The worst thing in my life

Yesterday's comment, combined with reading my old diary, made me realize I need to clarify something: my birthmother was not the worst thing in my life. 

My entire family life has been sick, abusive, and downright ugly. 

In my life, at least it wasn't just "Oh, that one person really made things hard".  I feel as if no person has my back.  No one. 

I know God does. 

My aunt and uncle do more than anyone.  But when I asked them to appear on "Intervention" and talk about Ron's drinking, they refused.  They didn't want to talk about it on TV. 

My Dad loves me, would absolutely take a bullet for me.  But he left me at the hands of some dark and twisted head games.  When confronted with the truth, he denied it and said he'd cut me out of his life before he'd believe they hurt me.  His reality is more important. 

My "blood" sister tried to do her best to split me from Ron, so I could move in and be her caregiver.  When I cut off contact (for other things) she stalked me after I had specifically requested no contact, thus ensuring a permanent break.  If you can't respect me when I say "Don't call me for 6 months" - then you don't respect me at all.   It wasn't just one call, it was dozens.  She didn't call me that much in a year. 

My "blood" brother is pretty distant but he hasn't hurt me either.  If someone needed a butt kicking I could always call him, even though he hates my city.  That's oddly comforting to me. 

My stepmother had a lot of issues.  She and her kids tortured me psychologically.  Verbal abuse.  Occasional physical abuse.  A good example, when her #3 kid used to beat me up, she'd reward him.  Then I was punished. 

He would come into my room without permission, and verbally abuse me.  Most times it would end there, but several times he also beat me up.  If I fought back they both acted as if I'd attacked him.  I have scars on my body from these assaults.  One time he burned me with a knife he held over an oven burner.  Another time he bit me on the chest because I wouldn't submit to his "authority".  That assault resulted in a scar the size of a nickel.  When I reported the attack and showed the wound, I was called "a faker" and put to bed. 

I realize now they knew CPS would get involved if they took me to a doctor. 

 If I "told", it was "stop picking on your brother". How was I picking on him? Because I exist?  

No, he never sexually assaulted me.  Other than the bite on the chest which I guess qualifies.  I'm glad Ron can't see it.  He'd be furious. 

Sometimes I had to choke him just to get him to back off.  When I started doing that she did rein him in because we all knew there was a good chance I might accidentally kill him. 

I find it really alarming he has a child now.  A boy.  If I knew he had a girl I would make a phone call. 

There were other psychological tortures.  Hiding my textbooks - from the time I was in the second grade.  How could I perform in school without my books? 

One time my stepmother offered a "bounty" on a missing textbook.  She told the other 3 kids - without my agreement - I would do all their chores for a month and surrender my allowance to them, if they found the book.  The #2 child went in the garage and brought the book out in 2 minutes. 

I asked how he knew where to find it.  He smirked at me.  Up until that point, I had liked him and seen him as the best of the bunch. 

One time I went in my parent's room and found several of my missing textbooks in the crawlspace next to their closet.  I presented them to her and said "If I'm losing the books why are they in your room?" 

The question unanswered, I was punished for "trespassing". 

I finally got smart in High School.  I was in a program for emotionally disturbed (you don't say?) kids. 

I left my books at school, in my work area, and came in early to do my "homework".  When I was manic I could do a week's lessons in an hour or two, so it worked out.  As long as I had it done by the end of the semester, they didn't care. 

I started pulling A's. 

The "program" also realized I had no lunches.  She gave her kids lunch money and special lunches (I was not allowed to touch many foods in her kitchen).   She gave me a loaf of white bread (which I loathe!), a jar of peanut butter, and a box of fold over sandwich bags. 

My teachers confronted her on that, and she "had" to start making me lunches.  Generally a Dinty Moore beef stew cup or a frozen burrito.  But at least it wasn't peanut butter on white bread. 

The program also (bad program and bad Heather for taking them) gave me free lunch tickets.   I repent of my sin.  I do miss, terribly, the wonderful peanut butter oatmeal honey energy bars the lunch lady used to make.  They were divine. 

I could also bring in tea and store it in the beverage area, and it was still there when I came back. 

After I met Ron, I gave him my diary and my Bible.  I knew he'd take care of them.  He didn't realize what I had at "home" until I did that. 

My first apartment - the day after I turned 18 - a badly converted garage apartment.  It still had the garage door to fool the housing inspector.  Ron was and still is verbally abusive. 

But at the end of the day he's a lot better than what I left.  Even if I didn't love him (I do) I would always value him as the person who got me out of that house. 

Irony: 2009.  Family reunion cruise.  All of the other kids are walking around drunk whenever possible.  I hang out with Dad, and Ron.  I'm pretty wiped out from my SSRI and need a serious nap everyday. 

One night the other kids "borrow" Ron and get him very drunk.  They bring him back to me falling out of the wheelchair drunk.  But he was mellow so it was fine.  We went to bed. 

The next day, they kept coming up to me and telling me Ron was "so cool", how much they liked him, and how I made a "good choice". 

When did they ever think I wanted their approval?  I just laughed inside as I thanked them. 

Yes, I forgive them, all of them.  I feel sorry for their kids. 

The Bible tells us to forgive if they repent.  They didn't repent when I forgave them, but my stepmother did afterward.  She was full of apology, after. 

I don't have any human children so it doesn't matter if she's in my life.  My cats do not like her.   

I spoke to my Dad about death, etc a few years ago.  He told me about his will and proudly stated "You're the only one who never asked me for money." 

Ron and I take great pride in that.