There are days that I enjoy thinking about my childhood, the good times in our small town of Romulus. The sports, the friends, and the school spirit, what it meant to me to be part of a team at the time, to be away from the fear of home. What it meant to me and what it meant to others. So many things I can relate to with Charles Dickens writing in the Tale of Two Cities. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only“. More so in those short 19 years the good, bad and evil.
I’m going to share some personal facts about my life. If you have read other posts you may know that my parents divorced when I was three. My mother left us kids with her sister Bonnie because she was stricken with postpartum depression. My baby sister was six months old. I believed my Mother Jean when she told me later that it was also contributed to my father’s infidelity and abuse. He went to Norma whom he married six months after my parents’ divorce. In the 60s the family court system was different if they would have based their decision on children needing their biological mother and King Solomon rules I would have been raised much differently and more than likely a Falcon and not a Warrior. Back then it was whoever had more money, notoriety, and stature in the community. My Mom Jean was a Champion and that wasn’t always a good thing in Seneca County, she didn’t have the money nor was she anything more than a wife, and mother of four. So she lost the custody battle one after the other. Even though my father died when I was eight she still caught no brakes. By this time I had heard many times over what villains, hell-raising dogs the Champions were. Making us afraid to be seen by one or to see one, fear that we too would be bad and unwanted. So I told court authorities that I wanted to stay with my step-mom and family as it was.
Two years had passed with good feelings of home and security. That too soon left my thoughts. Evil then past over the threshold of my bedroom door. He touched me inappropriately while I slept, convincing me that it was okay and if I told anyone they wouldn’t believe me over a nineteen-year-old man-boy, left in charge of almost everything. Even though he could not take charge of his own life, grow up and leave home, or get away from momma’s apron strings. For ten years this went on, justifying his actions that he was doing me a service. That now I would have the knowledge I needed to make my future boyfriend or husband happy in the bedroom. Meanwhile, there was no convincing me that my step-mother wouldn’t believe me over her big boy second in command soldier. She always took his side on everything. I even went as far as trying to set him up in the act. Oh yeah, the action was caught by dear step-daddy Jimmy Troutman but that weasel was such a shit he didn’t tell what he saw. What the hell kind of man is okay with two kids, that are supposed to be siblings, having sex even if he thought it was consensual. He had no idea if it was or not nor how long it was going on, in my mind that is what I wanted someone to know, start asking the big questions. I knew then that it would never be found out or believed and it was time for me to stand up for myself and take care of me. Shortly after that, I made the decision I had to get out of this house, it was unhealthy and pure evil. Even though I was 18, I still had my senior year of high school to finish, which was important to me. I got lucky my cousin Patty had moved into our school district so I went to talk to my Aunt Bonnie to find my mother. She had to still want me in her life and by the grace of God, she did. I left in the dark of night with whatever I could manage to take. I met my mom up the road across from my friend Debbie Mearns’s house, whom helped with me for two weeks of planning to get out of that house. It was a relief that I would not get molested in my sleep, while showering or when alone. Finally safe and it was my mother that rescued me.