I am alive, happy, productive and helping other Survivors. Very Blessed. My childhood and teenage years where so difficult I truly believed suicide was the only answer. My first attempt was at 9 years old, I took all  the pills in my dad’s medicine cabinet. I got a buzz then my stomach pumped. Suicide was always on my mind since the abuse was everyday. If  it wasn’t physical abuse, it was constant mental abuse by my mother. At the same time I saw my mother physically and emotionally abused by my alcoholic stepfather.

At 13 years old I left my abusive life behind. It sounds great but you are so wounded you don’t want to look anyone in the eye, they may hit you or call you names. My mind stripped down and filled with trash, my mother took every drop of confidence I had. Over time my confidence grew and I started building who I am today. I did get called names and had a couple good fights . Sounds like any teenager trying spread their wings.

I have many unresolved emotions, responses and fears. Who doesn’t? What I can say for sure, I’m a survivor and so much more. Survivors have to dig really deep after being kicked down. It took years for me to discover what I liked and longer to get over my fear of failure.

My mother told me I was stupid all the time. I know better when I look at the books I’ve read. I do research on the internet and find internal medical presentations. Last week was a 155-page presentation by the FDA on ECT to the medical community. I didn’t just find it, I understood entirely and told my husband about it. I’m not stupid.

I love art, music, photography, interior design, ancient history and archeology.  At the height of my career, I earned over 300K a year, #1 in the sales force.  I can grow beautiful roses, and collect antique cameras. I love travel and went to Russia by myself. I’m not stupid.

I’ve had over 20 ECT Treatments while battling the Black Dog, married three times, and started drinking at 9  years old.  I’ve made plenty of mistakes while building the person I am today at 50 years old. I’m a survivor and so much more.

I am not stupid!

Warrior

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 too loud, noise was not allowed in the house, and he was an alcoholic with major control issues. I was 9 years old, my brother six & half years old, and our two step-brothers were 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 that 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 anymore. I took the nine dollars I had saved and ran away. I thought my mother was going to die, but 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 think about what another mother would have done. Hugged their child right away, acknowledged how confusing and painful it must have been, and explained it was not the child’s 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 cared for 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 where I can talk about the past. 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