Living After Abuse
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My Mom always praised my brother and said he was always such a great help to her raising
me, always wanting to change me, bath me and look after me.
We lived in a dysfunctional house much like many others I found later, but for me then, it was
a normal as normal could be. My father worked as a truck driver, which was eventually bought
out by another company and drove for 40 years. He was on the road for weeks at a time, with
many stories of his own. He had many previous opportunities and trades and his name is
probably still on the drawings and blueprint for a famous parkway, or Death Valley as we called
it and is probably still called today. He tried many things but stuck with driving, it paid well and I
am sure relaxed him, to be away from his life and six kids way back then. He was tired and
grumpy most of the time and as soon as he walked through the door my mother would start
complaining about us kids and how bad we were.
I was the second born, eleven years difference between my brother and me; then she had
four more, a year to two apart. A handful for sure and there was always something going on. I
do not know when the verbal abuse started, it was always there, or the first time my Dad hit
her or us. It was a frequent thing that went on behind closed doors and was the norm. As an
older child, I remember nonchalantly waiting for the ambulance and for my mother to get up
off the floor after my Dad called her stupid and knocked her down. I grew up fearful and
terrified of him as we all were and resentful for my Mom telling him we were bad and also
turning a blind eye to the things that went on, though many years later I understood her pain
and his.
My brother molested me most of my young life. Our basement lay unfinished for many years
and he use to take me down there and pull off my panties and play with me and introduced
me to an unspeakable act. I know as a child it felt good to be with my older brother and he
made me feel good, not knowing anything was wrong with this; it carried on for years and
years as ‘our’ secret. My brother threatened me with my father’s violence and mothers telling
when it did become something that did not seem quite right.
It was a constant, daily part of my life as was the verbal and physical abuse at our parent’s
hands, something I held as a secret for many years.
me, always wanting to change me, bath me and look after me.
We lived in a dysfunctional house much like many others I found later, but for me then, it was
a normal as normal could be. My father worked as a truck driver, which was eventually bought
out by another company and drove for 40 years. He was on the road for weeks at a time, with
many stories of his own. He had many previous opportunities and trades and his name is
probably still on the drawings and blueprint for a famous parkway, or Death Valley as we called
it and is probably still called today. He tried many things but stuck with driving, it paid well and I
am sure relaxed him, to be away from his life and six kids way back then. He was tired and
grumpy most of the time and as soon as he walked through the door my mother would start
complaining about us kids and how bad we were.
I was the second born, eleven years difference between my brother and me; then she had
four more, a year to two apart. A handful for sure and there was always something going on. I
do not know when the verbal abuse started, it was always there, or the first time my Dad hit
her or us. It was a frequent thing that went on behind closed doors and was the norm. As an
older child, I remember nonchalantly waiting for the ambulance and for my mother to get up
off the floor after my Dad called her stupid and knocked her down. I grew up fearful and
terrified of him as we all were and resentful for my Mom telling him we were bad and also
turning a blind eye to the things that went on, though many years later I understood her pain
and his.
My brother molested me most of my young life. Our basement lay unfinished for many years
and he use to take me down there and pull off my panties and play with me and introduced
me to an unspeakable act. I know as a child it felt good to be with my older brother and he
made me feel good, not knowing anything was wrong with this; it carried on for years and
years as ‘our’ secret. My brother threatened me with my father’s violence and mothers telling
when it did become something that did not seem quite right.
It was a constant, daily part of my life as was the verbal and physical abuse at our parent’s
hands, something I held as a secret for many years.
Linda'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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