It's crazy how summer just flies by so quickly. I'm not even sure what it is we did this year. We are working on a patio for our back yard. Well it started out as a patio and turned into major demolition and reconstruction.
We put in a water fall and two ponds. Planted all kinds of flowers and have had to level out the yard for the patio... I would like to know what it is the people who owned the house before us did out there. It is unreal the amount of STUFF we have dug up. It is a real treasure trove of broken rusty junk. We actually had to rent a bobcat to move the dirt around, there was no way we could dig down through it all.
After moving dirt, hauling dirt away, digging the pond and building the structure to the waterfall. We put the pond together using rocks and flag stone. What a project. When we had the ground dug up we decided we needed to run sewage pipes from our downspouts so we didn't get a basement full of water. As we were using the bob cat we ripped up electrical cords some dimwit put three inches below the yard surface. We had the companies come out and make sure there wasn't anything there and they said there wasn't. So this was put in by the home owners. Anyhow... that meant we had to re run wires out to the garage. While doing that why not run phone out there too, OH and up the amps to we can run more equipment...(you see where this is going I am sure)
Finally when all that was done and we had everything leveled out it was time for the paver base... and then sand. We are now in the process of putting down the pavers. All 5,000 + of them.
I guess I just answered my question as to where the summer went. HUH?!
Friday, August 10, 2007
Friday, May 4, 2007
Brian Andreas
Brian Andreas is a favorite artist of mine. I don't normally like this style of art but the words he puts on his prints are phenomenal. I have 4 or 5 of these prints and every time I go a read some more I find there are many many more I would love to have.This series is called "Story People".
I looked for an official web site but was unable to locate one. (If you find it please leave me a message and I will post it) If you Google his Name along with Story People you will be able to find it without problems.
I plan to post several here to share with you. I hope that is legal.
This is my first attempt to post pictures, please bear with me...
Time for Something Light Hearted
Ok Ok enough of the heavy stuff for awhile. I have decided to post something else entirely. I was scanning through others blogs and came across someone who had three strange encounters. I had to laugh because I could totally relate to "strange encounters" as a daily experience.
I swear I have a sign on me that says... "Please!!! Tell me your most personal intimate details... I care!"
I always have people, strangers, talking to me and telling me things I don't want to know. OR... Showing me things NO ONE wants to see.
Example:
I am shopping at Wal Mart ( I hate Wal Mart, It sucks the life out of you) Anyhow, I am shopping at Wal Mart looking at the PJ's When a little old woman walks up to me and asks me," Do you work here? Could you help me please! I need a new bra and can't find what I want."
Me: "I don't work here but I could help you find someone who does." (I always get asked if I work at places. I must look like I know what I am doing or maybe I look like I am trying to duck out of working... Could be either.)
Before I can leave and look for help she says, "That's okay, YOU can still help me, I don't mind."
Stunned I pause for a moment and look at her, wondering about the polite way to handle this situation.She didn't give me much time to think.
Old Woman: "I am looking for a bra like I have on." At which point she lifts up her sweatshirt to show me said Bra.
My thought... she was right, she desperately needed a new bra. With a crinkle in my brow I contemplate all exit strategies. None existed unless I wanted to crawl under the rack of PJ's. Somehow she had backed me into a corner, literally.
Not taking a chance I might drop to my hands and knees and crawl out of there she says, "Do you think they still have this brand? I don't even know what kind it is."
Me: clearing my throat and wishing she would drop her Sweatshirt back into place says, "I have no idea what brand it is, maybe you can go to the dressing room and see if it has a tag and get the information off of it." (This seemed to be a reasonable thought... and a chance for me to get the heck out of there.)
Old Lady : "Oh that's a good idea, Can you look for the tag and see what it is?" She turns her back to me so I can find the tag. (At least I no longer had to look at her... front)
At this point I can clearly see there isn't a tag. It was clear the tag had disintegrated from long wear and washings. Not only was the tag gone but so was most of the fabric of said bra.
"Mame, the tag is no longer there."
She laughs and says, "I may be 79 years old but you don't have to call me mame, My name is Violet." (Her top still lifted above your breast.)
