes and dislikes mirrored each other. And our families knew each other. 

Sue was my saving grace for the remaining time she was in school. (she was a year ahead of me) She dragged me out of my shell. We'd drive like demons, smoked like stacks, cussed like sailors and developed something like an obsession for this one band that came out around that time.  

We wrote silly fan stories, and drew fan art. And went to their first concert in the Philly area. 

We fantasized about these guys non stop. Sue and I did nearly everything together. We were always at each's houses. Out cruising around the towns. Racing our cars. Going to the mall. Everything together.

And the she met Chris..... Soon they were hot and heavy and engaged. 

I got to be the maid of honor at her first wedding. She looked lovely. I wasn't awfully fond of Chris, but he wasn't my choice so I let it pass. But the marriage changed everything between us. I had to share MY SUE with this guy. He was a druggie and a slacker. No where near good enough for her.

I don't even know how it happened, maybe it was from trying a Quaalude for the first time, but Sue and I spent a night together. It was glorious and not the first time I could admit I liked men and women both.  

Of course I could never ever say anything to the family about that.  Still didn't even now. 

Then one day Chris flipped out and beat the shit out of her. I was livid. She and the son she had moved back to her parents. And that's where they stayed.   

I moved back in with Gram in the meantime and had a son of my own. Then our home town burned down.  "The great Perkasie fire" (google it) The same year Sue's mom died from a massive stroke. Her dad pretty much signed over the house to her, and she met a new guy. The married and stayed together for several years (i don't know what broke them up)  Her dad went int a nursing facility.

For years we just talked occasionally on the phone. If I was in the area I'd drop in for a visit if she was home.  Then gram died and I moved to Michigan where I still am.

Years passed as they do when you're growing older. One day in 2006 I decided to call her to see how she was doing. (it had been a few months since we spoke)  I got the most devastating news I had ever gotten in my life.

She was gone. GONE.  Aggressive leukemia took my Sue from me and I had no idea. Her son had forgotten to call me. (understandable given the circumstances) I was utterly inconsolable. I screamed and cried for days.

I think that's when I realized that I loved her.... not as just friends love one another but I was in love with her.

She was the first person who let me be me. She freed me from that cocoon that was wrapped around me, smothering me, suffocating me. I was free with her. She was the best part of me. And I lost her. I never even got to say goodbye, so it hit like a double slam. 

I've never gotten over it. There's a huge gaping hole in my heart and soul that I just can't seem to fill.

TBC....

The long hard road.

Gee-bus Lubs Me

Lesson pounded in by a book

Dramatic and lamented stage left:  Cue the bible belt years.

First an add on to part one. The mother. According to witnesses putting me to bed meant dropping me  from a higher and higher height until crying stopped and sleep happened. (I'm seeing a pattern of head trauma here)

Meet the family-religious style. I was more or less left on my grandparents doorstep. Dad said "Here can't do it" passed me off and poofed into the great beyond, not to be seen again for many many years. Grandparents accepted me best they could, under the circumstances.  The rest of the family (dad's brothers,sisters and assorted nieces and nephews) viewed the new comer as in interloper, a nuisance, a grand inconvenience. I shouldn't have to have been just left with grandparents as it caused a burden on them.  (not really but that was the family view)

Growing up I was never accepted into their little circle. Family gatherings were a game of torture for me. No warm hello's, no hugs, no kisses on the cheek. At any time. During the holidays I could only play with certain ones of their toys or coloring books. They had interests that I had no interest in. The clung together and talked about regular children's things. I sat on the couch; reading old magazines and wandering around the house. Once the dinner was over, they'd watch football or some other sport. I'd read or go down stairs in the basement where I was allowed to play with the elaborate barbie village they had built, maybe. I'd usually get called away from that. So since no one would really talk to me I sat at the table and picked at left overs.

Naturally I gained weight and got accused of stealing food.   

Hmm lets see, wasn't allowed to touch anything, nothing to do, Eat...... seemed like the only solution.

At least once a month I had to beg to be allowed to go over to one of their houses so I could play with them (be ignored more), Or beg to have someone come visit me. (had to do what they wanted since they were the visitors) Church that night the exchanges were made and I'd go back to being all alone. 

I learned to read and write early because I simply had nothing else to do. 

Another holiday years later, they'd go off and talk about boys, and school, and music..... I learned to bring a book along with me. They were all very cliquish. Or sometimes I'd be forced to do all the festivities dishes all by myself. Even cleaning the pots and pans. I'd end up crying because my back would hurt so bad from standing there. I wasn't good to them for anything else. Of course I got to pick at the left overs again. (more weight)  Not even a thank you for the job done.  

At the other relative we'd visit on alternate holidays, I wasn't allowed to touch any of their toys but they sure could play with mine.  Dinner would be over and we kids would be watching some holiday shows.....until the dad came lumbering down the stairs and flipped the channel without a how-do -you do and sat there engrossed in football.  I really learned to hate football at this point.

All in all I was most ignored or slave labor. I had my one first sensory problem at one of the gatherings. I was sitting on the floor helping to put unwrapped gifts on a table and throw away the trash, my lumbering uncle came up behind me and literally drilled his huge sausage fingers into my delicate underarms. I saw stars and he walked away laughing not even knowing or caring that he had caused me real physical pain. I still cringe when I think about it. It was like he was sticking two meathooks into a chunk of meat. I never lifted my arms around anyone again.

As I grew older I'd always take my book and go into a quiet room to read, I could no longer stand all the noise and bustle. Of course then I was called unsociable and impolite.

