As I said previously, my sister and I were with our foster parents for three years. so I was six when I went back to live with our mother and Tyra was three. You are probably wondering were was my father or Tyra’s father was during this time. I will of course let Tyra speak about her own Father, but as for mine I had some contact with him, but it was very limited. I am not sure of the circumstances, but he was not in my life after the time I was brought back to my mother from my foster parents. from vague memories I can only infer that it was not a good relationship, although the memories are hazy the feelings about the memories are extremely strong, and as an adult I can infer many things. It wasn’t till much later in my Adult life that I had any substantial contact with my Father, which I will speak about later on in our Blog. Just to Clarify all the siblings have different fathers other than my youngest brother and I who have the same Father.
I do remember when my mother came to get us. she brought crayons and coloring books. Big fat crayons. I remember, because, I broke my yellow one and it upset me very much =(. To a six year old who is confused and bewildered breaking a crayon is a huge deal. I could not understand why I was again being uprooted to go back with this woman, who was by now pretty much a stranger to me, although I must of remembered something because my foster mother stated I Begged to stay with her, and not go with this other woman. She had a man with her, although I can not recall who the man was. I do believe it was Tyra’s father although I could be wrong.
Things went badly very quickly. The horror was that because our mother had fought so hard to get us back, she became very adept at hiding abuse… Our mother was very heavy in to alcohol and I am sure pills, although I did not become aware of the pills until I was older. The alcohol was very prevalent though. As I was six years old, there are things that I remember, probably because some of the memories were so horrific.
You may be wondering if I still peed the bed after being with my foster parents for three years. The answer was yes, I pee’d the bed until I was about ten or eleven years old =(. extreme abuse can do this to a child. Many young children lose bladder/bowel control following sexual assault. It can be frustrating for parents and cause extra work. … Bedwetting can also result from feelings of helplessness when children feel a loss of ownership and power over their body when it has been used by someone more powerful than they are.
The bed wetting is important for me to share because it was so shaming to me. Although the reasons for my doing it were horrific in the extreme, outsiders would shame me because they felt it wasn’t normal for a six year old and, older, child to be bed wetting. They were right it wasn’t normal but instead of helping or investigating they shamed me. I would just implore any one who knows of a child that wets the bed beyond the normal years to investigate it before righting it off as laziness or just being a brat. I am not, nor have ever been, lazy or a brat.
Within the first year of being home I was sexually abused twice by men that I remember. I even remember his name, because to me it was such a odd name; she called him Guy. I didn’t realize until I was Older that it was French and the proper pronunciation was Gee not guy even thought it was spelled Guy. He had Black hair and blue eyes. he was wearing jeans and a white dress shirt and smelled nice. He was not, however a nice man. in fact he was a despicable man! My mother had a kitchen table pushed up against the wall, with one chair on the end and one on the side.
For some odd reason I was dressed up in a red dress and white leotards. It was really odd… since we didn’t go to church and had no special place to go… As an adult I really have to wonder if my mother dressed me up for this occasion. If she did, her depravity knew no bounds =(.
I recall my mother siting in the side chair, and the man sitting with his back to the wall on the corner of the table, facing outward towards to kitchen. Our mother sat in the other chair facing the man. My mother had me come over and introduced me to this man. Nothing strange right? She told me to sit on his lap. She told me, to do this and since she was my mother I obeyed. I was a meek child so of course I did as she told, with out making a fuss.
“Trigger Warning: graphic sexual abuse please be aware.”
I recall sitting on this mans lap and he did something to me that caused me a white hot pain in my little girl parts. He inserted his finger into my vagina. I recall the pain and the bewilderment, as I looked into my mothers eyes and she just watched and said nothing, She said nothing!!! My soul shattered, it exploded with a silent scream. I uttered no sound what so ever, I complied and my soul died. I blacked out after that moment, although I have vague memories of movement and being carried… I really do not care to remember any more than that, I’m sorry but I can’t and wont take you and me through the whole horror of what happened, I just do not recall any more details vividly.
My mother and Uncle’s wanted to go out to the bar. However, they had a dilemma. No baby sitter and no one wanted to stay behind. However, one man volunteered to stay behind and watch me and my sister….my mother didn’t even question it, she was ecstatic that she could go party and feel safe knowing her children were being Watched…. If I sound ominous it is because it was. I have to beg the question what mother would leave a strange man stay with her little girl’s, while she went to the bar? Apparently our mother would and did.