Me: "Pleased to meet you." (I may have said this as a question... I'm not sure)
I told her my name but she never did call me anything but Sweetie and Dear.
In an desperate effort to get her to put her top back down I decide to help her look for SOMETHING. I was clearly not getting out of there and the damage to my psyche had already been done. The time with the therapist was already a guarantee. I might as well shorten that time by having the whole experience end as soon as possible.
I started looking for something she may be interested in and discovered she had no idea what her size was. So after a fairly long time of trying on bras of different style and size she finally found one she liked. And I must say it looked good on her. It lifted and separated... She was insistent on showing me every one of them. Some of which were absolutely hilarious, we both had a good laugh.
At some point the worker did come back to the area and the fitting rooms. I didn't even bother to let her take over, Violet and I had a special relationship by this time.
I suggested she write down the Style and Size on a piece of paper and keep it in her wallet. That way the next time she needed a new one she would have the information with her. Maybe too, she should get more than one. ..
Violet: "That is a fantastic idea! They should give you a raise you are so good!"
Me: "You have no idea..."
There were different colors she liked. So I helped her find the colors and sizes that fit her.
After about an hour and a half our time together was coming to an end. I felt somewhat saddened by this fact. Violet said goodbye with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Going on her merry way with a handful of colorful ,sexy, lacy bras.
From time to time I see Violet at the store and around town. She never remembers who I am but for me... I will never forget her. How could I?
I swear I have a sign on me that says... "Please!!! Tell me your most personal intimate details... I care!"
I always have people, strangers, talking to me and telling me things I don't want to know. OR... Showing me things NO ONE wants to see.
Example:
I am shopping at Wal Mart ( I hate Wal Mart, It sucks the life out of you) Anyhow, I am shopping at Wal Mart looking at the PJ's When a little old woman walks up to me and asks me," Do you work here? Could you help me please! I need a new bra and can't find what I want."
Me: "I don't work here but I could help you find someone who does." (I always get asked if I work at places. I must look like I know what I am doing or maybe I look like I am trying to duck out of working... Could be either.)
Before I can leave and look for help she says, "That's okay, YOU can still help me, I don't mind."
Stunned I pause for a moment and look at her, wondering about the polite way to handle this situation.She didn't give me much time to think.
Old Woman: "I am looking for a bra like I have on." At which point she lifts up her sweatshirt to show me said Bra.
My thought... she was right, she desperately needed a new bra. With a crinkle in my brow I contemplate all exit strategies. None existed unless I wanted to crawl under the rack of PJ's. Somehow she had backed me into a corner, literally.
Not taking a chance I might drop to my hands and knees and crawl out of there she says, "Do you think they still have this brand? I don't even know what kind it is."
Me: clearing my throat and wishing she would drop her Sweatshirt back into place says, "I have no idea what brand it is, maybe you can go to the dressing room and see if it has a tag and get the information off of it." (This seemed to be a reasonable thought... and a chance for me to get the heck out of there.)
Old Lady : "Oh that's a good idea, Can you look for the tag and see what it is?" She turns her back to me so I can find the tag. (At least I no longer had to look at her... front)
At this point I can clearly see there isn't a tag. It was clear the tag had disintegrated from long wear and washings. Not only was the tag gone but so was most of the fabric of said bra.
"Mame, the tag is no longer there."
She laughs and says, "I may be 79 years old but you don't have to call me mame, My name is Violet." (Her top still lifted above your breast.)
Me: "Pleased to meet you." (I may have said this as a question... I'm not sure)
I told her my name but she never did call me anything but Sweetie and Dear.
In an desperate effort to get her to put her top back down I decide to help her look for SOMETHING. I was clearly not getting out of there and the damage to my psyche had already been done. The time with the therapist was already a guarantee. I might as well shorten that time by having the whole experience end as soon as possible.
I started looking for something she may be interested in and discovered she had no idea what her size was. So after a fairly long time of trying on bras of different style and size she finally found one she liked. And I must say it looked good on her. It lifted and separated... She was insistent on showing me every one of them. Some of which were absolutely hilarious, we both had a good laugh.
At some point the worker did come back to the area and the fitting rooms. I didn't even bother to let her take over, Violet and I had a special relationship by this time.
