Sleet and Crafts

Today I felt crafty.  Last week, we found quite a few antique spools of thread in the church sewing room.  I didn't want them to sit in a box, so I bought a little shelf at Hobby Lobby and painted the little board on it blue.  I made 2 tiny quilts to hang from the back (one isn't bound) and will take it to hang it tomorrow... well, I guess in two weeks.  I think tomorrow will have too much ice on the ground.  Anyhoo, here is my little shelf with some of my antique spools.  

The ones at church are the small spools.  Hopefully I will finish the other quilt tomorrow.

Then I painted a canvas yellow, then a blob of blue, then dots and I grabbed a pretty napkin I had picked up and modge podged it to the canvas.  Gonna make a few more and hopefully sell at a country store for OHCE to earn money to host next years District Meeting.  I hope they sell...

The reason I felt so crafty?  About 2" of sleet, then an inch or so of snow.  

Have I said I feel like we live in a park?  I love this place.

Tomorrow I will be crafty again if they cancel the sewing group, which I think they will.  I am enjoying crafting.  I am finding myself more and more each day.  

Maybe that concussion found me.  

Later gator.

 

Us. All of Us

I explained mom, her boyfriend, my bestie who was her boyfriend’s daughter, and Norma, her boyfriend's wife in my last post.

Norma was the best cook ever.  I wish I could find a picture of her.  She was comfortable to be around.  She was caring and quiet.  Calm.  She was OCD before it became a ‘thing’.  She would place something on a shelf and move it micro inches over and over again.  She was patient and kind.  How she got involved in the Peyton Place drama, I have no idea.  Her previous husband had been shot.  

I don't know her story about meeting John, but John was a demanding jerk. He could be next to the telephone and would yell across the house for one of us to answer it.  When he disciplined us, it was 5 hours of bullshit reiterating a hundred times what he was trying to drill through our head.  He hit us.  He abused me every way possible.  He shared me with his friends.  I cannot tell you how much I hated him.  In the same breath, I cannot tell you how much I loved Jeanie and Norma.  

I always wonder why people go to the depths he did.  How do they get there?  What happened in their life that turned them into a demon?  I honestly hate him, but I also have... not compassion, but an inquiring mind, I guess.  I don't understand people who have so much hatred that they have to abuse and take others down their morbid path.  Where did it start?  Where they born like that?  Where they abused?  

I was abused and I did not carry that kind of abuse on.  I dug myself out of that hell hole with my husband and I have found out who I really was.  I have found me, and I love me.  Sure I make mistakes and have regrets.  I would love to get a grip on my weight, but even so, I am finally comfortable in my own skin.  

But it only takes one word, one visual, one touch, one thought to take me right back to "then" - absolute heart stopping terror, still to this day.

As I said, I took the kids under my wing, and mom and I kinda battled back and forth.  She was the adult, so she should have taken control, but she didn't.  Maybe I was strong willed then.  Pretty sure I was, in fact.  I tried my best to protect my sisters and brother from the brunt of what was going on.  As a child, I am sure I did everything wrong, but my heart was in the right place.  

Liz was the second child, my little sister - 8 years younger than me.  She and I were tight as kiddos.  That was a somewhat calm time in our life.  She was always the type of kid that needed more attention.  We played jacks, marbles and I read books to her.  But I was not enough.  I was sissy, but she needed more.  

Then came the twins.  Liz got bumped back a bit which caused her to be more needy, Danny just cried all the time as a baby and Sherry threw up sooo much.  We had no idea how to handle the twins and spent so much time trying to fight those battles.  We finally figured out Shari needed a different milk, and Danny eventually settled.  

     Moma, Shari and Danny, the twins were 2 months old.

                                                         

                            Liz, Shari (newborn) and moma.

We got through it, but it was not an easy task. And Liz... well, I remember at one time, mom and I sitting in the living room and the three little ones were this way and that way.  Mom looked at me and she said, "Which one are you going to grab?  I will get the other two!"  😂

Fast forward a bit... Liz had become even needier.  Obviously, the twins took a lot of time.  Liz needed to be noticed, and I tried, but I think she actually needed mom and dad.  Dad had checked out, mom was here and there, so it was mostly me.  I don’t think I was enough, but I tried.

It was during this time that things started to shift with mom.  Somewhere in here, mom had a car wreck because dad ran her off the road.  She rolled the car, had no seat belt on and once she was out she was terribly hurt.  He would not allow her to go to the hospital.  Years later, when she was living with me, the Dr asked her when she broke her back... her answer was, “I rolled the car years ago.”  :-(  The wreck caused her not to be able to do much with us 4 kids, Then John came along.

