Something in me has made me a loner for as far back as I can remember. Being put into an orphanage at age five, my little sister was three... it should have been a blessing to me. Instead of taking advantage of it I rebelled. I made a couple of friends but still kept at a distance. I brooded and a rage was constantly inside me. Our mother lied to us and kept up the lie all the rest of her life. She called it a girl's boarding school. Above the entrance door in bold letters it read, St. Joseph's Orphan Girls Home.

It was, on the outside a wonderful place for children. We had all the amenities a child could ask for. It had a swimming pool, a tennis court, multiple swings and a baseball diamond. We also had a caring, loving Priest. As far as I know he never molested anyone. He truly cared. It was also the place I began having claustrophobia. It was a huge cluster of buildings including a chapel. We had dormitories. Two levels in all of mixed ages. One level for younger girls. One level for older girls. The teenagers had their own wing as did the nuns. At least one hundred and I'm sure more girls in each dorm.

We went to school there also. It was the place I should have learned my fundamentals in English. Should have, is the operative word here. We could go home for a visit when permitted, if we had parents and learned our Catechism. I became a whiz in Catechism, but never learned my basics. When we were kicked out, it was partly due to my rebellious nature. It was,�  I believe partly because our mother wouldn't let us be baptized or adopted. Not knowing those basics was a real handicap in public school when I attended in eighth grade, with boys for the first time. I became a class clown for defensive reasons. I faked my way to my sophomore year in high school, when I got married.

It was there in the orphanage I fell in Love with Jesus. He was all I had. I guess I finally gave up on Jesus when my begging didn't get me out of there. I'm sure that is when I began making my own poor decisions. Eventually, I turned from God, feeling like I didn't deserve Him. I realized many decades later. He never gave up on this stubborn Irish lass. I now know He loves me.

Back then, when I was ten, there was no escape. I stood at the third-floor window of my dorm, looking out at the lights of the city, wondering what was out there. I wish now, I had never found out.


Background
A weekend visit from the orphanage.
Mama, "What are all those boxes?"
Simple question from a six-year-old
"Mama, can I see those boxes?"
"Sure, honey they're just shoes"

Mama, " How did you get so many shoes?"
"I work in a shoe store with lady's shoes"
Mama " can I see your pretty shoes?"
"Sure, honey they're just shoes"

"Mama, can we stay with you, please?"
"I don't have money to feed you honey,
It costs a lot of money for two little girls"
"Mama, mama, PLEASEEEEEEEE?"

"Mama, mama, can I count"
"Help me count, mama, please"
Green, and black and purple too
Heels so high, boxes stacked

"Mama, there are thirty-seven pair"

"One for each outfit I wear,
They let me put them in lay-a way"
"Mama, a question please"

"Do we eat lot's more than these?"

Continued-

Author Notes

Funny, looking back, how being a loner was so detrimental. Even here on FS I have been a virtual loner until lately. I had no idea what I have missed. This is a picture of the Home.

Chapter 4
Important Facts To Squeeze In.

By LovnPeace

I am terrible at sequencing. It even came out in a test I once took. I have benefited from a couple of good counselors in my life. Later in my story I will hopefully remember to fill them in. Anyway, this should somehow be in the front of my life, as it has been a huge influence. It explains my mother's hate for me. Her disdain for me had two reasons. She desperately wanted a boy child. I'm sure it developed from her low self-esteem of being a female. I shared how the girls in our family were called split tails. The other reason was because I was no beauty. It was said she lost a boy baby at three months the year before I was born. I believe she knew I was a girl as she carried me. I was once asked when my problem began. I said, when I came out of the vagina. I now believe it was sooner.

Mother rejected my sister at birth, as she was a female. She only accepted her after the nurses begged her and told her how beautiful she was. She was beautiful. That was always important to mother. She was herself a beauty.

I was named after a minister's daughter my mother found beautiful. She had curly dark hair and big blue eyes. She determined to name her first daughter after her. It was my luck to be that first. I was never homely, in fact I turned out pretty in my own way. I didn't realize it until I wasn't pretty anymore. Unfortunately, in comparison to my sister, I looked plain. Added to that I had a scar on the right side of my top lip. It was from stitches put in from a dog bite when I was about three. I was also given Rabies shots which caused a lifetime fear of needles. Rabies shots at that time were given in the stomach.

