A Lifetime of Abuse..... (working title)

Introduction1

This is not ment to make you feel sorry for me. This isn't a book for the light-hearted, fun, and unending games. It's no laughing matter when your punishment for doing nothing wrong is to be lashed on the back with a cattle whip. To live through your childhood with a bipolar and in turn being a bipolar who doesn't know how to help herself later on because she was not taught to achieve goals of sound mind and soul, makes her only feel as worthless as her mother was as a drunken addict. In the following story I'm going to be blunt, honest, and rude. This isn't ment to shock you, this is to communicate what I have been through and who I am.2

Let's recount the full story of what I know is fact and I know to be the cruel truth. My mother was ruthless and predictable in her manias and her deep dark depressions. My father, one week after I was born, bought my mother a bag of groceries and said he was sorry and we never saw him again. He never knew my whereabouts until right before we were adopted. Adoption was my saving grace, but it came too late for my scarred body, soul and mind, and heart.3

The first thing that I think of when someone asks me about my childhood is my body being deflowered at age five. He seemed ancient, smelled of pot, and spoke to me as if I were the only thing that mattered in the world. I sat on his knee naked and said, “We can't tell mommy now, so roll onto your back and lay on my legs,” soothingly beckoning for me to comply. I do so and wait for my surprise. He smiles at me and says I need to be a good little girl and let him get me extra clean. From that point he parted my tiny labium and began licking with his tongue and probing with his fingers, deep into my body. “Be good and stay still,” he said soothingly. 4

I cry and squirm as he keeps going, but there was a noise and he promptly took me and set me in the tub and began washing me. My mother walks into the bathroom and smiles and then walks out. This went on for three years before she threw him to the cops, she later admitted that she knew about it and hadn't done anything. The second thing I think about is the ruthless beating that my brother and I received.