Victim, Then Volunteer. Hence, The Hidden Torment

Hello Everyone, my name is Beverly. And I am a 61 year old w/f who has been married for 43 yrs. with 2 grown sons and 2 grand children whom I barely ever see anymore since their Mother left my youngest son 5 years ago with his best childhood friend. My eldest son and his wife couldn't have any children. A real pity since they love kids so much. But they take care of other needy children a lot so they are happy enough. I was born in Washington D.C. in February of '49, but we lived in Virginia. And I don't know why on earth my Mother told me this but she said that my Father began whipping me right after I was born when I cried. I was also told that if I had never been born then none of this wouldn't be happening. Which made me feel responsible the rest of my life growing up everytime he beat her or me, which was often. She also told me of all of the ways in which she had tried to abort me and that I was just to stuborn to leave. And how she had gotten a scholarship at the University of Ohio for her art but because of me she didn't get to go. As a child I truly believed all of these lies and became the care-taker in my family. I was the first born, then in June of 1952 my brother, Bobby, was born.He was handicapped and had pneumonia 19 times before he was 3 years old. Then in Dec. 1954 my sister, Debby, was born, and she was the baby. My Mother was RH negative and Mom nearly died and Debby also so the doctors told Mom it would kill her if she had anymore children.
So now I had 2 more to take care of and try to protect. All kinds of awful things happened to me then, so many in fact I don't know if I'll have room enough here to write them all down. I tried to kill myself for the first time when I was in the first grade. I remember it well. All of the baby-sitters I had were also abusive in a number of ways and when I did tell my parents I was whipped for telling lies so to speak and punished even more. They didn't believe me.The one I had when I was in the first grade, Mary Ellen, would completely undress me and lock me in the bathroom with the window open, the lights out and the door locked, then tell me that if I didn't pray to the devil he was coming to get me through the bathroom window and if I made asound then he'd get me anyway because he'd hear me and come in and get me and burn me up. THen I'd beg her to let me out in whispers and she'd go outside by the bathroom window, chnge her voice and say that she waas the devil come to get me. This kind of crap went on for hours and because of my Fathers abuse and perfectionistic teachings I never argued or screamed outloud but everything inside me was screaming for mercy. And the shame I felt from being naked was also horrendous to me because of all of the terrible things that she would say. I suffered with kidney and bladder infections all my life growing up because of holding it when I needed to use the bathroom, but I was so afraid to go in there I just couldn't help it. I am left-handed, and back in the 50's the teachers tried to MAKE you right-handed whether you liked it or not. At least the one I had did. I always had to stay in at recess and write lines and was hit on the back of my hand for using my left hand to write. And I often fell asleep in class because of staying awake at night listening for my Dad and the hell-raising to start. So school was kinda more safe to sleep in. I saw it as a much safer place, even getting my hands whacked so much was a breeze for me. I even laughed at the teacher one time when she hit me and told her that didn't hurt. God I was used to so much worse I didn't understand that this was seemingly disrespectful or being smart-aleky. To me it was like playfulness until she about exploded towards me. THen I was scared of her to. Later on in the year after school let out my Mom went to work or was at work when my Dad home, got a gun and tied my hand onto the bedposts in one of the bedrooms in the house and put my brother and sister on the bed and began ranting about killing us all and he was going to start with me. None of us dared move, then my Mother came in and a big fight ensued. Mama managed to get me untied and grabbed Bobby And Debby, still an infant and told me to run. Daddy kept grabbing hold of me and Bobby but with all of the fighting I was doing and my Mom we managed to get loose. Mom told me to run across the street to the neighbors house and she followed with my brother and sister. Immediately I began swelling in my face and throat with hives so bad that I couldn't breathe and the old lady there got a popsicle stick and held it down on my tongue to try to keep my airway open. The police were summoned and there was a stand-off between them and my Dad. I was in and out of consciousness, but I do remember hearing the police ask my Father to let the medics take me to the hospital that I was dying, and he said, "No, I'll kill anybody who tries to go in or come out of that house including her!" We didn't live far from an air-force or army camp so they were called to help out. Somehow they lined the