As I write this it amazes me, not for the first time, how these facts were told to us many times. Some, were later denied by mother, that she said them. We certainly didn't need to know them. Just another attack on our self-worth.

A psychologist,-a good one once told me, someone made me feel like I should never have been born. Bingo, mommy. When I was about to me married to my second husband, my mother made the statement in front of us both, "If she had met my father's family, she would never have had children. They were so ugly." All my life she told me I looked like my father's side.

I had a strange relationship with my mother. Always trying to get her love. My sister never put any weight to anything mother said. She pretty much discounted her. She was much wiser than me there.  She was not abused much. Being younger and beautiful. She was mainly neglected so she  distanced herself. 

The funny thing was I pretty much filled the role of a male son. When we went to live with her after the orphanage, I took on the role. I made out the budget weekly, She always blew it. She partied at least once a week and missed work. I was her emotional sound bag. She would come home drunk, crying and telling me how much she loved me, liar. I think it enraged her so much when I married because I had always promised to take care of her. She lost her crutch. I don't think I ever met with her approval.

As for the test I mentioned earlier. I had a counselor who tired of hearing me say how stupid I was. She arranged for an IQ test for me. The first of many I have had. For the first time, I learned I was not only not stupid, but I was also above average in intelligence. Wow, I could hardly believe it.

Continued-

Author Notes

These are some of the most painful facts that made such a huge impact on me. Thank you, Minha jameel For the unique art. Blessings. Xo

Chapter 5
Sweet Sixteen

By LovnPeace

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.

A month before I turned sixteen, I was married to what I thought would be my lifetime partner. He was a child still as well, just five months older than me. We planned how we would be able to marry and form our own family. When I became pregnant, they (in my mom's case, reluctantly,) gave their permission for us to marry. The joining took place in his grandparents' apartment. I wore a cream-colored, street length dress It had with gold threads running through it. My mother climbed over a fence and picked flowers for my bouquet. My future husband and I shopped for rings ahead of time. We bought matching rings on credit. Mixed white and yellow gold. They had a sharp ridge in the middle, and I remember praying, as the minister prayed, that he would let go of my hand. He held it so tightly, it cut into my little finger. There were refreshments and a home-made cake after the ceremony.



My mom pretty much washed her hands of me. She told me," You made your bed, now sleep in it." I found out that very night how difficult that might be. On our wedding night we went to a drive-in movie with his aunt and uncle. They took along a case of beer. The name of the movie was. The Days Of Wine And Roses. A precursor of my life. Mind you, I come from a long line of drunks and my dad had become a skid row alcoholic by the. An argument ensued about whether the main character would drink again. I said he would, he did. There was no satisfaction in winning that argument.



Our wedding night I had held in my mind as a passionate night in the loving arms of my husband, set the stage of sixteen long years of heartache pain and again desperation. I had suffered some minor spotting and the doctor just said be careful. My new husband jumped on that excuse to reject love making. I finally fell asleep crying after begging for our lovemaking. When we first had sex, it hurt for some time. My husband was pretty small in that department. I think, slightly less than average. It still hurt as he wasn't short in hardness. In time it became quite pleasurable. I nearly worshiped it. I thought it was so beautiful. I loved the feeling of him entering me. Our wedding night was the beginning of more nights than not without lovemaking over the years. In fact, the nights we had sex were rare. I had married a future alcoholic, emotionally unavailable, control freak.



Six months later I gave birth to our first child. A beautiful baby girl. I had our fourth child before I turned twenty-two. It only takes one time to get pregnant. My mother came around with the birth of the first grand baby. In her usual wisdom, she said. "Don't you know what causes that?"



A little over two and a half years and the birth of my oldest son, an incident happened, that nearly destroyed me and my life. An insurance salesman came around our apartment complex. I talked my husband into buying a small policy. The man came around monthly to collect the premium. He was quite handsome and friendly. One fatal month, I guess he caught me at a vulnerable time. I was so starved for any affection; I suppose I was always vulnerable and didn't realize it then. Anyway, I ended up on the toilet rocking and crying. I was eighteen and devastated. Marriage was sacred to me at that time. I quickly realized; I couldn't stay with my husband. Not after my betrayal and I was fearful, because I talked in my sleep. I soon left my husband.



