I've just recently turned 30, and though I expected it to be a bad one, my friends (again Jen gets kudos here) made it easier for me to get through. I'm not good with birthdays, I'm an abuse survivor. Being the youngest of 4 daughters, birthdays weren't much in my family. I don't want pity, but I do remember quite clearly, when I was 7 years old, counting up the years until I could move out of the house and be free of the torture I called my daily life. I thought that was normal. I thought all kids were treated that way. I thought all parents went to church on Sundays and had dinner with the pastor and then daddy's snuck into their rooms at night. I didn't like it, but I thought that was the way all children had to live. Can you see now why I chose to grow up fast?
I excelled in my studies, and was rewarded by my peers, advancing a grade and graduating early. While my parents were away at lunch, I packed up my things and another friend named Jen , backed her truck up to my apartment and got me the hell out of there. I've lived a semi-normal life, about as normal as any abuse survivor's life gets. I was married at 18, divorced at 25, and have spent the last 5 years happy, healthy, and working through the healing process. I went through 6-7 years of therapy, and I still have the nightmares, but even those get less and less frequent. I was abused from approximately age 6 - 12. I say approximately, because alot of the memories are still blocked out. I've done enough therapy work to know that those memories will only come back when my mind is ready to accept what happened, and move forward. I am at that point now, thus the reason I began publishing my writing on this page. My abuse was sexual mainly, but was also psychological. My father is the one who abused me, and as is typical in most family incest cases, my mother still refuses to believe anything happened. She still lives with the man, and my other 3 sisters still communicate with them. I feel no need to have them as part of my life. I firmly believe that once a child molester, always a child molester. he never got help, and to me, is still a great risk to all children. Anyway, back to the subject, my affinity with angels. I firmly believe that I was kept alive for a reason, there were many times that I thought the bone crushing weight of my father was going to kill me, and as I disassociated, I felt my heart stop beating, I literally looked to Heaven and saw my angels there, waiting to take me. I guess at that point, my body got dangerously still, and as I felt myself going, I was forced back into consciousness as my father pushed me off of the bed. I guess I was no good to him if I didn't scream or cry. From that day forward, the angels kept me fighting back. I learned to defend myself with words and it worked, he was frightened. He thought I would tell, which as I said before, I tried, but my mother didn't want to listen. I learned to protect myself, to protect my sisters, and to do everything I had to do to grow up fast, survive, and get the hell out of there. That is where I am now, still learning, but able to love, finally, and still, in the company of angels.
