Could my step dad possibly have seen his successor in my abuse in my Ex?

Before I start..........

Today, I finally created an FB Perfectly Imperfect page and I am so happy I did. So far the feedback is amazing and I can't wait to see how far it/we can go. My blog became so much more than I thought it would and my hope is for this page to do the same. I want everyone to be able to tell their story or even just listen...There are no rules just openness and honesty. Oh and letting everyone know that no one is alone. That's probably the one thing that I love the most about this. It is amazing to know that I am not alone in what I felt, what I went thru and what I continue to go thru in continuing my journey.



Ok, so for obvious reasons I've been thinking of my Step Dad, Ed, a lot the past few days. Trying to wrap my mind around the new information I received and trying to figure out what to do with it. Oddly enough I also have been thinking a lot about my ex. (For my safety and legal purposes I won't be giving his real name or occupation. So for this blog etc I'll call him Antonio Rojas.) I'd be lying if I said I was surprised that I was thinking of him lately. I can honestly say there is more times I think of him than not. He shaped my life as much as Ed did just in a different way.

Yep, I am a walking cliche to a certain extent. The saying girls end up with men just like their daddy weren't lying. Sad thing was at first I had no idea Antonio was an abuser. He did everything right, said everything right, had the perfect job etc etc... I was totally caught up in the fact he was the perfect guy for Ed. Yes, I was still trying to make Ed like me and happy.

Antonio came from a single parent household, overcame a crazy home & family life, worked to get scholarships and make something of himself. Pretty heady stuff for my step dad who loved the self made man. Plus he saw another person he could add to his "Perfect" life picture.

Now, I wonder if Ed knew just by looking at Antonio that he was just like him. They both had the charming and manipulative personality. They both commanded their jobs with authority and garnered respect for the work they did. Hell they both did work for the community at large for those less fortunate. As I look back I can't help but wonder if they didn't see a kindred soul in one another...??? Could my step dad possibly have seen his successor in my abuse?

I said before how angry I still get at myself for falling into an abusive relationship especially with the abuse I suffered thru as a child, not to mention what I saw my Mama go thru. Up until Antonio I tended to date men who were emotionally unavailable which worked since I was emotionally fucked up.

So, this is one of the other things I still have to work thru because I can't tell you how he did it but he made me believe I couldn't live without him. It was slow and steady and by the time I realized what had happened and who I had become, I was trapped. 

If you haven't been thru it it is so hard explain how it feels. I had no idea how to get out... all I thought about was making it from one day to the next. 
He had so many ways of keeping me in line. I swear Guantanamo could use him. He'd ignore me for a few days and then all of a sudden be in my space telling me how stupid and useless I was. Then he'd be sweet, kind, caring and treat me like a princess. 

He hated when I would go anywhere without him, even if it was just going somewhere with my Mama, so he would always "mark" my body, where my clothes would cover the bruises, teeth marks. He said since I was a whore and he couldn't trust me he felt the "marks" would show I was taken.

Now I can see how fucked up that logic was. If I was so awful why would any other man want me?? If that was true than why did he have to "mark" me. I never thought of any of that... I was so lost to myself I really thought he was the only man who would ever want me. My step dad did a great job of putting me down and eradicating any sense of self worth I felt he was the best I could do.

So, I guess it makes sense that I've been thinking a lot about both of them the past few days....

I have to admit I am not sure if this post tonight makes total sense and I promise to fill in the gaps as I go on. Now that we have the Group Page you can email me a question you have and I promise to answer it in my blog. But tonight this was what I was thinking and feeling....

Good Night for now my Bitches ;)
~LilBitch

The Dead speak & Evil still exists.....

So... Monday night I sat here and wrote about how I thru the adversity of my past I became the person I am now. Even though I still had to work on some things here and there. Ironic that my past would come and bite me in the ass less than 24 hours later. From a hand that stretched straight from the other side, from the grave.

Now, before I get into what happened to shake me to the core I want to explain about some of my central beliefs. As I have said before I'm not religious. Not to say I am an atheist I'd say I am more of a spiritual person. I believe guilt is a useless emotion... Because unless I do something patently horrible the reasons I did something made sense to me at the time. So I make no excuses, I don't tell people what they wanna hear just because and I don't live my life to make other people happy. Bottom line, I'm honest...