I got my first job downtown in a federal reserve bank as an elevator operator. I did the best I could without any financial help, I never dated much before my marriage, It was all new to me. For several reasons I became quite permissive. In all my life I suffered low self-esteem. The lack of experience of handling the situations and my hunger for affection, I'm sure played a roll. I Simple loathed myself and didn't care about me. I loved my babies. I met a nice young man who cared for me. He was a chiropractic student. I had a roommate, but she returned to her parents' home with her son. The landlady where I lived, baby-sat my children when I worked. My daughter was old enough to talk and apparently told her things about me. The lady gave me a warning, not to have my boyfriend over. One day he came over and took off his shoes. We didn't have sex, but she wouldn't listen and made me move.


My grandmother had by then moved into the shack my parents had lived in after her husband died. There was a tinier shack next to hers, so We moved into it. I was so shamed of where I was living, I refused to let my boyfriend come to see us, He begged, but I couldn't give in. He finally gave up. One of my monumental lifetime mistakes. One, of too many others.

 

Author Notes

These stories are difficult to write. It sometimes gets worse for most of my life. It has made me a strong woman. I'm not sure any man could handle me. I couldn't. Thank you, avmurry for your charming art.

Chapter 6
Worth

By LovnPeace

don't believe others
and their tainted view of you
God and you know truth

Author Notes

I can't be the only one who suffered this. Poor self esteem is usually why and never knowing your value. Thank you cleo85 for your picture on FanArt.

Chapter 7
Damaged Flower

By LovnPeace

I was an innocent young girl
full of idealism and romantic fluff
passions awakened
and a heart full of love

Taken deflowered and tossed aside
a baby factory devoid of hope
existence upon a heap of abuse
a bride with emotional starvation

No time to express or process
shoved deep into an abyss
like a volcano rumbling
all these decades later

Unexpectedly triggered
a raging inferno
lost touch with my precious God
found myself fighting Satan to save my soul

Anger and rage does that
you lose peaceful salvation
the monster of pain I thought was dead
has reared its ugly head

Fight I have and will
till victory again reigns
the Holy Spirit my partner
will bring me home again

Author Notes

Not concerned with proper poetic prose. This writing site is my emotional salve until I find better. I am now solidly connected with the Holy Spirit and do all I can on my part not to loose Him. Thank you, seshadri For lending your art. blessings

Chapter 8
Tortured

By LovnPeace

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

I am writing this book so it will be in chronological order. Some of the subjects I have touched on before over the years are scattered about in my huge portfolio. Some are found in other books on here.



The bank I worked for at the time, gave us an ultimatum during flu season. Get the series of shots or no pay if you get the flu. I had the full series of three shots. I had every kind of flu known to man that winter. I was off work constantly. I was very sick. My husband broke up with his fiance and came to see me. I was running a raging fever. He climbed in bed with me and held me, trying to break the fever. We talked a lot. I never returned to work. He always seemed to catch me when I was most vulnerable. We packed up our belongings and babies and moved to Arizona.



We had a reasonably peaceful couple of years there. I became pregnant with my third child. If I had been a princess, I would have been hospitalized. I always suffered harshly with morning sickness, but this time was the worst. They put me on suppositories as I couldn't even hold water down. When she was born, they kept her in the hospital for a few extra days. I learned years later; she was slightly jaundiced. I have blood type A-negative. I also knew very little about it. Only that I had to have titers with pregnancy. My new daughter I found out, should have had a complete blood transfusion at birth. We had no hospital insurance and were poor. She would have had to be transferred to a distant hospital for the procedure. They decided against it. I now believe it accounted for my violent morning sickness and doomed her not only to health issues, but to an early death. This mixed blood type issue doesn't affect all pregnancies.



Of course, he strutted like a peacock, thinking he was the only one who could get me pregnant. I never told him; I believe I had a miscarriage when we were separated. He wormed it out of me, about me sleeping with other men. It didn't matter that he slept with other women. I would later pay a high price for that information. I never told him about my original betrayal. Even though I never meant for it to happen, I believe he would have killed me.



I became pregnant again shortly after our daughter was born. He wasn't happy about that. I cramped and spotted this time with a milder morning sickness. Our doctor didn't think I would carry this baby to term but told me to take it easy. I did take it easy and carried him to term. My last baby, a son was born a year and two weeks after his sister.