sidewalks with shields of some kind protecting their bodies and I was carried out to a waiting ambulance to the hospital. I heard brief gunfire, but then we were gone. I never found out what else happened after that because I was released to go home at daybreak. I remember being so terrified of him and the cab drove us right up to the front of our house and I was franticly asking Mama if he was coming back and as she put her key in the lock, she assuerd me that he was not coming back and would never hurt me again. That she would see to that. She put me to bed and even let me keep the light on in my room this time because I was so afraid. Believe it or not folks, and this is the gospel truth, I was awakened by the sound of his voice and my Mothers around noon laughing, kissing and acting as if nothing at all had happened right outside my door in the hallway. At first I thought maybe it was all a bad dream, then I saw the needle marks on my skin and knew it wasn't, that it had all happened. And I absolutely knew from that instant on that I was totally on my own to take care of myself and my brother and sister. There was never another doubt at all inside me about that. But the pain and the responsiblities of that were just more than I could stand then and one day while I was out walking and roaming my happy places, one being a very small creek that emptied into a huge drainage basin where 3 more the same size also emptied into it. These pipes that drained were nearly big enough for a Volkswagen to drive into and it was real deep. I remembered my Mom telling me after a storm once not to go near it again because if I fell into the pit where all of those pipes drained into it then I would be crushed and killed. The very thought of not having to face one more day with my Dad gave me such divine peace just thinking about it that I ran to the pit. On one side I saw a man in his backyard. It was fenced in from the pit but he saw me and yelled just as I jumped in. I don't remember anything after that that day or for days even weeks after that, EXCEPT for the wonderful peace I felt. It was something that I had never ever felt in my life before and it was all consuming and wonderful. The next memory I have was of us moving from there in the dead of night. And only taking clothes, blankets, sheets and a few other soft items. Some lady that owned a station-wagon drove my Mother, brother and sister. I had to ride in the car all alone with my Dad in the front seat. I still remember sitting on the edge of the seat clutching the edge of the dashboard. Daddy was famous for falling asleep at the wheel and this night was one of those. I kept seeing his head bob and then hearing a snort or snore and I'd say, "Daddy?" hoping he'd wake up but not be mad enough to hit me. This happened several times, then I felt so much anxiety at even thinking about speaking again, I just sat therer as the car went over an embankment into the deep stream filled with Shale rock. We crashed nose and bumper head-on into the creekbed. The next thing I remember was him pulling me out of the car and putting me in the station-wagon with Mom and the others. My head was badly swollen and bleeding but we never went to a hospital. We just kept on traveling. I'm pretty sure that Daddy was on the run from court for the gun thing. We moved several more times after that, always in the middle of the night all of us stuffed into the car with our few belongings. Me Bobby and Debby all squeezed into one-half of the back seat nearly on top of each other. Belongings took up the rest of the space. THat first night we moved to a different part of Virginia. I was in the second grade and hadn't even been in that school 2 weeks when on day at noon, just as I sat down to eat my lunch in the lunchroom, my Dad showed up, grabbed me by the collar and said, "Come on, lets go!" The teachers tried to stop him, but he couldn't be stopped. I was always a tomboy and preferred playing with boys and had just made a new friend whom I felt especially close to and comfortable with, but we were on the move again. I begged Mama to let me at least say good-bye but the answer was no. So that was when I decided, No more friends, it simply hurt to bad to have to keep leaving. I cried so much. I think that was the very first time I was aware of terrible heart-aches. I felt so alone and cold. But I resolved myself not to ever let anyone get close to me again. At that time in my life I had so much lonliness and stress, fear and emotional pain that one more thing was just more than I could bear. I was all alone and I had my brother, Bobby and my Sister, Debby to take care of and protect. And I wasn't even sure how to protect myself, it all depended on me being the Best Kid in the world. I somehow had to master perfection to keep Mama and Daddy happy or else take the beatings that I was absolutely sure neither Bobby nor Debby could handle. I HAD TO HAVE THE ANSWERS WHEN THE QUESTIONS WERE ASKED. So I began to become whatever my instncts told me I had to be and I became a near expert at reading people and following my instincts. I've