DammitJanet
Well-Known Member
Mental Illness " My Personal Journey
We are pretty darn sure that for me in particular that I inherited the gene for bipolar and that I grew up in a home that was particularly invalidating because from the time I was an infant my mother was verbally abusive. Most mothers sing some sort of silly nursery rhyme or song to their infants and young children to get them to sleep. That is quite normal.
My mom's song was "Oh she doesn't love her mommy anymore, anymore. Oh she doesn't love her mommy anymore. And the reason that she doesn't love her mommy is her mommy doesn't love her anymore."
I would cry and cry when she sung that to me even as a young infant and she would laugh and laugh thinking it was funny.
Don't you think it is odd that I even remember the song over 40 years later?
She would run hot and cold on me. Either I was her best friend and she would dress us alike in clothes that she made for us or I was a demon child and relegated to my room to be punished. I never knew from hour to hour which mommy I would have. I dodged items being thrown at me-phones, kitchen items, food, etc.
She would tell me that I was uncivilized as a young child and thought it was hilarious when I overheard someone say something the word 'civilized' in the store one day and I piped up and said that was what I wanted to be one day. I also got the snot beat out of me for embarrassing her.
At the age of three I was sexually abused by a female babysitter who inserted various items into me. What I remember most clearly were those rubber pencil erasers that go on top of pencils. I told my mom when they got home and had to go to the doctor to get them removed. I was told to never talk about it again. Im not sure what happened to the babysitter but I think she got sent away somewhere. She was a neighbor girl and I played with her little brother so that was a big stink. I felt so guilty. My parents never talked to me about it again.
After that I started getting more obvious Bipolar symptoms but they didn't have that diagnosis back then for kids. I had problems sleeping, was defiant, would run away, hypersexual, irritable.
When I was six I actually attempted to kill another child in a six year olds pathetic attempt. We had a foster child for a few months (which was a disaster and I will never know why it was allowed). This occurred over Christmas and we both got doll items as gifts. I got a doll carriage and she got a doll stroller. Well one day we were on the porch with our dolls and stuff and she demanded that she play with my carriage. She was 5 and I was 6. I said no. We had just got them and I wasn't feeling like giving mine up right then. Well she cried and screamed and my mom made me give my new carriage to her to play with and told me that my dad was going to spank me when he came home. This was a threat I didn't take lightly.
My dad didn't spank me often but when he did, it was a really bad thing. My dad had a belt that was from his time in the Marines that was two inches wide and 1/8th inches thick. It had a big buckle on it and when he whipped me with it, it hurt and left big welts on me. I hated and feared that belt!
When he got home, my mom told him to whip me so he came in and told me to take off my pants and he would whip me. I cried and begged that I didn't deserve to get spanked. It didn't matter. I was getting spanked. I ran. It didn't matter. They found me. I got whipped until I had welts up and down my back and legs. That buckle hurt so badly.
The next day I made some 'soda pop' up for my foster sister with a little bit of kool aid and some of my mom's perfume. Basically a cup of Kool aid and about an ounce of perfume. I just knew I was gonna kill her if she drank it. It was my intention. Obviously, it wouldn't kill anyone. I doubt she even drank more than a sip. I left it for her after telling her to drink it and ran away. I don't remember what happened after that but she wasn't there much longer.
I played doctor with other kids my age and kids older by 3 to 4 years. Anything to be accepted. I was also never happy. None of the photo's of me at parties show me smiling. I couldn't take social activities because I didn't understand that sort of thing. I was socially awkward. I was different.
My mom wouldn't allow me to dress the same as other kids because she made my clothes. She made me stand out. All this time she was also doing the whole push me pull me routine at home with me being her best friend one day or minute and her enemy the next. I didn't know who to trust. I had no one to trust. If I thought I had a friend, they normally would turn on me and tease me.
So basically I was a typical early onset bipolar kid living in a home with a Mommy Dearest and an absent father who only showed up to beat me with a belt that left welts that sometimes nearly bled. I think he beat me probably 10 to 15 times in my life that I can remember before I snapped and put him up against the wall when I was in my teens. What my mom did was worse though…more insidious.
