After Larry's funeral life supposedly went back to normal. I mean what is normal right? I came home, went back to school, got a job, and finally was able to graduate high school 2 years later. I wasn't excited, I had to wear a dress and a pearl necklace. I don't like dresses or jewelry for that matter. My dad, brother Scott, his two daughters, my Aunt Beth, Trish and my brothers friend all came for me. That did make me feel good. After it was all said and done, my dad walked up to me and for the first time in my entire life he told me, " I am proud of you."
I went back to my home and they all headed to their homes. I later attended college, yeah I graduated but that was all that happened with that. I decided I needed change, so I packed my belongings and got an apartment with a dear friend of mine. Haha funny thing we get along great, but living together I am surprised we both came out alive. We are still great friends to this day and have been for almost 27 years. We had a lot of good times in that apartment and some dandy fights. Our lease was up and we both moved back home. I didn't want to stay with Trish so I packed my bags and moved in with my dad.
It wasn't the most joyful reunion. I was excited. This way I get to know him better I looked up to him my entire life even though he wasn't around. But YAY! I get to be with my dad. I know right, pathetic especially when you are 23.
We butted heads right off the bat. He would come home drunk and start in on me for any little thing he could find. I woke up one morning, cleaned the house and went to work that afternoon. I got off early and came home to find that he had a bowl of cereal and there was a dirty spoon and bowl in the sink. I didn't think anything of it. He came home about an hour later and was drunk, started to yell at me telling me what a dirty slob I was, selfish little bitch who only wanted his money and how I would never have anything. There was more but you get the idea. I snapped and told him all I wanted was for him to be a part of my life and he can't even be a father. He threw me out of his house and I went to stay with Scott. Scott didn't want me there so after two days he made my dad apologize and I went back.
I lived there for two years and there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't tell me what a horrible person I was, how selfish I was, what a bitch I was and how fat and unattractive I was.
I finally met a boy who said my dad was wrong and we packed our bags and moved back down south. Trish didn't live far away and shortly after we moved down here, she passed away in her sleep from heart failure.
That boy whom I later married said to me how he couldn't believe how mean Trish and my dad were to me and he swore he would never be mean to me....(he never witnessed the physical abuse) Sadly enough I believed his lie....
Sunday, September 30, 2012
More ramblings...
Where do I begin... You see I didn't know my family very well and for some reason I have this strong urge to learn all that I can learn about them. But when I find out more information, it depresses me. It explains a lot as well, but still depressing. I know my mission in this life is to stop the cycles of abuse, addiction and depression. I know I was chosen to be the fighter. But life gets a lil complicated and a lil exhausting at times.
I had an uncle who passed away before I was even a mere thought. He was killed in an accident when he was either 15 or 16. Back in those days funerals were held at the home of the families. My grandmother who was divorced from my biological grandfather held the funeral at her home. My biological grandfather was a drunk and very abusive as well, showed up to the house as they were having his sons funeral. He looked at his other son and said, "Who's the boy in the box"? He didn't even recognize nor know that his own son had died. It's sad that a drug, (in his case alcohol) could consume your life to a point where you don't recognize your own children. Which brings me to a conclusion that my family was dysfunctional before any of my dads siblings were even thought of. So this long line that I am supposed to mend, is this the reason I chose not to have children. Is this the reason my mother died? Is this the reason I was sent to live with an abusive step parent? Was the abuse in this life of mine set up so I wouldn't become an addict?
I did start drinking at a young age. I did smoke marijuana for quite some time. I became quite the lush in my teenage years and into my early 20's. When the last of my family died, which was my dad I drank almost every day, until one day I woke up in a bed of vomit and told myself I will not live that life. It consumes you, a temporary escape, but not a permanent one.
Both my parents drank, all 3 of my brothers drank, all three liked their cocaine. I liked my beer, vodka and marijuana. Now I like an occasional drink, my Chapstick and caffeine. I think by learning about my family makes me realize my life wasn't so bad, but at the same time it saddens me to know that kind of ignorance really existed, not to mention in my very own home. I guess I am going to share my journey and hope the followers of this blog doesn't get bored. Maybe my experiences can open your eyes to your own lil world or to the world of someone you cannot figure out. Maybe to that someone who just needs a simple hello and a smile. This blog isn't going to be all about my family.........I have amazing friends who I consider more my family than my bloodline.....I am grateful for them and also for the family (in the bloodline) I am getting to know....
I had an uncle who passed away before I was even a mere thought. He was killed in an accident when he was either 15 or 16. Back in those days funerals were held at the home of the families. My grandmother who was divorced from my biological grandfather held the funeral at her home. My biological grandfather was a drunk and very abusive as well, showed up to the house as they were having his sons funeral. He looked at his other son and said, "Who's the boy in the box"? He didn't even recognize nor know that his own son had died. It's sad that a drug, (in his case alcohol) could consume your life to a point where you don't recognize your own children. Which brings me to a conclusion that my family was dysfunctional before any of my dads siblings were even thought of. So this long line that I am supposed to mend, is this the reason I chose not to have children. Is this the reason my mother died? Is this the reason I was sent to live with an abusive step parent? Was the abuse in this life of mine set up so I wouldn't become an addict?
I did start drinking at a young age. I did smoke marijuana for quite some time. I became quite the lush in my teenage years and into my early 20's. When the last of my family died, which was my dad I drank almost every day, until one day I woke up in a bed of vomit and told myself I will not live that life. It consumes you, a temporary escape, but not a permanent one.