My husband worked for a small business which required delivery. He and his partner sometimes would take off and go to the local Casino. I don't know if it had an effect of his boss having a heart attack or not, but his boss died. He lost his job when the new owners took over. My husband wanted to go to California where his mother had moved to. I wanted to go back home. I thought I needed my mom. Another poor choice. I can only speculate now, that it made him resent me somehow. I was eight months pregnant with a baby less than a year-old climbing on my big belly for hundreds of miles. With two other children, well under four in the back seat. Birth control was in its infancy back then.



The few years back in the mid-west were difficult at times, with very little stability. Hubby started work in a major greeting card company. We finally moved to the country which produced a long commute for him. One day his old Jewish princess Girlfriend rode up on horse-back with her entourage. I don't remember if it was before or after that that his serious abuse began. I do remember sitting in the back yard later and him telling me he still loved her. I had gone to high school with her.



I forgot to mention something that happened before I was married. I shared with a visiting aunt that I was having sex. She told mom. My mother shut me in the bedroom with my sister guarding me, after she beat my back with a stainless-steel pancake turner. You could see the design from the blood under the skin. She told me she would kick me out naked if she could but told me I could only have the clothes on my back. I was ordered to take the bus to my grandma's. I went to my boyfriend's house instead. I went to school from there. The Jewish princess saw my back in the PE Showers. She tried to befriend me. Years later, she asked a mutual friend if I was still with him. She called him the monster.

Anyway, before or after didn't matter. It became a living hell.



At night, after a few beers and the kids were in bed he would back me against the wall with a finger in my face an say over and over, "Peter is good," This would go on for hours, over and over for many months. In time my body began to react. First my stomach tightened up, then my throat, and I would scream. He slapped me out of it and went on with the torture. I don't remember how many months, or years this went on. Mom's doctor said I developed a kind of epilepsy, when she told him about it. This is why I consider myself a miracle. The fact I have any mental capacity today is a miracle to me.



You might be able to tell by now, I had very little contact or communication with other people during these years. He didn't want me working outside the home. This along with no real education would become a problem in my life.

I am adding the poem from my book, Slaying The Dragon/Lion as a Look into my feelings.

*** Yes, I Feel the Pain ***

I don't think I suppress my pain
I look through clear looking glass
not hiding in a field of dreams

What a delicate balance
to walk before reality
self-pity keeping at bay

To cram will cause sickness
of spirit, cause decay
Lord, help me on this walk

I try to deal, not deny
we live in such a painful world
not close to paradise

I cannot dwell in Satan's Hell
while keeping a healthy path
a choice I make in my life

To feel the woes
but not to dig a pit
no longer phase me out, but

To blossom in my spirit
be a proud light of God
but more, a peace in me


Continued-

Author Notes

Thank you, Renate-Bertodi for your great art.

Chapter 9
Broken And Lost

By LovnPeace

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

We bought a little house in the small nearby town. It was a beautiful house well-built and could last a lifetime. We did some of the finishing to pay for the down payment. We laid sod in the large back yard. Things like that. Unfortunately, by that time I was so broken I didn't function well. I tried. I even became a Brownie troop leader and room mother
.
One year with our tax return, he bought me a used car, an automatic. I began making long drives to a university hospital, trying to get help. I knew something was wrong with me. They put me on a med. The med caused a sensation of the car moving when I had the brake pressed to the floor. They gave me another medicine to go with the first prescription. This started many long years of what I call later, as being a Guinea-pig.

I am going to condense here and skip ahead. I left him again. My mother had remarried to a good man, a bit on the strict side. The children and I moved into an apartment when he wouldn't leave the house. The children ended up at my mother's house. I tried suicide during this time more than once. I had no hope left and thought my kids would be better off without me. One doctor in a mental ward convinced me I was still needed. Even if the children aren't with you, you know them better than anyone and can see they get taken care of.

I have learned, right or wrong, it seems alcoholics want you when you are gone and don't want you when you are there. It is how my husband was. He came around again. This time our minister even talked with my mom, convinced, that it was better if we were all together. We signed the house over to my parents for all their help. I kept my promise. The kids were sent to us in that time frame. It was one of the worst mistakes I ever made.

We were living in San Diego. My husband wanted to leave the kids there, I guess indefinitely. His mom was an alkie and he wanted to have fun. It wasn't long after the kids got there, he decided he needed a vacation. He almost cleaned out our checking account but left $35.00 and turned off the phone. I had four children, no job, no car and was going to have surgery. I turned, for the first time to charity. I was twenty-eight years old. I needed and did have a vaginal hysterectomy because my uterus was falling out. He went to Mexico, then moved to the LA basin.