Maybe that is when I kinda started being the other 'mom'.  When my mom was mentally broken first, then physically broken forever.  She loved us.  She was so messed up by many people.  She tried, I tried and we grew stronger for what we all went through.  Even the nastiness gave us strength.

       Mom was sad here.  Liz, Shari, mom, Danny and I

Danny was always in fast forward, I assume hyperactive, but who knows.  He was loud and clumsy.  We knew where he was 100% of the time.  He was difficult to handle because he could do hoolahoops around us when we tried to coral him!  And he was always happy as a toddler.  He laughed at the silliest things.  If you were serious about something, he would make a silly face to make you get 'off of serious'.  He was a goof; always entertaining and trying to be a comedian.  But he always had a deep need for cuddles and love.  Always.  He just wanted to be loved.  In fact, he would almost turn inside out to be loved.  John tormented him and took that fun guy away.  I can't talk about what happened, but I lost my brother to John.

Sherry (mom's spelling), Shari (her changed spelling) was sickly.  Norma took her under her wing and Shari could do nothing wrong.  Norma took up for every freaking thing that happened.  She coddled Shari, she pampered Shari, she loved Shari and she spoiled the heck out of her - I suppose in a good way.  Whatever Shari did was cute, or fun or protected.  She could absolutely do no wrong.  But her doing that with Shari turned Shari against us.  She knew that no matter what she did, Norma would take up for her.  And Norma did.  Then moma backed her up.  

Shari actually made a game out of singing, "I'm mean, I'm mean ImmMeanImMeanImMean! and just laugh and laugh!  She was cute, but she knew she ruled the roost.  Shari knew she was loved.  Moma loved on her sweet, sickly baby, Norma coddled her and there was no doubt she knew she was treasured.

Jeanie came into the picture sometime when the twins were young.  She and I hung out day in and day out.  We took care of kids, played and we visited.  We were more than best friends, we were sisters.  I won't share everything that happened with us, but suffice it to say, we know, we grew, we married, and we are truly survivors - no, we are warriors. We made it through that insane dynamic.  

This is us.  Danny, me, Jeanie behind me, Shari and Liz.

I love this picture.

I love my mom.  No matter what we went through she went through so much more.  

I know a lot of her story that the kiddos don't.  I lived those first 8 years before them.  I saw what mom had gone through.  No one was good to her.  I am not even sure I was when I was that young, but I treasured her later and we became good friends as well as mother and daughter.  

I sure miss my moma.

Half Written Post

 But this stupid internet is s-l-o-w!

Don’t know what this means?  Google speed test, hit "test", hit "go" or whatever.

Then compare yours to mine.

Remember dial-up?  Yep, our speed is almost as good as dialup!

Trying again tomorrow.

Then Came Two

Liz was 15 months old when mom got pregnant again.  She needed lots of help with this pregnancy and Liz, so I stayed home much more than before.  Dad was pretty much out of the picture most of the time.  We found out later he had a girlfriend, but the deed was done.  I remember having to roll moma out of the bed because she was so huge.  

Moma was terribly sick the entire pregnancy.  She was still convinced something was terribly wrong.  Grands (dad’s parents btw) were upset with her because dad and her were on the outs, she was pregnant (again) and couldn't care for the two she had and dad had lied to them about everything going on.  She was on their 'it' list.  No help.

She had no one except Liz (a baby) and me.  Rolling her was a huge chore for an 8 year old and a 2 year old.  Mom cried, we cried, she tried rolling, we tried rolling her… it was hard, but we would finally get her up.  We all made it.  With us.  No help.

Mom went in to (full term) labor and she had to call grands to keep us girls.  Granddad made sure our father was at the hospital because, well, because they weren’t divorced and it was his baby coming, so he owed moma that, I suppose.  

The story is that dad was sitting in the waiting room and the nurse came out and said, "Congratulations!  You have a BOY!"  Dad was super excited to 'finally' have a boy.  A few minutes later, a nurse comes out and says, "Congratulations!  You have a GIRL!"  

Dad was like, "NO!  You said I have a BOY!  You SAID a boy!!"  Nurse replies, "Yes, sir, you have a boy AND a girl!"  Dad faints.

