Life · Personal

In the Beginning…Part 2: Early Years

wpid-img_20140920_232309.jpgLast time I introduced the main characters in my tale, and hoped you learned a little bit about each individual. However I didn’t really introduce myself…I can’t explain how I was back then as easy as I can now but I will try.

I remember always respecting my parents. It was how we were brought up. No matter what what they said went and we seemed okay with that for awhile. We did not back talk in fact if being lectured or disciplined, we did not talk at all. If we were asked a question we did not give our opinion as, if it was not the same opinion as our fathers it did not matter and would make him angry.

Growing up I felt alone. It wasn’t until my mid-teenage years that I actually began forming a relationship with my sister. She was taken away just a few months later anyways. I kept to myself, went to school, came home, did homework, did my chores: Cleaning, cooking, watering plants, mowing, trimming trees, taking care of the dogs, anything else they could find to keep me busy. They never allowed us to go hang out with our friends after school and didn’t encourage, even discouraged, us to join sports teams or after school affairs.

I joined my first sports team in 10th grade and only did that one year. I was on the cheerleading squad and I fell in love with it. Unfortunately my parents grew tired of picking me up from practice, and the never attended a single practice or a game, so after the first year I decided not to continue pursuing it as I had no support and when I got home caught angry eyes and an attitude from my father.

Now I am a very independent and hardworking woman. I am confident and pride myself on high standards and morals for myself and my family. I am in a wonderful relationship and have a wonderful fur baby. I work full time, lead a healthy active lifestyle, volunteer and am starting my own business. They did not break me 🙂

But, moving along with the story. My mom married very young and later divorced and married the guys best friend who happened to be my father. He had been in the marines and worked at a Kodak plant in Georgia.

They later moved back to NC probably to be closer to my moms family, and bought a house. In 1992 my father started his own lawn care business and it went from nothing to success by the time I was 18. He wanted nothing more than for us to take over that business, I think it snapped something inside of him when we both decided we wanted to go to college for Psychology (Annabelle) and Dentistry (myself). He said he would not pay for our college unless it had something to do with his lawn care business and we could work for him and eventually take over. This was no interest to either of us.

This same year, to my father’s dismay, I was born. Not a son as he was hoping for and my sisters birth had also been somewhat of a gender disappointment. He constantly reminded us how we were somehow less useful and worthy to him because we were not men but instead women…worthless.

As the years went on, we dropped out of church and were even pulled out of our christian school to be homeschooled. Shutting us out of the social world and childhood experiences almost completely. My parents tended to spend all day at work, my mother helping supervise my dads business and my dad running it. Me and my sister stayed home practically schooling each other. After school we had chores which usually consisted of cleaning the house top to bottom, making sure the yard was tended to and having dinner ready. We did this everyday for I don’t know how many years. We weren’t allowed to talk on the phone or play on the computer and could only watch 30 minutes of t.v. Our childhood was being completely wasted.

My parents would come home and mom usually would go to her room while dad stayed outside working in the yard or just staying out of the house. Our family grew distant and strange. Then the strange stuff turned into insanity.

The first thing I remember is one day I was in the garage and had a jar but i don’t remember why. It was a typical glass mason jar. I set it down on the hard concrete floor of the garage and it just shattered! I don’t remember putting it down hard but I was young, maybe 8 or younger. Anyways, I left it behind afraid to tell anyone because I knew my father would be very upset. When he came home and saw it he asked who did it and I lied and said it wasn’t me. I was so afraid. I didn’t want him to yell at me. So since neither me nor my sister confessed he said we had to dig up a tree until someone comes forward. Now when I say a tree I mean like a fully grown bradford pear. If you don’t know what that is please google it. For an 8 year old to dig up, that’s a really big tree. 

Finally after my sister begging me, I confessed to breaking the jar and leaving it there. He said I was grounded and to finish digging up the tree by myself. It took me at least two weeks from sun up to sundown to dig up that freaking thing. My hands were blistered and callused from the shovel.

There was another time not long after this where me and my sister were staining a pier that my father had built looking over our man-made fish pond. Now, we were kids. We had never painted anything much less stained. You would think staining would be simpler yet it was not.

So when my father looked at the job we had done which had taken two days, he was so angry he switched us. He took a tree limb and switched us until angry red marks decorated our behinds and we couldn’t sit down for days.

Some of these things may seem abnormal but not cruel to you. And maybe they aren’t. I haven’t even begun to share with you everything that went on. I have been emotionally and physically abused, humiliated, molested (not by my dad) and forgotten. Bear with me as I clear my head and share this with you. It isn’t easy.

Now that you have some background info, next week I will delve into the teen years. Find out why my sister gets pulled from the home and how I manage to stay for another couple of years.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s