never been good at sitting in the open, I've always needed to have my back against the wall. And answers? I am known as the go to person if you need any kind of information. I know a little about a whole lot, but not a whole lot about any one thing except human behavior. At this I am pretty darn good! It is also extremely hard to this day to have someone walk behind me. So I don't go out very much, but I have survived more than just abuse at the hands of my Father. As I said earlier, I made up my mind not to make anymore friends, not that I had much opportunity, I was never liked in school and always taunted in one way or another. But that never bothered me. What did bother me immensely though was to see the kids taunt another student, because I so deeply understood what they were probably going through and then I would fight like a dog if neccesary for them. But not for myself. For myself I just didn't give a ---- or at least that is what I tried to make myself believe during those hard years. And besides I had all I could handle every day just trying to keep on top of everything at home. There I got no rest and at school not much more. I lived in a constant state of anxiety and to this day at 61 I do not know how to have fun when around others. I did learn out of neccesity how to relax by myself and that is gardening. And that all didn't begin until after a complete emotional break-down that put me in a mental hospital for 2 months. I turned 40 years old in that hospital. The doctor who treated me said that he had never treated anyone as co-dependent and unable to express any kind of anger because of things done to me before in his life and he was close to retirement. One morning when we were to all join up to talk about our night in the hospital and how our medicines were working I was told not to speak when it came my turn to talk, we would go around the circle and each one was to tell about their night or any problems they were experiencing. They did this to me three days in a row without anyones knowledge that my doctor had requested that they do this to me to make me angry. Each morning I when it became my turn, the nurses or social worker would say, "We don't want to hear anything that you have to say." On the third day of this I began feeling a burning in the soles of my feet then a trembling that began to vibrate up my legs. The shaking started and continued moving upwards in my body with me doing everything in my human power to try to stop it, then I actually began jerking like I was having a full-blown massive seizure and I hit the floor Wreathing and jerking like crazy and the nurse got up and ran to the office, came back with a shot that she gave me to calm me down. I was carried to my room and the nurse and social worker then told me that this had been a planned experiment on me to see how long I would take it before I stood up for myself ordered by my doctor. He came in shortly after that and appologized to me himself and explained his reasons for it. Because of the abuse I couldn't stand up for myself. It was then recommended to me again that I attend CODA meetings and Al-Anon meetings. I had tried them already, before I was put in the hospital and it scared the living ---- out of me. At the end of the meeting the were all hugging and the only man in the room had grabbed onto me to hug me and I couldn't say a word. He told me to keep coming back and actually gave me my first Al-Anon book. I was crying so hard inside that I thought I would explode from trying to hold it all in. I was trembling and shaking from head to toe. And I had so much trouble just trying to breathe that I didn't go back. One of the ladies in the room recognized my suffering and told me that she thought I could use more help than just them and suggested a Social Worker, one that she saw and gave me her card telling me to call her. I didn't. I down played everything that happened to me or that I felt. But then I began to have blackouts, times that I couldn't account for and didn't know what I had been doing during that time. Until one morning. I thought I was okay. I felt okay except for those swishing times that had begun to happen to me, when it seemed as if everything on earth was racing around my head so fast that I couldn't make anything out, but I was in very slow motion, if moving at all. I called these moments Swishing motions around my head. Anyway I was on my way to the extra room for the vaccuum cleaner and as I passed through the living room I glanced at the clock on the wall, it was 9:50 A.M.the next thing I remember was my youngest son knocking on the door to the room I was in. It was my sewing room, the door didn't lock so I had apparently moved the desk with my sewing machine on it in front of the door and I was on the floor behind an old recliner I had in there with pillows all around me. My son had just gotten in from school and was knocking on the door and asking me if I was in there and why wouldn't the door open and what was in front of the door that he couldn't move it and was I okay? All of these things and all I could think of