My Boys

It's hard to imagine our kids growing up to be adults. Some of it is because it makes us that much older. But its not so bad getting older. I see things much differently with each passing year.
Remembering those sweet little boys with their high pitched voices. Saying over and over again...Mommy, mommy, mommy. Mom he won't share, mom he won't play with me, Mom he hit me. I really miss all those moms. When they covered the entire living room, and everything in it, including themselves with baby powder. The puffs of powder that flew from their cloths and hair as they ran to their room. Because all I could do was to point in that direction. At the time it was horrible, now I miss it.

Then school starts. Grade school was good, except Michael. He found a way to get into trouble from birth. Middle school was the start of the test for me. Hormones kicked in, and I kind of lost touch with who my boys were. Could I survive it? Many days I wondered, who these kids were. Because, I didn't raise mine to behave like that. They knew better. What was going on? High School, forget it. It was truely a test.

In the long run I think we all passed the test. But it was a tough one to get through.
It's still not over, they will always be my boys and I will always worry about them.

They have all grown up to be excellent human beings. I couldn't be more proud of how they have learned to handle lifes obstacles and come through it a stronger, better person. I love them with all that I am.

Memories

Most people have childhood memories. The people I've talked to have detailed memories of what happened to them or around them. I do not. I have memories, I can remember a situation, but not the details. I only remember the gist of what happened, like a movie trailer of my life.
I know that home was never a happy place. There were happy moments that were killed by what might happen next. I'm not sure they were even happy, they just weren't bad. We all just existed in our house, emotion of any kind wasn't allowed. I remember always walking on eggshells.
Except Jenny. I wish I could remember things the way she does. I have no details, I know I said and did whatever would make dad happy, because thats how I could survive. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
I remember Gary and Dave getting beatings. But most of the time all I remember is being in my room covering my ears, wishing it would just end. I could feel the anger to my core and it would make me physically ill. I would sit there and wonder why, then just cry, because I didn't know why or how to make it stop. I would also make plans to shoot dad with his shot gun. My fear is that he wouldn't die, and everything would just get worse.
My abuse was mostly emotional. I was canstantly put down, but so were Gary and Dave. I did get knocked into a few walls and kicked or punched in the gut. But not nearly as bad a they did, or as much. Reading these blogs from Gary and Jenny, I wish I had the courage to shoot dad, and just end all that misery for everyone.
Maybe I blocked most of it out, my way of dealing with it? Maybe I was never around when most of it happened...I just don't know. I don't have memories of mom being there, but I know she wasn't. All I have are small clips of my childhood. Maybe there just isn't much to remember?

I look forward to reading what Gary and Jenny write..I rember the situations just not the details or why certain things happened. I'm going to work on this.
Thanks guys! I love you!!

When I Die

At 9 years old my favorite song was When I Die, by Blood Sweat and Tears. It was the last song onl the album, I don't remember which side. I cleaned the house, by myself, and I would sit in the front window overlooking the street. Watching all the other kids play, including my siblings. I would play that song over and over again, singing as loud as I could. I thought maybe "when I die" and "there would be one child born to carry on", that child would be happy.

I spent most of my youth wanting to just be gone...dead was ok. At that time I "knew" no one would miss me anyway. I honestly felt no one cared as long as I did what was expected of me. The rest of the time I just faded away.

It's sad to me that a child of 9 years old could feel that way.

I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask to be a mom, I never wanted any of this. Why couldn't I just be a kid like all the other kids outside playing and having fun.

As I got older responsibilities grew too. My siblings learned to hate me. Because I had to be in charge, I was the parent they hated. I didn't usually get in trouble as much as the other kids did, but I wasn't able to do much to get into trouble.

The emotional abuse was the worst for me.
All that another time.

Just, to be happy?

In the midst of a terrible marraige, I went to counseling, several times. One question always asked of me was, "what do you want"? My answer was always the same, "Just, to be happy?" I wanted to know what it felt like. I needed to know it was possible. For me Happy came with age and wisdom. I'm finally ok with who I am, and what I am. I can finally say out loud I'm a good person, and a good mom.

My married life was the same as the life I had always known. I was fat, not good enough, stupid, couldn't do anything right, no one else will ever want you, oh and I can't forget ugly too. I was used to that kind of abuse, it was normal to me, it was just life. I didn't know it could be different for me. Until I noticed it was having an affect on my boys. Greg was 8 years old and affected the most by what was going on in our house. I didn't want them to grow up and be one of "those men", my father or their father. Abusive, either physically or emotionally, I wouldn't raise someone to be like that. So one day I decided to leave, just like that, I was done. I didn't know how I would take care of 3 small boys, but I knew I could do it. AND I DID It was very hard for a very very long time. Their childhood didn't give them all the "things" they wanted, but we were a family, and I knew I did the right thing. But I still didn't know happy. I loved my boys and they made me happy, but I was still missing being happy.

Now 18 years after the fact, my boys are all doing great, and are men I am proud of. And I am remarried, and finally HAPPY. It took a long time, but I can say it feels really good. Happy didn't come with getting married again, it was a long process, and he did help me along the way!

I will elaborate more on the other stuff here another time..........I just had to get started!