I enrolled into a nursing program in a small hospital. I was the only one with no marks against me. They told me I was going to be hired when my training was finished.

Some things at the hospital had me upset. An older female patient won my heart. She was diabetic and was going blind. She cussed like a sailor, and I could relate. Her roommate could not. Her insurance ran out and she was being transferred to a charity hospital. She begged me to go with her. It broke my heart.

I also found out I would need to bathe my patients who died and be in their morgue, nope. I also had a new patient. A handsome young man with a colostomy. That was difficult.

All in all, I was in a raw condition. My youngest daughter had a tonsillectomy. It was a hard surgery, as hers were so large. and I couldn't get off to be with her. That was when the monster again appeared. Have I mentioned, I was a runner? Not in miles, but from overwhelming situations. He was very convincing. We moved with him up north to the LA area.

His new boss was his best friend. His only friend. He owned a one-man steam cleaning business. He had two sons and was with his second wife. I learned later he was also bi-polar. I soon learned; my husband was having an affair with his wife. This pompous man who treated me like a whore.

That was before, they tricked me. I was a big city gal, but pretty naive. I had really lived a sheltered life. Not a protected one, but a sheltered one. I was looking for work to help out. In the past I had baby-sat. At one time eight children counting my own. Other than the elevator operator job I had no experience.

I Guess he had shared with her that I had done many massages on my mother in my youth. Like I said, I was naive so when she suggested I answer an ad in the paper, I didn't think anything about it. I answered the ad and got the job. There was a part of it I didn't like but I was desperate. I had to attend classes in biology. When I returned home after the first night of class, even before I started the job, he met me at the door. He told me to leave and not to come back or he would kill me.

I wanted to drive into the road divider. Instead, I drove back to work. I paid with my body for a motel room my boss rented for me.

Continued-

Author Notes

Thank you, TDtraditionalart for your art, Blessings.

Chapter 10
A Rub Out

By LovnPeace

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.

This next chapter is so hard to write. I am being as open and honest as I can be, and it hurts. When I was a young girl, I wanted to be like Joan of Arc. I had strayed so far from that desire; I was no longer recognizable by me. I was a shell of a person. A robot even. Flowing with the punches, and not in a good way, wherever they led me.

One of the girls at work took pity on me and let me room with her. We turned out to be great friends. I love the memory of her. We even shared a first name.

I was only a masseuse for about a year. I never sold my body but made good money. I had loyal customers. One man drove many miles regularly, just to have me give him a sponge bath. I was often asked, "What is a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" I always replied, "Why are you here?"

We were not allowed by law, to get on the table with a customer and have sex. I never did. As I said, I never sold my body. I got on the floor and gave it away sometimes. Our bosses sent decoys to check on us. I had by this time considered having intercourse a natural function, like taking a shit. With no self-value logic was all I had left.

My husband had my oldest daughter call me and say he was leaving, I better come. Then twenty minutes later she would call back and say never mind. This was repeated often. I managed one time, with my roommates help, to get the kids away. Our apartment was small. but she was willing to let them stay. My oldest girl kept trying to run away. She didn't want to leave her friends. I finally had no choice but to take them back. We couldn't watch her night and day. She paid a dear price, like I had, for that choice.

I can't remember how I ended up in that house with them again, but, I did. He had gotten fired finally from his job. The business was located in a private residence. It was a few doors up the street from our house. He was still talking with his affair. There was no love there for him now, from me. He was smug, but I told him straight out, "Don't pretend you don't know where the money is coming from, you son-of -a bitch."

I was breaking out all over my hands from an allergy I guess. It was unrelenting and painful. Caused from the oils I had to use in my work. My minister said I looked like Job. I made an appointment with my doctor. While there, I broke down and cried. I never returned to that job. When I got back to the house, he kicked me out again. He told me in front of my children, to go back with your whore friends where you belong.

My oldest son said, "We wouldn't have a Christmas without you mom." Sorrowfully, it has affected his attitude about women.

Hell, no roof over head and no food either. One of my crosses to bare. I am forgiven,

I was back with Barb in the apartment. I got a job as a waitress. Not a lot of money. It was hard. The last day I worked as a masseuse I made a hundred dollars. 

You may wonder why I am baring my soul. This may help someone. I know now God always had my back. Jesus died for us sinners. Not the saints. He loves us sinners. God Bless all.