is, "It was just 9:50 A.M. why was he already home from school and how did I get here and who put my desk in front of the door?" all of these questions along with the knowledge that it HAD to be me were hitting me simultaneously and fear hit me hard. I had been so good at covering up and hiding so much for so long and now my son knew something had to be wrong. He was 15 when this happened and I was never one to lie to my boys. I did however ask him to not tell his Dad about it. I wasn't on any medication at the time and I became even more depressed to the point that I was suicidal. I broke down one day and called the suicide hotline because I didn't want to hurt my sons and I did at least know then that me taking my own life would hurt them really bad. They were all I lived for. The suicide hotline began to call me everyday to check on me urging me to get a counseller or go to a CODA meeting or an al-anon meeting. So I broke down and called the Social Worker on the card that the lady had given me and told her a little bit about what had been going on. She immediately set me up an appointment and I began seeing her. She finally got me to agree to see a psychiatrist, (very hard thing to do after what I had already gone through in the past with them in the late 70's and early eighties, another loonnng story.) I agreed and the appointment was set, but it was around 35 miles away in a neighboring Parish, (I now live in Louisiana) And some things happened just before that appoinment that threw me over the edge and I was going to try to kill myself on the way. Except for an ANGEL God placed in my way in the form of an Eighteen-wheel driver. It was November 1988 and it was cold, dark, gloomy that day when I left for the appointmentI was traveling Interstate 12 at a good clip in my old 71 Chevy Impala and crying so hard that I was having difficulty seeing. Then it statred to rain really hard so I turned on my wipers, only they didn't work. I thought what the hell else is going to happen and told God that I just couldn't take it anymore. I was behind an eigthteen wheel truck and one was kinda far behind me, I knew to keep my didtance from other vehicles on the road and had been doing just that. From all that I could see there wasn't another vehicle on the road except us, so I decided to speed up as fast as I could go and run my car up under the back of that truck in front of me, I was having so much trouble seeing the truck or the road with the pouring rain and no wipers and crying my eyes out. Then I saw flashing lights in my rear-view mirror and that big eighteen wheeler gaining on me. It startled me, then the truck in front of me pulled over to the side of the highway and the one beside me was coming up on my side getting closer and closer to my door so that I nudged my car more over to the right. I had to keep doing it though, and then I saw the rest area just ahead and knew that I was being nudged to pull over in there. Actually I didn't have much choice by then. I certainly did not want to hurt anyone else or cause anyone else to be hurt by my actions so I did. I was still crying in my car but I had put it in park and couldn't figure out why that truck did this to me, then there was a loud knock on my side window and it near scared me out of my pants I jumped so high. I hit my head then I rolled down my window and it was the man who had been driving the truck that literally made me pull in there. He said that he knew what I had been about to do and was I alright? THen he wanted to know where I was going and I told him I had a doctor appointment. He worked on my wipers and got them working again and told me that he wwas going to follow me to the office to make sure I got there okay and not to make him do anything that might get someone else hurt. I said that I wouldn't and then off we went.
This was when the doctor put me on Prozac. Well I was one of the few who had negative effects of this medication and thouroughly planned my death right down to the minute very calmly and deliberately for noon of Jan.3, 1989 only there was another Divine intervention I guess you could call it. I was blocks from my house when I suddenly developed amnesia in the middle of the road with my turn signal on and just sat there not knowing where I was going or how to get there or even who I was. Then a police officer was at my door and then I was at my Social Workers office, then she was taking me to the hospital.
I said it was okay to put me in there. I couldn't stop crying. but as the nurse was asking me questions I began remembering more and called my son to tell him where I was. Later that evening my husband showed up with the boys. I was sitting in my room on the bed still crying and my husband asked me why I was crying and when I said, "I don't know," then he said, "Well stop it!" And I instantly stopped! And I had been trying to do just that all day. And all he had to say was stop it and it instantly stopped.
I have told you just a little bit about being the victim but nothing about being the volunteer, so I'll take you back to my thirteenth year and begin there.