Both my parents drank, all 3 of my brothers drank, all three liked their cocaine. I liked my beer, vodka and marijuana. Now I like an occasional drink, my Chapstick and caffeine. I think by learning about my family makes me realize my life wasn't so bad, but at the same time it saddens me to know that kind of ignorance really existed, not to mention in my very own home. I guess I am going to share my journey and hope the followers of this blog doesn't get bored. Maybe my experiences can open your eyes to your own lil world or to the world of someone you cannot figure out. Maybe to that someone who just needs a simple hello and a smile. This blog isn't going to be all about my family.........I have amazing friends who I consider more my family than my bloodline.....I am grateful for them and also for the family (in the bloodline) I am getting to know....
Sunday, July 1, 2012
A Rambling
For those of you who read the previous 8 posts I have posted in my blog, please do not have any negative feelings to those that caused harm to me. You see Trish (the step mother) her mother passed 3-4 days after giving birth to Patricia. From there she was taken from her father and passed around from Aunt and Uncle to Aunt and Uncle. She was finally placed into the home of my dad and mom (her aunt and uncle). There she didn't get much of a childhood and was used as a scapegoat for my mom. An example, my mom had taken my dads coin collection and pawned it. She blamed Patricia and my dad beat her from one end of the house to the other. After Patricia died in 2001 my dad told me he was glad he had to opportunity to apologize to her before her passing. She had a lot of disorders that controlled her. You see mental illness runs in my family. My family refused to believe they exist and we all function normally. I believe Patricia had more than just depression, I believe she had some psychosis as well. She wasn't a bad person, just a person who did what she did to survive the only way she knew. She didn't love me nor did she want me. She took me because Herbie wanted me and I was a way for her to get money from my dad and Herbie after Herbie and she divorced. She didn't like my family such as my dad and brothers, she spoke ill of my mother but not much. She made it very clear even just a few weeks before her passing. The anger and hatred she had towards them she took out on me. It wasn't right I know, but it was the only way I guess she seen she could get back at them. Even though I never told them not even into my adult years.
Her situation is very sad actually. She acted differently around different people trying to fit in and be a part of something. She never really was herself. I don't think she knew how to be herself. She was always trying to gain acceptance from others, even if it meant lying and putting on a fake front. I mean seriously, how horrible that you can't be yourself because you believe you aren't good enough. No one really wanted her either growing up and I don't know the extent of her abuse, but I know it was enough to make her think she was a piece of garbage her whole life. I am not making excuses for her and am still trying to forgive her for the things she did to me.
As for the mental illness, it runs in my family, my parents battled alcoholism, depression, my dad grew up with not much affection and he raised his kids the same. My dad is NOT a bad man. He just raised his the way he was raised. As for my mom, I know she was raised religious but don't know much more beyond that. We as kids (meaning my brothers, Patricia and I) did not get hugs and kisses, we didn't get told "I love you" we were an out of site out of mind children. It was an evil cycle that dwindle down. I chose not to have children in fear that I would raise my children the same way. What if I was abusive to my children? I think the guilt would consume me, but it was how I was raised. Would I be strong enough to stop the cycle? I don't know the answer to that, therefore I chose not to have children. I sometimes regret that decision, but sometimes I am glad I made it. I too suffer from depression. Growing up, I was reminded daily that I was not good enough, that I should just kill myself like my brothers. I did attempt several times, which all time obviously I didn't succeed. Sometimes I would get beaten sometimes I wouldn't but I was always told what an attention pig I was and that I needed to grow up.
Some of this stuff carries on my shoulders but I know different and fight everyday to remind myself that I am someone, I am a good person, and though I don't have much I have everything.
\So please before you judge or make a snide remark, poke fun or do whatever you or someone you know may do to someone, remember this, you don't know what life is like for them and you may finally throw them the bullet they've been looking for to end it all. Instead, smile and ask them how their day was. You never know how a smile and a polite question could really impact someones life, you could be the bullet or the shield. Who knows you may save a life and make a friend..
Her situation is very sad actually. She acted differently around different people trying to fit in and be a part of something. She never really was herself. I don't think she knew how to be herself. She was always trying to gain acceptance from others, even if it meant lying and putting on a fake front. I mean seriously, how horrible that you can't be yourself because you believe you aren't good enough. No one really wanted her either growing up and I don't know the extent of her abuse, but I know it was enough to make her think she was a piece of garbage her whole life. I am not making excuses for her and am still trying to forgive her for the things she did to me.
As for the mental illness, it runs in my family, my parents battled alcoholism, depression, my dad grew up with not much affection and he raised his kids the same. My dad is NOT a bad man. He just raised his the way he was raised. As for my mom, I know she was raised religious but don't know much more beyond that. We as kids (meaning my brothers, Patricia and I) did not get hugs and kisses, we didn't get told "I love you" we were an out of site out of mind children. It was an evil cycle that dwindle down. I chose not to have children in fear that I would raise my children the same way. What if I was abusive to my children? I think the guilt would consume me, but it was how I was raised. Would I be strong enough to stop the cycle? I don't know the answer to that, therefore I chose not to have children. I sometimes regret that decision, but sometimes I am glad I made it. I too suffer from depression. Growing up, I was reminded daily that I was not good enough, that I should just kill myself like my brothers. I did attempt several times, which all time obviously I didn't succeed. Sometimes I would get beaten sometimes I wouldn't but I was always told what an attention pig I was and that I needed to grow up.
Some of this stuff carries on my shoulders but I know different and fight everyday to remind myself that I am someone, I am a good person, and though I don't have much I have everything.
