the big one

I've held onto this one. This is perhaps the one I may never let go of. It changes you.

She made a decision. One that brought my brother into this world. She was not faithful to my father and my brother is the proof of that. I love my brother. It's not his fault. She completely broke my family. She chose his father.

She would sneak him into the house we lived in on base while my father was away. He would hide in the car  as we passed the entrance gate. He would stay at our house and their door would be closed and I was left alone. I was only 5. I knew something was up. I grew up way to fast and this was where it all started.

She became pregnant and we moved out with him. My parents began the awful process of divorce. He did something and ended up in jail. She gave birth to my brother while he was in jail. My father was there for the birth. My father held him before his own father ever did. He helped my mom recover from the birth then they promptly seperated. He came home from jail and it began.

The abusive behavior, rages, fights and screams. I still hear it and remember how scared I was. He hurt her. Badly. Often. Punching her, slapping and pushing, choking her. I heard the excuses she gave people about the black eyes and bruised ribs and bloody noses. He threw me a few times as I tried to escape and call for help or to stand in front of her and protect. As a 6 year old.

He wanted to move. All the way across the country from California to Rhode Island. She didn't know what to do. I begged her not to do this. I begged her to choose me. She didn't.

We moved to Rhode Island. My brother was about a year old. He went ahead of us and she flew with 2 small children from California to Rhode Island. My brother broke his arm in the layover at Chicago. We landed in Rhode Island and it started up the very next day. We stayed at his parents home for a while and the abuse continued and everybody acted like they didn't know. Like they couldn't hear her screams and calls for help.

He ran her over with an SUV. Nobody did anything. He punched her so much her teeth came out. Nobody did anything.

She married him. It was June and hot and humid and I begged her not to do this. Choose me. She didn't.

The abuse continued and one day we made an escape. We ran. We found a shelter to protect us for a bit. All I had was what I could carry in my backpack. Some clothes, a toothbrush. This is the year I changed schools 10 times. He found us and we went back to him. Then escaped again. One time he found us driving along a road and he tried to make us crash. It was the night time and he was driving a white mazda truck. I'll never forget those tail lights. He rammed our car and kept on us for a long time. That was before cell phones. There was no calling for help.

After staying at many different shelters and safe houses somehow we got to go home. We flew to Arizona. Stayed with family and drove back to California where we stayed in a shelter for a while. I never felt safe. Never felt like I had a home, a place to call mine. I was always worried, on edge, knots in my stomach, afraid he would find us. It took a very long time, over a decade to become comfortable with getting the mail by myself, going to a grocery store or walking in a parking lot.

I wish she had chosen me, for once. This experience made me. It was so impactful on my life, my personality that it crippled me and made me untrusting and scared.

hurry! hide your success

Since I moved out and got my degree and got married and began earning a decent living....I've had to hide my success. For example, if John and I treat ourselves to something like a new DVD player, when she comes over, we hide it. Not because we have to but because if we don't, this is what we get, "Must be nice."

I don't like to be made to feel ashamed about the successes that I've earned in my life. So, I hide them.

John and I have done this since we moved out together to avoid making her feel bad for not being able to have the same things. I've always been a little bitter about the subject because she chooses to use her money in certain ways and we choose others. Our choices have allowed us to enjoy life a bit more, spoil ourselves from time to time. I shouldn't be made to feel bad about that. I've also been confused by her reaction. Aren't parents supposed to want their kids to be successful? I know I do.