There are two final things I believe in and they are... that dead are never really gone or lost to us, all you have to do is listen. And lastly and probably the thing I believe in most strongly is evil and that evil never truly dies. Therefore I know the essence of my bastard of a Step Dad is still hanging around.

How do I know the essence of the bastard is still around??? Well, not 24 hours after I wrote my last blog my younger sister sent me an email. Now she didn't send this to me with any malicious intent. She sent it to me after reading my blog and it was in turn having her more readily remember things my Step Dad said to her about me. She hoped that it would give me a different perspective in what I already knew and a better understanding on why our (her & mine) was so difficult and how we really didn't have any relationship at all.

Needless to say it blew me away and not in a good way. It showed me what I worked so hard to get thru and make sense of in order to be where I was ok with myself etc.... well it was based only on half facts. Leaving me wondering if any of what I have done is worth it at all...

Like I've said before, I started this blog because I wanted to tell the truth about my life and experiences... maybe learn something new and hopefully help someone along the way. Well.... I definitely learned a helluva a lot yesterday.

My sister has given me permission to post the email she sent to me. I respect her for allowing me to do so. It's not easy putting your past out there for people to see and discuss so I want to publicly thank her now(again).

Here is the email from my sister.....

                    Reading all you've written so far with a totally open mind and no judgment... that was my basis for going in and reading the blog. So far it's been really eye-opening. I thought I would share something else that I've just now *realized* was a thing thanks to seeing childhood from a different perspective. What I write might be emotionally difficult so be prepared for that.

I remember that dad used to discourage anything I did that made him think of things you would do. It wouldn't only be for negative things, but any positive things too, except for sports which we both know dad was fine with. So if I wanted to do my hair and makeup all pretty like you always did, or if YOU did my hair or makeup or nails, dad would say things like "You going to be a slut like your sister?" This was constant, *all the time* he would warn me NEVER to be anything like you were, never to have anything in common with you, and I would be scolded for any behavior that he associated with you. If I got a C he would say "You going to be stupid like your sister?" If I didn't want to do an extracurricular activity, it would be "you going to be lazy and useless like Lili is?" You can imagine, or remember, countless examples of the same type of thing. "Don't be anything at all like your sister. Don't even LIKE your sister. She's bad."

So what I'm saying is, in some ways we didn't get lucky with genetics and didn't have enough in common with to start with. In another way, dad made sure we wouldn't like each other in any way at all. He also made sure my image of you was constantly negative. Anything bad or negative was associated with you (whether or not it was true you possessed those negative traits), even good things or neutral things (like looking pretty and taking care of yourself was turned into being a slut.) All these things were abusive remarks made about you as well, implying that a child could be 'useless' or 'worthless' or just plain stupid (without acknowledging that you had severe learning disabilities in some subjects and without acknowledging that you were very naturally gifted in social and emotional intelligence which actually gets a person further in life than book and school smarts.)

When I was little I'm sure you remember I had two cabbage patch dolls. One was a regular cabbage patch doll with brown hair and one was a 'preemie' baby doll with blonde hair. I remember beating the everloving shit out of the doll with brown hair who was clearly the older doll. I would yell at it and punch it repeatedly and slam its face into the ground. One time mom asked me why I hurt that one doll so much and I remember telling her just, "Because she's bad." Mom asked, "What did she do?" And I said, "She's just bad and she was always bad." That's how I was trained to think of you, that you were bad and always were bad, were born bad, and nothing good could come out of you. This was quite young, too, probably around age 4-6, and already I 'knew' what your role was according to dad.

It took me years to realize that wasn't true and to get out of that brainwashed state. It got better only in the past few years *after* unfortunately we stopped talking, and I don't even honestly remember why that happened. But anyway, I thought I would tell you why, and tell you that it was NOT your fault. You are not bad. No one is born bad, and you were not a bad person and still aren't. But it felt important for me to tell you that's why. I didn't dislike you for anything other than being trained to dislike you. Anything 'you' was negative. Even playing games with you, watching movies with you, talking to you, or hanging out with you in any way was a punishable offense, even if I was just scolded or reprimanded for it later.

I hope maybe this helps in understanding why I did things I did and why I said things I said. When you think back on those times, I hope it gives you more perspective too (and helps your self esteem which we both have issues with) because maybe it's a side of the story you didn't fully know. Maybe you did know, but I wanted you to know that *I* know it now, and reading your blog has helped me further understand it.