I suggested she write down the Style and Size on a piece of paper and keep it in her wallet. That way the next time she needed a new one she would have the information with her. Maybe too, she should get more than one. ..
Violet: "That is a fantastic idea! They should give you a raise you are so good!"
Me: "You have no idea..."
There were different colors she liked. So I helped her find the colors and sizes that fit her.
After about an hour and a half our time together was coming to an end. I felt somewhat saddened by this fact. Violet said goodbye with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Going on her merry way with a handful of colorful ,sexy, lacy bras.
From time to time I see Violet at the store and around town. She never remembers who I am but for me... I will never forget her. How could I?
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
The Key Players
As posted before, I have a mother obsessed in many different ways. One obsession she had was of me being sexual. In reality she had nothing to worry about. But because she did worry it put a certain pressure on me to stay FAR FAR away from any such thoughts and actions. Where that left me was wide open for any anyone to be able to advantage of my lack of knowledge and my innocence.
According to my religion I could only marry someone who was also in the same religion. I fell in love with a man who was shy, awkward around others, intelligent, kind and soft spoken, musically talented and enjoyed a lot of the same things I did. He was also a part of this religion.
As a part of this religion I was not permitted to date unless I was planning on marrying the person...So I had no experience in that department. Nor were we allowed to ever be alone together before being married. The presence of another older person was required at all times as a chaperon. Little to no physical contact was recommended. Holding hands was considered being forward and could possibly lead to other things that were not allowed. (not to even be thought about) Our first date was with six other people. We didn't even get to sit beside each other.
This was all fine for me for I was leery of doing something wrong in the eyes of my God.
We made our simple plans to be married. I had very little money and I was on my own as far as paying for the wedding. Some close friends did help here and there. Bless them.
The wedding day came, we were married, everyone (but my Mom) was happy.
The reception started and we did our thing. The time came for us to dance and we danced half a song before he was done. (keep in mind the standards set forth by our religion would not allow contact between two people who were not married or who were not related, including dancing together) My Dad danced with me for a dance while My husband, Scott danced with his Mother and then I went back to my place at the table. My husband told me he was getting a headache and wanted to start thinking about leaving. (We were very early into the reception...) He got up and started to walk around talking to people, the next thing I knew he was slow dancing with a young lady. I had met her a few times but I really didn't know her. He continued to dance with several other women while I sat at my place. After a set was done I asked him if we could dance again, he said he didn't want to. Instead he decided he was going to get some of our things together and I was to start saying good bye to people. I mentioned at least serving the cake before we left. No comment was made. I started to gather things together and to let certain people know we were planning on leaving. (that didn't go down well at all, Someone else had purchased the cake for us as a gift and we hadn't even served it yet) When I went to find Scott he was once again on the dance floor with this woman he had danced with a few times before that night. What was I to say? What could I say? Nothing according the the good wife I was to be, submissive to my husband.
After the dance was complete, a very dominate person (and the one who purchased the cake for us) talked to Scott and said it was time for people to have cake and would we please cut it for them. He agreed, and we did our duty. It wasn't long afterwards that he was ready to leave. He used the microphone and when he was to thank everyone for coming he actually said he would miss his good friends who were moving away the next day. I whispered to him to say thank you. He said, "Oh and thank you." Then handed the microphone back to the band. I must say I was utterly embarrassed. Our good byes were said and we were off to start our new life together. Both of us innocent and discovering life as a married couple and what that meant, together.
And so the person that I married died and I found myself faced with a new , different person.
My newly wed husband couldn't wait to get home to have sex. He pulled off the road onto a dead end dirt road and proceeded to force himself on me. I say force because, I was not comfortable with the situation, I was in my wedding dress in the car outside on a road, the first time I was to make love. Then things turned for the worse. He didn't want to have normal sex... he wanted and took anal sex... in the car on a dirt road, in my wedding dress. I hadn't even know How the whole thing worked, I knew very little. I had no clue there was movement involved. I had never seen a man undressed before never alone in that state of excitement. The blood still stains my wedding dress. I couldn't take it to the dry cleaners, what would I say?
