Ask those in your community and see what kind of response
you get.
Chances are many people
still don't know that April is:
National Child Abuse Prevention Month.
Spread the word!
Awareness: Because
Until that happens Suffering shall not End-Holli
Marshall™
I am a mother of two
girls and a grandmother of four. I have three grandsons and
a granddaughter. I write this with personal and observed experiences.
I was raised in a two-parent (both biological) home. However
it was an abusive atmosphere much of the time. As a child I
failed 7th grade P.E. Reason: I seldom dressed out for swimming.
I was embarrassed due to the welts on the backs of my legs from beatings
I received from my mother caused by tree limbs she used on me.
I used to watch my father beat (dad called it whipping) one of my
brothers (about 15 months younger than myself) with no thought to
his or my brother's size. He lashed with uncontrollable anger.
My mother was a constant source of verbal abuse to all of us.
In her eyes, we did or said nothing right. She verbally abused
her five children at any opportunity. It was habit, no reason
needed. My twin, she totally ignored. It was as though
he did not exist. This is also abuse. He has forgiven
her, but I know he has not forgotten. I too, have forgiven,
but shall never forget. My father? Let's just say the
belt was never far from reach; though the brother next down from me
in age caught most of dad's anger. As for my other two brothers
and my sister: I have no idea what they think or feel.
I do not know what the reaction of my siblings will be to seeing this
on the net. I do not care. I grew up in an age where nothing
was said or done about child abuse. Regardless the form, abuse
is abuse. I only care that children have been, are now and will
continue to be abused.
I abhor child abuse in
any form. Too many adults fail to recognize that child abuse
is not restricted to physical abuse. Neglect and verbal abuse
are serious forms of abuse. Children are humans. Little
humans are just as sensitive as adults. What we say to them
and how we treat them is something which will remain with them forever.
Children forgive but they never forget.
Bad kids, you're thinking!!
There is no such thing as a bad child. There are bad actions
but not bad children. Deal with the inappropriate action.
Do not tell a child that he or she is a bad kid. Bad kids only
exist in the uninformed adult mind. There are, however, bad
adults. A child's most accessible resource is that which they
learn from adults. Children learn in large part by osmosis.
I remind my grandsons,
Jacob and Colton, constantly, that they are not bad. That the
action for which they were just reprimanded is bad, not the child.
Low self esteem is a heavy load for a child to carry.
Love your children....and
everyone else's also. They really are our most valuable resource.
They will, in time to come, be setting policy when we adults in the
present time, are old, and addled in the head.
Children have rights.
Among these, is the right to a childhood without fear of being a child;
the right not to be expected to be perfect, and the right to make
choices (within reason). Most importantly they have the right
to a happy healthy childhood. A childhood experienced without
fear.
04/30/98 I received an email yesterday
from my dear cousin, PK, in Canada. She had some comments about
this page. I quote:......"repeat what anyone tells me,
but I will say that he (referring to one of my brothers) explicitly
said that Julia would have been jailed today had anyone known how
she treated you. He didn't have to say any more. I knew then exactly
what he was talking about, for even as a small child I was afraid
of your parents and never wanted to be around them. I don't know whether
the other adults in the family knew. I suspect they did. "
This was my reply to her email:
Dearest Patty,
My mother! There are times I truly think I have forgiven her.
Then there are the 'may she rot in hell days' and there have been
many of those days of late. I don't know why. And my father,
is not open for discussion, not today. You were on target in your
fear of your aunt and uncle. Oh if you only knew the half of it!!
As a child I used to hear stories about 'step' mothers and fathers.
Both of my parents were biological as you know. Why abuse seemed to
be OK from natural parents and not from 'step' is a concept I never
grasped, not even as a child. When I say that children have
the right to a childhood without fear, I speak from virtual reality.
I did not say a whole lot about my mother on my web site. I am not
sure the average person can handle this kind of truth. Patty, in addition
to the beatings and verbal abuse I mention on my web site, here are
but a few more truths about my life with my mother. Existence is a
more appropriate word, for I was never allowed a life.
There were two sets of bunks beds in the home. Three beds in the boys
room and one for my sister in the room we shared. There was a small
couch in our room but I was not allowed to sleep on it. I slept
on the floor on a wool (I am allergic to wool, always have been) army
blanket with a rubber sheet on top of that. Seldom had a cover and
never owned a pillow. My husband could not understand how I could
sleep wrapped up in covers in the dead of summer in Oklahoma with
no air conditioning. It was a luxury to have covers and a pillow!!!!.
Unless one has slept on a rubber sheet on a floor one has no idea
how cold it is. Cold floor, cold house, cold parents. As a child I
frequently wet the bed, uh....the floor, at night because I was too
terrified to get up to go to the bathroom.