\So please before you judge or make a snide remark, poke fun or do whatever you or someone you know may do to someone, remember this, you don't know what life is like for them and you may finally throw them the bullet they've been looking for to end it all. Instead, smile and ask them how their day was. You never know how a smile and a polite question could really impact someones life, you could be the bullet or the shield. Who knows you may save a life and make a friend..
Monday, April 23, 2012
Part 8
It was time to bury my brother Larry and my best friend. I was at my dads house. No one understood how I felt and it was like none of them cared. I was all dressed and ready to go. I went outside and was standing on my dads porch. My brother Scott come out and said, "you know how selfish this is of Larry"? "Now some drug dealer is going to starve to death." I remember that moment like it was yesterday. I felt the tears dry up, my face go red and I screamed to the top of my lungs, "why would any drug dealer starve to death when they have you to support them." I told him I hated him and walked away.
We all load up in the car and headed to the mortuary. I wouldn't talk to Scott at all. I wouldn't even look at him. How dare he say that about Larry when he has the same problem but denied it. I wouldn't even look at Larry in his casket and pretty much avoided everyone. This is my brother, my best friend, what am I going to do? Why would he do this to me? He promised he NEVER would leave me and never take his own life. I was so angry, so upset, so mad I could of spit fire. We left that night after the viewing and I stayed at my dads house while everyone went down the road to have a drink and unwind. Trish came back for a moment and said, "Well, I hope you feel better, now Larry is gone and it is your fault." "How is it my fault"? I replied. "You knew he was suicidal and you did nothing about it." she said. I replied, "I told my dad I found the note." "Alot of good that did. Hope you can live with yourself." She left and I began to cry. I eventually fell asleep and woke up the next day to attend his funeral. I got dressed and went outside. We got to the mortuary and I just kept my head hung. All these people knew his death my fault. Before they closed the casket, I decided to go up to him and say goodbye. I waited til I was alone. I looked in there and he had a smile on his face. I became so angry I wanted to punch him. "How could you smile when you left me here"? I screamed. I hit the floor and lost it. My brother Scott came in to pick me up and I started yelling at him telling him I hated him for what he said.
The funeral was over and life was back to normal. I still dwelled on his death. Why didn't I prevent it. I decided I was going to go for a walk. I walked clear up into a neighboring town which was about 5 or more miles away, found a rock in a field and sat on it. I had both Larry and Craig's picture in my pocket. I took them out and talked to them for quite some time. I let them know that I missed them and asked Larry not to hate me as I didn't mean to cause him to die.
It started to get dark and I headed home. I got home and decided to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Trish came in and said, "how was your walk"? I said it was ok. She then looked at me and said, "you miss Larry that bad"? I didn't respond. She told me to give her my butterknife that I wa s making my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with. I said, "wait a minute, I am almost finished." She said, "No, give it to me now." she then turned and kicked my feet out from under me, puched me to the ground pinned my arms with her legs and began choking me. I was trying to scream but couldn't muster out a peep. The look on her face but pure hate. I was out. I don't know how long I layed there until I came too, but when I did she was standing over me eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She looked down on me with a smile and kicked me in the side, stepped on my stomach and said, "you should of died" I stood up, put my head down and mustered, "I wish I would of."
We all load up in the car and headed to the mortuary. I wouldn't talk to Scott at all. I wouldn't even look at him. How dare he say that about Larry when he has the same problem but denied it. I wouldn't even look at Larry in his casket and pretty much avoided everyone. This is my brother, my best friend, what am I going to do? Why would he do this to me? He promised he NEVER would leave me and never take his own life. I was so angry, so upset, so mad I could of spit fire. We left that night after the viewing and I stayed at my dads house while everyone went down the road to have a drink and unwind. Trish came back for a moment and said, "Well, I hope you feel better, now Larry is gone and it is your fault." "How is it my fault"? I replied. "You knew he was suicidal and you did nothing about it." she said. I replied, "I told my dad I found the note." "Alot of good that did. Hope you can live with yourself." She left and I began to cry. I eventually fell asleep and woke up the next day to attend his funeral. I got dressed and went outside. We got to the mortuary and I just kept my head hung. All these people knew his death my fault. Before they closed the casket, I decided to go up to him and say goodbye. I waited til I was alone. I looked in there and he had a smile on his face. I became so angry I wanted to punch him. "How could you smile when you left me here"? I screamed. I hit the floor and lost it. My brother Scott came in to pick me up and I started yelling at him telling him I hated him for what he said.
The funeral was over and life was back to normal. I still dwelled on his death. Why didn't I prevent it. I decided I was going to go for a walk. I walked clear up into a neighboring town which was about 5 or more miles away, found a rock in a field and sat on it. I had both Larry and Craig's picture in my pocket. I took them out and talked to them for quite some time. I let them know that I missed them and asked Larry not to hate me as I didn't mean to cause him to die.
It started to get dark and I headed home. I got home and decided to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Trish came in and said, "how was your walk"? I said it was ok. She then looked at me and said, "you miss Larry that bad"? I didn't respond. She told me to give her my butterknife that I wa s making my peanut butter and jelly sandwich with. I said, "wait a minute, I am almost finished." She said, "No, give it to me now." she then turned and kicked my feet out from under me, puched me to the ground pinned my arms with her legs and began choking me. I was trying to scream but couldn't muster out a peep. The look on her face but pure hate. I was out. I don't know how long I layed there until I came too, but when I did she was standing over me eating my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She looked down on me with a smile and kicked me in the side, stepped on my stomach and said, "you should of died" I stood up, put my head down and mustered, "I wish I would of."
