Sunday, November 27, 2011

I think this is where the camera stops....and takes me back through my life in order to show how I got in this space of time and in this situation. I grew up thinking that I was normal, doesn't everybody? I was born in 1951 to a mom and dad that wanted me and loved me. My dad had fought in WW II from the age of 17-21. He married my mom in 1947 and their first baby was my brother born in 1948. I was born in 1951 and eventually three little sisters were happily added to the family. We lived in a new town in Utah called Kearns. I still remember my address, 4331 West 5255 South. Our house faced North and when I stood in my front yard, I could see the large mountains to the East and the small mountains, the Oquirrhs) to the West. That is how I learned the directions, East, West, North, and South. To this day, that is how I know where I am, by looking at the mountains.

We lived in a new subdivision of all brick homes with un-attached brick garages. This is important because a "brick" house signified a "better" house. We had a chain link fence around the entire yard, with a double gate at the end of the driveway that could be opened to allow the car in and out of the yard. My parents insisted on this fence to keep the little ones safe in the yard and out of the road and it worked for the little ones. However, the road was our play ground most of the day. We rode our bikes in the road, we played baseball, kick ball, hide and seek, and kick-the-can endlessly. Other childhood activities for my friends and I were roller-skating, playing with jacks, jumping rope, playing hopscotch and hours and hours of playing house. Our imaginations were vivid, our energy limitless, and our world free of bad stuff. What I mean by this is that there was no bad stuff in our life, at least that we recognized or mentioned. The war to end all wars was over, we all lived in nice houses, we all had decent clothes to wear and good food on the table. Our dads went to work and our moms stayed home and raised us. It was a good life and we were happy.

Everyone in my neighborhood went to church. At that time I thought we all went to the same church until a Catholic Church was built at the top of our street. One day I was talking with a new girl in school and she asked me what church I went to. All I could tell her was the location of the church that I went to, I didn't know that it actually had a a name or that I could be identified by a specific name such as "a Catholic, Methodist, etc." This girl gave me two choices: either I was a Catholic or a Mormon. I thought about it for a while, passing both of the names around in my head while frantically searching for any clue that could tell me who I was. I couldn't find clue. I decided that the word Catholic sounded nicer than Mormon so I told her that I was a Catholic. In reality I was a true blue, dyed in the wool, descendant of Mormon Pioneers! I must have been younger than eight when I was asked that question because after I was baptized, I knew who I was. Now days even the youngest of children in Primary can tell you who they are. Our church is the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and we are referred to as L.D.S. or "the Mormons." This is important to know because this is who I am, and this is partly why I ended up in the situation.

Innocence Betrayed: A Life of hell, anguish, love, and Miracles

Innocence Betrayed: A Life of hell, anguish, love, and Miracles: "You should write a book." I have heard this phrase many times over the past 20 years when I share my story about the suffering I experience...

Sunday, November 13, 2011

The Missing Puzzle Piece

Every word my daughter spoke pierced my heart and soul with truth. The missing puzzle piece to my jigsaw life was found. I have seen puzzles that are actually two-sided. There is a different picture on each side of the puzzle but you only see one side at a time. I had been living and teaching and raising my children with a picture in mind of what I hoped for us, and all the time on the other side of this picture there was a dark, ugly, painting of the truth, and that missing puzzle piece of truth and knowledge was now put into place and I was able to see why...why this man I was married to was so hateful, so manipulating and so controlling.

I spoke with my daughter at length and this is what I learned. She had recently been having nightmares and flashbacks that disturbed her. She did not feel comfortable telling me about these things but, thank goodness, found a safe refuge in a neighbor next door to us. She confided in Kristy all of the things that had been troubling her and Kristy advised her to find out if my younger daughter was being molested. So on that somewhat course changing Sunday that my husband and I had driven to the mountains, my daughter played a game of Barbies with her younger sister, Emily. She pretended that the doll's daddy was doing things to her and when Emily played along and describe that her doll's daddy did the same things to her, then my daughter knew that she would tell me about the abuse. That is how it all came out, Jessi would not disclose her abuse to me because of what she felt it would do to our family, but she would do whatever it took to stop the abuse for her little sister.

After I spent some time with Jessi and we comforted one another, yes, my daughter who had suffered so many terrible things comforted me, she went to bed leaving me alone with my thoughts. Surprisingly, I was very calm and the knowledge of what I needed to do came clearly and direct to my mind. I felt no fear or doubt and from that night onward I have never faltered in my course.

The phone rang and when I answered it, Jack, told me that he had the chance to work over-time that night and would be home in the morning. I told him "you need to come home now, I talked to Jessi and I know everything," and here is the surprising part, he said, "okay, I'll be right home." I have reflected on this little scene many times. He did not question what Jessi said, he did not ask me what I knew, he just said "okay." Had he been waiting for this to happen someday? Did he have a plan? Had he been living on pins and needles knowing that someday the roof would cave in?

For the next 30 minutes I thought and I prayed. I was still feeling calm but I believe that I was in shock.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

an End....and a Beginning

August 1989 - My marriage of 15 years was on the rocks. I did not love or respect my husband but always felt that he was such a good dad to our five children and my son from a previous marriage that I stayed in the marriage. Besides that, how was I going to support myself and six children? In addition, over the years my husband had threatened me that if I left him, the children would stay with him and there was no way I was going to do that.

One particular Sunday in August while attending a church meeting, which Latter-Day Saints call Sacrament Meeting, I heard a talk that inspired me to want to improve my marriage. I told my husband that after dinner we needed to take a drive and discuss things. We left the children playing, with the 14 and 16 year old's in charge. We drove to the beautiful mountains of Utah and sat by a stream while we talked. I told him that we either needed to fix our marriage or help prepare me to take care of the children by myself. We discussed what we could do that would help each other. One of the things that I decided was to show more appreciation for the hard hours he worked. He had been working additional hours in order to bring home more money for our family.

Earlier in the week I had asked all of the children to write notes of appreciation to their dad or else draw him a picture or something. All of the children had complied except my 14 year-old daughter. That night I reminded her to write a note for her father. He was working a swing shift and due home around 11:30 p.m. As I was reading in bed later in the evening my daughter came into my room to talk to me. She told me that the reason she had not written anything for her father was because she couldn't. Then she said these heart-piercing, terrifying words that no mother ever wants to hear, "dad has been molesting me since I was a little girl, and now he is molesting my seven-year old sister."

Friday, November 11, 2011

A Life of hell, anguish, love, and Miracles

"You should write a book." I have heard this phrase many times over the past 20 years when I share my story about the suffering I experienced and the things I learned after learning about the sexual abuse of my daughters.So that is what this blog will be life of hell, my life of anguish, my life of love, and my life of miracles. I hope I can help other mother's who have suffered, their children, their friends and their families.