By the time I was 13 in 1962, we had moved at least 10 more times, from Virginia, Falls Church, Fairfax and Pimmett Hills to Akron, Ohio. Then to Baton Rouge, La. then back to Keyser, West Virginia (without Daddy because they finally separeated) then, he is back and we're on our way back to Akron, Ohio, moved around there for a bit and then it was back to Baton Rouge, Louisiana where I finished out the third grade. Yep, that is how much I moved my first 3 years of school. And then in Louisiana I changed schools 2 times in the 4th grade and 2 more times in the 5th grade which brings me up to the first time in my life that I actally lived in the same place for nearly 4 years. I moved to this address on 25th street in Baton Rouge when I was in the fifth grade just before my 11th birthday in February of 1960. We moved across the street from this house full of kids, Mom, Dad and an old Uncle who mostly cooked and gardened for the whole crew. There were 7 kids living at home there, 2 my age, 2 Bobby's age and one Debby'age. the other 2 were older than the rest of us. I am telling you all of this becuse it will be pertinent to how all of this happens in two years. We all became good friends in time. it took me longer though. I told myself that this was very temporary, don't let them in.They made fun of the way I talked and I corrected them in the way they said mayonaise and to me it was panties, they laughed at me of course because to them it was "drawers!"one thing is for certain, my Mama had strictly taught me correct english and the correct way of speaking it, so I did and do know how, but my youngest son picks on me and my slang now on a few words like "Pretty". we used to have a lot of fun with phonics when I was teaching him, this is his way of teasing me with it! Okay, I got off course again. Sorry.
Any way our parents soon became good friends and it wasn't to long before week-ends were parties, music and dancing. They introduced us to boiled crawfish and we showed them how Dad and I could sing bluegrass music together in harmony. We did love to sing and no one really knew it yet but I loved to dance and dreamed of dancing and singing. Daddy loved it when I sang, so you know I did a lot of that! And he was a yodeler, boy was he. THat man could yodel better than the best I have ever heard until his accident at LSU stadium in 61 I think when the stadium caved in where he was sitting. It supposedly ruptured his vocal cords and he could never do it again after that.
In 1962 the folks across the street were going down to this little bar on the riverbanks of where they went to fish right by the docks and sitting up above the water partially. It was a dance hall on Saturday nights and it rocked and they allowed kids and all in then with their parents and this couple took their 2 oldest daughters with them one week-end. One of the girls was 16 and the other 15 years old. Well one of the girls met a guy who wanted to see her more, so he came to Baton Rouge on the Friday evening bus that stopped right on the corner and the parents let him sleep on an old open up couch on the side screened porch. Anyways it wasn't long before he would bring a family member with him each week. I really didn't give it that much thought at the time because my parents were so strict with me. I had a lot of chores to do everyday plus I watched my brother and sister because Mom and Dad were both working full time then.
But one Friday evening in '62 I walked over after Mom and Dad got home from work it was kinda late already, dark outside and getting into fall, it was cool that evening I do remember that. So I walked in like I usually did, no air conditioning then just open windows and doors. Just knock and walk in. I headed for my friends room and then just as I got to the hall outside the bedroom door stood this angel of a man. Our eyes locked and we both froze for a second or two. God, but he was manly and handsome in his tight blue jeans and Fort Polk sweatshirt. His sleeves were pushed partially up on his dark tanned arms and those piercing blue eyes looking straight at me. His hair was curly and a mixed soft blonde color like you'd maybe see on a surfer all combed up in the '50's style. He had on boots, short top boots and when he walked he didn't walk.......He strutted just like Jeff Goldblum in the end of the movie, I think it is, "The Fourth of July" It has Will Smith in it too when they have just blown up those alien ships. Will and Jeff come strutting across the sand at the end, each with a cigar in hand. Well that is just how my then to be husband strutted! He didn't speak good English and he was very shy when he wasn't drinking. He'd just gotten out of the army a few months before coming to Baton Rouge from the bayous of Assumption Parish. He was Cajun French and that was the language he spoke best. He was the Uncle of the guy who was coming up every week end bringing someone with him, but they were only months apart in age. In fact Larry had been with Merlin in the army. Three of them had signed up together. one other nephew that was the same age they'd all served together. But my Merlin had gone to work right after he got out of service and Larry never the shy one for a party had just been round about here and there. Anyway merlin didn't want to work in the sugar cane fields anymore, he wanted something better. He wanted work in Baton Rouge. anyway when I went home that evening I got on my knees and told God that I wanted this man to be the Father of my sons. As far as I was concerned we were made for each other.