When I hit the age for Junior High it was decided I would leave private school and go to the local public school. Oh boy! It was like throwing a lamb into the lion's den. I had been in private schools for years so I was fairly insolated. We must remember what decade this was too. The mid 70's. All anyone could think of was sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. I was dumped into a large school full of kids in 7th through 9th grade with raging hormones, who were still into defying all authority, and only wanted to party. And I looked like a geek for the first semester. Then my mom handed me the copy of 'The Happy Hooker' and I suddenly became very popular!
In 8th grade, I really went off the tracks. I had my first boyfriend in 7th grade but he was a good catholic boy who respected girls and didn't want to derail his future so he refused to do more than kiss. Good thing because I had no self control. But in 8th grade, I had met my first 'real' boyfriend. Didn't take me long to begin to have sex. I was just 14. This boy was 19.
All this time, I am still dealing with my mom going through her cycles of either being friend or foe. She would get me in the car and want me to go out and eat then get mad and not feed me and storm home. She would not buy food for weeks. My dad would have to give me money to go buy groceries. My mom would buy food for her and hide it in a cooler where only she would have access to it. We were not poor people. My dad was doing quite well for us.
My mom didn't have to work but she had a part-time job where she met a woman who would become her best friend (and is now my step-mom!). My mom and P, best friend, would get together all the time and itch and moan about P's philandering husband. He really was a louse. On occasion they would follow him to spy on him. This really fed into my mom's paranoia about men, about people in general. She would come home and feed me lies about my boyfriend and convince me that he was cheating on me because we weren't together all the time because he lived one town away and he worked full time. She would get me into the car and we would go to where he works and put a piece of reflective tape on his car so we could track him. How absurd!
Later she would accuse me of making her do all this.
Then she told me I couldn't have my boyfriends over to the house and sit and watch TV and have snacks in our family room. She bought me a brand new TV, stereo, bedding set with sheets and comforter. She told me I had to entertain my boyfriends in my room only. With the door closed.
I later found out that she had drilled a small hole in the coat closet in the foyer that looked directly into my bedroom. She could stand in that closet and see whatever was going on in my bedroom…especially what was happening on the bed. No wonder she gave me that special mood lighting. Remember, I was 14!
I stayed with this boy until I was 15 but when I broke up with him that was when I started drinking and smoking pot. It started the night I broke up with that boy. I went to a party to celebrate a play we had put on. I was upset over breaking up and I got drunk drunk drunk. I didn't even make it home that night. I slept with someone I don't even know who it was. I ended up meeting my next boyfriend at that party though. One of his friends told him he needed to hook up with me because he needed an experienced girl. Sigh.
Life at home was getting more out of control as my teen years got more chaotic. My mom was trying to rein me in and I was so out of control at this point there was no getting me back. I actually laughed at her. I told her that unless she was willing to send me to boarding school, which I would gladly attend, just shut up. This woman would buy me beer, buy me liquor and then tell me to come home at 8 pm. Nah, Im not listening to you.
At 15 I still only had a few people I would get high with because I was so scared and paranoid. I had a small posse of friends. One stuck by me like glue. She was my lifeline. I never went anywhere without her all through HS. She understood my mom was crazy and didn't blame me for it.
By 16, things were getting so much more out of control. I was able to drive which really gave me freedom. When things were bad at home, I just took off, and I mean took off…for other states or other parts of my state! I was heavily into pot and sometimes drinking though I didn't particularly like hangovers or throwing up. I would also manipulate my parents into giving me their credit cards if I wanted something…anything. If I wanted new clothes, I would throw a major hissy fit until they coughed up the master card. It worked every time. I did work at 16, I was proud of that. In fact, from age 16 until 18.5 (which will be talked about later) I worked almost continuously. I just also partied after work.
