Original post 4/2014

My brother and I called our stepfather a Nazi because he was mostly German and he would beat our mother unmercifully. Her crimes as we knew were not having dinner ready or not warm enough. The kids were to loud, noise was not allowed in the house, he was an alcoholic with major control issues. I was 9 years old, my brother six & half years old and our two-step brothers where much younger. They came to live with us after Houston Social Services found my stepfather the better parent. Of the choices, he was.

Their mother was a drug addict. He never saw the boys after the divorce. By the time they were in the court system, they had been left at home for up to two weeks with no food, nothing. The youngest in the same diaper. The youngest experienced trauma so severely he regressed to a baby. Her addiction took over her life for that matter she may have forgotten she had kids until she came down enough.

I hated my stepfather from the beginning, he didn’t wait to start controlling everything. He rarely talked to my mother it was always yelling. It was very complicated for me. I hated my mother for abusing me but it still hurt when he beat her. We had a long hallway that passed our bedrooms. When he was out of control he would walk my mother down the hall hitting her head and body from side to side down the hallway. The hallway ended in front of my bedroom, it was hell on earth.

One night my life changed for the worse. She was screaming, pleading to stop, you could hear her head banging on the walls. He kept saying he was going to kill her. It wasn’t the first time he had threatened but something in her voice was different. They stopped in front of my bedroom. I was so scared, I cracked the door and he had a knife to her throat a little blood falling down her neck. I knew he was going to kill her, I couldn’t sit there and listen. Then what would he do after that? I’m 9 years old, more mature for my age but a child. I struggled with guilt for leaving her to die but I could not hear her cry any more. I took the nine dollars I saved and ran away. I thought my mother was going to die, I didn’t think about the consequences. He’s yelling with a knife to her throat, she thought she was going to die by the look on her face.

I rode my bike a couple of miles to my boyfriend’s house. His parents were so normal. They offered me something to drink and eat, put a blanket around me and let me tell the story. They said I could stay for a while to let things cool down at home but they would have to call my mother. I didn’t think my life could get worse, wrong. At 9 years old it spiralled straight to hell that night.

My mother drove up, I knew the beating would start the minute I got in the car. We turned the corner and she started laying into me barely staying on the road. When we arrived home, I’d reached the point of not feeling the pain. I believe if nothing else happened to me, this night alone would have fuck me up bad.

I logically think what another mother would have done. Hugged their child right away, acknowledged how confused and painful it must have been and explain it’s not the childs fault. I never had normal. I tried to kill myself every chance possible from that day forward. I cut my wrist deep at school, God wouldn’t let me go. I endured much worse until I left home.

I prayed for God to let me go. I had no more fight in me. God had more lessons for me to learn. Looking back I’m so thankful. I would not have been able to create a close to normal life. More importantly I wouldn’t have been able to hold my grandmother’s hand as she died. I would not have taken care of my grandfather as he was dying.

The only time I’ve cried is thinking about my grandparents. They were the only two people who loved me unconditionally. God built my strength, I could be there for them and the person I am today.

All of the above is collateral damage, I packed away. I see a Therapist and when I can talk about the past we do. We focus on my fears as an adult. If you’re a Survivor of abuse, I hold out my hand and give you a hug.

Warrior

13 Comments on “Nine years old living in Hell

  1. This just broke my heart Warrior. The abuse you suffered and witnessed was deep, but you are AMAZING. Amazing to overcome it, and to blog about it – we can all take strength and lessons from your grit and courage x

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    • Thank you but I’m in awe of the group. I’ve not suffered anymore than any one else. My grandparents made the difference, without them there would not be a blog. I’ve been behind in writing you. I think I have the Sunshine Award info done. Should I use you WP e-mail to have you look at it. I’ll also need help in coping the logo. Thanks for the kind words.

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      • Hi there Looking!

        I wish you didn’t feel in awe of the CTC – it is in no way to compare our hurts and sufferings, but hopefully we all benefit from working together to share our stories and survival strategies.

        Also, I don’t need (or expect) to see your award acceptance post. It’s yours, and whatever you want to do with it is entirely up to you, my friend. On the other hand, if you want to send a friendly email about anything else – even if just to let off steam (we all need to vent sometimes) – I’m here for you 🙂

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      • My insecurities ask me what I can contribute. Did I provide any value to the Lady yesterday. I love being apart of the group, take my commitments very serious. I also in a way reached the career goal I set when very young. I wanted to be a photo journalist for life magazine. This isn’t a magazine but you can’t get any closer to life. I had someone make a comment about a post and it scared me at first. I know I’m not that great of a writer and she was writing like I was Twain. I still have issues with taking compliments. I love them but don’t always know how to reply. As for the Award, where do I go to get the graphic to use in post? Thanks.

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  2. Dear Lord….this completely breaks not just my heart but anyone reading it I’m sure….I sit here blinking tears back, swallowing hard, feelings of comfort for you and such anger at your mother, (sorry) but I too am a mother of girls and this is exactly what infuriates me, why have any children at all..you were 9yrs old….9…what were you to know…I am so sorry – but like StrongerSoulSurvivor said, you are here, and that in itself, is amazing… 🙂 BIG HUGS 4 YOU AWESOME PERSON YOU !

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    • Thank you for reading and feeling the depth of pain. 9 yr olds are supposed to be innocent children,playing having friends and in a good environment spending time with parents. My whole life has been trails, I didn’t know why at the time, wanted to die many times, but my grandmother told me once God will let you know why when it’s time or he may not tell. As a child I didn’t have faith, I felt so much hate and pain around me. God showed me the reason for the trials and living.To have the strength to take care of grandparents while they were dying. I kept them at home which is what they wanted.I learned more about love and sacrifice in the 9 years they both died.I use to tell my gramps when I was a little girl I would take care of him when he got old. It was painful but an experience I wouldn’t trade.Thanks for the kind words. I have disassociated and buried the bad. Writing is a way to say out loud, I can’t keep it all buried. When I write I don’t think it’s me, it’s some story I saw on television. I can cry for others but not myself. The trauma was just to much. Pray for me. I feel your hug.

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