Honestly though, there is one thing that has been, unfortunately, on the fore front of my thoughts recently: my childhood. While I try not to let my childhood darken my thoughts or run my life, I can't help but realize that these experiences are what, in many ways, define me.
Ok, let me back up a little bit . . .
Sometime in November 1974, two young people (whom had gotten caught up in the "free love" of the era), created little 'ol me. In July 1975, I was born on an Army Base just outside of Washington DC and shortly after, flew to Germany for three years. Man alive, don't you wish you could remember back when you were that age?? Sometime in the beginning of 1981, they created another little being, and shortly there after, they divorced. Shock, right? HA!! To avoid confusion in later blogs and later in this particular blog, they will hence forth be referred to as: The Doner and The Host.
Enter "Prince Charming", (to be referred to from now on as . . . oh heck, we'll keep him as "Prince Charming" in the most sarcastic manner possible). Sometime prior to child #2 being born, The Host married Prince Charming. In December 1981, my life would change forever. (funny sentence actually, isn't our life constantly changing?) I digress . . . this union, and the birth of my little brother, marked the last day of my childhood: December 6, 1981. Crazy right? For those doing the math, I was 6. Isn't that when I should have really started my childhood??
Up until very recently, I've often thought of myself of a victim of child abuse of all kinds: physical, mental and sexual. I'm finally starting to realize that, in fact, I AM A SURVIVOR!!
I survived almost 7 years of being beaten, being told I was an ugly awful child and of being Prince Charming's personal play thing. Add to this mix, 7 years of watching and hearing him beat, ridicule and rape The Host . . .and you get a well adjusted child, right? HA!!
For many, many reasons, I'm not going to get into detail about what exactly happened in those 7 years, because truthfully . . . I don't want to relive it, and you really don't want to know.
On July 24, 1987, my life changed yet again. The Host discovered what was happening and called law enforcement. Not only was this the last day I had to endure any abuse, but, oddly enough, it was also the first day I cursed to the Lord, and professed my hatred to Him. Thus beginning my healing journey. Spiritual. Physical. Mental. Emotional. Don't get me wrong folks, even at 35 years young, the scars are deep, but the healing is there.
As I continue to blog, I want to share my personal journey. As I look back, I know it wasn't a long road for just myself, but everyone involved. I am forever grateful for all those who have endured my "abuse" as they've stood by my side, despite the rough road.
Please friends, no pity, I am, after all A SURVIVOR!!
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