By 16 ½, my boyfriend John had graduated HS and started college. That was a major turning point in our relationship. Before that, we had been like twins in that we looked so much alike and we were HS sweethearts, even though we did party. We were pretty tame really. Once he got to college we got into more of the heavy stuff. He also had a dark side that came out once he was away from home. His dad was a wife beater. It only came out once or twice before he went away to college and he tried to keep it at bay so hard. Once he was away from home, it was extremely hard for him to contain. Being with him when he was under the influence of alcohol was extremely risky. We both started doing acid, Quaaludes, and other assorted pills. I remember one time taking a whole box of OTC diet pills because someone told me you could get high off them. Ugh was I sick! I would stay at his dorm for a week at a time and not go home. My parents were livid. I was 17 by this time.
I quit school at some point in here during 11th grade. All this stuff is running together now. My parents did tell me that if I wasn't going to school then I would work. So I did. Well, I decided this wasn't what I wanted so I decided to go back to school. Problem was my mother decided to find me a private school for problem kids. Unfortunately she didn't check to see if it was accredited. It wasn't. I spent three months of the end of my junior year there and the first three months of my senior year there only to find out nothing I did there would count! Another problem, one of their teachers liked to have sex with the students! Me! I was thrilled because it gave me easy A's and I thought it was all consensual at the time but now I know just how wrong that was. Because of this snafu, I ended up getting my GED the end of June 1980 even though I did continue for what should have been my senior year in a public school.
During my 17th to 18th year I was all over the place. I can't even begin to tell you everything that happened to me or what I did. I know I did more drugs than I can even begin to recount, ran all over town, (LDM would know many of the places I was around and could attest to the fact that they were not the most reputable areas…lol), I attended a NORML event in Difficult Child (think Woodstock), spent most of one summer on a boat in VA beach picking up guys, got pregnant by a boy at 17 and had an abortion, met a girl and fell in love a month after that abortion, got kidnapped and raped 4 months after meeting that girl WITH the girl.
Now I will go into the rape/kidnapping.
Cindy and I worked together at a gas station. She had come to meet me school that fateful day in June. It was the last day of school. We were walking home because both sets of parents had confiscated our cars to teach us a lesson about being in a relationship with each other. This was completely bogus considering we were both 18 and older. I was 18 and she was almost 20. Stupid of them. So anyway, we were walking home to my house to get my car because we knew my mom wasn't going to be home that afternoon. As we were walking along the side of the road, a vehicle approached and stopped along the side of the road and opened the door and asked us if we wanted a ride. Two black guys were in the front seat. We said no, that we weren't far from our home. They asked again and said…come'on, we can party and while saying that the guy on the passenger side got out and pulled a knife and grabbed her and threw her in the back seat and then grabbed me and threw me in. They had a pack miller pony's in the car. I will never forget that. Can't stand to look at them still to this day.
I will spare you the gory details but let's just say it was not a pleasant experience. It was made worse by how we were treated afterwards too. One of the cops was absolutely horrible to us, calling us names and saying we deserved it and probably liked it. It was a mad house at the hospital when our respective families arrived and they started screaming at each other how it was all my fault and I had set it up and all these other awful things. I was never allowed to see Cindy again, they took us away from each other and refused to allow us to contact each other. Her parents sent her to a mental institution to 'cure' her of being gay. Ha ha. I was forbidden to go visit. I was devastated.
My mother's answer was that all I needed was a big 'Richard' and all would be right with me. I must have had a momentary lapse of judgment and if I just got 'rotated' correctly and many times then I would forget all about what had happened to me. She refused the advice of doctors to get me into counseling but instead found any male who would come stay in my bedroom. Hence, my first husband. He was the brother of a girl I knew in passing at a store in the local mall. He had just been tossed out of the Navy for bad eyesight and returned to our town. I met him once and we were talking in the mall while having a soda together.
My mom saw us and she invited him home to have dinner. She then invited him to go with us out of town for a weeks vacation! Of course, he said yes. She arranged for the two of us to stay in one room and her in another. I was just so emotionally blank I didn't care. I had basically lost everything at that point. I had lost my partner, my safety, my identity, my very soul. I didn't care what else happened to me. Go ahead, do anything to me. No one else can hurt me anymore. I was basically dead inside from then on. I started drinking and taking any drug I could get my hands on from that June 12th until September when I found out I was pregnant. I was just devastated again when I found out I was pregnant.
