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Sometimes there are blessings in loss….


This past weekend was a very hard one for me.  My best friend Moni moved 15 hours away.  With her went her two youngest boys and her hubby.  Now I have not known them for very long, compared to other people I consider best friends.  We have not been friends for years, rather months.  But in that 6 months since I met her, she has become like the sister I always wished that my sister was to me.

She and I share a history of things that have happened to us.  I pray one day that she is strong enough and confident enough in herself to write her story and tell what happened to her.  But until then I will continue to be among the very few who know how amazing it is that she is who she is.

This weekend when she pulled out of my drive for the last time I held it together til I got in the house and then I cried.  My kiddo hugged me tightly.  He hugged me and just stood and held me for a few.  That felt really good.

There are some things that I am coming to realize about my mother….


And they are not pretty.  When I was a small child my mother and father were together.  From the stories I have been told, he beat on her a lot.  I was far to young to ever remember something like that.  But I have it on good authority that he is an abusive man and an alcoholic.  I do not doubt that she suffered a great deal at his hands.

Some background for any of you that don’t know these things about me: I am a middle child.  I have an older sister and a younger brother.  We all three have different fathers.  When I was about 6 my stepdad adopted me.

I have come to realize as I have gotten older that the only reason that this happened was so that my father would not access to me and would not make my mother and sister scared anymore.  It is possibly so that he would not hurt me like he hurt them, but I don’t know.  I have to assume that they did what they thought was in my best interests.

When I was 5 my brother was born.  My sister is 8 years older than I am.  Mom and Dad went out a lot and left my sister in charge.  Would have been great except that my sister resented me for having been born and making her not be the only child anymore and she resented me for being “his” daughter and the reason mom kept him in our lives for so long.  She told me once when she was 16 or so that she really hated me when I was born.  People say that sticks and stones can’t hurt you but these words play back in a person’s mind and they do something horrible to the soul.

As I was growing up my mother would use my father as a threat.  If I did not go along with what she wanted me to do or act how she wanted me to act then she would threaten to make me go live with him.  From the horrible things that I was told about him, I did not want that.

My sister and her Daddy were always very close.  My brother was the son my mother had always wanted.  I was the middle child and all I had was my mother.  I was not my dad’s child by blood…just the one that he had to take ownership of. Of course, I am sure, he resented me for that.  So here I was this middle child with no one in this world to intervene for me but my mother.

About the time that I was 8 or 9 is when it started.  My sister moved out and moved in to live with her Daddy.  Mom and my sister had some really bad arguments but mom never beat on her.  My sister had a Daddy she could count on and who would defend her.  My brother was only like 3 or 4 so he couldn’t possibly do anything to warrant a beating.  But I could.  I was the daughter of the bastard who beat on her and no one could or would stop her from beating on me.  Belts, paint stir sticks, hands….whatever was handy.  It started and was worst when I would bring home bad grades.  Looking back now, I am absolutely certain that I had some form of learning disability or even possibly have Asperger’s Syndrome, but she never cared enough to try to figure out what was going on, just the “what the hell is wrong with you?” and the beatings.  She would even tell me sometimes that somethings I did reminded her of Chuck (my biological father) and when I did those things she just wanted to kill me.  My mother told me she wanted to kill me.  I was just a child.  Sticks and stones DO hurt.  And they replay over and over inside of a person’s soul.

When I was 13 we move to Cincinnati.  It got worse when we lived there.  It got much worse.  When I was 14 there was an incident where my mother’s cousin was coming to visit and my mother got angry with me for eating the last honey bun.  I had not, but she called me a liar and beat me with her belt.  She left welts and bruises up and down my legs.  She will swear to this day that I over exaggerated it and that this did not happen how I said it did, but she lies.  She doesn’t actually lie, but stretches it so far that she might as well lie.

She was always angry with me.  There would be brief periods of time when I would feel like we were finally going to get along and that she would protect me, but then she would turn on me again.  Almost as if she got off on the bait and switch she was playing with me.  When I was in 6th grade “dad” called me a bitch because I had teased my hair up and had it in the current style.  We were going to the father/daughter dance and I was getting ready.  She defended me on this.  Then she never did again.  There were so many times he would call me that name under his breath and she would say it did not count if it was under his breath.