The worst part was I felt this was very wrong and yet I was to submit to my husband. Later after going home he proceeded to take what he wanted once again. This time in the "normal fashion" . He continued most of the night in some fashion of another, his headache magically gone. I felt more then violated and humiliated. I thought what he had done was normal and I should accept it. It wasn't until much later I would find out what he did was very very wrong.
Actually what I found out was what WE did was very wrong. It was one day while reading some information put together by our religious organization that I discovered having anal sex was not permitted. I was devastated. Now what? Of course I had to do to our Elders in the congregation and let them know what had happened. The response was , "You must come in and we will sit down and talk about what happened and how to best move forward." We sat down as a group Three of them so there were plenty of witnesses as to what has happened and what was said. There was disbelief, the comment was made, "Well apparently you enjoyed it or you wouldn't have done it.. " along with lots of shaking of the head. How do I tell them I didn't even know what it was... I didn't like it... I didn't want it? Scott was sitting next to me, hand on my arm. another question, "Was there force involved, rape?" Everyone in the room looked at me besides Scott. All I got from him was a brief but clear squeeze of the arm. Enough force to say, "You will come home with me. No matter what happens you can not leave me, You have only me to face for the rest of your life." Divorce, in this religion is totally out of the question unless there is adultery and even then it is looked down upon as a failure to forgive.
So I looked at this group of men and said in a small whisper, "No"
There for we were both found guilty of this obscene act and were punished accordingly. We were not removed from the organization because we were found to be repentant.
I was slipped into a depression and my husband proceeded with his lewd acts. He stopped for awhile but eventually he would go right back to what he liked best. He couldn't seem to enjoy the act without some kind of oddity to go along with it. I soon discovered he would watch porn, all kinds. What he saw on the tape he wanted to try. He would later tell me he had been watching porn since he was 8 or 9 years old. A friend's father had a ton of tapes and they would watch them when they went over to his house. Some of the things he saw I guess you would call hard core. I wasn't too far into our marriage that he started to use duct tape to tape my hands and feet together and do as he wished. Often it would include anal sex along with other extremes. Putting whatever he could find inside of me, multiple objects....
One notable day he had me close my eyes, he had a surprise for me. At that time I still trusted him so I closed my eyes. What I received was an electrical current to my clitoris. He hooked up his guitar cords to the amplifier producing a current strong enough for a hair raising zap. I thought I was going to die. I hurt so very badly. He on the other hand enjoyed it on his own genitals. He proceeded to place the same wired inside of himself.
After some time of this kind of treatment to himself it was hard for him to get his jollies. He would use the shop vac or tie leather shoestring around the base of himself to keep hard. The list goes on and on....
Soon it would turn to other things...
According to my religion I could only marry someone who was also in the same religion. I fell in love with a man who was shy, awkward around others, intelligent, kind and soft spoken, musically talented and enjoyed a lot of the same things I did. He was also a part of this religion.
As a part of this religion I was not permitted to date unless I was planning on marrying the person...So I had no experience in that department. Nor were we allowed to ever be alone together before being married. The presence of another older person was required at all times as a chaperon. Little to no physical contact was recommended. Holding hands was considered being forward and could possibly lead to other things that were not allowed. (not to even be thought about) Our first date was with six other people. We didn't even get to sit beside each other.
This was all fine for me for I was leery of doing something wrong in the eyes of my God.
We made our simple plans to be married. I had very little money and I was on my own as far as paying for the wedding. Some close friends did help here and there. Bless them.
The wedding day came, we were married, everyone (but my Mom) was happy.
The reception started and we did our thing. The time came for us to dance and we danced half a song before he was done. (keep in mind the standards set forth by our religion would not allow contact between two people who were not married or who were not related, including dancing together) My Dad danced with me for a dance while My husband, Scott danced with his Mother and then I went back to my place at the table. My husband told me he was getting a headache and wanted to start thinking about leaving. (We were very early into the reception...) He got up and started to walk around talking to people, the next thing I knew he was slow dancing with a young lady. I had met her a few times but I really didn't know her. He continued to dance with several other women while I sat at my place. After a set was done I asked him if we could dance again, he said he didn't want to. Instead he decided he was going to get some of our things together and I was to start saying good bye to people. I mentioned at least serving the cake before we left. No comment was made. I started to gather things together and to let certain people know we were planning on leaving. (that didn't go down well at all, Someone else had purchased the cake for us as a gift and we hadn't even served it yet) When I went to find Scott he was once again on the dance floor with this woman he had danced with a few times before that night. What was I to say? What could I say? Nothing according the the good wife I was to be, submissive to my husband.
