This is my story...
I was the victim of her demise. Locked inside the closet was where I was forced to hide. Without heat or light, my prison was cold & dark. Into the fetal position I crawled. I cried. I prayed. I screamed “WHY! WHY! WHY is this happening to me?” My lavender polka-dot hair ribbon was used to tie the door, all to ensure there I would abide. In the darkness lied a 12-year-old girl, innocent and scared. Remaining there yet for another night.
Twelve years earlier a little girl was born, the product of a young newlywed couple. A mother who for all kinds of "INSANE" reasons repeatedly scolded her own daughter. Even as a toddler, she continually reminded me of the mistake I was. Not wanted or loved merely because I did not resemble her. My dark hair resembled my dad’s and my eyes were blue. No matter how many times she looked at me, my mom never saw me as a part of her.
It did not stop with her verbal attacks or being locked away in cold darkness. Plenty of lashings preceded and proceeded. Her weapons of choice varied widely. She would use a belt, a shoe, or simply the back of her hand across my face during her fits of pure, unadulterated rage. Most of the time she was careful to make sure the marks were hidden so that the secret would remain. She would continually rant, “NEVER TELL ANYONE! NEVER TELL YOUR DAD! IF YOU DO, I WILL MAKE YOU WATCH HIM DIE! THEN I WILL KILL YOU"!
The most terrifying occurrence took place one dark brisk morning when I was 4 or 5. Shortly after my dad left for work at 5:00 am, my mother piled me into the front seat of the car. This was not an unusual occurrence. We would regularly follow him to work because she thought that my dad was having an affair. This was complete lunacy; he was not having an affair. During this particular trip, she was driving erratically with a loaded rifle partially lying across my lap and her finger resting near the trigger. She was threatening to shoot me as I begged her not to. She continued to rant hysterically as we sped down highway 145. At one point, she took her hand off of the gun, leaned across me and said that she was going to open the door and push me out of the speeding car, which would result in my tragic and untimely death. All the while she was promising me that when the ambulance and police arrived she would tell them "She was playing with her door handle, it opened and she fell out.” “I would never go to jail”, she said. The Police would believe this distraught mother that was devastated because she just lost her “baby girl", and never questioning her story, nor recognizing her simple crocodile tears. She did, in fact, reach the door handle, but by the pure Grace of God, I did not fall from the fast moving car. Aha, Sunrise at last. Things always seemed better in the light of day. My parents eventually divorced. I was on the verge of my 18th birthday before I finally realized that I was allowing her to win by not breaking my silence. I was so terrified her final "death threat" would have come to pass my whole life. She attacked me with her hand and her mouth, spewing contempt for me. This was going to be the last time! And for the FIRST TIME I RESPONDED; I TALKED BACK! I now was the ONE IN CONTROL! I slammed the door behind myself. Sobbing, I drove to my dad’s. I walked in and asked if we could please sit down and talk...I could not hold back any longer.
As I sat next to my dad at the formal dining room table, I cried. All I could do was cry. He was asking me questions; however, I was having difficulty answering him because I had myself so worked up. I was beginning to hyperventilate. I told him it was about mom and he started crying as well. He began apologizing to me for not seeing warning signs, and for not getting me out. I told him it was not his fault, because it was not. She had me under her evil control. I was so terrified. I loved my dad. It would have been devastating to lose him and I know that was why she continually threatened to kill him. That was her control. So, I never let on that anything bad was happening.
In hindsight, I wish that I had spoken out many, many years before. But, the fear of her threats, ruled my life. I did not understand that I could be protected. Let me be your example...Do NOT hold a secret such as this, to yourself. God saved me for a reason and He will save you too. For years, I have been asking Him, "Why He allowed this to happen to me?" I remember my dad teaching me the story of Job. God does allow bad things to happen only to make us stronger people, increase our faith and to encourage our spirit to rise up, no matter what the circumstance may be. All that I want to do with my experience is to just help one child. If I can help 100, or 1,000, that would be even better. My life is in His hands. Now, I am not a victim. I am a SURVIVOR! You are not alone!!