momz and stuff

I’m touched by Ro’s blog entry about her mom/teacher dying. I’m trying to read Motherless Daughters and having such a time with it. Now that dad is gone, mom is next. The lung cancer will take her, the only question is when. Then I won’t be just a motherless daughter but a parentless daughter as well. Isn’t it odd how the things in our life affect us? I just got word yesterday that a friend is expecting a baby boy on my mom’s birthday. The circle of life… it’s stunning in it’s simplicity isn’t it? A death, a life, an end, a beginning, sad, happy, up, down…on and on it continues.

I started this blog in hopes of a bit of anonymity…silly I know since I’ve got my profile and pic eh? I guess anonymity wasn’t the real goal…more like I wanted something that was just mine. Not for any of my friends to read…just to put out there into the universe somewhere and see what new and interesting stuff comes my way. I firmly believe that we get back what we put out however the stuff I’m getting back for the most part sucks so what does that say about me? I must be as terrible as I sometimes feel I think. Otherwise why would all this awful crap keep happening?

I am going to write about my life…I’ll try to condense it today but hey, it’s my blog, I guess I can write what I want and how much I write is no one else’s business is it?

I was born almost 40 years ago in a military hospital. My mom was 20 and in the Army. She met and married my father while on a military base somewhere in the US. Not long after she discovered she was pg, it was also discovered that my father was still married to someone else. So, mom got her military discharge and a marriage annulment and me. When I was 4 days old, my mom started hitting me because I wouldn’t stop crying. She was pretty sick with some kind of infection and needed sleep I guess and it was too much for her. We lived with my grandparents on their farm and from what I understand, they took the most care of me for awhile. My grandfather began sodomizing me with wire hangers when I was six months old and progressed to actual physical rape by the time my 2nd birthday rolled around. My daycare provider (a friend of the family) drugged me so I wouldn’t scream while I was at her house and in the midst of all this, my mom remarried and divorced two more times before hitching up with the man I call dad when I was 3. They married when I was 5 and were together until his death last week. I was raped with a broom handle by the school janitor in second grade and my mom and dad beat the hell out of me for a long time. The last time I got hit with a belt I was 13 I think but the mental crap continued. I was also part of a religion that was very controlling and spent most of my life terrified that I would die for not doing the right things. I have a memory of being ‘in bed’ with my brother but don’t know why I was there and I married at 18 to escape my home. Talk about jumping from the frying pan into the fire. I truly loved my husband and I said “yes” because I thought he loved me. I wonder now if I was just afraid no one else would ever love me and took the first one who asked me. We’d been married for three weeks when the first ‘incident’ happened. He became angry for some reason. Of course, he blamed me but the healthy me knows it had nothing to do with me. He stopped speaking to me for 3 days. I begged, I pleaded, I cried and nothing. Not one word. Whenever my mother was angry with me as a child, she would stop speaking to me too. In fact, the last time she did this was a little more than two months ago. Anyway, the episodes in my early marriage continued. I tried to leave several times but those in charge in our ‘religion’ told me I’d be an unchristian wife if I did that and I had to stay no matter what. My husband and I had only anal sex for two years. I had no idea about sex or anything that went with it so he taught me and I thought that was the ‘way’ to do it. Imagine my shock when I figured it out. I wanted a baby and didn’t get pregnant. I finally started reading. OMG. All I can say about it now is that I had completely blocked everything from my childhood because I had no idea there was more than one opening in that area of my body. Is that sad or what? To this day my mother will not talk about it. I led a sheltered life as a young girl and knew nothing but what my mother told me which turned out to be nothing. I informed my husband that I knew what the problem was and since I was no longer ignorant, we did it the ‘getting pg’ way. I still have no idea what his motivation was and since we are no longer married I am certainly never going to find out but whatever, I now have three beautiful and amazing daughters and I’m so blessed to have them and they are worth whatever it took to get them. I was married for 16 years when I finally had the gumption to tell my husband that I didn’t care whether he wanted me to or not but I was getting a breast reduction. I was in pain and felt ugly every day of my life and I’d finally had enough. That was the beginning of the end…sort of. I’d been in therapy for a long time and I guess the butterfly was emerging from the cocoon because it was time. Six months after my surgery, my husband attempted suicide and I refused to let him come home. It was ugly and he was raging. He totally trashed my house and then would leave gifts for me on the front porch when I wasn’t home. The stories I could tell…ugh. I moved my girls and I into an apartment, got a full time job instead of just part time evenings, started working on a divorce and a new life. It was tough going to be sure. I am so proud of what I did though. My daughters are incredible and while it’s been a long road for them with their father, it’s certainly making them stronger I think…I hope. I married again four years later and it’s been a struggle blending this family. I will admit I alternate between believing we’ll make it and knowing we won’t. Only time will tell. My oldest daughter is two months from graduating high school and entering the university as a sophomore. My second daughter is a high school freshman, activist, vegetarian with a mind of her own. Thank god it’s a wise mind..what a treasure she is. My baby is in 6th grade and still figuring it all out. She wants to be a veterinarian and play soccer. That’s it. They are all strong, opinionated, thoughtful, brilliant young women and I must say they will forever be my greatest achievement. I have been blessed to find so many friends in this ‘new’ life of mine. When I refused to let my husband come home all those years ago, all the friends I’d had for my entire lifetime abandoned me because I was no longer a ‘christian wife’. My ex husband is on new wife number 3 and still I am shunned. I try not to let it hurt anymore but some days it still does. I worry that god will bring armageddon and I will die with my daughters for doing the wrong things. After all these years, I don’t know if it was brainwashing or truth. I just know that I couldn’t live like that anymore. What is right? What is wrong? I haven’t a clue. I just take it one day at a time and right now each day involves the death of my dad and my terminally ill mother. I feel like I’ve never had a ‘break’ you know? Like some kind of kharmic 2 x 4 is constantly waving over my head and periodically it lowers the boom and smacks me again. Just once I’d like something to happen simply…to take care of my daughters and their college costs, to have a month end when I’m not overdrawn, to pay my bills and take my children on a vacation without worry. We’ve been through so much. Most days I am simply thankful to be alive and to have stopped the abuse cycle right here at my feet. My daughters have a life so much healthier and happier than I could have ever dreamed and I made it this way. I am so proud and grateful…for my girls, my job, my home…everything. I work to find the positive in it all you know? Most days I am more successful than not. I think the death of my dad and the imminent memorial and death of my mom has clouded my vision for now. I am blessed…I am looking forward to the day when I don’t have to remind myself again and it’s just how I feel. Grief is a weird thing…Peace.


One response to this post.

  1. Traci! You are not only a survivor but a THRIVER! No karma involved at all, just lessons that we learn, relearn, and learn all over again until finally, they are over. Each time we learn a little more and learning are much more like a spiral than a line. Thank God we never have to spiral all the way around the second, third, whatever, time around the same lesson 🙂 You have had many, many difficult lessons and yet you are strong. Just look at your wonderful girls and you know you are wonderful too!

    I am struck by the lines you have written staring me boldly in the face and daring me: I married again four years later and it’s been a struggle blending this family. I will admit I alternate between believing we’ll make it and knowing we won’t. Only time will tell.
    I am there. Right there and know that time can be a friend and foe. Only time will tell….

    Keep writing! It’s cathartic! You just never know who else you might be helping. Today, it is me! Thank you.


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