After my mother and Uncles left, I was in my little cot, not sleeping just being aware, “Beware”. This man was huge, well at least to me he was, and well muscled. He had blonde hair down to his shoulder,and was wearing a tan vest. The vest looked like tanned leather and he had no shirt on. If he is reading this do you think he knows who I am talking about? I hope so, and I hope he twists with the agony of what he did to a little girl! My innocence was already gone, so when he came into my little space I knew it was not for a good reason. He took off my green turtle neck shirt. I recall saying to him why he wanted to do that since “I don’t have any boobies”. I suppose I was hoping that would deter him from what ever vile deed he was planning on. It didn’t deter him. I was about six and a half years old this second time, and my innocence was shattered. He took out his penis and had an erection. I recall the shape, size, color everything! I even remember the color of his pubic hair. He told me to touch his penis to take it in my hands. Of course I complied, isn’t this what my mother taught me to comply, with out complaint or tears. God intervened! A vehicle came up the road and its head lights shone in the window! He got scared and hastily put my shirt back on, inside out mind you. I told him this and he said it didn’t matter to just get into my bed and go to sleep.
I never told my mother what this man did, some how I instinctively knew that if I did it would just cause me more heartbreak. So I kept my silence, till now. I am sharing it with you, even though it is dreadfully hard and scary for me.
As for our mother, she was just a presence a scary one, like a spirit. She was a cold woman, there was no I love you’s or hugs. However, she was there and made sure social services did not get their hands on us again. As you will see in future posts she failed in her endeavor.
There was other instances of sexual depravity, however, none that I recall as vividly as those two instances.
Good Times: I recall playing with my sister in the grass in our back yard. was great.. until I broke out is painful itchy hives all over my body lol. Is there poison ivy in Alberta? lol. In any event I had a good day with my sister, I laughed and felt joy being with her, I love her so much. We also had rabbits and a hutch. I think having rabbits is so cool. Both I and my sister have a strong affinity for animals. I have three dogs, who Love me to pieces and it is reciprocated.
The summers were so much fun, playing outside with my sister. Our third little sister was born too, but she was so little. I don’t really recall much about her till we moved to the city, but yet again I get ahead of my self =), your just going to have to wait for that part. So yet again we come to the end of this Day, but we just started so don’t go far as we will be back =). As always be gentle with your self and even gentler with others. LOVE
THE YOUNGER YEARS
The younger years for any young person is difficult to remember, seeing I was 3 1/2 4 years old the memories are vague. The only incident that I do remember is falling out of a tree and banging my head. I don’t remember the falling but remember being in the hospital. I never called my biological mom “mom” when I was younger, I always called her by her first name. This caused a lot of problems I was told. So when I was in the hospital I kept asking for my mom, this was not my biological mom it was my foster mom that I had previously been with. She was the only mom I knew from a young age. The only way they could calm me down was to call her and let me talk to her. I do remember the phone call and I was crying wanting her to come and get me and take me home. She knew she could not do that, and of course I did not understand but did listen to her to take my medicine as prescribed. Our foster parents were dealing with agonizing guilt after the phone call I was told at a older age. Wondering what they could have done differently, to prevent the situation that we were in. I do not recall how long I was in the hospital but I ended up going back to my biological moms home, where I did not want to be. This would not be surprising as Tammy is telling the incidents that were going on with her. You can not tell me that I did not see some of the incidents that were happening, just too young or traumatized to remember.
Tammy stated above about our fathers and where were they when this trauma was going on, well from what I have been told my father was trying to find me. My mom took off and did not tell anyone where she was going, and us a youngsters did not have a way to tell anyone about where we were. Social services have failed us children in a horrible way. They would not give any of the people that wanted to help us any information about where we were. Everything was kept quiet like nothing every happened. We all know today that so very much happened in our lives. Our foster parents told us later that they have asked to have contact with us but were told later that they could not talk or see us. This hurt them immensly. I do thank god every day that they did not quit trying as in later years to come we accually got to spend time with them.
God bless everyone. Have a wonderful day and there is light at the end of the tunnel.
Continue to read as new posts will be coming soon. God Bless.