His youngest brother had already come to town and told everybody that his name was Johnny Ringo and nobody could get a straight answer out of him whether this was his true name or not. When Merlin heard this he laughed so hard he actually hit the floor laughing. Now the 3 of them had us all wondering what was true and what was not. They'd go to talking French and you didn't know what was going on. So it bacame the thing for them to stay there living on that screened in porch. It was a big porch though and surrounded by large shrubs so that no one could see in there all the way around it and it faced the south, so that was even better. Heck they lived almost that way at home. So one week end when everyone was home and in fact it was rainy that Saturday night the party was at our house and Daddy was playing music, picking on his old guitar and he and I were singing togther while everyone else was dancing. But once Mama and I saw Merlin dance it was all over! He was a master, I thought I would choke to death my heart so yearned to dance with him. Then it happened, something I never thought in my wildest dreams could happen, My Mother said, "Beverly why don't you stop singing and you and Merlin dance togther?" He was drinking that night, but when he touched my hand it was electrifying! just as if I'd grabbed hold of a turned on broken light bulb. I don't know if he felt it to but we tore up that dining room floor and everyones eyes were glued to us in lit up smiles of exileration as we moved on the dance floor
together and in complete harmony with each other as if we'd been dancing together for a life time. Only he was 22 years old and I was just 13. But I was 5'9"tall and my measurements were 36-26-36 and I had long blonde hair from being in the sun so much, plus I loved excercising and running. Running was my favorite sport and I was really good at it and fast and way beyond my years in the part of being grown up. I'd been having grown men ask me out on dates for more than a year by then and I could walk into any bar anywhere around and no one ever asked me my age. I looked every bit of 18 to 21 years old at the very least. It happened everywhere I went, but I didn't think much of it at the time. My teeth were crooked so I didn't have much to offer I didn't think. I really never thought that anybody would want me. I felt ugly all over. Mama had a large voluptuous bust and so does my sister and Mama used to pick on me and tell me she didn't know what happened to me. The party finally ended and merlin was going to see a lady home that had been at the house. and that was that. A few more weeks went by, Merlin had gone back home for a couple of weeks, and then he was back just in time to go and orchisrate a big fishing trip for my Dad and the man across the street plus a few others. They went and when they got back to the house in the dark of the evening, they had a ton of fish that all had to be cleaned and they had all been drinking so now it was time to put on the coffee pot and begin making them all coffee. My Dad barked the order out, "Beverly go make us all some coffee and bring it out here." "Yes Sir." I stated and went to do my task. There were 6 men out there including Merlin, and Larry. I fixed the drip coffee pot and poured the boiling water into it and got out the big tray that we used for big company, then the cups, silverware and the sugar bowl and poured milk into the cream pitcher and finished waiting for the rest of the water to drip so that I could pour the coffee. I had done this many times before, so I knew just what to do and how to do it. So I poured the coffee into thte cups and headed for the front door where I could hear that they were all talking really loud, and just as I stepped out onto the steps with this big tray in my hands with all the cups full of coffee, one of the men let out a loud yelp or something that really startled me and some of the cups of coffee fell of onto the concrete porch and broke, and that was it, my Dad lost it. How Dare I do anything as imperfect as this, he beagan yelling at me and ripped off his belt and headed straight for me and I had on short shorts and a tank top. But Merlin jumped in front of me and told my Father that it was just a mistake and I hadn't meant for the cups to fall and break. But my Dad was having none of it. He pushed Merlin back and told him to back off or he was going to get it. Wherein Merlin told him if he was that gungho about it come on and he'd show him what a man would do with such bull-----! He ripped off his shirt and went after my Dad. I just knew Daddy was going to kill him. But my Dad actually backed down for the first time I had ever seen him do it. I had seen him fight many times, but NEVER, EVER back down. Merlin warned him that he had better not find out that he had put a hand on me or he was going to come after him. And the strange thing was He DIDN't. He had anyway in the past when he had been warned, but not this time. I decided right then and there that this was my knight in shining armour who was going to protect