By: Babs Neufeldt
Absorbed into a realm that was not reality, yet was not fantasy it was simply no where. A peaceful place where I did not have to watch the little girl getting hurt any longer. She was tough and afraid. The poison that set in her mind a year ago of how she would hurt her mother and brother if she spoke up and said anything. She was now the protector of all the family. No secrets could leave her room.
In the aftermath she would get out of bed running to the bathroom into a hot scalding shower. The hottest she could stand, the water hitting her skin burned more than she could stand. This was something she learned to do often again. It protected her against feeling nasty. No tears came, and tears has stopped flowing a year ago from those big dark brown eyes. Tears would not fall for several years to come.
Detaching myself from the little girl had happened almost instinctively protecting me from the pain, disgraces and yes even disgust. I was not a little child, a budding young twelve-year-old girl who had matured more quickly than most my age. My father time and time again said this was his way of introducing what real life was about with men to me. Who better to teach me than my own father? I knew this was not right, if it was right then why such secrecy and why were there so much shame, disgust, numbness and threats?
The little girl excelled in school, jumping grade to grade as if it were nothing. My mind focused on getting out alive before he could kill me. At the age of sixteen I graduated High School, by the age of eighteen I had tested out of all basic courses and achieved a four-year degree in a little over two years. Within a month of graduating college I married a man I had known for only two weeks. This gave me the opportunity to run, educated, married and now protected.
I married a man who was twenty years older than I. He had no problem carrying on the abuse. His was very physical, very painful, but again I never shed a tear. The little girl had taught the woman how to hide within herself. Eight years passed until the abuse had cost the life of one unborn child, then nearly another. I walked away to lead my life alone with my children. The little girl still lived within; she gave me the ability to survive this long.
Seven years later I met another man, but he also turned out to be an abuser. It started so subtly, and then the world blew apart. The little girl inside could not take anymore, and she was angry with me now. She decided it was time for use to fight back. Helping me through the verbal abuse of him telling me, I was not good enough, the ugliest woman in the world. Yelling that I should be lucky a man even looked at me let alone slept with me.
That night something happened to the little girl, she told me she did not want to be here anymore. I spoke with her at times of stress in my mind. I could not understand what she was saying. My ex-husband walked into the room and tossed my bottle of Xanax on the bed saying "Do us all a favor and just end this, here let me open them for you." He turned and left the room, then left the house.
I looked at the clock, then the pile of pills on the bed. The little girl said she had enough and could not go on, but I did not feel that way I just wanted the pain to stop. We both decided the only way was to let the little girl go. I did not know how. It is ten in the morning now, if you take them all everything will be fine before the children come in from school.
Without much more coaxing from my own mind and my husband I began taking the pills. A full thirty days supply of my Xanax, ninety pills gone without a problem. I capped the bottle and set it back in the bathroom. I looked over at the Benadryl and we decided we needed to be sure the little girl would not hurt any longer. Fifty of those with a large glass of OJ were gone without much thought. I lay down in hopes of finally releasing the child from the pain she had been carrying for some twenty odd years.
I woke in a starch white room, and the smell of antiseptic assaulted my nostrils. The air was cool, so cool it chilled my skin. I attempted to turn my head but it was held in place. I realized I was not breathing on my own. Something was in my mouth shoved deep in my throat. I caught a glimpse of my fourteen-year-old son at the foot of my bed, my ten-year-old daughter at the side of my bed and wondered what was going on. My world was foggy, my body was in pain, and the tears in their eyes showed me their hearts were in pain too. My second thought is "Oh my God what have I done."
The little girl died that day; her pain was released and arose a strong thirty-five year old woman tired of hiding behind shame and disgrace. Who boldly stood forward, confronting her problems head on. First was my father, who apparently did not realize how deep of damage he had done, admitting his wrong doing and begging for forgiveness. I forgave, but will never forget. I can put it behind me and lead a wonderful life. A making amends to my children may take years to come, but we have never been closer. I divorced my husband and took two years to heal my mind and body, taking responsibility for the harm I caused myself.
Realizing I am a beautiful woman with so much to offer. I am open, giving, compassionate woman that will love unconditionally. I am strong; I am a survivor and will never hit the depths of darkness again. I am a survivor!
Please send any comments on this piece to:Survivor Haven
Bio:
Babs Neufeldt describes herself as:
Return To:
Reliving the days time and time again in my mind had become an overwhelming burden on my soul. My bedroom door tightly leaning the chair against it, and shoving clothes around the bottom of the door. I would hear it open and prepare myself to drift somewhere else so the pain would not be there.
"A 37 year old native of rural NE Ohio with my children and two dogs. Soon to be married to a wonderful man who understands the aftermath of abuse in every form, and stands strong to support me."