And so it begins

I guess my strongest childhood memory is those white  cotton curtains blowing in the breeze!! I remember the smell, of sweat, and fear as I was laid on the bed, hyper focused on those curtains blowing in the breeze, My friends dad whisphering in my ear, hurting me, preparing me, threatening, I was 5 yrs old. 
I learned at a very young age how to hide. Drove my mother crazy that she could never find me... but in my mind if I hide I am safe! My mother could not protect me... it took me a very long time to understand what her life was like but I still struggle with trusting her. I sometimes wish that she did not share her story with me. The repeat of her dysfunctional story was her way of trying to explain her choices as a parent. I get it!
Instinctively I knew that this was not right or ok.
That instinct has saved me many times over.....

I roomed with one of my sisters until I was 9, she was such a pretty baby and even at that age I worried about being able to protect her and my brothers. I would climb into her crib with her and sleep, I felt safe there, because I had some small bit of control if some one came to touch us. I would fight to save her!! 

Crazy that I felt the need to be the protector, but that is how I developed socially and emotionally, fighting for my place in family, community, my life!
My life was so complicated already at that young age, I did not fit in.. I was always punished so excessively by my "parents" A high heel shoe to the skull was one example, I got to spend my summer locked in a bedroom, after that my parents were terrified for everyone to see the mess, I was black and blue.   The belt was always close by as well, and my step father could be brutal. He was an alcoholic and my mother was an enabler (always). She couldnt protect herself and she certainly could  not protect us. 

It is ironic that not to long after these events , I got a shock..that I was going to see my "real" father.... 
I as did my siblings always believed that "dad" was my father! 

But turns out he was not only "not my father", but he was going to make my mother chose to give up "another" of her children. 
"Turns out I  had two older brothers and a father just released from prison!
My mother had chosen to give up 2 of the boys but kept me and my younger brother when she met the the man we were led to believe was our father. 

Secrets.. so many secrets and lies, I understand now why "stepdad" was so brutal in his dealings with me, I was not "his".

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