me from Daddy for the rest of my life. Hence born that day the Volunteer! I really didn't know much about Merlin other then what I have already stated here. It was a rough and rocky road for the next 5 years First my Mother pushed me towards him, then when she realized how much I wanted to be with him and he with me she wanted him dead! The girl across the street was old enough to go out on dates with Larry and by then her younger sister Sheryl was too. Sheryl was just a little younger than I was and she would occasionally go out with Merlin's younger brother Jacob. We found ways to all go out together and it wasn't to the movies either as stated. It was to the notorious bars across the Mighty Mississippi River where we drank, danced and partied together. Sheryl and I, when we first met used to talk about marrying brothers and we would sit or lay in the grass in the back yard and talk about how our lives would be like all of us together before we met the guys. I guess we had enough belief in us for it to actually happen. I began to find out how much of a player Merlin really was early on, but thouroughly believed that I was the one who could change him. And get him to really love me as much as I loved him.
He got a job here and it was close enough for him to walk back and forth from. He worked until noon on Saturdays then get all cleaned up and head towards the bar and cafe part of our area. I found out the he was flirting with one of the waitresses in one of the cafes and decided to make that end. I was babysitting for 2 kids at the time, they were brothers. One a toddler and the other one just an infant. So I put on one of the dresses that I'd bought using my own working money, Tied a scarf around my hair and headed to the cafe with both of the boys in tow. When I got there I looked in to see if he was there and he wasn't so in I walked and right up to the counter and when she asked me what I wanted, I told her that I wanted her to leave my husband alone because he had mouths to feed. That Saturday he went to the cafe, but came back pretty quick and he was mad, I could tell, but he didn't say anything to me. He went out anyhow later that night but on Sunday even ing when us younger bunch would get together and just play records, he wanted to dance with me. We danced to Fats Dominoe and Dale and Grace and so many more that I can't remember them all. I didn't smoke then. But he did. He has always known that if he raises his voice about something and starts cussing like crazy, I'll pretty much do anything so he doesn't have to. And even blaming me for everything then denying that he ever did! All symtomatic of an Alcoholic. But to me, My Dad nearly all over again. He didn't ever protect me from a single thing again after that one time in all of our years together. He is so self-absorbed that he wouldn't know how, it was all for show! And I bought the whole ball of wax hook, line, and sinker! Until I simply couldn't anymore when at 39 my mind simply broke and I have never been able to do the same things again that I once did.
After I went into the bathroom and locked the door, picked up his pistol that he kept on the back of the commode, put it to my head and tried to shoot only I couldn't make that gun fire for nothing. I fell to the floor and cried and begged God to Please tell me why He was punishing me, why he continued to punish me by making me stay in this stinking world. After crying for a good while that New Years Day in 1990 on the bathroom floor, I made a promise to myself to go to Al-Anon meetings for one whole year and really apply myself. If after that time I still want to be dead, then so be it.
So that very same week I started going to meetings. And I went regularly and tried and did everything I was told to do and I began to learn about me. This was where I heard that there are no victims in al-anon only volunteers. In some cases where death has occured because of the crazed drunken Husband or Dad I totally disagree. Even in my case, I've fought long and hard to come to terms with the damage done to me as a child and then by my own husband because I was already such damaged goods that I didn't know north from south. I was and sometimes still am so good at covering up my own feelings that it may take me months to figure out what is actually going on with me. I've had some small clues only it gets so bad sometimes that I can't even remember them even if written down. Through the years I have done it all nearly. Herein lies the torment at times like now. I have had this awful feeling of uneasiness in my gut, a kind of restlessness that won't settle, an urgency of WHAT? I don't know and when you've been where I've been so many times before this isn't good at all. The fear of the unknown....What is this thing gnawing at me night and day? The things that used to settle me down aren't this time. I've known or felt one thing in my life that is real enough and true enough that I have sought it with my whole heart and soul and that is that there is a God, but my quest has been, What Kind of God is He?