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Part 7
Well 9th grade rolled around and back to gym class I go. UGH!! Do they ever not make you run a mile. Oh I hated it. But hey it was a Friday, maybe this weekend I could go sleep at my friends house since I pretty much spent most of my time there. Her family was nicer to me than my own. They always included me in everything.
Well that was the first weekend back in school, at least I had time to be me. I didn't get in trouble and was friends with most everyone. Ok I was friendly.
Trish had some errands to run that Saturday August 20th of 1990. So we ran around and did some shopping. We went everywhere. Luckily this time I didn't do anything to make her angry and it ended up being a pleasant time. I think she even bought me lunch. I couldn't wait to get home though so I could call my friends and go "hang out" that was the cool thing to do. I was too old to play now.
We got home several hours after leaving. I helped her carry all the stuff she had just bought into the house. After everything was put away, I went for the phone. But the light was blinking, that meant there was a message on the answering machine. (Yes, the kind that had a little cassette tape in them) Trish started acting as though she was one of my friends and said in a silly voice, "Julie this is your friend call me." I laughed and hit play. Only that was the message I wish that was left. It was my oldest brother Scott, he sounded so upset. He said, "Craig is gone. We lost him."
What does that mean? I was like no. My brother Craig had attempted suicide 3 times prior to this. He had shot himself in the face with a 30 ot 6 in October of 1989. He thankfully did not succeed. He again tried pills and whiskey and carbon monoxide. He finally succeeded by hanging. I cried my eyes out. How could this be? Why would he do this to me? He and my brother Larry were the only ones who loved me..
We got in the car and drove to my dads house which was about an hour away. I was somewhat pushed to the side. Julie is too young, she don't understand, she doesn't need to hear this. I was left alone at my dads house while everyone went to the neighbors to drink.
The next day we went to get my brother Larry. I was so excited to see him. He lived out of state at the time.
My brother Larry had an addiction to cocaine. He was shoved aside more than I was. He and I were very close however. Only he would never let me be around when he did his drugs or were around those "friends". I found out a little later that the night of Craig's services, my dad and Scott told my brother Larry, "It should of been you that killed yourself, not Craig."
I spent alot of time with Larry after Craig's passing. I told him all of the stuff that Trish had done to me. He told me hit her back. A few weeks after that, I went for a walk. I was upset about Craig and when I came home, Trish greeted me at the door, (I was 15) and she slapped me across the face and said, "You're nothing more than a fucking tramp." I never felt so much anger in my entire life. I just went for a walk. I don't know what came over me, but I took Larry's advice and I punched her right in the face and said, "don't you ever hit me again you bitch." I wasn't even scared of her reaction either. She just walked off. She never hit me again either.
Larry did tell my dad about what was being done to me and my dad just ignored it. Out of sight out of mind is how he seen things.
Eighteen months after we buried Craig, I went to my mom's ex boyfriends mom's house. I called her Grandma. I loved her, she was always nice to me and both her and Trish's ex boyfriend always stood up for me. Trish had called and my Grandma hung up and said, "Julie needs to go home now." I said, "I don't want too, I just got here I wasn't bad." Her ex boyfriend put me in the truck and started to drive. I looked at him and said, "Larry is dead, he killed himself didn't he." He said, "yes" Guess their wish came true. He had told Trish that he didn't tell me that I guessed. From that moment on, Larry's suicide was all my fault......That guilt ate at me for years.
Well that was the first weekend back in school, at least I had time to be me. I didn't get in trouble and was friends with most everyone. Ok I was friendly.
Trish had some errands to run that Saturday August 20th of 1990. So we ran around and did some shopping. We went everywhere. Luckily this time I didn't do anything to make her angry and it ended up being a pleasant time. I think she even bought me lunch. I couldn't wait to get home though so I could call my friends and go "hang out" that was the cool thing to do. I was too old to play now.
We got home several hours after leaving. I helped her carry all the stuff she had just bought into the house. After everything was put away, I went for the phone. But the light was blinking, that meant there was a message on the answering machine. (Yes, the kind that had a little cassette tape in them) Trish started acting as though she was one of my friends and said in a silly voice, "Julie this is your friend call me." I laughed and hit play. Only that was the message I wish that was left. It was my oldest brother Scott, he sounded so upset. He said, "Craig is gone. We lost him."
What does that mean? I was like no. My brother Craig had attempted suicide 3 times prior to this. He had shot himself in the face with a 30 ot 6 in October of 1989. He thankfully did not succeed. He again tried pills and whiskey and carbon monoxide. He finally succeeded by hanging. I cried my eyes out. How could this be? Why would he do this to me? He and my brother Larry were the only ones who loved me..
We got in the car and drove to my dads house which was about an hour away. I was somewhat pushed to the side. Julie is too young, she don't understand, she doesn't need to hear this. I was left alone at my dads house while everyone went to the neighbors to drink.
The next day we went to get my brother Larry. I was so excited to see him. He lived out of state at the time.
My brother Larry had an addiction to cocaine. He was shoved aside more than I was. He and I were very close however. Only he would never let me be around when he did his drugs or were around those "friends". I found out a little later that the night of Craig's services, my dad and Scott told my brother Larry, "It should of been you that killed yourself, not Craig."
I spent alot of time with Larry after Craig's passing. I told him all of the stuff that Trish had done to me. He told me hit her back. A few weeks after that, I went for a walk. I was upset about Craig and when I came home, Trish greeted me at the door, (I was 15) and she slapped me across the face and said, "You're nothing more than a fucking tramp." I never felt so much anger in my entire life. I just went for a walk. I don't know what came over me, but I took Larry's advice and I punched her right in the face and said, "don't you ever hit me again you bitch." I wasn't even scared of her reaction either. She just walked off. She never hit me again either.