 

After I read this I felt like I had been beaten all over again.... Pain was the only emotion I felt for hours and if I am honest I am still kind of in that place. It is taking a lot for me to process this. I can't help but feel ripped open and raw.

 

Unfortunately or fortunately I didn't know he was doing this.... I knew he hated me, said things of that nature to me about me all of the time. I know abusers love to manipulate people/victims but I really had no idea he was doing this to her. I mean, yes he was doing it to me but he was using her to do it. I thought in my own sick way she was lucky and I was diverting his sick, sadistic abuse to myself solely. I was wrong..... 

 

I never asked my step dad for anything since I knew it was pointless but I did ask for a few things and the one I wanted most was a sister or brother... He used the one thing I wanted most in the world to hurt me. He claimed to love her so much and yet he damaged her by his spiteful, vindictive and sick behavior.

 

I always thought by taking the abuse in a way I was doing good because my sister stayed "golden" for him. Her grades and friends etc were what he wanted....

 

I'm not even sure if I am making sense anymore... All I knew is still the same but all the new information has me questioning so much. How do I take this and process it to where it becomes a part of "the stronger me"...?

 

I told you I believed evil existed and never totally leaves.... I told you I believed the dead aren't truley gone, that you just have to listen.... Well, evil paid me a visit thru my sister (thru no fault of her own) and no worries Pops I fucking heard you loud and clear!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But please hear me..... It may take me time to work thru this BULLSHIT you just threw my way... and yes it hurts like hell... I can just imagine the happiness you derived from my tears the past two days... But know that I am stronger than I used to be and in the end YOU WILL NOT BREAK ME!!!! You lose!!!! I will work thru this and use this to be a better person and to help other people as well.... So, yea, You Lose!!!! FUCK YOU!

 

So, now my blog has become more than it was supposed to be... It's going to be about my healing, again... But That's ok... Just like any other journey it has changed....

 

Thank you again to my sister for having the guts to write me that email and for reaching out not to mention allowing me to post it. Thank you to my Mama for her love, support and her encouragement in doing this. I think the best revenge is telling my story, our story... Pops never wanted us to tell anyone what went on behind closed doors. ;)

 

Most importantly thanks to all of you who read and listen to my story and have sent me some of the best emails and have been so supportive!!!!! Not to mention when I hear that my story is helping someone I know what I am doing is right.... My mission has become making sure no woman, child or man ever has to go thru this alone....

 

Love Only....

~LilBitch

 

The good, the bad are why I became me... ?

I know it says a lot about my childhood when I have a weirdly sketchy recollection of certain time frames of my life. Happy memories to be exact while the bad memories are vivid. A few therapists told me it was my psyches way of protecting me, some said that it was just that nothing too important happened at the time. More blah, blah, blahs.... I have always felt that I remember the bad things so acutely because that was what really shaped me.

I think it was in a Psychology Class as well as a Doctor I spoke to who said by the age of 5 or 6 the core of you, emotionally, has been shaped to who you will be. God Bless.... Now that explains a lot doesn't it. Unfortunately I'm inclined to agree. I had so much happen from the time I was born til the time I was 6 that I can't see how it wouldn't have shaped who I am. Therefore making it impossible to undo.(Not to mention the chaos in my life didn't stop at the age of 6 but continued on for a long time.) 

Now I am not saying that I believe you can't overcome these things you just have to find a way to incorporate them and work to not let them become your whole being but just become a part of who you are. The truth is that every experience in your life shapes you. Good, bad or indifferent I am who I am because of it all and I like who that is. Not all of the time, since I am still working on myself (like writing this blog & sharing my story) but all in all I think I'm a pretty cool chick.

Now, before someone reading this calls bullshit I want to make it patently clear, was any of it easy...? Hell No!!! Was it difficult...? Hell yes!! I didn't start dealing with any of this and I mean really deal with any of it til I was over 30 yrs old. The excuses I made were many... There were plenty of times I did give up. Mentally I went to a very dark place where I was so lost in the beliefs of what my Step-Dad had pummeled into my head over the years I believed I deserved the abuse at the hand of a man that I believed I loved. The really sick thing was I believed he loved me. The pain, physical & emotional, was normal and I became comfortable there. I didn't "feel" anything but pain. I was numb to everything but the pain. Pain made sense to me.... I bled and luckily, I survived.