I always held out some kind of hope that he might one day accept me and love me. I can remember my Maternal Grand-mother, (Who also had a big drinking problem) teaching me the bedtime prayer of now I lay me down to sleep. only when I prayed it by myself at night which was mostly the case, I would always ask God to not make me wake up the next morning. And so when all those bad things continued to happen to me I felt like God was punishing me. I even had repeated dreams of Him locking me in a wicker locker and locking it all up and around with chains and then cursing and stabbing at me repeatedly through the basket weaves with swords. Long sharp, shiny swords everywhere and I would always wake up with my mouth and face swelling up again. And yet I continued to try to win God over if I HAD to be here. Then as I grew older I began to go to churches or be invited to various churches. When I was 13 I was invited by a couple that worked with my Dad to their church. They even came and picked me up. It was a Southern Baptist Church And I was Baptised there at thirteen. The way I heard it and understood it it was sinful to dance. So then after trying so hard not to dance with Merlin at the Moose Lodge one week-end and then going ahead and dancing I felt incredibly foul. That Wednesday night the preacher was looking straight at me it seemed and saying that if God has commanded you not to do something and you go ahead and do it anyway the he will harden his heart against you and turn his back to you and never ever answer another prayer you pray to Him again. And that very night I believed that God had hardened His heart against me and was not answering any of my prayers anymore. So I have always believed that God hears and answers prayers, just not mine. But even so I did not stop going to church or believing in Him and thinking that this God who created so much beauty in this world was capable of such a horrible demeanor/charachter. I continued to search and talk to Him. I just didn't think He answered me. Then as I started to study different religeons and beliefs I began to feel him. He definitely had saved me more times than I could possibly count, including the breast cancer that the doctors, after doing tests on me, said that the cancer had matasisized to my bones and after the Full mastectomy I was scheduled for 3 types of Chemo, By drip, Pills and injections. And in that instant, I felt that I heard a huge metal door slamming and a loud booming voice saying, "Don't you believe it." And so I chose to listen to the voice that I believed was God talking to me. I did have the mastectomy, but I refused any Chemotherapy at all. The doctors were trying to warn me and get me to take the chemo. but I stood my ground. Nine months later, the head oncologist where I was going and the others were learning from came into the examination room I was in and said that he wanted to meet me Face to face, shake me hand and ask me what exactly I had done and what my beliefs were. That was in 1992. I had the Mastectomy on October 2, 1991 and I have been cancer free ever since then so far. I know that so much of this may sound negative. But there is also so much missing. As of now I have been up for more than 24 hours and writing this since the wee hours of the morning I think. Don't know for sure. But I do have a lot of wisdom I've obtained through it all. and ways to find peace, except for this last thing I mentioned. But it isn't AS disturbing to me today as it has been in past days because when I get to the end of my rope and I'm hanging on, I go back to the Book Of Job in the Bible and state just as Job did, "Tho He Slay me, Yet will I trust in Him." And it never ceases to give me some kind of peace. I'll get all of my unanswered questions answered one day when I see Him, until then I just have to really practice ACCEPTANCE each and every day and moment.Because there are no accidents, to me, it is all prearranged. Feel free to contact me if you think my listening might help sometime. I really need help to stop smoking. Can't afford them any longer and where I ordered them from can't use the U.S. mail anymore. Help!!!! Another long story about my dependence on them. And how and why it started. I pray that the God of my understanding will give you strength and peace in each and every endeavor you take and speak clearly to you in the ways in which each of you as individuals understands and grant you good health or the power to bear it though him. In Jesus name. God Bless you all with Peace. Beverly in Louisiana