Larry did tell my dad about what was being done to me and my dad just ignored it. Out of sight out of mind is how he seen things.
Eighteen months after we buried Craig, I went to my mom's ex boyfriends mom's house. I called her Grandma. I loved her, she was always nice to me and both her and Trish's ex boyfriend always stood up for me. Trish had called and my Grandma hung up and said, "Julie needs to go home now." I said, "I don't want too, I just got here I wasn't bad." Her ex boyfriend put me in the truck and started to drive. I looked at him and said, "Larry is dead, he killed himself didn't he." He said, "yes" Guess their wish came true. He had told Trish that he didn't tell me that I guessed. From that moment on, Larry's suicide was all my fault......That guilt ate at me for years.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Part 6
It was summer again and I was getting ready to go see my dad, only this time we were going to California. Oh my gosh I was so excited. We were going to see my uncles, aunts and cousins. We got on a plane and was ready to go. I don't remember much about these trips other than I would play with my cousins, and we would go to Fisherman's Wharf, Disneyland or Great America. But I was carefree and no worries.
Dad would take me in the summer so I wouldn't miss any school. He was a member of the Eagles and they too would have little summer excursions for the family. My dad sometimes took me. When we would get back from California, I would go to my brothers. He would take us to where ever he was living at the time and pile on the junk food and videos and we stayed there for a week or so (sometimes at my dads house, but with only us kids there), with him checking in on us periodically or to get us more junk food or new movies. When it was time to go home, again we would go to the bar so I could see my dad. I asked him if he was ever going to come spend time with me? He responded, "I will come down and see you sis." I don't think he did that year. He did a few times come visit but if I recall correctly he came down once or twice a year.
The school year had begun and I was in the 7th grade. We had to run the mile. Oh my gosh I hated running and especially a mile. I remember my back hurting really bad that day. (My back hurt a lot growing up. I am assuming from being thrown in to the walls and other things that happened growing up) I told my teacher my back was hurting and asked if I could make it up another day. She wouldn't let me and told me I had to run. I wasn't a fast runner but usually finished in the top 5 or 6. This time I was dead last. I was 20 minutes into my next class. I couldn't stand up straight, straighten my legs nor could I hardly move. I was running looking like I was sitting down. My gym teacher made me run until all my laps were done.
By the time I got to my next class, I had no feeling in my legs. My teacher asked me what was wrong, fighting back the tears, I replied, "my back hurts." She sent me to the office to call my mom to come get me. It took me 20 minutes to make that 1 minute walk. When I got to the office, I called my mom, she was busy and told me to grow up. She hung up the phone. I called several people until someone agreed to come get me. When I got home no one was home so I laid on the couch. My mom and her boyfriend came home and she yanked me off the couch I couldn't straighten up. It took me almost 30 minutes to get myself off the floor. I had to go the bathroom which was just 2 doors down and to get there and back took me over an hour.
I had called my dad when I got home before Trish did and told him, he said he was going to call her and make sure she got me into the doctor. After he called, she yelled at me for calling him and told me I was being a baby, but since he was calling back she would call a doctor.
The next day she finally took me and I was instantly referred to a neurologist and sent to the emergency room where the neurologist would meet us. He told me I was very lucky that at any given moment I could of been paralyzed from the waist down. I was no longer able to attend gym class until the end of 9th grade. I wore a back brace and went through extensive therapy for almost a year. Trish had told me I had scoliosis. I found out later in life that my spine is as straight as they come with no signs of ever having scoliosis. The few doctors I asked stated that my back may of been broken due to all the abuse.
Dad would take me in the summer so I wouldn't miss any school. He was a member of the Eagles and they too would have little summer excursions for the family. My dad sometimes took me. When we would get back from California, I would go to my brothers. He would take us to where ever he was living at the time and pile on the junk food and videos and we stayed there for a week or so (sometimes at my dads house, but with only us kids there), with him checking in on us periodically or to get us more junk food or new movies. When it was time to go home, again we would go to the bar so I could see my dad. I asked him if he was ever going to come spend time with me? He responded, "I will come down and see you sis." I don't think he did that year. He did a few times come visit but if I recall correctly he came down once or twice a year.
The school year had begun and I was in the 7th grade. We had to run the mile. Oh my gosh I hated running and especially a mile. I remember my back hurting really bad that day. (My back hurt a lot growing up. I am assuming from being thrown in to the walls and other things that happened growing up) I told my teacher my back was hurting and asked if I could make it up another day. She wouldn't let me and told me I had to run. I wasn't a fast runner but usually finished in the top 5 or 6. This time I was dead last. I was 20 minutes into my next class. I couldn't stand up straight, straighten my legs nor could I hardly move. I was running looking like I was sitting down. My gym teacher made me run until all my laps were done.
By the time I got to my next class, I had no feeling in my legs. My teacher asked me what was wrong, fighting back the tears, I replied, "my back hurts." She sent me to the office to call my mom to come get me. It took me 20 minutes to make that 1 minute walk. When I got to the office, I called my mom, she was busy and told me to grow up. She hung up the phone. I called several people until someone agreed to come get me. When I got home no one was home so I laid on the couch. My mom and her boyfriend came home and she yanked me off the couch I couldn't straighten up. It took me almost 30 minutes to get myself off the floor. I had to go the bathroom which was just 2 doors down and to get there and back took me over an hour.
I had called my dad when I got home before Trish did and told him, he said he was going to call her and make sure she got me into the doctor. After he called, she yelled at me for calling him and told me I was being a baby, but since he was calling back she would call a doctor.
