Well, much about my life is sad, the bittersweetness that was my reality is something I wouldn't wish on my enemies. I know people say that but I truly mean it. I was a young girl just starting to wear a bra. I was 9 years old. I wore a B cup. I was developed. I was scared of my mother. She was this evil being and my stomach knotted and painfully throbbed if my grandparents left me alone with her. Was she going to beat me, was she going to verbally abuse me- yell at me, tell me how she wished she had gotten an abortion. She used to threaten to give me up for adoption. Let me share the epilogue- I was a quite scared little girl. I never misbehaved. I wouldn't play- I would just sit and be quiet and hope she would leave me alone. This time, I only got verbally abused for having been born and all my mother's flaws she blamed on me.
Fast forward in time My mother had a few boyfriends who had boundary issues. Let me guess, you're thinking, "great another one of these stories." But let me correct you this isn't just one of those hopeless sad girls stories. There is more than you could possibly fathom!
Starting with my father. I was a baby, a damn infant and my mother caught him sticking his fingers inside me. According to her I was screaming bloody murder. UGH!!!!!!!!! talking about this makes me physically ill. There is much more to this sick story. Sharing my pain for the first time ever- is draining but healing.
Check back tomorrow. I may have the part 2 posted late tonight.
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