About this time, the court case came up for the rape. It was another zoo. Cindy's mother was screaming in the courtroom that it was all my fault, I set the whole thing up. The ADA was trying to shut her up because the defense was eating it all up. They were yelling back that they couldn't have raped us, we were lesbians. Yada yada. OMG it was awful.
I managed to talk to Cindy and tell her about the baby. I told her if she wanted, I would leave Bill and go with her and leave everyone else behind. We could be together just her, I and the baby…just say the word. She just had to tell me then and there because I had to plan my life now…not in another six months or another year, I had to deal with life now. She couldn't do it. She told me she wasn't ready to make plans. Okay, I told her I loved her, I would always love her but I had to move on.
I married Bill and had the baby. That marriage didn't last. He was an abusive SOB. I knew it going in. We didn't know each other and it wasn't even close to something that should have happened if it wasn't for my mom.
Meanwhile my mom is consistently telling me what trash I am, how I can never do anything right, Im always wrong, Im responsible for everything, and now she has a new target, my baby and my marriage. Im responsible for getting raped, Im responsible for not being able to stay married, Im a lousy mother…and here it comes…do things my way or I will tell the courts that you were gay once. Looking back I should have wondered how she would have proved that one but it sure made me jump.
After I left my ex, my mom filed for separation from my dad. That was the best thing that ever happened to him but it really upset him at the time. They had been married forever. She was trying to force him into retirement and he wasn't going to be forced. I don't blame him in the least. He wouldn't have been happy. She really took him to the cleaners too. She started to slowly take out money long before she started the process and he didn't know it because she controlled the finances. Her downfall was that she told her best friend and her friend finally had enough and told my dad. That's when the split came between my mom and her friend. After my dad and mom split up, my dad and my moms friend started becoming friendly and later they dated and the rest is history.
I am responsible though for my parents marriage ending, I am responsible for them not having a happy marriage, I am responsible for it all because I was a bad kid and bad teen.
[FONT="]This is the first 19 years in synopsis as well as I can remember[/FONT]
We are pretty darn sure that for me in particular that I inherited the gene for bipolar and that I grew up in a home that was particularly invalidating because from the time I was an infant my mother was verbally abusive. Most mothers sing some sort of silly nursery rhyme or song to their infants and young children to get them to sleep. That is quite normal.
My mom's song was "Oh she doesn't love her mommy anymore, anymore. Oh she doesn't love her mommy anymore. And the reason that she doesn't love her mommy is her mommy doesn't love her anymore."
I would cry and cry when she sung that to me even as a young infant and she would laugh and laugh thinking it was funny.
Don't you think it is odd that I even remember the song over 40 years later?
She would run hot and cold on me. Either I was her best friend and she would dress us alike in clothes that she made for us or I was a demon child and relegated to my room to be punished. I never knew from hour to hour which mommy I would have. I dodged items being thrown at me-phones, kitchen items, food, etc.
She would tell me that I was uncivilized as a young child and thought it was hilarious when I overheard someone say something the word 'civilized' in the store one day and I piped up and said that was what I wanted to be one day. I also got the snot beat out of me for embarrassing her.
At the age of three I was sexually abused by a female babysitter who inserted various items into me. What I remember most clearly were those rubber pencil erasers that go on top of pencils. I told my mom when they got home and had to go to the doctor to get them removed. I was told to never talk about it again. Im not sure what happened to the babysitter but I think she got sent away somewhere. She was a neighbor girl and I played with her little brother so that was a big stink. I felt so guilty. My parents never talked to me about it again.
After that I started getting more obvious Bipolar symptoms but they didn't have that diagnosis back then for kids. I had problems sleeping, was defiant, would run away, hypersexual, irritable.
When I was six I actually attempted to kill another child in a six year olds pathetic attempt. We had a foster child for a few months (which was a disaster and I will never know why it was allowed). This occurred over Christmas and we both got doll items as gifts. I got a doll carriage and she got a doll stroller. Well one day we were on the porch with our dolls and stuff and she demanded that she play with my carriage. She was 5 and I was 6. I said no. We had just got them and I wasn't feeling like giving mine up right then. Well she cried and screamed and my mom made me give my new carriage to her to play with and told me that my dad was going to spank me when he came home. This was a threat I didn't take lightly.