The next day she finally took me and I was instantly referred to a neurologist and sent to the emergency room where the neurologist would meet us. He told me I was very lucky that at any given moment I could of been paralyzed from the waist down. I was no longer able to attend gym class until the end of 9th grade. I wore a back brace and went through extensive therapy for almost a year. Trish had told me I had scoliosis. I found out later in life that my spine is as straight as they come with no signs of ever having scoliosis. The few doctors I asked stated that my back may of been broken due to all the abuse.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Part 5
School started and school ended. This means that summer is here. YAY! I was going to go spend some time over the summer with my dad. Oh boy was I excited. I packed my clothes, and hugged and kissed Herbie good bye. I got in the car with Trish (cousin) and was headed to Salt Lake to see my dad. Trish took me to Artic Circle to get some lunch and then we ran around, finally she took me to the bowling alley where my dad was bowling (he was on a league). I got in there and said I had a tummy ache. My dad got me a drink and sat me on the bench. He went back to bowling. But I knew once he was done with his game, he would come and play with me. My stomach started to get bad and I told his girlfriend (we will call her Betsy, not her real name) and she told me to be quiet and go sit back on the bench. As I was laying on the bench I threw up all over. Betsy came and grabbed me by the arm and told me to knock it off. They called my brother to come get me and he did.
I felt ok the next day and was playing with my nieces waiting for my dad to come see me. He wasn't able to make it. I stayed at my brothers for 2-3 weeks, but no dad. I did get to talk to him on the phone though. I of course would call Herbie. I didn't want to go home so I would call Trish to see if I could stay longer. Finally she told me no and that it was time to come home. I was leaving the next day. I called the bar to talk to my dad and he said I won't be able to make it tonight sweetheart but I will come tomorrow before you go.
I sat waiting for my dad and Trish came to get me, but still no dad. I told her I didn't get to see my dad. My sister in law at the time said he was at the bar and so we stopped there to see my dad. He came outside to see me. I was so excited. I hugged him and told him I loved him and he said the same and then told me to be a good kid and he will come see me soon.....He didn't come until Christmas...It didn't matter I got to see my dad. I was the happiest kid ever. My dad and Herbie all in one day, who could ask for more.
Time continued on and the "punishments" were the same, swinging into the walls and ya know the normal. The next school year came and went and I went to see my dad again, but out of the 2-3 weeks I was there I didn't see anyone but my neices. My brother would go buy us a bunch of junk food and movies and come back in a few days, to get us some more. When it was time to leave we stopped at the bar to see my dad.
When I got home I was so happy to see Herbie. His kids were down to visit they were alot older than me. They even had their own kids.
His one daughter took one of our drinking glasses and so I told my mom, so I wouldn't get in trouble for it. A few days later she told me that her and Herbie were getting divorced. "What"? I said, "what does that mean"? She explained it to me and I asked if I could go with Herbie. She told me, "no" That Herbie was really mad at me and didn't want anything to do with me. That he didn't love me anymore because I have a big mouth and was the reason they were getting divorced. All I could do was cry. I didn't mean for anything to happen. I didn't get to see Herbie for a long time.
After school had started, I was walking home from school and I seen Herbie driving. I waived and was so excited. He kept driving, I thought, oh no he does hate me. But really he was going around the block to come back to see me. I told him what Trish had said and he reassured me that was not true that he loved me very much. He took me to get some ice cream and took me home. I called him all the time, yeah I probably drove him crazy but he always talked to me and then he started to come get me and take me for rides.
He later moved to New Mexico and we kept in touch through the mail. But the visits came to a stop.....He did move back to Utah a little later on.
I kept in touch with Herbie up until his passing in January 2011. I hope that everyone can have a great person in their life like Herbie. I was very lucky to have him in mine! I love you Herbie...
I felt ok the next day and was playing with my nieces waiting for my dad to come see me. He wasn't able to make it. I stayed at my brothers for 2-3 weeks, but no dad. I did get to talk to him on the phone though. I of course would call Herbie. I didn't want to go home so I would call Trish to see if I could stay longer. Finally she told me no and that it was time to come home. I was leaving the next day. I called the bar to talk to my dad and he said I won't be able to make it tonight sweetheart but I will come tomorrow before you go.
I sat waiting for my dad and Trish came to get me, but still no dad. I told her I didn't get to see my dad. My sister in law at the time said he was at the bar and so we stopped there to see my dad. He came outside to see me. I was so excited. I hugged him and told him I loved him and he said the same and then told me to be a good kid and he will come see me soon.....He didn't come until Christmas...It didn't matter I got to see my dad. I was the happiest kid ever. My dad and Herbie all in one day, who could ask for more.
Time continued on and the "punishments" were the same, swinging into the walls and ya know the normal. The next school year came and went and I went to see my dad again, but out of the 2-3 weeks I was there I didn't see anyone but my neices. My brother would go buy us a bunch of junk food and movies and come back in a few days, to get us some more. When it was time to leave we stopped at the bar to see my dad.
When I got home I was so happy to see Herbie. His kids were down to visit they were alot older than me. They even had their own kids.
His one daughter took one of our drinking glasses and so I told my mom, so I wouldn't get in trouble for it. A few days later she told me that her and Herbie were getting divorced. "What"? I said, "what does that mean"? She explained it to me and I asked if I could go with Herbie. She told me, "no" That Herbie was really mad at me and didn't want anything to do with me. That he didn't love me anymore because I have a big mouth and was the reason they were getting divorced. All I could do was cry. I didn't mean for anything to happen. I didn't get to see Herbie for a long time.