When she beat me that time about the hunny bun, I wore shorts to school.  The school called CPS on her but they did nothing to protect me.  I went home with a friend because I was scared to go home.  I was terrified she would play the perfect mother and call me a liar and they would let her off the hook, so I ran away.  Well they found me and CPS did let them off the hook and they chose to make my life worse because of this.

From that point on I had to hear her tell me how I called CPS on her and that I was not abused….that those kids whose parents do things like burn or scald them or cut on them or all of these other horrible things, those were the ones that were abused.  She would tell me I had it so great compared to them and I needed to appreciate it.

We moved back to Indiana when I was 15.  We moved to Terre Haute which is where we lived when my boyfriend at the time raped me.  My mother walked in on that and did not even consider that it could have been anything other than her no good worthless daughter being a whore.  And she treated me accordingly.

There is a pattern of abuse throughout my life but she refuses to acknowledge that she has ever done anything to harm or hurt me.  It is very possible that I have Asperger’s or some other condition.  Whether this condition is something that is genetic like Asperger’s or something that is resultant of her abuse of me, I don’t know.  I do know that I have PTSD.  I have a severe case of PTSD from the abuse, the rapes and the miscarriages.  I have a pattern of letting people be mean to me because I am afraid.  Not because they scare me but I am so conditioned to be afraid.

She stole my son from me when he was just over a year old.  She was pushing me and I sent him to his father’s for the night so that I could have the night to figure things out.  I went to my best friend’s house and my mother showed up there with her best friend and my sister and told me to get my “shit” out of my car, which was in her name (another control mechanism she used on me) and left me on my best friend’s doorstep telling her that I was her problem now.  She stranded me and got his father to bring him to her and then never let me have him back.  In effect, she kidnapped my son.  I was so terrified of her that I could not fight even though it was tearing my heart out.

I  had lost my job and I had lost my apartment and when I needed my mother to help me, she cast me to the wolves and took the one thing that meant anything to me.  I want to hate her.  I want to cut her out of my life, but here is the thing….even though I know that I am much better than that and I KNOW I do not need her approval or even really want it, I still long for her love.  It makes me so very sad because I know that she will never love me.  She will always punish me for the blood that runs in my veins.  She takes that tone with me and I feel how much she doesn’t care.  I feel her lack of love.  She can say I love you and make you very aware that she does not in the same breath.  These are the hurts that I carry in my soul.  These are the things I have in my mind when I lay down to try to go to sleep at night.  I am so tired of feeling so very worthless and unloveable.  And I am tired of no one listening to me or believing me that she did these things to me.

I told my sister recently and she did not even believe me.  My mother has the family so convinced that I am a drama queen that no one will even listen to me, much less take me seriously.  I have realized that my mother is an evil person.  I just don’t know how to fight her and her money and lawyers.  But I will say that the day my son turns 18 and is graduated from school I will tell her everything that I have held back.

A mother’s heartbreak…


Ok so any of you that have read my blog know that I have one teenage son with aspergers.  You may also know that I have 9 angel babies that I never got to hold.  You may also have occasion to know that that is all I will ever have because I had a hysterectomy last year after battling PCOS for many years and finally not being able to stand it any longer.  For those who don’t know, please read up on my blogs.

Last night I called my son while leaving work, like I do every single day.  A call in the morning, a call after work and a call to say goodnight.  Last night he informed me that he was going to spend this next weekend hanging out with his friend instead of coming home.  He has not been home for the past two weekends.  This generally would hurt my feelings but not reduce me to tears.  Generally.  This coming weekend is Mother’s Day.  This coming weekend should be a time for him to come home and say thanks for being his mom, for us to spend the day together doing fun stuff that we both enjoy.  But no.  No mother’s day for me this year.

He had informed me that Mother’s Day is just another day to him.  That it doesn’t mean anything really.  This, of course, was after  he informed me that since I only saw him every other weekend I was barely a parent.  This was also after he informed me that my husband, the guy who he told me he loved like a dad, was annoying and that he didn’t think of anyone as a dad.