And now we had twins.  Perfectly healthy, beautiful TWINS!  No, not identical, he is a BOY and she is a GIRL, not identical by any stretch of the imagination.  Lol.. people really ASK that!

Now we know why mom thought there was seriously something wring with her pregnancy!  Dad?  Yeah, he was there about 6 months if you could actually say he was there... he was in and more out.  And definitely no help.  So mom and I had 3 kiddos.  Liz, Danny and Sherry (now spelled Shari).  Mom was so overwhelmed and depressed.  Dad really did a number on her; he dogged her all the time, she had gone through all that in Colorado, now he was not paying bills here and the only thing keeping us safe was the house we lived in.  He couldn't screw it up because grands owned it.  We didn't have to move in the middle of the night, but we still had to come up with money to pay the bills.  With 3 kids.  Oh!  Four, I was still a kid, too.

I will be honest.  None of my years were easy, but these were the toughest times ever.  Before it was just me, now it was me, my brother and sisters and my mom.  This was scary.  Mom started selling Avon and Tupperware to make ends meet.  It took at lot of time away from home, but I was able to care for the kids.  We had pretty much done it together from the start.  She had taught me to change diapers, to feed and care for my brother and sisters.  I would do that while she worked.  Our little town was small so she would check on us often.

At some point, I don't really know when, she started going out with a man named John.  He started helping with the bills and she depended on him for helping with house things, repairs, etc.  The fact was, it came with a cost.  Her girls.  Of course, he lied to her and made sure she was out when he came over.  He molested me.  I can't speak for anyone else, but he said he 'loved me like a father' and did his thing.  I had always been taught to respect adults and I knew no better.  I was about 11 when he started molesting me.  Much too young and naïve and way too trusting.  It happens just like they say on TV.  He threatened to kill my mom, my siblings and my grandparents if I let them in on "our little secret."

The fact was, he was married.  He was married to my best friend's mom.  I can't tell the rest of that story either, but we became one big family.  His wife knew, but I she had lost her first husband in a shooting.  I think she needed someone to pay the bills.  So mom, Norma, John, Sharon, Jeanie and our family all became like one big family.  It was strange.  And I 'pretended' to be everyone but the person I was.  A counselor told me that I had started that early: whoever I was living with was who I tried to change to.  If they liked Fruit Loops, I liked Fruit Loops, if they loved Pizza, I loved Pizza.  So when I started being molested, I ‘became someone else’ - like a movie star… but it was my way of 'checking out' from the life I was in, which made sense, but it hurt a lot of people.  I had learned lying from my dad.  I had gotten very good at it and very good at pretending to NOT be who I truly was.  Thankfully, much later I learned lying isn't worth the grief it causes.  I backslid a few times years ago, but my heart ached.  I stopped.  

That went on for years; the relationships, the lying, the sexual abuse, the physical abuse from angry parents, and the neglect because mom just could not handle the deck she had been dealt.

  Jeanie and I were best friends, both confused, but lucky to have each other to get through that mess.  And only *we* knew the mess.  Truly, no one would ever, or could ever, understand - to this very day.  It was complicated.  Very, very complicated and way too complicated to even try to weed out and explain to counselors later.  Not at all healthy, but it was how we survived.  And we cared for the kids.  Jeanie got to go back to her home at 706 (house number), but the kids and I stayed at 813, while mom was flittering somewhere between both places.  Ultimately the kids came to think of me as more the mom, the protector and 'Sissy'.  I think I probably took over by protecting them from mom and her anger, dad and his lack of support, John and whatever he could do, and anyone else that could hurt them. 

Looking back, I think mom tried to take over, but I pushed back and she didn't fight it - she questioned her sanity because dad and grands had convinced her she was crazy.  The more she pulled away, the more I took over.  Eventually, the kids became 'mine', sadly, because Moma loved us all.  She was truly so dysfunctional thanks to all the ones that abused her.  But she cared.  She honestly did. She had no idea John was doing what he was.  She thought she could trust him and let her heart do so.  Dad had never molested us, so I am sure she never even considered that it was a possibility from another person.  She was going to Oklahoma State Tech to get her accounting degree and he was abusing us.  Conveniently scheduled around her schedule.  

It was years later, and years after John had died of a massive heart attack, that she realized what had been going on and called me crying and trying to apologize.  I wasn't open to it yet.  I hung up on her.  