I'm sorry but I think that's all I can give tonight. Dramatic, maybe, but I can feel a lot of this again right now. I need some space and some time to think.

For now...
~LilBitch

Do you really lose hope...

Hope is a funny thing. I know a lot of people say "all hope was lost" or that "hope was fleeting". Then you have those who rely solely on faith... my all time favorite "You must have faith that God will provide!" Unfortunately God's idea of what I needed and what I really needed didn't always sync up. And even when I believed I had no hope left I realize, now, I never really lost all hope.

I grew up in a Catholic home and each week we went to Sunday mass (Mostly Saturday Night's)... Oh and the Obligatory holidays such as Christmas, Easter and the Saint whatever days etc... Now, my Granny prayed everyday while my Step Dad was such a "good" Catholic he went every morning during the week as well. I guess it is true when striving for "perfection" the devil is in the details... pun intended.

When I was young I would get put in a pretty dress and we'd go to church where I recited everything verbatim, sung the hymns, which I swear Catholics have a thing for death march sounding music and people watch. I also prayed a lot. I prayed that my step dad would be in a good mood when we got home. I prayed that my Mom's drink before dinner would be just one and not turn into a before during and after drink. I also prayed that I would be the kind of daughter my step dad wanted so I wouldn't make him angry. If I was lucky my step dad was in a good mood but the rest usually didn't happen. I figured God had more important things on his mind.

When my sister came along church was a little more bearable... mostly because she was a colicky baby. So I got to go into the "crying" room with her. I may not have gotten my prayers answered but I got to play w/ the babies in there so it kind of seemed like a good trade off. Plus the added bonus of Joanne settling down when I held her.

This was quite apparent her first Easter. Joanne was just about a month old and she was fussing thru out the morning. I even have a picture of her all dressed up in her Easter church outfit crying. Anyhow, that was the day that we all learned that when I held Joanne she stopped crying. Which on the one hand was pretty heady stuff. I mean all the adults couldn't coo or sing to her enough to calm down but a 5 yr old could.... I felt like I had a purpose/role in the family, finally. That in itself gave me hope....

Now, the downside, that I didn't understand until later, was that Ed (my Step Dad), really thought she should be "his" whenever he was home. I guess it really ticked him off that I took that from him. Maybe he didn't pray enough for patience or something? Who knows but now not only was I the baggage step child that didn't do what he wanted or stay in the place he decided for me but I, in his jacked up way, was usurping his time with "his" daughter.

I'm pretty sure this is around the time things with he and I went from bad to worse. It used to be if I did something he didn't appreciate he'd make what I called his weasel face and kind of tsk at me. He still did that but then the arm grabbing, dragging, spanking & jerking me around. Oh and the added bonus of angry words.

The first time I really remember him being physically and verbally abusive was during the summer I was around 6. Mom, Joanne and I had been at the pool all day. I always loved summer... the pool & camp for the first part of the summer and then going down the shore for the month of August. 

Anyway, we came home and took showers and the other part I loved about summer was Mama would let my hair air dry since it was so warm out. So I was sitting at the dinner table playing with my hair not doing much eating and Ed got agitated. He gave me the look the tsk and told me to show my good manners and stop playing around. Ok, so being 6 I guess my idea of not playing around and his wasn't the same when less than 5 minutes later he growled and slammed his chair back. I was startled and scared when I saw him coming towards me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me out of my chair. I told him I was sorry and wouldn't do it again, to be honest I'm not sure what I was doing but I would've said anything at that moment. He started yelling about me playing with my hair and and I didn't listen and he was going to teach me a lesson. I guess I tried to pull away from him because the next thing I knew he had me by my hair and was dragging me up two flights of stairs.

I screamed and cried and apologized but he didn't seem to notice. I remember looking for my Mom and she was calling to him from downstairs but I don't think he heard her either. This was the first time I really saw the devil in him. His face turned a mottled purple and his veins in his head popped out. For a moment I really thought I was going to die. He finally got to my bedroom and swung me into the room by my hair. I remember hitting into the side of my bed and crying, telling him I was sorry. He was still yelling about bad girls with no manners and how I didn't listen....

I should have never turned my back on him but at that moment I just wanted to crawl on my bed. Somehow that made him more angry... He grabbed me by my arm and I turned just enough to see him raise his hand. He didn't just "spank" me and he did it more than once. He finally left my room telling me to learn my lesson.

