I was born at the tail end of the baby boomer generation.
The Beatles were rocking. I remember the day president Kennedy was assassinated. Our country was in turmoil and so was I.
My mom had just decided to throw my dad out for being physically handicapped, emotionally absent and irresponsible. (Translated: He had no money) But not to worry she had all ready found the perfect sap to do her bidding, plus she had a dowry (That would be ME!) and a house to offer him. What sociopath could refuse that deal? So we all moved in together after a proper marriage of course! But the “Brady Bunch” we weren’t! It was more like:
Living at “Hell House” with “Mommy Dearest”
and her “Freak On A Leash.”
I went a long with her distorted view of life and trusted that we were indeed better then the “Brady Bunch” but deep inside my little girl brain, I was completely unaware of the emotional merry-go-round I was gliding on. The horses were distorted by anguish, distress and pain. I didn’t know if I was mommies little helper or mommy herself. I didn’t know if I was daddies sex toy or his wife.
I was naïve, but certainly not innocent. I was not a wide-eyed child with wishes, dreams and a properly developing identity.
I was entirely different….
Over the next 18 years of physical, emotional and sexual abuse my body continued to develop correctly but my identity never reached its complete developmental stages. Because of this I wore a facade type personality, the outer appearance was well put together and happy, but inside was conflict, confusion and “FEAR” fear of struggling and failing, failing and being rejected, rejected and living with shame, shame and finally becoming an outcast from society. Which is exactly what happened.
Because of the confusion and fear brought on by abuse and neglect I could not complete my education or be involved in activities appropriate for my age. I could not have a functioning intimate relationship with a boyfriend.
I could not hold down a responsible job and had no hope of a career.
Oh but there is the other side, the bright side.
I didn’t have a lot to worry about like other normal developing teenage girls. I didn’t have to worry about makeup, hairstyles, clothes, or getting on the honor roll or which dashing guy would flirt with me down the hall. I didn’t have to worry about having too many phone calls, or turning down cool birthday party invitations or if I would get my first kiss at sweet 16. I didn’t have to even sweat it out while waiting to see if I made cheerleading or got enough votes for student body. I didn’t need to anticipate graduation or college. I didn’t even need to worry about whom I would give my virginity to.
BECAUSE it was all taken away from me by my parents who loved me and had my best interests at heart!!!
My only responsibility as a child or an adult or a human being was to cope and survive. Easy existence right? Well, I don’t know any other way to live and switching on reflex to a different character (personality) that could handle that particular stress worked for me, although I was never aware we were doing it.
I am just scratching the surface to expose the years of buried anguish and sorrow. I can hardly understand why I have to weave the fabric of pain into my life to be healed.
I can only understand that I am a shadow of a person with pain on one side and a plastic mask on the other side.