The First Time part two by Sherry Asbury
If we are going to continue this journey into abuse, we need to discuss how it comes about. It is never just a sudden occurrence.
An abuser and his victim have a very special relationship. For me, I was knocked around by everybody - and just accepted my lot in life.
My mother abused me from the moment I was born. She hated her life and visited upon me the anger she felt. She had lovers and my father knew it - but didn't want to admit it. In fact, my real father was an Apache chief. It was never spoken of for my "father" was a bigot of the first order and would have killed her.
When I was in eighth grade my father drove me to the middle school for a dance. A rez kid was there...I didn't even notice him. I had a crush on a boy whose father owned a gas station and garage. My father gave the stink eye to Eagle Flies and snarled, "Don't you be dancin with no Injun, or I'll kill you."
That was a pretty good warning.
When I got home he beat me anyway, just in case I had disobeyed him - and the cycle continued. Back then, in the small Montana town where we lived there was no child services or any protection. Oh, when I went to school with bloody wounds or belt buckle marks a kind teacher might take me to the nurse and they would tut, clean me up, whisper, and buy me a hamburger for lunch.
I was trained to be a victim and I learned well. The first time Matthew hit me with a closed fist I flew into the closet and landed on a slant board he had made me so I could write in bed. It splintered one piece lodging under my left eye. I had step-sons with him and Jason, my favorite...a quiet boy, took pliers and pulled it out.
Here is an important part: Matthew cried and promised never to hurt me again. I held him and patted his back. That promise lasted till midnight when he discovered I got blood on his leather jacket. At the time I was 3 months pregnant - and lost my baby in a gush of blood and fluid. He cried some more. His sons did not buy into the cry fest, but of course, I did.
I spent two weeks in bed being nursed by my stepsons. I love them still and miss them terribly.
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