A
story of trials, tribulations, hardships and courage.
This
real life story touched me so deeply, with permission
from the author, I had to share it with all of
you.
I
hope that this story encourages you to overcome your
trials, and push forward. --Bev
Dear Bev,
Thank you for this
opportunity to share my story of tremendous hardship
and incredible survival.
The latter which would not have been possible
without some much needed help along the way.
I am a 53 year old single mother of nine with
one left at home.
I was raised in a large farmhouse in Colebrook
CT and seriously believed that all little children
were ritualistically abused. I remember that for years I would wait up on Christmas Eve as
long as I possibly could so that I could see Santa and
beg him to rescue me and my younger sisters. One
year when I was finally eleven years old, and was sure
I could stay awake this time, I was going to beg Santa
to take us away from here; he would, wouldn’t he, he
loved little children, didn’t he?
That was the year my mother confessed that
there was no Santa…I was devastated.
All hope of escape was gone that night.
I remained a victim of physical, emotional and
sexual abuse until I was fourteen and ran away for my
life.
Unfortunately that
left me with an eighth grade education and many, many
years of low paying jobs to try and support my
children. Another
thing I bought with me from home was the ingrained
habit of looking for what I thought was normal.
I continued the pattern of abuse by marrying an
extremely violent man and then entered into two more
long term abusive relationships after my marriage
ended. I
kept running but never really escaping the abuse, it
was all I had ever known.
After a work
related accident left me living with chronic pain and
completely penniless, (my six remaining children and I
were homeless for a year and a half), I made my way
back to Connecticut so that at least I could get
medical help. After
what I can consider only as an emotional breakdown, I
started counseling and unlike other times, (where they
would bring up the sexual abuse), I stayed, I listened
and I began to talk.
I couldn’t cope before with the memories and
the night terrors when I was working and trying to
support my kids, but now I had nothing but time and
realized I finally had no more excuses.
I have been in counseling for eight years,
still go, and have chosen to live alone, ( fourteen
years now), rather than let someone abuse me again.
Finally, five years into my counseling I felt I
was stable enough to do the one thing I had always
wanted more than anything else in my life, which was
to get an education.
After a very tough first semester, I have made
the Dean’s list and President’s list for part time
students every semester after that.
I am getting ready to graduate in May with my
Associates degree as a Drug and Alcohol Recovery
Counselor. I
will be staying at least one more semester at the
Community College to take some classes that will
transfer towards my four year degree in Social Work
and hope someday to earn my Master’s in Psychology
with Christian Counseling.
I want to help others who need help like I did;
I also want to be able to give help in Church, where I
was not able to get it myself.
I feel very
fortunate and blessed to be one of the lucky ones who
was able to get away and to teach my children it is
never too late to start undoing your past and start
over again. I
am doing my internship at the Department of Parole
helping men and women who are getting out of prison, I
occasionally volunteer at the Stafford Teen Center,
when my son isn’t going to basketball practice and
games, and I volunteered to be my son’s football
team’s, team mom. I stay active in my community by talking and listening to
other women who have experienced the same trauma that
I have. For
the first time in a very, very long time I haven’t
been afraid to be able to dream again, to be able to
once more have hope.
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