After the dance was complete, a very dominate person (and the one who purchased the cake for us) talked to Scott and said it was time for people to have cake and would we please cut it for them. He agreed, and we did our duty. It wasn't long afterwards that he was ready to leave. He used the microphone and when he was to thank everyone for coming he actually said he would miss his good friends who were moving away the next day. I whispered to him to say thank you. He said, "Oh and thank you." Then handed the microphone back to the band. I must say I was utterly embarrassed. Our good byes were said and we were off to start our new life together. Both of us innocent and discovering life as a married couple and what that meant, together.
And so the person that I married died and I found myself faced with a new , different person.
My newly wed husband couldn't wait to get home to have sex. He pulled off the road onto a dead end dirt road and proceeded to force himself on me. I say force because, I was not comfortable with the situation, I was in my wedding dress in the car outside on a road, the first time I was to make love. Then things turned for the worse. He didn't want to have normal sex... he wanted and took anal sex... in the car on a dirt road, in my wedding dress. I hadn't even know How the whole thing worked, I knew very little. I had no clue there was movement involved. I had never seen a man undressed before never alone in that state of excitement. The blood still stains my wedding dress. I couldn't take it to the dry cleaners, what would I say?
The worst part was I felt this was very wrong and yet I was to submit to my husband. Later after going home he proceeded to take what he wanted once again. This time in the "normal fashion" . He continued most of the night in some fashion of another, his headache magically gone. I felt more then violated and humiliated. I thought what he had done was normal and I should accept it. It wasn't until much later I would find out what he did was very very wrong.
Actually what I found out was what WE did was very wrong. It was one day while reading some information put together by our religious organization that I discovered having anal sex was not permitted. I was devastated. Now what? Of course I had to do to our Elders in the congregation and let them know what had happened. The response was , "You must come in and we will sit down and talk about what happened and how to best move forward." We sat down as a group Three of them so there were plenty of witnesses as to what has happened and what was said. There was disbelief, the comment was made, "Well apparently you enjoyed it or you wouldn't have done it.. " along with lots of shaking of the head. How do I tell them I didn't even know what it was... I didn't like it... I didn't want it? Scott was sitting next to me, hand on my arm. another question, "Was there force involved, rape?" Everyone in the room looked at me besides Scott. All I got from him was a brief but clear squeeze of the arm. Enough force to say, "You will come home with me. No matter what happens you can not leave me, You have only me to face for the rest of your life." Divorce, in this religion is totally out of the question unless there is adultery and even then it is looked down upon as a failure to forgive.
So I looked at this group of men and said in a small whisper, "No"
There for we were both found guilty of this obscene act and were punished accordingly. We were not removed from the organization because we were found to be repentant.
I was slipped into a depression and my husband proceeded with his lewd acts. He stopped for awhile but eventually he would go right back to what he liked best. He couldn't seem to enjoy the act without some kind of oddity to go along with it. I soon discovered he would watch porn, all kinds. What he saw on the tape he wanted to try. He would later tell me he had been watching porn since he was 8 or 9 years old. A friend's father had a ton of tapes and they would watch them when they went over to his house. Some of the things he saw I guess you would call hard core. I wasn't too far into our marriage that he started to use duct tape to tape my hands and feet together and do as he wished. Often it would include anal sex along with other extremes. Putting whatever he could find inside of me, multiple objects....
One notable day he had me close my eyes, he had a surprise for me. At that time I still trusted him so I closed my eyes. What I received was an electrical current to my clitoris. He hooked up his guitar cords to the amplifier producing a current strong enough for a hair raising zap. I thought I was going to die. I hurt so very badly. He on the other hand enjoyed it on his own genitals. He proceeded to place the same wired inside of himself.
After some time of this kind of treatment to himself it was hard for him to get his jollies. He would use the shop vac or tie leather shoestring around the base of himself to keep hard. The list goes on and on....