Author Notes

Thank you, again cleo85/ I am nearing the end of my time here on earth. No one in my family has ever been interested in my writing so my secrets are safe. If I have the courage to write the next chapter, it is where much of my shame dwells.

Chapter 11
My Shame

By LovnPeace

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.

There were times during those years I was harsh with my oldest child. Very rare and mild in comparison to what I was subjected to. No excuse-ever. This is my main shame and I can't even tell it.

My daughter, it seems the oldest most often takes the brunt, I learned years later, she, thought it was her fault we had to marry young. I have tried to let her know, she was no accident. I'm not sure she believes me. There is never an excuse for cruelty. A reason maybe, but never an excuse.

I can no longer put all blame of her developmental characteristics (personality/character) on my actions. She unfortunately took on many of her father's traits. She also refuses to look within. It is easier to stay a victim and blame others. Common for some people. It takes guts to look at self.

Maybe it is my shame that let me look inside. One thing I am proud of, I have always searched for truth. Inside also, no matter how hard.

We had planned for the pregnancy. We were both young, lonely and stupid. I mistakenly thought he wanted a family as much as I did. That is what he convinced me of. Children, yes. But it turned out, It was mainly to have a captive victim.


After I was ejected from the house, I met a man. I stopped for gas and the man filling my tank asked me for a date. He seemed so nice, I agreed. I needed help from the state to keep a home for my children. I didn't make enough as a waitress and their father didn't contribute financially. It wasn't very long before he moved in with us. He was good with the children, but firm. My conscience nagged at me. I couldn't stand having him there and accepting welfare too, Even just food stamps.

He moved in with a friend. We continued dating. Once my husband came over and wanted to have sex. I refused. I told him he didn't want me when he had me, and he couldn't have me now. My Boyfriend and I met him at a restaurant. My friend turned his back to him as we exited. That would have been the time my husband would have attacked; He wasn't as stupid as I gave him credit for. He didn't bother us again, until I baby sat his stepchild while he eloped to Vegas.

Eventually my BF proposed. He said he wanted to know he could be sexually happy, We were married in Tijuana. We learned later my divorce wasn't quite final, so we married again in our living room.

I was a stay-at-home wife and mother again. Before we were married, he shared a desire to learn to fly. I advised him to do it before. He used his GI bill and became a pilot. Though it terrified me, we had some good adventures. I wanted to help him in another desire. He wanted out of being a gas jockey. He applied for and was hired at a life insurance company. He did well in his job. I tried to help financially, but failed.

By that time, I was becoming ill. Mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. One night he took me to the emergency room. I hurt all over so badly I wanted to scream. I now realize it was fibromyalgia. It didn't even have a name yet. The doctor told me to go home-we have sick people in here. Again, I was discounted.

Sex or a lack of it seemed to rule my adult life. For some reason I became obsessed with it. After my failed attempt at working, I wanted to study real estate. My husband convinced me to go into insurance instead, so I did. I studied and aced the exam on the first try. I was good at the job and with people. I have always been empathetic. I toned it down from my youth because I made people uneasy. It is one of the gifts God gave me.

My husband's ambition sexually was to make me pass-out while having sex. We had sex a lot. Not making love, sex. Like I said, I became obsessed. This was the sixties. Free love and all in California. I wanted to have a threesome. One as a gift for him and a need to try to understand it all. It was such a mystery to me.

I brought my friends into the plans. Eventually we had some experiences. I wasn't as new age as I thought. I was surprised it hurt. I was going downhill at a rapid speed. I now believe he had formed feelings for my beautiful youngest daughter. He wasn't taking my health problems well at all. One day as he came downstairs, he looked at me and said he didn't feel the same towards me and wanted a divorce. I was in my middle thirties and had two children left at home.

Continued-. .

Author Notes

Thank you, Raoul D'Harmental for your art.

Chapter 12
Bah-humbug

By LovnPeace

During the next fifteen years, following that divorce, I managed to rack-up two more marriages. The Luck-of-the-Irish hung with me. Things happened, though none as dramatic as in my past.

There isn't a lot to be said, or that I want to say, about my short-lived third marriage. When that marriage ended, I decided to leave California and move back to my hometown. I was still selling life insurance then.