This breaks my heart.  But I know it is not his fault.  These are the things that go along with him being an aspie.  He lacks that empathy that typical minded folks  have.  But living with his grandmother, instead of being taught to look for these moments and learn how to behave so as not to hurt others, he is being taught that “This is how I am, take it or leave it.”  Now generally this would be what I would want for him, but not to the point where he doesn’t care who he hurts or how badly.

And she told me that she was ok with him not coming home to me on mother’s day because “He is home”.  Last night I did not call my son to tell him goodnight.  I prayed that he would call me.  He did not.  I guess she is going to keep on until she finds a way to cut me out of his life completely.  I just wish that I knew what I could possibly have done to make her hate me so much that she has to harm him to hurt me.

Yesterday….All my troubles seemed so far away….


I am sorry that it has been so long since I have posted.  Things have been going kind of crazy with me.

Yesterday, against my better judgement, my husband and I drove up to Indianapolis for the Family Reunion.  I have not gone to one in a lot of years.  Mostly I do not go because I am not skinny and the family tends to poke at weight issues.  Not that I have issues with my weight.  I am comfortable in my skin but they like to poke and that hurts.  I had just pulled up to the site and gotten out of the car.  My sister came over to get her Diet Pepsi and joke with me and my husband.  We walked over to the shade and then I heard some of the family members freaking out.  I looked in and it was my Grandma that they were crowding around.  My Grandma lost consciousness and hit the floor.  Actually she was lowered onto the floor by several family members.  My cousin called the ambulance.  I got my MR uncle into my car.  My sister took my husband and my cousin and we all headed to the hospital.  A bunch of us went there but not all.  Not even all the ones that were bawling their eyes out and being dramatic.  Anyway, back to what happened.  We got to the hospital and had to wait a long while.  I kept my MR uncle calm along with my sister and my other uncle and my cousin.  My mom got there a bit later.  We finally got to go back with Grandma and it turned out that she had dehydrated and it was possible her meds (or lack of taking them that morning) had been the cause.  Her blood pressure dropped scary dangerously low.  They admitted her and we all went up to her room for a while.

Today I called and my MR uncle was crying wanting me to come get him, so I looked at my hubby and said I was going to go.  He was totally ok with this.  I love my hubby.  I showered and hit the road.  I was there in pretty good time.  I took my uncle to Wal-Mart and we got grandma flowers and a vase and a new house coat.  She hates hospital gowns as much as anyone else so I did not want to leave her in one longer than I had to. We got up to the hospital and grandma said her potassium level was low and that there may be some kind of internal bleeding because she is anemic but they do not know where.  I was up there most of the day.  I do not want to go to work tomorrow.  I want to go back up and be with her.  This is so scary to me.

The thing that upsets me the most about it is how I have to be strong and can’t be upset about it because I have to take care of people.  Then by the time that I am able to fall apart everything is getting better and most people are all “what are you crying for now?  she is ok” but dammit I hate having to be strong.

Last night when we got back to our town, I broke down crying in the gas station parking lot.  Then when I was finally calmed, I went in to get a polar pop.   While I was getting it, this girl came up and said “Have you ever had one of those days where everything goes wrong?”  I said “Yeah my grandma collapsed at the family reunion today and is in the hospital.”  She then told me that she was a victim of domestic violence and had gone to the local shelter and they had turned her away.  I did not ask why they turned her away.  I did recommend she contact INCASA.  I told her I had been there and that she needed to do what she needed to do to get herself safe.  She left very quickly.  I pray that she was able to find someplace safe to go.

I am sorry if this is a bit disjointed.  I am really tired and trying to get this all out.  I am a wreck.  I want my grandma to be ok.  I want to know that she is ok.  I want her to not ever be sick and never die.  Unfortunately I know that this is not possible.  She will be 86 in 5 days.  I know that I may not have her much longer.  Dammit it is not fair.

It is just not fucking fair!!!