Soon it would turn to other things...
Getting through April
April can be a very difficult month for me. First and foremost it is the month I was married. The 27th to be exact. It is also the day I was Raped. I am not going there today. I am just stating a fact in recognition of what I have been dealing with.
I sit here and think,maybe I should go ahead and talk about it. Get it out, why save it for another day? It is fresh in my mind, I might as well clear it out of my soul while it is so fresh.
Before that, I have to explain a bit more leading up to that day. Maybe a bit more about the religion that I wrapped around myself. And about my Mother's involvement in all of it.
I sit here and think,maybe I should go ahead and talk about it. Get it out, why save it for another day? It is fresh in my mind, I might as well clear it out of my soul while it is so fresh.
Before that, I have to explain a bit more leading up to that day. Maybe a bit more about the religion that I wrapped around myself. And about my Mother's involvement in all of it.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Getting Serious Continued
Continued:
I also started to rapidly develop. (I swear it happened all one weekend.) I never wore a training Bra, The first Bra I purchased was a 32 FFF. (even this didn't fit but it was the closest I could get and my Grand Mother altered it to cinch around my rib cage) I went from nothing to an unnatural size. Remember I was 9 years old and about 4' 10". To my mother this now meant I was on the road to becoming a whore. Apparently other people think the bigger your chest is the higher you are on the whore scale too. But that's another story.
In reality I was innocent and sheltered. I didn't know anything about sex or boys. I was afraid of my body, afraid of doing something I should not be doing and becoming unclean in the eyes of my God. I was terrified of this possibility, so much so it made me ill.
Mom wasn't any help. I was unable to leave the room to get a drink or go to the bathroom without her asking where I was going and when I would be back. If it took longer then what I said she would come to find me, often asking if I was masterbating.
This in itself worried me because I had no idea what that was... I didn't know, was I masterbating? I didn't think so but what if I was? What would God think of me....
I was asked every month if I was pregnant. The answer was always no. But I wasn't sure how that happened either aside from the fact it needed to have the help of a guy and I sure didn't have any contact with them. But the question was always asked. Always.Or it was implied that I was pregnant. She would often walk in on me unannounced to see what I was doing. We had a clear shower curtain... So my mother could be certain I wasn't doing anything "Wrong" in the shower. She was obsessed with it. Watching and waiting for my time to come, so certain it would.
Mother looked at me and saw her miserable self. She hated herself and thought badly about all aspects of her body, looks and personality.
She would tell me I was heavy and need to lose weight. ( I was normal ) She told me one day when we were having a heart to heart in my bedroom sitting on my bed, "You need to work on your personality if you want to attract a husband when you get older because you certainly aren't going to attract anyone with your looks."
I believed her. She was my mother, who loved me and wanted the best for me. So I believed I was fat, ugly with a personality that was seriously lacking. I was a worthless human being incapable of being loved.
A deep dark depression quickly settled in at a very early age. How could it not?
My mother had other obsessions too. They involved cleaning. At a very early age I was charged with household chores. I remember standing on a chair unable to reach the sink but it was my job to do the dishes and clean the kitchen. I also did the laundry, sweeping mopping dusting and anything else that needed to be done. I was barely able to lift the mop bucket when it had water in it. None the less I did it and did it correctly or it was done over. Soon after I took on the chore of preparing dinner, the evening meal.
My mother often felt the need to have EVERYTHING done at once. So I would be pulled out of bed at 4:00 in the morning to do laundry and clean the house before school. After school I had a list of things to be done before bed. Then the mood would shift and she would swirl downward and when I got up for school I would find my Mother still in bed. I would get her out of bed and ready for work, helping her dress like a three year old. Then proceeding to dress myself and get to school. After school I would often come home to the blinds pulled and Mom on the couch the place completely torn up. This cycle would continue throughout her life... it still does.
In a way I am glad I had that life. I am very capable of taking care of the house, cooking meals and all the things a wife is responsible for. For that I am grateful. For the complete loss of my childhood... there is no words to express the sadness of such a loss of a time that should have been carefree and innocent. I feel for anyone who had to be the adult when they were so very young.