My last legitimate marriage was to a widower with five underage children, He was vice president of an insurance agency. It sold insurance to businesses. I realized after it ended, what a sick, humongous ego I must have had. He was a functioning alcoholic. The children were spoiled geniuoses, and undisciplined kids without an ounce of common sense. I somehow thought I could rescue them all.

I did a lot to help them during the eight years we were married but - I was diagnosed with bi-polar in a strange way during that time. Hospitalized, they gave me lithium, and said, "If it works, you have it, if it doesn't you don't."

It was like a warm blanket spreading over my speeding brain. I didn't stay on the drug for many months, but my mind never functioned the same again.

I did a stint in rehab, when one doctor put me on an addicting medication, and another doctor took me off of it. I went into acute withdraw. When I got out of rehab, my fourth marriage went downhill fast and led to yet another divorce. 

His dead wife died of alcoholic poisoning. She didn't even drive so almost everything needing to be done, was left up to him to do. The last child was fathered by a priest. What a mess. I was finally able to become Catholic as they were Catholic. Ironically, the same priest I had known in the orphanage, was able to get my past erased.

When that marriage started going south, my rebellious nature took over again. He was never the head of our household, in fact he offered, soon after we were married, to give me all the money I needed if I took care of the kids, while he tried to become a professional golfer. No deal. The only leadership he showed was being strict about everyone attending mass every week. I took over running the house. I eventually quit going to church in protest. I should have ended up in a nuthouse instead of rehab.

Maybe because he threatened me with the mafia if I messed with his money. my lawyer didn't fight very hard. I had never asked for money before and I had no intention of robbing him. When we married, he was deep in debt. Through my help, he was able to get rid of it and devote more time to his business, to succeed more.

After My name was dragged through the mud in court, I was awarded a pittance. One of his daughters even forged my name at the bank. He was able to hide much of his assets. Offering to put a down payment on a small house in midtown for me instead of cash, was a smart move. I'm sure he realized I couldn't keep it and he could own it too. I took the cash.

I bought a used camper to tow behind my little baby-blue, step-side truck. It had  a wooden frame. Not a good choice it turned out. It was cheap. Except for a quickie marriage while visiting in Arizona-he was still married, I never married again.

I finally realized I was not only too damaged for marriage, I also drew unworthy partners. I had met good men who cared, but my picker was broken. If I couldn't run them off I married them.

Thirty-two years left.

Continued-

Author Notes

Thank you Highfife for the great art. Blessings.

Chapter 13
Woman

By LovnPeace

Woman

Magnificently made
borrowed
from the side
of man

Making her significent

 

Depends I guess
in my mother's shanty
Irish family
we females
were called
split-tails

cute

Growing up
I was always
reminded of my
value
zilch

My poor mom
she saw my value
from what she saw
was hers
turning narcissistic
in defense

Most of my life
I met the news 
of a baby girl being born
with sadness

Now
a
once rejected
Pink
I adore

Woman
Hear me roar
we are
magnificently 
made

I gave birth
match that
no further
definition needed
no greater value
IMHO

Author Notes

Just another thought. This stupid Woke environment today wants to destroy everything sacred in life.

Chapter 14
Some Fun Times

By LovnPeace

The time between when I left my husband and our court apperance, was a little over a year. During that time, I lived in a nearly new pop-up camper we owned. He allotted me five hundred a month. His yearly take home jumped to over one hundred fifty thousand by then. He wanted me to come back.

I had started drinking with him when he came home at night. I felt like I was headed for a grave if I stayed with him.

By then the kids were older. The oldest at eighteen, was barely home. His son, whom I loved dearly was dead from AIDS. The third was a wild child rebel. She and I were the scapegoat. The next to the youngest who was previously glued to me, was now very angry with me and became daddy's girl. The baby was old enough now to be ok. I tried to teach them to be able to see reality some. That is how I learned; you can't teach common sense.

I was able to visit Germany during those years. It was glorious. It made up for not having a honeymoon. We were married in my sister's house on Valentine's Day and spent our wedding night in a nice hotel. That was our honeymoon. It was a miracle we got to go on that trip. Eight years later we were in divorce court on Valentine's Day.

I was blessed to visit Germany again shortly after, when my baby was stationed there in the Army. He was getting married, and they sent me a plane ticket to be at the wedding.

I had the pop-up camper parked on ten acres of wooded land owned by a friend and her husband. There was an old trailer in need of major repair on it also. They were going to let me fix it up and live in it, but I chickened out before winter set in. It is a good thing I didn't. stay there. They were older and both died close together not long after I left the acreage. He from a heart attack and she from cancer.