My dad didn't spank me often but when he did, it was a really bad thing. My dad had a belt that was from his time in the Marines that was two inches wide and 1/8th inches thick. It had a big buckle on it and when he whipped me with it, it hurt and left big welts on me. I hated and feared that belt!
When he got home, my mom told him to whip me so he came in and told me to take off my pants and he would whip me. I cried and begged that I didn't deserve to get spanked. It didn't matter. I was getting spanked. I ran. It didn't matter. They found me. I got whipped until I had welts up and down my back and legs. That buckle hurt so badly.
The next day I made some 'soda pop' up for my foster sister with a little bit of kool aid and some of my mom's perfume. Basically a cup of Kool aid and about an ounce of perfume. I just knew I was gonna kill her if she drank it. It was my intention. Obviously, it wouldn't kill anyone. I doubt she even drank more than a sip. I left it for her after telling her to drink it and ran away. I don't remember what happened after that but she wasn't there much longer.
I played doctor with other kids my age and kids older by 3 to 4 years. Anything to be accepted. I was also never happy. None of the photo's of me at parties show me smiling. I couldn't take social activities because I didn't understand that sort of thing. I was socially awkward. I was different.
My mom wouldn't allow me to dress the same as other kids because she made my clothes. She made me stand out. All this time she was also doing the whole push me pull me routine at home with me being her best friend one day or minute and her enemy the next. I didn't know who to trust. I had no one to trust. If I thought I had a friend, they normally would turn on me and tease me.
So basically I was a typical early onset bipolar kid living in a home with a Mommy Dearest and an absent father who only showed up to beat me with a belt that left welts that sometimes nearly bled. I think he beat me probably 10 to 15 times in my life that I can remember before I snapped and put him up against the wall when I was in my teens. What my mom did was worse though…more insidious.
When I hit the age for Junior High it was decided I would leave private school and go to the local public school. Oh boy! It was like throwing a lamb into the lion's den. I had been in private schools for years so I was fairly insolated. We must remember what decade this was too. The mid 70's. All anyone could think of was sex, drugs and rock-n-roll. I was dumped into a large school full of kids in 7th through 9th grade with raging hormones, who were still into defying all authority, and only wanted to party. And I looked like a geek for the first semester. Then my mom handed me the copy of 'The Happy Hooker' and I suddenly became very popular!
In 8th grade, I really went off the tracks. I had my first boyfriend in 7th grade but he was a good catholic boy who respected girls and didn't want to derail his future so he refused to do more than kiss. Good thing because I had no self control. But in 8th grade, I had met my first 'real' boyfriend. Didn't take me long to begin to have sex. I was just 14. This boy was 19.
All this time, I am still dealing with my mom going through her cycles of either being friend or foe. She would get me in the car and want me to go out and eat then get mad and not feed me and storm home. She would not buy food for weeks. My dad would have to give me money to go buy groceries. My mom would buy food for her and hide it in a cooler where only she would have access to it. We were not poor people. My dad was doing quite well for us.
My mom didn't have to work but she had a part-time job where she met a woman who would become her best friend (and is now my step-mom!). My mom and P, best friend, would get together all the time and itch and moan about P's philandering husband. He really was a louse. On occasion they would follow him to spy on him. This really fed into my mom's paranoia about men, about people in general. She would come home and feed me lies about my boyfriend and convince me that he was cheating on me because we weren't together all the time because he lived one town away and he worked full time. She would get me into the car and we would go to where he works and put a piece of reflective tape on his car so we could track him. How absurd!
Later she would accuse me of making her do all this.
Then she told me I couldn't have my boyfriends over to the house and sit and watch TV and have snacks in our family room. She bought me a brand new TV, stereo, bedding set with sheets and comforter. She told me I had to entertain my boyfriends in my room only. With the door closed.
