The bold truth of my abuse

What can I say about my own trauma but the fact that when it started I was only 4 years old and did not fully understand what was happening or why my mom would just let it happen. The first night a strange man came into my bedroom all I knew was what he did hurt badly and I kept crying for my mom to help but she didn’t. This to a 4-year-old makes them feel as though they cannot trust those who are meant to protect and love them. As a result, even in my adulthood I do not trust people. I am always waiting for the shoe to drop and for them to do something that would show me what I already knew that they could not be trusted. Sadly, this has been the case for so, many people except my bestie Jenn, my sis from another ball sack Jess, and my Spiritual Mom Rita.

I remember one day when I was 8. I wanted to take a bath, and my mom told me to go take one. As I was taking my bath I slipped under the water and could not get myself back up. Each time I was able to get my head above the water I would scream for help. My mom’s male friend came in and got me out of the bath dried me off and cried me to my room. He assaulted me and told me if I told my mom he would come back and do it again only worse. I just lay there wanting to scream but didn’t because I already knew my mom would not care. Apparently he was not aware of what she had people doing to me at night. Due to this I have a profound fear of taking showers even to this day, with therapy it is getting better, but I know it is going to be a long road before I am healed from this fear. Each time I try to take a shower my anxiety goes high, my legs start shaking, and I hear a voice in my head saying I am scared. There are times when I can talk to myself and let myself know that I am safe and that the only people in the house is my daughter and myself. This helps part of the time but when my anxiety is high for other reasons it does not help at all.

As the nights went on more men would come but one night a woman came and she proved to be the worst because she introduced my mom to something that she used on other young girls to make them compliant without crying. This would be heroin. So, from that night my mom would inject me with heroin 30 minutes before anyone came into my room. Due to this I was a full-blown addict by the time I was 10. If I did not get my fix I was for lack of better wording a BITCH and everyone felt my wrath. This was also the last year I would see my father. My mom said it was court ordered but I recently learned from my dad that she had lied about that. When I think about it now, she cut off my visits to my dad that year because I was getting old enough to start being able to tell my dad what was going on.

I would ask my mom why she would let strangers hurt me like they did and all she would say was child they don’t hurt you they are loving you in a very special way. I stopped asking when I was 12 because by that time I knew she would never tell me the truth. By 13 she was setting me up on what she called dates, where she would get me all dressed up and someone would come pick me up, do whatever they wanted with me and bring me back when they were done. This made me come to the resolve that this was going to be my life and I had no way of escaping it. I was too young to get a normal job, I did not know where my dad was at or how to contact him, any time I acted out people back then would just say it was normal childhood behavior and not a cry for help.

I saw a glimpse of hope when I became pregnant at 14. I had thought finally someone would find out what was going on because she was going to have to take me to the doctor, but I was sadly wrong. She contacted the man that had gotten me pregnant and he put me in his basement and had a midwife that my mom paid off to keep her mouth shut to come in once a week to make sure the baby was ok. To this day I do not understand why she even bothered with doing that and why she did not just have the baby aborted because the day I had the baby she took him away and killed him to hide her secret. Even to this day when I meditate to try to heal that part of myself I can feel the anger and the hatred for my mom and how much I wish I could go back in time and save my little boy somehow. My adult self just keeps asking how a person can be so evil and vile to kill an innocent little baby who did nothing but be conceived and born. I gave him a name even though I knew I would never hold him or know him, but I named him Dean Scott La Combe. He was born on September 15, 1994. Knowing what I know now about babies from having Adriana, Evan, Elektra and Alexzander. I now know why she killed Dean, I became pregnant in March of 1994, and Dean was born in September of 1994 which means he was born at 6 months gestation making him in need of serious medical intervention. Since she did not want what she was doing be known she killed him instead of getting him the medical care he needed.

In so many ways having Dean killed the way he was played a huge part in my parenting with Adriana because I still had that fear that she was going to be taken in the same way. After that fear faded I had the issue of how to learn how to be a good mom while raising a child without having any clue what the hell I was doing. I made a ton of mistakes with her that even to this day I wish I could take back. I have said I am sorry to her, and we have done some healing with our relationship, and I believe the biggest thing I need to work on with our relationship is following through with what I say I am going to do.

I still have a lot of healing to do, and it is going to be a long journey. I know I am going to have my good days and my bad days but I do know this for sure it will be worth it.