Living After Abuse
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We NEVER talked about sex in our house. Sex was considered nasty and wrong and we
just never talked about it. We never talked about periods or boys kissing girls or anything
that every young girl should know about.
Mother turned 85 in January and she still doesn’t know. Why can’t I tell her? Why can’t I tell
her her sons were monsters? Because we’ve never talked about sex and to do so would be
wrong. She still talks about them like they were saints. I say, “Were” because they are both
dead. They both died horrible deaths. They say that you die the way that you lived.
It took almost 40 years for me to deal with the pedophiles in my life. It was like a light was
turned on in a room that had been dark for over 35 years. It’s so hard to explain. My only
consolation is that they were both dead when the light came on. I don’t know what I would
have done if I would have had to face them with the “light on.” I thank God for this every
day.
When I first discovered the truth, for the longest time I couldn’t get past the fact that it was
my own brothers. Yeah, they are half brothers, but they were my Big brothers and shouldn’t
Big brothers protect their little sisters? That is the hardest part for me to deal with. HOW
COULD THEY?!
They told me in therapy that tragedies started in my life when my grandmother died. My
mother came from her womb and I, from my mother’s. I guess I should start from way back
when my mother was young.
Mother is the youngest of six children, the daughter of cotton farmers in the deep south of
Arkansas. In 1921, when she was 14 months old, her mother burned to death in front of her
and three of her sisters. My grandmother was making lye soap on the cook stove when her
clothing caught fire and went up in flames instantly. When my grandfather and uncle had
returned from town, they found her dead on the ground. She was only 36.
After a series of stepmothers, all of who were abusive, my mother became an orphan when
her father died of malaria in 1927. After her father’s funeral, her stepmother left the
cemetery with her own family, and left my mother and siblings to fend for themselves. My
mother and her father both contracted malaria from the “great flood of 1927.” ??????
Her older brother, George, then raised my mother. George was very strict and he took his
role as parent very seriously. He had four younger sisters to rear.
At age 16, my mother was tired of George’s rules. She met an older man named Clyde and
they married. At age 17 she became a mother. She continued having children, including
twin sons, one of which, Danny Ray, became ill and died an infant, these twins were
fathered by her husband’s cousin. This was a forty-five year family secret until one day my
brother (the remaining twin) confronted her. Still not able to talk about such things, she
instead wrote him a letter. Clyde died at age 36 of cancer. She’s alone again except for the
six children.
Mother then married my father – after she became pregnant with my sister, Mickey. My
father moved her and all of her children “up north” to a 100-acre cherry farm. This is where
all of the evil and the nightmares for my sisters and me began.
just never talked about it. We never talked about periods or boys kissing girls or anything
that every young girl should know about.
Mother turned 85 in January and she still doesn’t know. Why can’t I tell her? Why can’t I tell
her her sons were monsters? Because we’ve never talked about sex and to do so would be
wrong. She still talks about them like they were saints. I say, “Were” because they are both
dead. They both died horrible deaths. They say that you die the way that you lived.
It took almost 40 years for me to deal with the pedophiles in my life. It was like a light was
turned on in a room that had been dark for over 35 years. It’s so hard to explain. My only
consolation is that they were both dead when the light came on. I don’t know what I would
have done if I would have had to face them with the “light on.” I thank God for this every
day.
When I first discovered the truth, for the longest time I couldn’t get past the fact that it was
my own brothers. Yeah, they are half brothers, but they were my Big brothers and shouldn’t
Big brothers protect their little sisters? That is the hardest part for me to deal with. HOW
COULD THEY?!
They told me in therapy that tragedies started in my life when my grandmother died. My
mother came from her womb and I, from my mother’s. I guess I should start from way back
when my mother was young.
Mother is the youngest of six children, the daughter of cotton farmers in the deep south of
Arkansas. In 1921, when she was 14 months old, her mother burned to death in front of her
and three of her sisters. My grandmother was making lye soap on the cook stove when her
clothing caught fire and went up in flames instantly. When my grandfather and uncle had
returned from town, they found her dead on the ground. She was only 36.
After a series of stepmothers, all of who were abusive, my mother became an orphan when
her father died of malaria in 1927. After her father’s funeral, her stepmother left the
cemetery with her own family, and left my mother and siblings to fend for themselves. My
mother and her father both contracted malaria from the “great flood of 1927.” ??????
Her older brother, George, then raised my mother. George was very strict and he took his
role as parent very seriously. He had four younger sisters to rear.
At age 16, my mother was tired of George’s rules. She met an older man named Clyde and
they married. At age 17 she became a mother. She continued having children, including
twin sons, one of which, Danny Ray, became ill and died an infant, these twins were
fathered by her husband’s cousin. This was a forty-five year family secret until one day my
brother (the remaining twin) confronted her. Still not able to talk about such things, she
instead wrote him a letter. Clyde died at age 36 of cancer. She’s alone again except for the
six children.
Mother then married my father – after she became pregnant with my sister, Mickey. My
father moved her and all of her children “up north” to a 100-acre cherry farm. This is where
all of the evil and the nightmares for my sisters and me began.
Jann's Story
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Award Winning Book, Child Advocate, Child Rape, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Child
Maltreatment, Child Cruelty, Sexual Abuse, Crimes Against Children, Injustice, Child Advocate,
Child Psychology, Child Development, Child Molester, Child Molesters, Sexual Deviant, Sexual
Law, sexual law, Radio Shows, Featured Guest, Motivational Speaker, Keynote Speaker, Cody
Posey, New Mexico, Las Cruces, Roswell, Traverse City, Radio Guest, Child Abuse Prevention,
child psychology, child therapy, Social Worker, Healing, hopeful, The Purpose Driven Life,
Failure to Protect, Child Endangerment, Hope, Healing, Compassionate, passionate, Fighter,
Fighter for kids
Maltreatment, Child Cruelty, Sexual Abuse, Crimes Against Children, Injustice, Child Advocate,
Child Psychology, Child Development, Child Molester, Child Molesters, Sexual Deviant, Sexual
Law, sexual law, Radio Shows, Featured Guest, Motivational Speaker, Keynote Speaker, Cody
Posey, New Mexico, Las Cruces, Roswell, Traverse City, Radio Guest, Child Abuse Prevention,
child psychology, child therapy, Social Worker, Healing, hopeful, The Purpose Driven Life,
Failure to Protect, Child Endangerment, Hope, Healing, Compassionate, passionate, Fighter,
Fighter for kids
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