The kitchen table seated 6, there were 7 of us. Mother said that since
Aileen 'refuses' to eat with the family she has to prepare her own
meals. I knew nothing about cooking. 6 or 7 years is my earliest memory
of much of this. I was required to ask her permission for any food
item before I could use or eat it. Permission was usually denied.
I ate lots of slope. I ate sitting on the kitchen floor while my 'family'
ate at a well set table not 12 feet from me. I ate out of the same
stainless steel bowls that were also used for the dogs. The dishes
were washed by hand. There was a dishwasher but rarely used. I remember
literally 'stealing' frozen bread from the freezers to eat because
I was starving!!!! I did not get the fruits and veggies at meal times
my siblings got. God! This is hard. Have not really thought
about some of this for years. The only occasions I could count on
a decent meal were
1) your family came for a holiday
2) grandmother Murphy was there (she hated me, adored my twin)
3) we went to your house for a holiday
4) whenever dad cooked outside in the summertime - which was seldom
5) school lunches 2-3 times a week in the 6th grade
I also remember "stealing" many food items from the neighborhood
grocery store. Seldom candy. Small boxes of crackers, deviled
ham, and cheese. Lots of cheese. Guess my body craved the protein.
Also bananas.
My mother did not wash my laundry and I was not allowed to use the
machine. She again, "since Aileen 'refuses' to put her 'filthy'
clothes in the laundry she will have to wash them herself." Refuse?
I was to petrified of my mother to ever 'refuse' to do anything she
said, ordered! So every Sat my mother would make me put my clothes
in the bathtub and then she would fill the tub with water as hot as
the water heater would allow, dump laundry soap in and leave me to
do it. I always burned my hands and arms up to nearly my elbows. Every
Sat. My clothes were never clean until I discovered that I could use
the toilet plunger and pretty much get the dirt out. Actually, I did
not discover this on my own. One of my brothers showed me. I do not
remember which one, but most likely Pat or Tim. I was 9 or 10 at the
time. You know how dirty kids clothing gets from playing. My
skin was in a constant state of itch from rashes because I could never
successfully get the soap out of my clothing. When I drained the suds
I was only allowed to fill the tub up ONCE again. Not sufficient to
remove the soap from my clothing.
On too many occasions my mother locked me out of the house forcing
me to sleep in the garage. I used to take dirty bath towels from the
laundry, crawl into the car and try to sleep. Sleep usually did not
come, I was petrified that she would catch me in the car. Well sure
enough my tired body took over one night. She 'caught' me sleeping
in the car the next morning. From that time on the car was kept locked
at night.
The only good thing my mother EVER did for me was to get rid of me
by shipping me off to boarding school when I was 14. I loved every
minute of my time there. If she had ever known I was happy she would
have yanked me out so fast my neck would have snapped! I stayed at
the school year around, not going home once in three years. When I
was seventeen I went home. We thought. Just before the 4th of
July week-end I wrote the Mother Superior and begged her to write
my mother and ask her if I could come for the 4th of July weekend.
I had to get my Sunday school teacher to mail the letter. I knew I
could not mail it from home. The nuns wrote and mother put me on a
bus. Her parting words were "I hope the devil gets you before
you get there". I have never forgotten those chilling words and
never will. Nor will I forget the look on her face and in her eyes
as she spat those words at me. My mother was an evil person. At the
end of the summer, I never told the nuns why, but I refused to be
sent back home. The school I had attended for three years was not
accredited and the nuns wanted me to graduate. They felt I had brains
and should continue my education. They took it upon themselves to
send me to a school in Dallas, TX for my senior year. The school sent
dad the bill each month. I guess he paid it, they did not kick me
out.
I never went home again. And there was no further physical contact
with my mother except for one occasion. When Carrie was about 6 dad
told me that my mother wanted to see Carrie. It was in the summer
and I was in college and could not miss classes. (Had a great time
in college and made some very good friends; Lynn I can never
forget). So I sent Carrie
to my mother's. I do not remember how she got there. When
it was time to go get her (a week later) I forced my brother, Mike,
to go with me. We spent one night in mother's home and I told Mike
that I had to get the hell away. Mother tried to be nice to me, but
every time I turned around, she was on Carrie's back about something.
I knew that if I opened my mouth that I would most likely end up beating
the crap out of the witch. I was angry for Carrie, but mostly I think
I was angry for myself. That was a turning point for me. I did
not stand up to my mother for my child, but mother was never allowed
to see Carrie again. And she never laid eyes on Jill.