Back to the kids and I.  I had no idea how to raise kids.  I was a kid that was raised in a very dysfunctional environment, but I knew how grands had raised me.  With respect, security and love.  That is what I tried to give the kids.  Still to this day,  I love them like my own, but I know they were moma's.  I know she loved us all.  She was soooo confused and felt unworthy of us.  How do people take another's self worth away?   Ask my dad, my Uncle Billy, my grandparents and even John.   Sadly, we can't.  They are all dead.

But it doesn't end here... more another day.

 *** 

I have been walking like a drunk for 4 days now.  I have no idea what causes it, but it happens every few months.  Today, I was walking, got off balance and fell.  In front of at least 15 people!  All looking at me because I was showing them something.  Lord have mercy!  I am fine, but I would sure like to know why I walk drunk.  No I don't drink anything but water and tea!  And yes, I was embarrassed.  

***

Six to Eight-ish

Me.  

In Tulsa with this little mo-ped (I am sure I will be corrected) of dad’s in Tulsa - I was 5-ish.

I know, this is out of sequence, but I needed to back up little bit... 

When I was around 6, my parents came back to grands to pick me up and move to Colorado.  I had no idea what Colorado was, but I was excited to be finally going with my parents for 'good'.  We moved to Colorado Springs, then to Pueblo, Denver, Canon City, Aurora, Loveland, then to Castle Rock,... yeah, we moved and moved and moved. Sometimes we moved in the night.  Sometimes, we moved during the day and some days we moved with people yelling at us.

We finally hit a place called Castle Rock and lived in a little farmhouse.  This is the first Christmas I ever remember.  We never had Christmas at Grands - probably there was so little money and too many kids!  I have only wonderful memories of these gifts and this holiday.  We were happy.  For a very short while.

When we were in Castle Rock, we lived on a ‘ranch’.  We had lots of property with a small house.  I had never been happier in my life.  There was a pasture and sometimes there were horses in it.  The owner (we rented) told me that one of the horse's name was Star.  I went out in the mornings to check on the horses - I had always wanted a horse of course (what kid doesn't) so I was infatuated with that horse and was determined to be a cowboy!  (I still didn’t realize I was a girl)  😂

One morning I went out and Star had a baby!   I was so freaking excited that I RACED in to tell my parents - who did not believe me.  I begged for them to go see the baby horse and finally dad came out.  He was surprised, and laughed saying I was right - and I was so danged pleased with myself - it was like *I* had the baby!  LOL... The owner came and I told her Star had a twinkle - and hence, the baby was named Twinkle.

Then we moved.  Again.  To a basement in Denver.  Dark, scary and the people were not nice at all.  Mom and dad argued all the time.  Well, they always had, but in Castle Rock I had a big pasture to entertain myself in.  Mom was pregnant with another child, and tired.  I am sure she was tired of moving, of dad assuring her the money was in the bank, her paying the rent and then finding out the checks had bounced.  She had to be distraught, tired and overwhelmed trying to move and re-move - all while carrying a baby.

This is a picture of preggy mom on the farm before we moved to Denver.

One night, we got in the car in Denver at night.  I must have fallen asleep and when I woke I was alone in the car, pitch black at night, in a parking lot of a BIG building.  I waited and waited.  I cried.  I cried some more.  Finally a man walked past, heard me bawling, and asked me where my parents were.  I had no idea.  Somehow he found my dad and he told me mom had a baby boy, but he died.  He apologized for leaving me in the car, that he was with moma.  What about me?!?  I swear I bawled for HOURS in that pitch black car!

Moma was distraught.  She cried and cried.  She had to leave the baby at the hospital - I am sure because dad couldn't pay for anything else.  But she was so broken.  Dad was relentless. I don't know if he was upset about the baby dying, but he had no sympathy for mom. They fought.  More then they had ever fought before and that is saying something, believe me.

One day I got on the phone and called an operator crying.  I told her I wanted to go home.  She asked where I lived and I told her with my grandma and grandpa.  Of course she asked where, and who and whatever else she had to ask and she miraculously got my grandfather on the phone.  When he answered, I thanked the operator, then to my grandfather, grands said I said this. "I have a piggy bank with money.  I will give you everything in my piggy bank for gas if you come get me."  He asked where I was and, bless his heart, he was there the next day to take me 'home'. 

That is my grandad on the left.  ❤️

 I don't know the rest of the story - where mom and dad were or how long they were in Castle Rock - or where they were- after I left.  I still wonder about Star and Twinkle.  

So I came back to grands place - my anchor spot.  Solid. Same house always.  No moving for a long time.