After school had started, I was walking home from school and I seen Herbie driving. I waived and was so excited. He kept driving, I thought, oh no he does hate me. But really he was going around the block to come back to see me. I told him what Trish had said and he reassured me that was not true that he loved me very much. He took me to get some ice cream and took me home. I called him all the time, yeah I probably drove him crazy but he always talked to me and then he started to come get me and take me for rides.
He later moved to New Mexico and we kept in touch through the mail. But the visits came to a stop.....He did move back to Utah a little later on.
I kept in touch with Herbie up until his passing in January 2011. I hope that everyone can have a great person in their life like Herbie. I was very lucky to have him in mine! I love you Herbie...
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Part 4
The next day came and went....as did the next few. My bruises started to clear up and the pain subsided. I went out with Herbie to go feed the animals. Not to mention, Herbie bought me my very own Shetland Pony. I named him Spot, when he got bigger I was going to name him Tomato. (Not knowing Shetland Ponies didn't get big) I would go out every day and brush his mane and tail. I would ride him around, take him for walks, and sneak him some carrots. Oh I love my new pony.
It was going to be a great day. My dad and my brothers Craig and Scott, Scott's wife and their new baby Tiffany were coming to see me. I hurried and helped get the chores done, went in the house to help with house chores, and then jumped in the bath (oh how I hated baths) I got all dressed so excited to see them, it had been a few months not to mention they would get to meet Spot.
I sat on the front porch which seemed like forever waiting for them. But here they come. My brother Craig rode his Harley down and the rest were in a car. Craig took me for a ride, I didn't have a care in the world. I was so happy to be spending time with them. My dad asked me how I liked living down there and if Patricia was taking care of me. I got scared and felt my heart sink. She gave me the "look" I knew that look oh to well, and didn't dare tell. I didn't want her to hurt my dad. I smiled and said yes. They left that evening and it was time for bed.
I woke up the next morning and helped with morning chores. School started the next day. I was so excited, I had a pretty pink dress that I was going to wear on the first day. I got all my stuff ready and waited. I took my night time bath early because Patricia (my cousin who was raising me) was going to do my hair. I hated when she did my hair, I was so tender headed and she just yanked and pulled. But Herbie was home, so maybe she wouldn't. When I got out of the tub, Herbie had left to town. I come out ready to have my hair done. She pulled the top part up into a ponytail and it was so very tight. It hurt, I tried not to cry cause I'm a big girl, my dad said so. She then grabbed the underneath and started brushing and pulling it really hard I said, "ow" she pulled it into a tight braid. I told her I didn't like my hair done that way. I think I should of kept my mouth shut. She grabbed my by my braid and lifted my up off the ground, slamming into the wall. She then ripped my nightgown off yelling at me, "you don't like anything do you, you lil brat." She grabbed the scissors and started putting little cuts into my back. Was she cutting me? Oh my gosh it hurt so bad I started screaming, blood was running down my back. Just as she went to cut off my braid, Herbie walked in. She dropped me to the floor and kicked me. He yelled at her telling her she was crazy. He picked me up and cleaned me up and said, "you're a good kid Little Moe." as he hugged me.
My dad had called while I was in getting cleaned up but I couldn't talk to him, she told him I was in bed. No I wasn't, I'm right here. I wanted to tell him. She told me if I did, it would be the last thing I said. What does that mean?
It was going to be a great day. My dad and my brothers Craig and Scott, Scott's wife and their new baby Tiffany were coming to see me. I hurried and helped get the chores done, went in the house to help with house chores, and then jumped in the bath (oh how I hated baths) I got all dressed so excited to see them, it had been a few months not to mention they would get to meet Spot.
I sat on the front porch which seemed like forever waiting for them. But here they come. My brother Craig rode his Harley down and the rest were in a car. Craig took me for a ride, I didn't have a care in the world. I was so happy to be spending time with them. My dad asked me how I liked living down there and if Patricia was taking care of me. I got scared and felt my heart sink. She gave me the "look" I knew that look oh to well, and didn't dare tell. I didn't want her to hurt my dad. I smiled and said yes. They left that evening and it was time for bed.
I woke up the next morning and helped with morning chores. School started the next day. I was so excited, I had a pretty pink dress that I was going to wear on the first day. I got all my stuff ready and waited. I took my night time bath early because Patricia (my cousin who was raising me) was going to do my hair. I hated when she did my hair, I was so tender headed and she just yanked and pulled. But Herbie was home, so maybe she wouldn't. When I got out of the tub, Herbie had left to town. I come out ready to have my hair done. She pulled the top part up into a ponytail and it was so very tight. It hurt, I tried not to cry cause I'm a big girl, my dad said so. She then grabbed the underneath and started brushing and pulling it really hard I said, "ow" she pulled it into a tight braid. I told her I didn't like my hair done that way. I think I should of kept my mouth shut. She grabbed my by my braid and lifted my up off the ground, slamming into the wall. She then ripped my nightgown off yelling at me, "you don't like anything do you, you lil brat." She grabbed the scissors and started putting little cuts into my back. Was she cutting me? Oh my gosh it hurt so bad I started screaming, blood was running down my back. Just as she went to cut off my braid, Herbie walked in. She dropped me to the floor and kicked me. He yelled at her telling her she was crazy. He picked me up and cleaned me up and said, "you're a good kid Little Moe." as he hugged me.
My dad had called while I was in getting cleaned up but I couldn't talk to him, she told him I was in bed. No I wasn't, I'm right here. I wanted to tell him. She told me if I did, it would be the last thing I said. What does that mean?