I no longer keep silent where kids are concerned. Because of this
I have lost a few friends along the way. But I do not care. I am not
out to win popularity contests. But somewhere out there, someday,
there will be an adult who will remember me much the way I remember
my 6th grade principal, Miss Evelyn. This will not be so bad.
I could go on and on and on. But not now. I have spent my entire life
trying to escape and being afraid to love and not letting anyone get
close enough to really love me. I have been determined that no adult
would ever hurt me again. Only one has, but in the process, I have
hurt myself. What a twisted fate. There is only one man I have loved,
still do, and this is still a great shock to me. I never wanted it.
As a child I escaped into books and as an adult into my jobs. I often
wonder if I will ever be able to completely put it all behind me.
Just when I think I have, the nightmares start again. There have been
many of them again of late. I adore children and have, through the
years turned friends into enemies because I was very vocal about their
treatment of their children.
Enough! I am drained.
(personal note, which I have deleted)
All my love, Aileen
PS - Yes, adults knew something was terribly wrong in my home, but
I do not know just what or how much they suspected. But no one said
or did anything. I got knocked out with a baseball bat on the school
grounds one day at recess. I remember coming to and as I was being
assisted, one of the teachers remarked that someone should call my
mother. The principal came unglued and hissed "you want this
child killed? no one is calling her mother!" Her name was
Miss Evelyn. I adored her, but never told her anything. But I always
knew that Miss Evelyn liked me and took a special interest in me.
Miss Evelyn used to buy my lunch on the days she was at my school.
She was principal for 2 elementary schools so her time was split between
the schools. I can still see her face, her smile, and well remember
the scent of her perfume. She, for a school year and books, were my
salvation. The only parts of my childhood worth remembering.
I sit here wondering why after all these years I have said anything.
(some of this I have discussed with my daughters) No good can come
of it, but lately I am just so drained all the time. Emotionally.
Maybe I needed a good cry. If so, I have certainly done this today.
As for my brother's statement that today my mother would be jailed
for this.....well, let me tell you, within a week she would have made
some one mad enough to kill her, and they would have done just that.
So who would have gotten justice? Not me. [This is the end of
my reply to my cousin]
Note: For some unknown reason my siblings
and I have never discussed much about our childhood or lack of, with
each other, and certainly have never mentioned any of this.
I do not believe they were blind, but I do know that all were scared
of my mother and to a degree of my father as well. My brother,
Pat, once told me that I was "Daddy's little Princess".....if
he only knew. If I was ever a princess to anyone it was Miss
Evelyn in the 6th grade and my godmother, (joined the Catholic Church
when I was 16) Jere Marie. Jere Marie has always referred to
me as one of her daughters. She has two, her natural daughter
and myself. Without people like Miss Evelyn and Jere Marie abused
children have no chance at normalcy. It is because of people
like this that I can be who and what I am today. But I also
have to give my ex husband credit. He was a patient man, and
tried to understand as best he could. It was difficult at times,
for he adored his mother and she him.
One of my brothers, wrote in a letter to me
in November '95 that I was just like my mother. I could
not understand how he could say this or if he really believed what
he wrote. I have not seen this brother in probably 23 years.
I believe Carrie, my oldest, was about 4 the last time I saw him.
We have not lived in the same house or even the same town since I
was 14 years old. He does not know me. This comment alone,
nothing else, caused me to have no contact with him for almost 2 years.
Even now, it is difficult to maintain a calm relationship with him.
Some of the things he writes are like hearing my mother all over again.
A ghost that will not leave me. But I in turn seem to be able
to push his buttons, though never done consciously. Right now
there is peace between he and I. I hope it lasts. I am
unable to love someone I do not know just because they are blood.
I do not know this man. I do, however, cherish him. There
are a lot of reasons. With his male Murphy pig headedness though,
he would never be able to understand even if I were able to explain
it. My sister, I adore. My twin and I had a special bond
as children, but not because we were twins. Because mother hated
us both. As I stated previously, she completely ignored him.
One would have thought she never knew he existed. But I always knew
he was there. I still do, even though he has not heard from
me in months. The youngest brother, I do not believe is
in contact with any of his siblings. But I know this is not
because of any of us or his childhood. My brothers do not believe
in God, at least two of them profess not to. However, one has
to admit that a higher being had to have been looking out for the
"Murphy" kids. We all survived, not without scars,
but survived non the less. None of us have the capacity to treat
any human being the way our parents treated us. The excuse that
abusers were abused as children and this is why they abuse as adults
is an untruth. As adults we have the choice to make the decisions
as to how we treat others. As long as attorneys are allowed
to drag one's childhood into a court of law and scream poor abused
neglected child and get away with it nothing will change. So
sad.