These same people who basically shunned me, would turn around and give food and lodging to someone down on their luck or some passing through missionary. Very christian like. 

I got told to my face one lovely X-mas party that "We had a meeting recently and don't know what would happen to you if Gram and Pop-pop would suddenly die.    I was about 14 at the time. 

These kind, generous, pious christians probably would have let me live on the street, because not one of them would open their home to the family outcast.   

My crime: Being born (apparently)  I know of nothing else I did to these people.

At one point when I was still little I saw a familiar car in the driveway of my one uncle's house *they lived next house down, in the country.) there was about a quarter acre of land between the two homes. I ran down the field and knocked on the door. My one cousin tried to turn me away but I heard a voice say "No" So I stepped into the house and there was my dad. I threw myself into his arms and sat on his lap for a very long time. From then on when I saw that white Pontiac Bonneville in the drive way I was off like a bolt of lightening. No one even bothered to try to find out where I was. (grandparent wise)   I didn't care, that was my daddy. (even though he had given me up)

I'd write back and forth with my mom once it was discovered where she had gotten to. If I got the mail first I'd get my letters, if my grandmother got the mail I never saw the letters. She didn't like that we kept in contact.  Mom didn't conform to their christian ways. So not approved of.\

She may well have been chased off, if not for the affairs then how I was thrown around my crib. 

Oh yeah and some point during my previous entry I forgot to add.... not only physically and mentally abused by my step-monster, at some point some one..(unknown) also raped me. I was around 2-3 years old. 

I'll be adding more family trauma at another point.

Next up School hell.

TBC

From here to there and back again

And Then hell broke loose.

Story of the beaten

The evil step mother: Or bitch from hell. The other one who tried to kill me several times

I honestly don't remember much of this time thanks to the beatings, so I'll just write about the ones I remember.

The first was her dogs. She breed and raised German Shepard's and most were trained to attack. I was little and the dogs were big an mean. I remember having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and one of the dogs stood in the doorway and growled menacingly, I learned that night to just hold it until people woke up.

The next was I remember standing at the top of the long stairway, and suddenly I was at the bottom. I have no memory of how I got there.

Then there was the "children's aspirins"  I remember being given something and was told it was children's aspirin. I remember spitting it across the room. I got another one shoved down my throat and things got fuzzy after that. I think it may have been an adult aspirin or some other drug. Maybe even something for the dogs. My grandmother visited me and I was just staring off into space.

The little potty. I got beat black and blue for putting the 'boy's' shield on the child potty. That was for boys and plain was for girls.

Next came the real abuse... I visited my grandparents and had bruises around my neck. Apparently I told my grandmother that Kay (step mom) had strangled me. Maybe not in words but by hand gestures. 

How about the time I thought I was helping to beat the rugs. She flew out the door, grabbed the broom out of my hands and beat me with it. Especially hitting me on the head. I must have passed out because I don't remember anything after that.

I had mid-back length hair, even as a little girl. She couldn't be bothered to get through the tangles so she shaved my head to the scalp.

I'm super phobic about a lot of things because of this woman. Anything tight around neck and wrists, problem taking pills, I had seizures for awhile where I'd just fall over into my cereal bowl. I don't like big dogs or heights, I get massive headaches and blank spots in my memory. I don't like small tight places thank to that other woman. 

I can't stand being touched, or have things waved around at me. 

And then I was taken way, But was it better? All of this was before the age of three

TBC 

My journey from point A to point B going through X.Y,Z

The main purpose of this blog will be my journey of rediscovering myself. Or rather finding the true me.

The Inglorious start

Journey of the unwanted.

Cue my parents. Two lost kids away from home, probably for the first time. She from the orphanage in El Paso TX, He just joining the navy to get away from overbearing family back east.

Setting: San Diego CA. Probably in the proximity of the Navy base. 

For what ever reason, these two got together is was all wrong. She was a uniform chaser and he was convenient uniform du jour. I have no clue if they loved each other or just married out of convenience, they weren't meant to be.  Not long afterwards I came along. Not really wanted or expected but there none the less.

Mother and I were shipped back east to live with his family while he finished his last few months of service. It wasn't exactly a warm welcome. At first we lived over the garage, then eventually a small motor home was parked on the far end of the family lot; with electric and water hook up.

I don't remember much of this time as I was so young. But I do remember vaguely that my 'bed' was a shelf above the stove and the doors were closed. I don't recall a regular bed. I remember rolling out of the shelf once. But I was less than 16 months old so all of this is based on vague memory.  

Then one day mother left and didn't come home. The trailer was no longer filled with the gray haze of cigarette smoke. She still had a thing for uniforms and went to chase them (grandmother's version) Mother's version was the family chased her off. I'm not sure which to believe. 

Not too long after that dad started dating again. (he got over it quick) I got to go along on a few of these (yay :C  ) 

One woman he was rather serious about and who was cheating on her husband with my dad, tried to kill me one night on one of his sleepovers. All I know is I woke up with the pillow over my head and the blankets/sheets were tucked in tight over top of the pillow. We left after I screamed for help.

Then he up and married some other woman... 

THAT'S WHEN HELL STARTED.. This woman was the storybook typical wicked step mother. She was evil personified. I'm lucky to be alive.

TBC....

First of many

It's been so long since I've been on Blogger that I forgot how to do anything. And that doesn't matter because they've changed everything any way. :C

Hopefully I can fulfill my goal of working on my self esteem and trying to wrangle my brain under some sort of control.