Finding Unconditional Love Through Death

Being a survivor of child abuse, torture, molestation and mental illness, seems just too much for one person and it almost was for me. I tried suicide several times but failed. I suppose there must be a reason I am still around. I just have not figured out what reason there could possibly be for it, well at least not yet.

I have spend the majority of my forty years on earth trying to understand why my mother hated people saying I was beautiful as a baby and toddler, to the point that she would pinch me when she knew others would be around who might say it, just one more time. At least if I was crying and screaming, she wouldn't have to worry about them saying I was beautiful.

My mother hated me so much as a toddler that when she would bathe me, she would hold me under the water, just until the last bubble faded to the top of the water, then she would jerk me out of the water. The last time, she yanked too hard and pulled my shoulder out of the socket. Thank God we were all taken to foster care. Surely it would be better than this? Not so fast!

I think it would have been easier for me to survive the torture from my mother. The molestation I endured while living in the Christian fundamentalist home, that was too much and led to several attempts at suicide. I knew by the time I had reached the age of twelve, that something about me was very different about me and it terrified me.

The stories I am writing about are all true. These things really happened to me and my seven siblings. I am surviving child abuse, torture, molestation and discrimination, one day at a time.