The depression continued and grew darker.
I also started to rapidly develop. (I swear it happened all one weekend.) I never wore a training Bra, The first Bra I purchased was a 32 FFF. (even this didn't fit but it was the closest I could get and my Grand Mother altered it to cinch around my rib cage) I went from nothing to an unnatural size. Remember I was 9 years old and about 4' 10". To my mother this now meant I was on the road to becoming a whore. Apparently other people think the bigger your chest is the higher you are on the whore scale too. But that's another story.
In reality I was innocent and sheltered. I didn't know anything about sex or boys. I was afraid of my body, afraid of doing something I should not be doing and becoming unclean in the eyes of my God. I was terrified of this possibility, so much so it made me ill.
Mom wasn't any help. I was unable to leave the room to get a drink or go to the bathroom without her asking where I was going and when I would be back. If it took longer then what I said she would come to find me, often asking if I was masterbating.
This in itself worried me because I had no idea what that was... I didn't know, was I masterbating? I didn't think so but what if I was? What would God think of me....
I was asked every month if I was pregnant. The answer was always no. But I wasn't sure how that happened either aside from the fact it needed to have the help of a guy and I sure didn't have any contact with them. But the question was always asked. Always.Or it was implied that I was pregnant. She would often walk in on me unannounced to see what I was doing. We had a clear shower curtain... So my mother could be certain I wasn't doing anything "Wrong" in the shower. She was obsessed with it. Watching and waiting for my time to come, so certain it would.
Mother looked at me and saw her miserable self. She hated herself and thought badly about all aspects of her body, looks and personality.
She would tell me I was heavy and need to lose weight. ( I was normal ) She told me one day when we were having a heart to heart in my bedroom sitting on my bed, "You need to work on your personality if you want to attract a husband when you get older because you certainly aren't going to attract anyone with your looks."
I believed her. She was my mother, who loved me and wanted the best for me. So I believed I was fat, ugly with a personality that was seriously lacking. I was a worthless human being incapable of being loved.
A deep dark depression quickly settled in at a very early age. How could it not?
My mother had other obsessions too. They involved cleaning. At a very early age I was charged with household chores. I remember standing on a chair unable to reach the sink but it was my job to do the dishes and clean the kitchen. I also did the laundry, sweeping mopping dusting and anything else that needed to be done. I was barely able to lift the mop bucket when it had water in it. None the less I did it and did it correctly or it was done over. Soon after I took on the chore of preparing dinner, the evening meal.
My mother often felt the need to have EVERYTHING done at once. So I would be pulled out of bed at 4:00 in the morning to do laundry and clean the house before school. After school I had a list of things to be done before bed. Then the mood would shift and she would swirl downward and when I got up for school I would find my Mother still in bed. I would get her out of bed and ready for work, helping her dress like a three year old. Then proceeding to dress myself and get to school. After school I would often come home to the blinds pulled and Mom on the couch the place completely torn up. This cycle would continue throughout her life... it still does.
In a way I am glad I had that life. I am very capable of taking care of the house, cooking meals and all the things a wife is responsible for. For that I am grateful. For the complete loss of my childhood... there is no words to express the sadness of such a loss of a time that should have been carefree and innocent. I feel for anyone who had to be the adult when they were so very young.
The depression continued and grew darker.
Getting Serious
I have been putting off getting serious about what I have to write about. Today is the day to dig in and continue the process. I talked about my Mother and told a little bit about her. I have more to say and I should continue in that same vain.
When I was about 3? years old my mother decided to become a member of a religious group. My Dad did not join her in her spiritual search for the truth of the bible. So the family was split in two for this group was unlike most religions. They are serious about their spirituality. I was raised as was my two brothers in this religious organization. We started at a very young age and quickly learned about the Bibles truths. My dad on the other hand continued his way of life. Doing whatever pleased him and was satisfied with the situation unless something was demanded of him.
Such truths included not celebrating Christmas, Easter, birthdays... in fact any Holidays where not found favorable for a Christian of this faith to celebrate. As you can imagine this separated us from Everyone. Absolutely everyone. Including all of my family, Father, Aunts and Uncles and Grand parents. None of which were very please with the situation. But eventually they learned it wasn't going to change and they adjusted to it.
