I was three. I remember being happy. We lived with my mother’s side of the family for one year. That’s when my parents decided that enough was enough. We were too close and under too much scrutiny from loving family members who would protect me and John. That was not going to fly. I had a grandmother who loved me. Four aunts who worshiped me since I was such a cute little girl. And one uncle who loved us also. What more could two children want or need?
Well that life was not in the cards for me. My life might have been a lot different if my father had supervision over his violent temper. When I was four we upped and moved clear cross country never to see these loved ones again. Well that’s not completely true. We went back once to see them in my childhood and they were like strangers to me. But then that’s so obviously what my parents wanted for us not to be close to them. They are the loving family I never really knew. They are what could have been in my life.
My father could not beat me with a belt and have me running to my loved grandmother telling her what he had done. He couldn’t beat the crap out of me because he had a bad day at the office and have me go hide at my aunt’s house. My father could not beat the crap out of John and have him run to his favorite aunt and tell her all about it. They wouldn’t have put up with it for two seconds. Nobody in my extended family was abusive like that.
Instead we were isolated and alone. We had absolutely no family nearby. My parents were free to reign terror down in whatever form they chose. And they chose to reign it down often. There was a monster unleashed within my father and no-one to prevent him from being that way. Certainly three small children were completely at his mercy since even our mother would not help us. She would just run and hide or stand and watch. Never once did my father lift a hand to hurt my mother in any way. He loved her.
The move itself was fun because my father’s sister went with us. There would be no outbursts in front of his sister. This one sister is the only relative we were ever really allowed to get to know. I am still very close to her to this day. She drove cross country with us and things were relatively uneventful during that time.
I’m not really sure when everything started up with my father. I was too young and don’t remember all the details back then. He had his good side as well and, believe it or not, during this time I was a daddy’s girl. I loved my father and thought the world of him. He would read to me, play with me and spend that precious one on one time a parent should have with their child. This lasted a few years.
My mother became extremely jealous of me during this time. I was younger, smarter and pretty. She started verbally abusing me during this time. Her words would cut me to the quick. One day she would tell me what a pretty girl I was and then the very next day she would say how ugly and hateful I was. I was a very confused child. I didn’t know what to think about myself.
When we first got to California, it was hard on me being away from my extended family. I missed them terribly. So did John. And we weren’t allowed to have any communication with them once we got to California. That is why they eventually became like strangers. These people who love me will never know what my mother and father did to me when I was growing up because they would never believe it in a million years. They have no idea how my father treated us growing up. They haven’t got a clue about my mother either. My mother was to them the young lady they grew up with all those years ago. They don’t know what she turned into being married to my father. I can’t blame them for not wanting to see it. It’s an ugly fact no-one would want to believe of someone they loved.