I later found out that she had drilled a small hole in the coat closet in the foyer that looked directly into my bedroom. She could stand in that closet and see whatever was going on in my bedroom…especially what was happening on the bed. No wonder she gave me that special mood lighting. Remember, I was 14!
I stayed with this boy until I was 15 but when I broke up with him that was when I started drinking and smoking pot. It started the night I broke up with that boy. I went to a party to celebrate a play we had put on. I was upset over breaking up and I got drunk drunk drunk. I didn't even make it home that night. I slept with someone I don't even know who it was. I ended up meeting my next boyfriend at that party though. One of his friends told him he needed to hook up with me because he needed an experienced girl. Sigh.
Life at home was getting more out of control as my teen years got more chaotic. My mom was trying to rein me in and I was so out of control at this point there was no getting me back. I actually laughed at her. I told her that unless she was willing to send me to boarding school, which I would gladly attend, just shut up. This woman would buy me beer, buy me liquor and then tell me to come home at 8 pm. Nah, Im not listening to you.
At 15 I still only had a few people I would get high with because I was so scared and paranoid. I had a small posse of friends. One stuck by me like glue. She was my lifeline. I never went anywhere without her all through HS. She understood my mom was crazy and didn't blame me for it.
By 16, things were getting so much more out of control. I was able to drive which really gave me freedom. When things were bad at home, I just took off, and I mean took off…for other states or other parts of my state! I was heavily into pot and sometimes drinking though I didn't particularly like hangovers or throwing up. I would also manipulate my parents into giving me their credit cards if I wanted something…anything. If I wanted new clothes, I would throw a major hissy fit until they coughed up the master card. It worked every time. I did work at 16, I was proud of that. In fact, from age 16 until 18.5 (which will be talked about later) I worked almost continuously. I just also partied after work.
By 16 ½, my boyfriend John had graduated HS and started college. That was a major turning point in our relationship. Before that, we had been like twins in that we looked so much alike and we were HS sweethearts, even though we did party. We were pretty tame really. Once he got to college we got into more of the heavy stuff. He also had a dark side that came out once he was away from home. His dad was a wife beater. It only came out once or twice before he went away to college and he tried to keep it at bay so hard. Once he was away from home, it was extremely hard for him to contain. Being with him when he was under the influence of alcohol was extremely risky. We both started doing acid, Quaaludes, and other assorted pills. I remember one time taking a whole box of OTC diet pills because someone told me you could get high off them. Ugh was I sick! I would stay at his dorm for a week at a time and not go home. My parents were livid. I was 17 by this time.
I quit school at some point in here during 11th grade. All this stuff is running together now. My parents did tell me that if I wasn't going to school then I would work. So I did. Well, I decided this wasn't what I wanted so I decided to go back to school. Problem was my mother decided to find me a private school for problem kids. Unfortunately she didn't check to see if it was accredited. It wasn't. I spent three months of the end of my junior year there and the first three months of my senior year there only to find out nothing I did there would count! Another problem, one of their teachers liked to have sex with the students! Me! I was thrilled because it gave me easy A's and I thought it was all consensual at the time but now I know just how wrong that was. Because of this snafu, I ended up getting my GED the end of June 1980 even though I did continue for what should have been my senior year in a public school.
During my 17th to 18th year I was all over the place. I can't even begin to tell you everything that happened to me or what I did. I know I did more drugs than I can even begin to recount, ran all over town, (LDM would know many of the places I was around and could attest to the fact that they were not the most reputable areas…lol), I attended a NORML event in Difficult Child (think Woodstock), spent most of one summer on a boat in VA beach picking up guys, got pregnant by a boy at 17 and had an abortion, met a girl and fell in love a month after that abortion, got kidnapped and raped 4 months after meeting that girl WITH the girl.
Now I will go into the rape/kidnapping.