I'm not sure how long I cried or how long it took but my Granny came upstairs to my room and went to hold me and comfort me. She was the first one to see the hand prints and it was the first time I ever heard her call my Mother with a tone of voice that even scared me. My Mama came upstairs and she looked at the hand prints and she was silent.

Granny was talking to Mama and I don't remember what she said but I do remember the look on my Mama's face and how quiet she was. Then all of a sudden she left my room & closed the door on her way out. The next thing I heard was her yelling at Ed, screaming about what he did, the marks he left on me... I couldn't hear what he was saying it was all murmuring. Eventually I fell asleep and the next morning no said anything about what happened the night before.

That's when I started learning about the great art of silence... No one knows what happens behind closed doors etc etc... It was also the time when I began to realize God, church & religion weren't going to save me.

The only one who would talk about it with me was my Granny. I'd always ask her why he did the things he did or say the things he did. She never really had an answer but at least I didn't feel like I was crazy. There were so many times I went to my Granny for safety or just solace. She gave me my hope and she helped me keep sanity. Even when I was 20 + yrs old she would make room for me on her rocking chair with her and just gently rock me. We didn't even need to talk... I always feel her with me and to this day I miss her.


I think I rambled more than enough tonight... Thanks for listening....

~LiliBitch

Mad at myself.....

In starting this blog and writing my story(s) it's almost like I opened a flood gate of sorts. I am remembering things that I haven't thought of in years and therefore tonight my mind is all over the place. So, I apologize in advance. Remember, I didn't promise chronological order but I did promise the truth.

Yesterday I got an email from someone who even though I haven't seen her in years I still consider her a friend. She has been following my blog and was encouraging me to continue. She was one of the only people who really "knew" me even without me ever having to tell her everything that was going on in my home. She just knew & understood... See, I told you, I gravitated towards people who had craziness, abuse, neglect etc... in their lives without even knowing it.

Anyhow, I met her thru a friend during the summer after my sophomore year of HS. We both had a lot of similarities in our home lives and well, we just bonded. I don't even know if she realizes how much she did for me or grounded me when I needed it. We could laugh over nothing, cruise in her Volare (the car you had to lovingly pet and pray she'd start), we'd buy a new outfit, do our hair and make up and go out dancing at clubs on teen nights. All the things you take for granted when you are a teenager. I fought for her literally and cried with her when things got too bad for either her or I.


There are two times in particular that stand out for me where I fought for her... The first was a bitter cold night, middle of winter in NJ cold night, and we were hanging out with a bunch of our friends and she and her boyfriend has a huge blowout nasty fight. I remember afterwards following her out to the porch and sitting down next to her, putting my arm around her and we sat in silence. I'm not sure who or when but someone brought us a blanket and we just sat out there for what seemed like hours smoking and thinking. Just being quiet.

The second time she reminded me of yesterday and even though I have remembered the incident over the years this time it made me mad, at myself. See, we (a bunch of girls) were all supposed to go down the shore and stay at one of our friend's sisters rental house. I'm not going to say we were going to be angels or anything but apparently her boyfriend decided she was under no circumstances going with us. He had the balls to come to my house, as we were packing up the car and convinced her to get into his car and leave with him. I knew she was only leaving with him so things wouldn't get worse and he wouldn't make a bigger scene. Well, needless to say me and another of our friends decided that enough was enough... I knew he was going to hurt her. So, we went to his house and we kidnapped her. And yes he was pissed but hell it made being down the shore so much sweeter that weekend. Yesterday she told me that day turned her life around and what me and our other friend did opened her eyes to what the relationship was.

Now I bet you are wondering why this made me mad at myself, right?? Ok, here goes... I grew up in a house that was emotionally abusive and when my step dad was feeling really giving he was physically abusive towards me. I had a few friends that had been in moderately abusive relationships, here and there, and I always listened and tried to help but never judged. Not to mention the one friend I just talked about, who was in a seriously fucked up relationship and I kidnapped her ass because I couldn't stand the idea of her in pain. So,  how in the hell did I allow myself to fall for, be with, make excuses for and stay with a man who was no better than any of them and if I am perfectly honest he treated me 100% worse than my step dad???

