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