We were separated by our beliefs in others ways too. Our's was a religion of pure morality, worshiping God whole heartedly and following his commandments to Love one another and Love and serve God with your whole heart. It taught us to hate the worldly things and to love God's ways. Wordly things meaning the ways of the world...Such as spoken here in 1 Cor.6:9-10 " Do YOU not know that unrighteous persons will not inherit God's kingdom? Do not be misled. Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, not adulterers, nor men kept for unnatural purposes, nor men who lie with men, nor thieves, nor greedy persons, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit God's kingdom."
We were to be pure of heart, mind and body.
There was no dating or class parties for younger members. No proms or friendships that originated outside of this religion. And this was for our own protection. I have to say, this was a fine way to grow up. I had positive influences in my life. I didn't have to worry about the pressures of dating, that was meant for getting to know a person before marriage and I was not anywhere near ready for that. My teachers and friends knew me for a person who could be trusted and would not lie to them or cheat them. I was a good person always striving to do what was right in the eyes of my God. I was okay with this way of life. I loved my God and wanted to serve him and make him happy.
People knew me to be a good person, comfortable with who I was. All but my mother.
My Mother was convinced I was on the edge of doing something horrifically wrong, that is if I hadn't already. Remember me saying before my Mother was an all or nothing person. There was no grey area, no in between, and she is incapable of being balanced in any thing.
I should mention at this point my Mother married my Father because they were to have a baby together. She had just turned 16.
With this in mind remember that anything my mother did she felt I should do also. I think this seeped over in her thinking that it was just a matter of time before I became pregnant just like she did.
When I was on summer vacation between third and fourth grade, I started my period. I also started to rapidly . Continued:
When I was about 3? years old my mother decided to become a member of a religious group. My Dad did not join her in her spiritual search for the truth of the bible. So the family was split in two for this group was unlike most religions. They are serious about their spirituality. I was raised as was my two brothers in this religious organization. We started at a very young age and quickly learned about the Bibles truths. My dad on the other hand continued his way of life. Doing whatever pleased him and was satisfied with the situation unless something was demanded of him.
Such truths included not celebrating Christmas, Easter, birthdays... in fact any Holidays where not found favorable for a Christian of this faith to celebrate. As you can imagine this separated us from Everyone. Absolutely everyone. Including all of my family, Father, Aunts and Uncles and Grand parents. None of which were very please with the situation. But eventually they learned it wasn't going to change and they adjusted to it.
We were separated by our beliefs in others ways too. Our's was a religion of pure morality, worshiping God whole heartedly and following his commandments to Love one another and Love and serve God with your whole heart. It taught us to hate the worldly things and to love God's ways. Wordly things meaning the ways of the world...Such as spoken here in 1 Cor.6:9-10 " Do YOU not know that unrighteous persons will not inherit God's kingdom? Do not be misled. Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, not adulterers, nor men kept for unnatural purposes, nor men who lie with men, nor thieves, nor greedy persons, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit God's kingdom."
We were to be pure of heart, mind and body.
There was no dating or class parties for younger members. No proms or friendships that originated outside of this religion. And this was for our own protection. I have to say, this was a fine way to grow up. I had positive influences in my life. I didn't have to worry about the pressures of dating, that was meant for getting to know a person before marriage and I was not anywhere near ready for that. My teachers and friends knew me for a person who could be trusted and would not lie to them or cheat them. I was a good person always striving to do what was right in the eyes of my God. I was okay with this way of life. I loved my God and wanted to serve him and make him happy.
People knew me to be a good person, comfortable with who I was. All but my mother.
My Mother was convinced I was on the edge of doing something horrifically wrong, that is if I hadn't already. Remember me saying before my Mother was an all or nothing person. There was no grey area, no in between, and she is incapable of being balanced in any thing.
I should mention at this point my Mother married my Father because they were to have a baby together. She had just turned 16.
With this in mind remember that anything my mother did she felt I should do also. I think this seeped over in her thinking that it was just a matter of time before I became pregnant just like she did.
When I was on summer vacation between third and fourth grade, I started my period. I also started to rapidly . Continued:
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