Cindy and I worked together at a gas station. She had come to meet me school that fateful day in June. It was the last day of school. We were walking home because both sets of parents had confiscated our cars to teach us a lesson about being in a relationship with each other. This was completely bogus considering we were both 18 and older. I was 18 and she was almost 20. Stupid of them. So anyway, we were walking home to my house to get my car because we knew my mom wasn't going to be home that afternoon. As we were walking along the side of the road, a vehicle approached and stopped along the side of the road and opened the door and asked us if we wanted a ride. Two black guys were in the front seat. We said no, that we weren't far from our home. They asked again and said…come'on, we can party and while saying that the guy on the passenger side got out and pulled a knife and grabbed her and threw her in the back seat and then grabbed me and threw me in. They had a pack miller pony's in the car. I will never forget that. Can't stand to look at them still to this day.
I will spare you the gory details but let's just say it was not a pleasant experience. It was made worse by how we were treated afterwards too. One of the cops was absolutely horrible to us, calling us names and saying we deserved it and probably liked it. It was a mad house at the hospital when our respective families arrived and they started screaming at each other how it was all my fault and I had set it up and all these other awful things. I was never allowed to see Cindy again, they took us away from each other and refused to allow us to contact each other. Her parents sent her to a mental institution to 'cure' her of being gay. Ha ha. I was forbidden to go visit. I was devastated.
My mother's answer was that all I needed was a big 'Richard' and all would be right with me. I must have had a momentary lapse of judgment and if I just got 'rotated' correctly and many times then I would forget all about what had happened to me. She refused the advice of doctors to get me into counseling but instead found any male who would come stay in my bedroom. Hence, my first husband. He was the brother of a girl I knew in passing at a store in the local mall. He had just been tossed out of the Navy for bad eyesight and returned to our town. I met him once and we were talking in the mall while having a soda together.
My mom saw us and she invited him home to have dinner. She then invited him to go with us out of town for a weeks vacation! Of course, he said yes. She arranged for the two of us to stay in one room and her in another. I was just so emotionally blank I didn't care. I had basically lost everything at that point. I had lost my partner, my safety, my identity, my very soul. I didn't care what else happened to me. Go ahead, do anything to me. No one else can hurt me anymore. I was basically dead inside from then on. I started drinking and taking any drug I could get my hands on from that June 12th until September when I found out I was pregnant. I was just devastated again when I found out I was pregnant.
About this time, the court case came up for the rape. It was another zoo. Cindy's mother was screaming in the courtroom that it was all my fault, I set the whole thing up. The ADA was trying to shut her up because the defense was eating it all up. They were yelling back that they couldn't have raped us, we were lesbians. Yada yada. OMG it was awful.
I managed to talk to Cindy and tell her about the baby. I told her if she wanted, I would leave Bill and go with her and leave everyone else behind. We could be together just her, I and the baby…just say the word. She just had to tell me then and there because I had to plan my life now…not in another six months or another year, I had to deal with life now. She couldn't do it. She told me she wasn't ready to make plans. Okay, I told her I loved her, I would always love her but I had to move on.
I married Bill and had the baby. That marriage didn't last. He was an abusive SOB. I knew it going in. We didn't know each other and it wasn't even close to something that should have happened if it wasn't for my mom.
Meanwhile my mom is consistently telling me what trash I am, how I can never do anything right, Im always wrong, Im responsible for everything, and now she has a new target, my baby and my marriage. Im responsible for getting raped, Im responsible for not being able to stay married, Im a lousy mother…and here it comes…do things my way or I will tell the courts that you were gay once. Looking back I should have wondered how she would have proved that one but it sure made me jump.
After I left my ex, my mom filed for separation from my dad. That was the best thing that ever happened to him but it really upset him at the time. They had been married forever. She was trying to force him into retirement and he wasn't going to be forced. I don't blame him in the least. He wouldn't have been happy. She really took him to the cleaners too. She started to slowly take out money long before she started the process and he didn't know it because she controlled the finances. Her downfall was that she told her best friend and her friend finally had enough and told my dad. That's when the split came between my mom and her friend. After my dad and mom split up, my dad and my moms friend started becoming friendly and later they dated and the rest is history.
I am responsible though for my parents marriage ending, I am responsible for them not having a happy marriage, I am responsible for it all because I was a bad kid and bad teen.
[FONT="]This is the first 19 years in synopsis as well as I can remember[/FONT]
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