(Mom wrote a letter about this time of her life in a letter that I have and recently read. It absolutely breaks my heart.  I am so glad that mom and I were best friends and at peace with our past.  She needed unconditional love, and with me, she had it.  We laughed, we cried, we hugged and we were truly happy until her dying day.  She was always sick, but we struggled together through our illnesses.)

Guess what?  I was safely at my Grandparents home when my parents came to pick me up again.  I was 8.  Mom was pregnant again.

Along Came Liz

I stayed with grands for a while but mom and dad came back.  Grands had bought a house at "913" N Central - right next to a railroad track - that they used for my aunt and uncle with the 4 boys.  I am sure they needed space and anytime parents came back for kids, they needed that place to tuck them - temporarily - because it was never going to be long, it never was.  They boys had ended up in an orphanage, and aunt Con and Uncle Vic had moved on. So mom and dad went to "913" to stay - so for now, we had a stable place that we weren't getting booted out of.

Did I say NEXT to a railroad track?  I think there might of 20 yards to the track.  Do you remember "I Love Lucy" in a hotel on the tracks?  With the bed bouncing across the floor when the train passed?  Yep, that was us.  We stayed there for a bit over a year.  Then mom found out she was pregnant again and Connie and Vic had come back, the boys went with them, so 'our' place was now theirs again.  But... 

Grands bought another house on 813 N Alabama.  It was old with plaster and horse hair walls.  It had lathe in the walls, and wood floors, and it was the best place I had ever lived in other than the 'ranch' in Colorado.  It was bigger than the ranch house and it was near grands - my base camp.  I knew we would be ok now.  This one was almost 'ours' because grands owned it.  They paid $5,000 for that place.  It was old, and it was theirs, so we had 'stable'. 

When I was almost 8, my baby sister Elizabeth came along.  Mom and dad were still on and off again trying to stay married.  Most of the time my ‘home base’ was with grands and the boys.  It was probably when Liz was born that I realized I wasn’t a boy.  Grands would holler for ‘us’ boys to come and eat and I came right along with Roger, John Dee, Phillip and Billy.  If you haven't figured it out, we were like one big huge family that rotated out of grands place.  

So when Liz was born, I stayed home a bit more to help care for her.  I loved my sister dearly - after all, she was younger than me and not a boy.  She was soft and cuddly and I just adored her and the attention she brought with everyone looking at her beautiful, tiny face.  

Mom and dad were still struggling (fighting) when they were together and I am sure I didn’t like the tension.  Grands place was 5 straight neighborhood blocks away - and as soon as I figured she was old enough, I started walking her to grands.  I was too young to realize the dangers, mom was caught up in her own misery, and she hated us hearing her and dad argue, so she allowed it.  We didn’t have a phone or a tv, and thankfully our little town was quiet so we always made it the 5 blocks.  

I loved my little sister.  It gave me something to concentrate on other than my (missing) cousins, my parent's arguing, my dad's philandering with other women and my mom's crying. She was so sad and broken.  I have no idea how my mom made it through all the crap.  My mom was a miserable mess; she had been adopted and barely saw her adoptive family, (my dad saw to that), so there was no support from anyone.

She had dad's parents (my grandparents), but they were on dad's side because of his lies.  And he lied about everything.  He was a habitual liar and, honestly, he could not tell truth from his lies.  They melted into the same for him.  So I guess what I am leading to my mom had zero support.  Zero.  

I got to where I would take my baby sister to the park, to grands, just outside... anything to keep her out of the turmoil going on in our lives.

Remember I said my mom was pregnant again?  Imagine her being pregnant again, with no support, with a husband that was fooling around on her and with two children.  She was also convinced with this pregnancy that there was definitely something wrong.  I am sure she had flashbacks from the baby she lost in Colorado, but she knew there was something different going on this time.  She cried.  She told everyone but she was blown off.  I am not sure she even went to a Dr.  Dad was... dad... he paid no bills, he lied and he moved because he paid no bills!  How could she have even gone to a Dr?

The rest of this story coming in another post.  Hopefully, sooner that they have been.

*******

Digging out of a depression is difficult, to say the least.  In 4 months, I have had my bestie move to another state, a terrible fall, a concussion, post concussion syndrome, headaches from you-know-where, sinus surgery, 2 major holidays and a major storm.  Be patient with me.  I think I may see the light at the end of the tunnel, but who knows?  At least I have something the write about for my kids to see someday!