Tami, 48, US

by Tami
(us)

I have been telling my "Story" since I was 21, trying to get Anyone to Listen. It was met with coldness and I stopped. The look of disbelief was always too much for me. I lost my son because my first therapist told the divorce courts that I would do what was done to Me, I had no choice. I stopped looking for Help for me until my children grew up. I did Not abuse my Children.

I now refuse to say that I know how I came to live with my Father's parents. I remember the mantra-"The court took me away when I was eight weeks old because my mother almost beat me to death." I was taught to say that word for word by my grandmother. She believed in teaching sentences.

I have very few Nice childhood memories. I have spent so many hours staring at pictures and trying to remember, but there is just a big Nothing. Years of it. Until the age of about 10 the only memories that I have are memories that no one should have and I am so sick of living with them day in and day out.

My Mother was 15, my Father was 17, My Grandmother and Grandfather were both 40, they were recently Bankrupt and partnering with my Grandfather's brother in a house and Service Station. They let this man rape and molest me until I was about 7 years old. The entire Family knew what was happening and did Nothing.

During this time Sexual Abuse was probably the very least of My worries. I barely register it. I was Terrified of LIFE. I had insomnia in kindergarten and these people punished me for it. I was Beaten and made fun of for wetting the bed, sucking my thumb, having a blanket...and the one that will not stop hurting-being Ugly. Yeah, they would just take pot shots at me for being ugly. For not having blonde hair like my cousins. For having my mother, being "mexican".

My father's brother was 9 years older and I was raised as his sister. He convinced me that I was to be thrown from his fathers plane.

My grandfather liked to hide, with a horror mask, and jump out-making me scream was fun and there are pictures to prove just how much fun they had.

Every three months my grandmother would pack my things and tell me that the court was putting me in an institution...start praying.

Court day...I don't remember Court, I just feel terror and I cannot go near a courtroom. I am scared now.

When they felt I was being bad the threats were the same, they all involved loss of my home. I have such a fear of homelessness that my life was a constant terror.

Before that she used an even more evil method of motivation. We had been to visit my Mother's grandmother. The woman had half her calf missing, an open wound...she tried to cover it before I could see, I was probably 4-5 years old. I was told it was a Spider Bite. For the next several years my Grandmother, the one raising me, used this new terror of Spiders to get all sorts of stuff out of me. She would lock me in the closet with them, the garage, tell me that they were under my bed...I developed a paralyzing phobia.

I know that children Think that they are responsible for things that they really aren't...well, my grandmother made sure that I KNEW what I was responsible for, and my grandfather backed her up. He always told me that I was Crazy, even when I was not old enough to know what the hell crazy Was.

I was told who's lives I had ruined. I don't remember NOT knowing. I ruined my grandmothers life, according to her. She said that She never wanted me, she only accepted me for a week and it kept getting extended. The court refused to take me back.

I was also molested by the man next door-clear memories and confirmation by my grandmother.

My Uncle was finally arrested for another molest when I was in my mid twenties. At that time my grandfather had become best friends with a man who had gone to jail Twice for molesting his own Granddaughter!!! My grandfather told me that I just didn't understand, some things couldn't be helped and little girls squirm...and I felt my heart start to break and I have never been the same since. I have huge questions and he is now dead. My grandmother told me that I was little, it is not as big as I made it. No one thought I would remember. Thank God she is dead now, too.

I still wake up screaming at night. I have always had dreams of dismemberment, falling, being lost...I know my uncle took me out of the house one night. I remember being hidden on the floor board of his car with coats or blankets over me while he was somewhere else. I remember coming in the back door of our house and the yelling from my grandparents over the bar and men.

My uncle fell through his glass shower door-I connected it with someones head being cut off and I am so afraid of that memory.

I had a seizure disorder or something...I am wondering if I had began to disassociate...I was dropping everywhere, even woke up under a car and got ran over by a bike.

My first EEG I remember that the Dr. had told me about brain waves...then my grandmother took me home and warned me that they would be reading my mind, like God. Be very careful about my thoughts...

Then came the child psychologist that I was warned would institutionalize me if I said the wrong thing...I was coached for days.

I was told it was My Fault when my father went to Viet Nam. If anything bad happened, it was blamed on Me. And they would always make sure that I knew that I was so bad that my own parents beat me and left me and would never want me again.

They taught the cousins to say these things to me also. There was no safe place, except for my great-grandmothers. When they were all alive I had somewhere to go where I was OK and these people had to Shut Up and keep their hands off of me. These old ladies protected me as much as they could. The rest of the family pretty much ignored them. I think I would have killed myself without them.

My abuse was not seen by anyone. At 14 I was put into a backbrace, I am missing part of three vertabrae. At 16 the left side of my jaw locked up-the joint gave out. Both of these are from injuries...nothing big, no broken arms, just lots of concussions. They used the belt.

I think I would have preferred physical assault to the mental stress. My grandmother would tell me that my baby brothers were being beaten by our mother and I was safe. I should be grateful, I should feel guilty for them. She would give them my stuff, or use my clothes money on them and tell me how I was Jealous!!! I was always made fun of at school. I was the worst dressed kid in any school I went to. She even went through a period, when I was in 5-6th grade, where she made me dress like a boy. I was so mixed up and ashamed that I started wearing a knit hat...I was sick of hearing about my awful hair and having her perm it or cut it all off...I was as UGLY as the woman could possibly make me.

I did try living with my father and his second wife. In 5th grade I tried. He got mad at me over buying candy, lifted me sideways over his head and launched me across the livingroom and into a wall. I don't remember after that. I think that is what happened to my vertibrae.

I don't remember him touching me again, only yelling and beating my stepmother. I tried one other time to live with them. The mental abuse was quieter.

I do not know why I tried to get the love and approval from this family. I could never fully let go. I guess I hoped that someday, someone would say they were sorry and love me.

This has made having a marriage a nightmare. My husband and I split up a few years ago, after our kids were grown. I moved 3,000 miles from anyone I knew and learned to make myself feel safe. Even my Husband didn't Believe. None of this could possibly be true, not if you knew these people, or even me.

That is the other Bright spot in my Life. My Husband. He is listening Now. Now he understands that my fears are older than my relationship with him. He isn't responsible for them and never was. That let him start to share things that he never had, too. Nothing is ever just one way when it is Good.

I have PTSD and take Effexor for that. I was taking Seroquel for the anxiety and to help with sleep, but after 10 years I did some experimentation and found that I was much better off trading the Total Body Drop that the Seroquel gave me for a nice gentle high from Medical Marijuana.

I have moderate to severe spinal degenerative arthritis due to injuries. I have been in constant pain for the past 15 years. I can't take pain meds. I have stomach problems and everything, including my blood pressure meds, make me ill. Having my stomach pain hit a 9 to solve a neck and back pain of a 7-8 is just not a good trade off. So, I chose medical marijuana. I use an ounce a month to keep my pain levels around a 5-7 and sleep 5 hours a night.

It takes every bit of energy that I have, every day, to fight off all of the bad things floating around in my head. All of the things that they said to me and did. It never stops hitting me.

I want to know why all of this happened. I want to know the truth. There were no Child Abuse laws when they say I was taken away by the Court. The Dr. that was in the middle of this was the grandmother's sons Dr. That kid was a Mess and doing Tranquilizers then!!! Who would have thought this to be a good home? That Dr. did pelvics on me. I didn't see him past the age of 10. I remember his name and he is still alive. He gets AWARDS for Humanitarianism!!!













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