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Part 3
Wow, look at me, I get to come live with my cousin (whom I referred too as mom) and her husband (Herbie) who I just thought was the greatest man on earth. (Next to my dad that is) I am living on this huge farm, with horses, cows, dogs, cats, sheep. and sometimes we even had a pig. Every morning I would wake up and go help Herbie feed the animals. I would get to drive the truck in the field while he threw the hay out the back. I got to put the feed in the troughs, fill the water troughs, jump in the manure (gross yes, but who cares at 4 years old) The best part of it, I got to play with the animals and spend time with Herbie.
After the chores were finished Herbie would leave and go take care of farm business, I would go in the house and help my mom (cousin) do house chores. This I didn't like, but like a good kid I did as I was told. Once the chores in the house were finished then I could go play.
I would go down the street to my friends house and play with her. Mom said be home by 3 Julie, so I would tell her mom and she would send me home.
One day in mid summer. her mom wasn't paying attention to the time and sent me home right at 3. I ran up the road which took me about 4-5 minutes. When I got home I ran in to explain that I wasn't sent home until 3. That didn't matter. My mom grabbed me by the arm, took me into my bedroom, stripped me down to my underwear, and started swinging me in a circle by my arms. I was laughing having fun, but she let go. I slammed into the wall, when I hit the floor, I started to cry. At first I thought it was an accident, I mean my brothers swung me around like that all the time. She grabbed me again and said, "want something to cry about." She did it again, 3 more times as a matter of fact. She then picked me up, and slammed the back of my head into the wall and said, "when I tell you 3 o'clock, you be here at 3" She then put me in to footsie pajamas, lied me in bed and piled every blanket she could find on me. She said if I cried, I would be given something to cry about, if I had to use the bathroom hold it and I better not pee in the bed or that would be another punishment, if I was hungry, well I should of thought about that before I came home 5 minutes late.
I laid in bed scared, I didn't know what to do. I wanted my dad. I wanted my mom. (my real mom) I wanted one of my brothers, but I wasn't allowed to call. Herbie came later on that night, and sat down to eat dinner. I hear him say, "where's Julie"? "She's in bed" my cousin replied. He came in to kiss me goodnight. When he came in, I scurried under the blankets. I didn't know who was coming, and I hurt so bad I didn't want to get in trouble again. He started to pull the blankets off me and said, "why so many blankets Little Moe"? (he called me that after my dad, because my dad went by Moe." I didn't dare say anything. He turned the light on and seen that I had a nose bleed, He picked me up and I winced. He touched my back, not know what had happened of course. He took my pajamas off and said lets get you into something cooler to sleep in. He grabbed a different nightgown and when he seen that my entire backside was black and blue, he asked what happened. I started to cry. He went out and asked her what had happened and she said, "that little brat needs to learn to mind. I am not going to put up with her shit." He came in and got me dressed, took me for some ice cream and when we returned home he said why don't you go make sure your dog has some food and water. I will come out and get you in a minute.
I could hear him yelling at her. Told her she was to never lay a hand on me again......Why didn't she listen?
After the chores were finished Herbie would leave and go take care of farm business, I would go in the house and help my mom (cousin) do house chores. This I didn't like, but like a good kid I did as I was told. Once the chores in the house were finished then I could go play.
I would go down the street to my friends house and play with her. Mom said be home by 3 Julie, so I would tell her mom and she would send me home.
One day in mid summer. her mom wasn't paying attention to the time and sent me home right at 3. I ran up the road which took me about 4-5 minutes. When I got home I ran in to explain that I wasn't sent home until 3. That didn't matter. My mom grabbed me by the arm, took me into my bedroom, stripped me down to my underwear, and started swinging me in a circle by my arms. I was laughing having fun, but she let go. I slammed into the wall, when I hit the floor, I started to cry. At first I thought it was an accident, I mean my brothers swung me around like that all the time. She grabbed me again and said, "want something to cry about." She did it again, 3 more times as a matter of fact. She then picked me up, and slammed the back of my head into the wall and said, "when I tell you 3 o'clock, you be here at 3" She then put me in to footsie pajamas, lied me in bed and piled every blanket she could find on me. She said if I cried, I would be given something to cry about, if I had to use the bathroom hold it and I better not pee in the bed or that would be another punishment, if I was hungry, well I should of thought about that before I came home 5 minutes late.
I laid in bed scared, I didn't know what to do. I wanted my dad. I wanted my mom. (my real mom) I wanted one of my brothers, but I wasn't allowed to call. Herbie came later on that night, and sat down to eat dinner. I hear him say, "where's Julie"? "She's in bed" my cousin replied. He came in to kiss me goodnight. When he came in, I scurried under the blankets. I didn't know who was coming, and I hurt so bad I didn't want to get in trouble again. He started to pull the blankets off me and said, "why so many blankets Little Moe"? (he called me that after my dad, because my dad went by Moe." I didn't dare say anything. He turned the light on and seen that I had a nose bleed, He picked me up and I winced. He touched my back, not know what had happened of course. He took my pajamas off and said lets get you into something cooler to sleep in. He grabbed a different nightgown and when he seen that my entire backside was black and blue, he asked what happened. I started to cry. He went out and asked her what had happened and she said, "that little brat needs to learn to mind. I am not going to put up with her shit." He came in and got me dressed, took me for some ice cream and when we returned home he said why don't you go make sure your dog has some food and water. I will come out and get you in a minute.
I could hear him yelling at her. Told her she was to never lay a hand on me again......Why didn't she listen?
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