I never looked at it from that perspective before. It may sound stupid but I didn't really get it til last night after I read her email. In my mind, until last night, I was still glossing over what he did to me and how bad it was. I know I lost myself and who I was... Lost contact with friends and allowed him to control everything.... Where the hell did the girl who kidnapped her friend go??????????????? How did that girl fall into the classic abusive relationship?????

The simple answer and what my shrink would say is, "When you grow up in chaos and abuse blah blah..." I don't want to even finish that statement.... that answer isn't what I want.... Right now I want to be mad!!! At my step dad, at me, at my ex.... I just wanna know where the fearless girl went....

I think that's it for now....
~LilBitch

Happy never lasted long...

The reality of normal or the perfect family is something I still don't really understand. I know that there is really no such thing as normal or perfect but in the sense of emotionally healthy, I have no clue. I tell my husband all the time that his upbringing and family dynamic is like Leave it to Beaver for me. My reality was the polar opposite. I doubt he and I would have even been friends back when I was young... Somehow I always gravitated towards people and made friends with those who came from some form of familial dysfunction. Very rarely did I have "normal" friends. I didn't feel comfortable around them not to mention it was very difficult to hide my dysfunction from them.

That being said I still had dreams of a happy family. All we needed was a new baby. It seemed all my friends were getting baby brothers and sisters and they were all happy families. In my 5 yr old mind I figured a baby brother or sister would make us a happy family too.

On March 21st 1980 my baby sister was born!!!! I was beyond excited... I knew everything was going to be perfect. The day my my Mom and Step Dad brought Joanne home from SC., yep, another perfect bought baby, it was cold, drizzly and chilly but I could have cared less. I was getting a baby sister.

Which makes what happened next prophetic.... My best friend from nursery school's Mom came and picked me up from school that day. She could tell how excited I was about Joanne coming home since I couldn't stop babbling on about it!!! I was even telling her infant son all about how great it was going to be. Then BAM! A truck hits our car. Yep, we got into an accident not 10 mins from my house. Now to a child who watched CHiPs, Emergency and Dragnet, not to mention we were all fine/no injuries, I figured it'd take 5 minutes ... You know, like on TV. Reality, I was stuck in the car with a screaming infant for what seemed like forever while the cops, my friends Mom and the Garbage Truck driver, yes we were hit by a garbage truck, discussed and made reports etc etc.... Nothing like a screaming baby to shake my "I'm getting a baby sister" excitement never mind the getting hit by a garbage truck. I mean seriously Freud would've gone nuts with that!

By the time I got I got home and waited for what seemed like hours my excitement had returned and by the time my Mom walked in holding my baby sister I was beside myself. I instantly wanted to hold her. My step dad said no that I needed to wait. He didn't trust me to not drop her or hurt her. So I waited... went and sat patiently on the couch next to my Mama and held her tiny little hand. She had the biggest blue eyes I ever saw, lots of light almost translucent blond hair and what I now call the cutest pinchables (cheeks). 

We (Me, Granny, Cynthia, Mama and my Step Dad) were all in the TV room and for a few moments were happy. I eventually, thanks to my Mama and Granny, got to hold my sister and I really believed everything was going to be alright. Everyone was enamored of her and she wasn't crying, which was a plus after my experience earlier in the day, and I even got to feed her a bottle. Life was good.

Good never lasted long in our house. While I was basking in all my big sister glory I heard my Mama and Step Dad arguing in the other room. She was upset that he was leaving to go to a business dinner and not spending time with his family. I mean now I can say it but seriously??? He just brought home his new daughter!!!!!!! Anyhow, Mama's begging and cajoling and well arguing didn't change his mind. Yet again his public persona, business was more important. Her parting comment was something like "at least you don't expect me to go."

Yea, happy never lasted long....

I knew Mama was upset, Granny was pissed, Cynthia left and went up to her room... I sat and held my baby sister. My Step Dad and I still were at odds, amazing how a five year old and a 60 something year old can be at odds but we were, so to be honest I kind of liked that he left. At the time I couldn't explain the feeling of fear that I had when he was around so when he left I felt peace even though I felt bad Mama was so sad.

I eventually gave up my "hold" on my sister and Mama took her up to her nursery and got her ready for bed. I stood right by her side the whole time. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She was my wish come true... Mama eventually put her in her bassinet and me and Granny said the prayers we always said together to her for the first time and sang her a our bedtime song.