I had joined AA by then. I had belonged to al-anon while with my husband, but it didn't take long to figure out I was on the wrong side of the fence. By the time I found the right side I was so sick, all I could retain of the Serenity prayer was the first line. Not because of my drinking history, I was an amateur still in that department. It was my mental and emotional state. I love AA. It not only saved my life, but it also got me back with my God.

Over the years I had studied, trying to find answers. One book, Psycophybernetics, explained the way our brain works. AA gave me the tools to use what I had learned but couldn't yet apply. Through those ten steps I was able to retrain my mind.

In one of those meetings a man who was quite drunk sat next to me at a table. I have always been for the underdog, perhaps because I was one myself. We hooked up for the next several years. We didn't live together but were a weird kind of team all the same. He was from a well-set family. His mother was still alive. He was divorced and lived with his mom. He had lived in New York and worked in advertising, so he had his own money. He was hard-core alcoholic. A good man really with a soft heart.

Three of my grandsons visited me there in the woods. It was a young boy's paradise. We had some grand adventures together. I even had a huge net behind the trailer they could climb on. Two of the boys were brothers, My youngest daughter's son's. The oldest belonged to my oldest daughter. He had a rough childhood and often stayed with me for longer periods of time.

Continued-

Author Notes

Thank you, Teisha for your art. AA is a program where alcoholics share their experiences. strength and hope with each other to relate and support each other. There are simple guidelines to assist and help point the way to sobriety.

Chapter 15
The Ten

By LovnPeace

I love woods. There were woods next to and behind my grandma's little shack when I was a child. They held great mystery for me. There was a train track running through the woods. I still love the sound of a train whistle.

Living on the wooded parcel we called the Ten, in the pop-up camper for the short time I did, was magical.

I had my boyfriend's dog, a beautiful female collie named Jackie, and a Husky I adopted from a shelter named Jake. They were a handful it turned out. In my mind's eye, I can see Jake flying through the woods. A magnificent sight.

My neighbors on the right began complaining about Jackie herding his cows. I passed a farm coming and going every time I went to town. One day I pulled into their driveway. Remember, I am a city gal born and raised. So, I knew nothing about country life or their animals.

I think I neglected to tell the farmer about Jake. I asked him what I could get for Jackie to herd. He sold me five roosters. I proudly took them to our little haven.

I no sooner released them than Jake killed three. I tied him up. After a few days, I thought he would be ok, so I untied him. He quickly finished off the last two Chickens. The neighbors on my left had chicken for dinner. It turned out Jake was in the shelter because he was a chicken killer. They hadn't told me when I adopted him.

One weekend when I picked up my oldest grandson for a visit, I had an idea. I again pulled into the farmer's drive. I told my grandson; he could pick any animal he wanted for his very own pet. He finally settled for a small desert burro. I never really named him. The farmer delivered him to us. Every morning the donkey came to the door, and I gave him an apple. That little donkey fell in love with me.

I talked Danny, my grandson into riding him. I smacked him lightly on the butt to get him to move. He bucked up and Danny went flying over his head. He never rode him again.

One morning while exploring we came across a snake eating baby rabbits. I ran and got my pistol. It took us ten shots to kill the snake. Turned out to be a black snake, supposedly good. There is no such thing as a "Good" snake to me.

I caged the surviving babies and kept them alive for some time. The Vet. Told me that was an amazing feat. I took them to an AA meeting with me. The gals loved them. Unfortunately, I let them convince me to feed them solid food. They were too young, and it killed them.

My boyfriend came to visit one day. He too smacked the donkey when I introduced them. The donkey had been an alpha male and took offense. He ran away.

Someone called me and let me know where he was spotted. Danny and I drove my truck to get him. It was a long dirt drive leading to my place. I tied the donkey to the camper top, but it didn't work very well.

When we came to the long driveway, I told Danny I couldn't drive and lead the donkey too, so I needed him to drive. I led in front. I started laughing and came to the window of the truck. I told Danny, "I can see the headlines now-grandson kills granny and her Ass." We had a good laugh.

I had a picture, of Danny driving the truck, He was so proud. He was only eight or nine then.

Continued-

Author Notes

Happy memories for both of us. Thank you, Moon Willow, for your art.

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