Why is it that so many out there get to have baby after baby and oops pregnant again????  Why the hell is it that I have had to go through the  loss of 9 babies when so many out there just seem to breathe on a man and get pregnant???  It is not fucking fair!  It is not fucking right!  There are fucking horrible people out there that have babies and then abuse them but they just keep right on having babies.  I read this shit about a woman who raped her 10 month old son….let me repeat that so you get the full horror of it RAPED HER 10 MONTH OLD SON.  Bet she didn’t  have any trouble getting pregnant.  Bet she still has her ovaries and uterus and they work just fine.  It fucking makes me sick!!

I am getting to a breaking point…I may snap….


So my husband and I were awakened today by  my son knocking on the door to tell us he didn’t feel good.  My husband had the idea that my son should drink a glass of milk and take a hot bath.  What the hell???  A child that is sick does not need milk which can curdle in their stomach and does not need a “hot bath” when they are already running a fever.  I gave him some ibuprofen and asked my husband to get him some sprite.  So instead of getting a 2ltr of sprite he goes to hardee’s and gets breakfast and gets him a large sprite…like this is going to be enough for the poor kid who is sick.

After he comes home, said kid gets to feeling somewhat better and plays video games for a while so husband reiterates that a hot bath may be a good idea.  I said no but kiddo listened to his step dad because after all what does mama know, right?  Well kid takes hot bath and gets so nauseous this time he throws up.  Throws up after just taking ibuprofen so do not know if he got any of the medicine or not….can’t give him more…now my mother, which has custody of my kiddo calls and is told how my husband told him to drink milk and take a hot bath and she is in an uproar and wanting to come get him now and making me feel like I don’t know what the hell I am doing about being a mom and taking care of my sick kid….

Oh I forgot to mention that during all of this I had bought stuff yesterday to make my husband a caramel apple pie and so I was looking up the recipe and since I did not know the recipe off the top of my head like some kind of baking genius, and actually had to look up a recipe, then I was told I didn’t know what I was doing with that and if I had to look up the pie recipe he might as well do it himself.  Then he had the nerve to tell me how if I wanted to do something nice for someone I should ask them what they want instead of just assuming.  This is the manipulative shit he pulls on me when I am trying to do something nice and he makes me feel like shit for it.  Tells me if I had just asked him what he wanted then I would not have been so disappointed when he didn’t want what I was doing.  I didn’t ask him because I was going to surprise him with this beautiful caramel apple pie that he said was his favorite type of pie and that he had been asking for for a few years but I had not had the time or motivation to make it for him before.  So I was trying to make this as a surprise for him and he shits all over it and then tells me how it is my fault that he did that because I didn’t ask him first.  What kind of abusive manipulative shit is that??????  And the worst part is that he doesn’t even realize he is abusing me with this talk and this attitude.  He thinks that his behavior and his saying these things is helpful to me.  I do not know how someone can be so far off the mark as to think that this is helpful.  How can he not see that he is being very hurtful and mentally abusive to me????  How can he not see that????  And the bad part is that he is going to read this and then he is going to get all sullen and then he is going to make me feel bad for feeling this way and then he will do the same thing all over again.  This is mental cruelty that he is doing and he refuses to see it.

Oh and did I mention that this is all going on while I am trying to take care of my sick kid that has a temperature over 101?  My kid is sick and now getting upset that his mom is being talked to this way and his step dad is being hurtful and emotionally harmful to his mom while he is trying to not throw up….and I am trying not to do anything more to make my kid feel worse…trying to help him feel better and getting berated for trying to do something nice.  Being bullied because I did not have a memorized recipe and I didn’t ASK HIM before I bought the stuff to make him something he said was his favorite dessert.  Like I have to ASK HIM if I want to surprise him with anything.

My therapist told me that I should do things to make my husband feel special and less insecure and be more intimate with him.  I told him that and then came home to him thinking about all the ways that I can make him feel good….not about how he can make me feel good in return but how I can make him feel good.  As if he hadn’t had enough selfish tendencies when it comes to having sex anyways.  Now it comes back full circle to me actually trying to open back up to him after all these months of trying to let go of him being so selfish in the beginning and get back to being giving like I had always been before and he is going right back to the selfishness.