We all eventually left the nursery and Mama got me ready for bed. Well as best as she could since I was still flying from being so excited. I said my prayers blessing everyone especially my baby sister and then Granny sang to me. I eventually fell asleep, with a smile on my face I'm sure. Only to be woken up by screaming and wailing like I never heard before!!!

I jumped out of bed, I was so scared... I ran into the nursery where I found my Mama, Granny and Cynthia with a very, very unhappy baby.
I slowly walked over to the rocking chair and asked what was wrong with her. I don't really remember what anyone said but I was remembering the baby crying so much earlier in the day and I wasn't feeling so happy about this baby sister deal...

I remember asking if she was broken and if we could take her back. Mama chuckled at me and said no... So I did the only thing I knew to do that worked on my friends brother earlier in the day.... I gave her my finger to hold on to and whispered to her. I wasn't the only one who was amazed but she settled down. Looking back on that night it was a good thing my Step Dad wasn't home yet, because maybe it was foreshadowing, but that night at that moment Joanne became my baby. Something that would be a huge issue between he and I til the day he died.

Little did I know that morning when I woke up that what I once wanted so much would turn into something that I ended up wishing I never got. Not that I didn't or don't love my sister but when they say be careful what you wish for, well... they mean it.

Yea, happy never lasted long.....  

  

To know me and start to understand me you need The Beginning... The Long version....

Before I started this "journey" I felt it was necessary to talk to my Mama & my sister just to make sure it wouldn't upset them or piss them off. True, I am putting my story out there but it is their story in a lot of ways too....   Which in turn made me realize that yes, I'm still an enabler and secondly their responses shocked me. My Mom instantly told me she thought it was a good idea that would most probably help me in my healing etc.... and my sister was adamant that I do it but not to forget what a good person I was. There responses made my decision to do this blog seem more than right.

If I am totally honest I wasn't worried about my Mom's reaction. She's gone thru her own hell and thankfully come out the other side stronger and better. She works on herself every day and is happy!!! I love seeing her happy! She and I talk quite often about the time during my childhood and later on, the abuse (emotional, physical), what it was like for us individually and together. It's amazing how we coped and how we survived. My Mother found solace in a bottle and well, I didn't really find solace for a long, long time.

As for my sister she and I have a difficult and extremely hard to define relationship. I am not sure if she feels the same way but I've always felt a huge divide between us and for two people who were raised in the same house we are really nothing alike. It sucks... I mean this is the sibling I wished for, literally.

One of my most vivid memories was every night when I said my prayers before bed I'd ask God for a baby brother or sister. Months and months of prayers and then all out begging my Mama.... Then one day my Mama and Step Dad, Ed, came home from a buisiness trip and gave me a wishing star. It was just a clear plastic star with water and glitter in it. Well, morning and night I 'd shake the hell out of that thing and ask for a baby brother or sister. Finally, my Mama told me I was getting a sister!!! To say I was excited was an understatement.... Things were already horrible with my step dad and well I kind of figured having a baby sister would be something good.

To understand the dynamic/relationship between Ed and I guess I should start from the beginning.... My Mom and Dad were married in 1967... He was wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy older than her, around 30 yrs give or take a few. Anyhow, they tried to have kids and were unable so on May 27th 1974 I was brought home from Charleston, SC. to NJ. The perfect bought baby... LOL

From what my Mama has told me the marriage was strained from family interferrance, his, since she was younger and not from money etc etc.... (Sounds like a movie or book script doesn't it?) Then because our family can only have bad luck my Daddy got sick and he was diagnosed with Alzheimers. So now my Mama had a toddler and a husband who needed constant attention.

Mama would tell you at around this time her drinking became more of a crutch than social. Especially when she had to deal with his family. I think the word acrimonious has their picture next to it in the dictionary. Aside from my Aunt Anna. She was my cool spinster Aunt who never gave my Mama crap or treated me like a bastard child.

Needless to say my Mama had to make the tough decision to put my Daddy in a nursing home, yep... that went over really well with his family, not! I never understood how they thought she could take care of me who was just a toddler, him who was becoming more and more erratic and couldn't care for himself??

Around this time my Granny came up from Florida to help out. Mama worked part time with an attorney who was a family friend and we went and saw Daddy whenever we could.

