Monday, October 22, 2007

My life, your story!

I would like to share some stories from my book with you. Please, read and share your thoughts.

Early Childhood:
One afternoon, I was on the ground and she said I waited until she looked at me and then I put a handful of dirt in my mouth. Well, I've always known that I was considered to be a very smart child, above average but at the age of one, what did I know about being spiteful? Could it be? Maybe testing! I don't think so but you figure it out. Well, Mom was angry and she was going to teach me not to mess with her. She lit a paper bag and burnt my right hand. After so many years, the scar still remains. The punishment was justifiable in her eyes, in spite of the severity of it or how much damage it could have caused. That is how she reasoned many times and no one dared to differ.

She did this in front of other people but no one stopped her. In those days, the Child Abuse Laws were not as strict as they are today but even if they were, I doubt any one would intentionally get in my mother's way. They all knew she had no middle grounds; when good, extremely good but when bad beyond bad.

My mother apologized to us for the beatings. She said that accepting God made her understand how wrong she was and that she could have been thrown in jail for how severely she punished us.

It was very difficult for her to apologize because she was a very proud woman and because it took away from her wanting to be a better mother than her mother ever was. She seemed upset when she was apologizing but we understood and saw how she felt more ashamed than anything else.We sincerely forgave her because we saw and remembered not only the times when she caused us to bleed and cry with pain but also the times when we needed her even as adults and she was always there for us.

Our relationship with our mom was such a bitter sweet one. A cup of sorrow one moment and a cup of joy the other. Fright and pain then comfort and care. There was never a medium, only extremes of bad and good.


Just a Little Older:
Of course, my stepfather knew me enough to know that it would not be long before I showed up. I repeatedly told him that I would not allow him to hurt my sisters. So, when I got home, there he was waiting for me. He grabbed me and kissed me. I pushed him away and told him that I needed to go take a shower and then go to bed before Mom came home.

I thought maybe he had given up for the night but as I walked into my bedroom, he grabbed me and kissed me on the mouth. I tighten my mouth, hiding my lips to keep him from kissing me. Then, he bit me real hard forcing me to release my lips and he kissed me.

Suddenly, we heard the door slam and my Mom rushing into the house. She had come back home to get some money to play bingo. Instead, she saw him running, leaving my bed, and pretending to be tucking my sisters.

My mother got suspicious and asked him what he was doing. He got very defensive and said, "Nothing, can't I tuck the girls in?" I on the other hand, was scared and shaking; yet, trying to fake that I was asleep because I didn't want to deal with any of it.

When she was close enough, she yanked my sheet away and saw that my pants and panties were halfway down. Whew! My Mom’s eyes got really big and her right hand went up in the air. Then it came down with such speed and smacking my face so hard; it threw me off the bed. As many times as my mother beat me, that slap was the one that broke my spirit. It was the beginning of my downfall as a person; the end of whatever little self-esteem I had left. With that slap, she accused, judged and condemned me; all for being abused by him.

I was way too young to have to deal with all this mess but the reality is that I was dealing with it or maybe not dealing with it at all. I guess I was just allowing it all to happen to me. Not that at the time I thought I could do something about the whole thing but just that even though I was filled with shame and was angry for my mother not seeing the truth in me, I still remained a "good" child; in appearance because beneath all the politeness, manners and good behavior, I was bad.

I was a “good” child on the outside, while rotting away in the inside. Within me, contempt was engendered intertwined with all the love I felt for both my mother and my stepfather and I was a very confused child. One minute I loved, craved and needed their love and attention and yet in the same breath wanting to run far away from them.

I was not trying to be a hypocrite, I was being a “good” girl but it wasn't by choice. I was too afraid of my mother to rebel against her or my stepfather I felt like a monster lived inside of me. I believed I was a sick person and I was disgusted with myself.

I constantly asked myself questions like: How could I love a man like this? How could I be a good person and still have positive feeling for this man. Who was I kidding? Often I thought I was as bad as him or even worst. It was the only explanation I had at the time that could explain why I couldn’t hate him once and for all.

Yes, God allowed me to undergo great sufferings but He also gave me the strength to overcome them all. These experiences not only serve to show hardship but to show the power of God in action. No matter how big the storm may be, the love of God can take us through to the other side, safely.

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