One of my most best memories of this time is sitting on his lap on the patio of the nursing home, feeding him and cleaning his face with a napkin. It was a sunny day and Mama and Aunt Anna were there and to a small child he seemed happy. Those days though were few and far between. Some days he would scream & cuss when I would bouncd into his room and say he didn't know me or he'd call me by the wrong name. I would cry of course... I just didn't understand. I know I didn't really know him but I loved my Daddy. He was my one and only... I still miss him, even being adopted I look at pictures of him and I and think we kind of look alike. 

The ides of March 1978 brought the death of my Daddy. My Mama was told it'd be best if I didn't go to the wake or funeral and in the end she aquiesced and I never got to say good bye to him. I can't express how much that still hurts even today or how many times I just wanted my Daddy. Even now...

My Mama being of the generation that was all about getting married and have a family started dating about 6 months after he passed away. One man was a butcher with 11 kids and lets just say I made it quite apparent I didn't wanna be the 12th!!! He was just weird but I think he thought I was the devil since I'd take the dolls he brought me and take their heads, arms and legs off and creatively reaarange them. ;)

Then Mama was asked out by Ed. I didn't like him from the get go and even better Granny didn't either. He was older than my Mama by the same amount as my Daddy, had a fake smile and I just knew he was a bad man. My Mama saw stability for herself and her family and to be honest he just sucked her right on in. Played on her emotions, said and did all the right things. Four dates and a Tiffany ring and he had her and me, instant family.  

I didn't learn until much later he was actually part of their social circle atleast on the periphery and he was involved in some of the same charitable organizations. Going to galas etc etc... The see & be seen while donating money.

He started the striving for "perfection". He got a readymade family that fit into the perfect vision he had. The beautiful wife, cute daughter, beautiful house... It was good for his career, it made him look good to the public and well it just looked really pretty. The only thing he didn't count on was me... Oh and my Granny.

Right before the wedding he pulled me aside and essentially demanded I'd call him Dad or Daddy because he "was" my Daddy now. I told him I already had one and he wasn't my Dad. (I was almost 5, what did he expect?) He told me my dad was dead and never coming back so I'd better get used to calling him Dad. Yea.... Not sure how he thought that was going to work out...

After the wedding I basically ignored him. He terrified me. He wasn't even trying to be nice anymore, my Mama and him fought a lot and Mama started drinking a lot more. The only times that I was comfortable in the house was when he was out late at buisiness meetings or on buisiness trips. Then it was me, Mama, Granny and Cynthia our housekeeper. I felt safe, even with the drinking....

Even though Granny and Cynthia weren't fond of him, to put it lightly, they encouraged me to try and give him a chance. Now that I think about it I realize the situation must have been killing my Mama so they were jut trying to help her. So, I worked hard at making him like me maybe even love me but it seemed he had given up on me. Of wanting a real relationship with me.... I was never good enough... I was too loud or too quiet. I didn't eat enough or fussed over eating a brussel sprout. I was ungrateful, I was too messy and I made my Mama sad.... I was fucking 5!! I still tried though. I tried to be the little girl he wanted.... and then Joanne was born. I was so happy, Mama was happy and he was happy. He got "his" baby. She was perfect... blonde, blue eyed adorable. And she was all his... and all of a sudden the only time he ever paid me any mind except on a rare occasion was when he was telling me how bad I was, stupid I was, how fat I was etc etc... In his mind he had his child and I was just baggage. Funny.... he treated Mama the same way.


Ok, I think I rambled quite enough.... I really didn't expect to write so much....

Bye for now
~LilBitch

First thoughts...

For years I have struggled with the truth of my life. I grew up in a home where the outside looked "Perfect" but the inside was a dysfunctional mess. We had a beautiful house, took great vacations, spent a month at the beach every summer, belonged to a country club, met politicians and even celebrities. The truth... Yes we did do all of that, had all of that but we were a messed up family. I had one emotionally abusive parent and one alcoholic parent. We all lived a lie. Guess it isn't much of a surprise that I ended up in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship myself which took me forever to get out of.

I guess that's why I am starting this blog. I have never told everything/truth to anyone. Some know more than others but even my husband doesn't know everything. It's time to tell the truth. My truth.... My story.... Without fear.... I'm stronger now and I think by telling my story I'll be come stronger and hopefully learn more of myself. Not to mention maybe my story can help someone else get out of a bad situation or maybe even realize that they are in trouble.

Thanks for listening so far. This is definately going to be one helluva ride...
~ LilBitch