So, so day.

First of all, this is all new to me.  I haven't ever done anything like this before, so please forgive me if I don't use the shortcuts with wording, etc.  I guess I should tell everyone that I was diagnosed as being bi-polar approximately five years ago.  I personally felt that I had a nervous breakdown.  I have had what some might view as a horrible life.  I came from a very abusive home.  My father is an alcoholic and still, to this day, manages to push my buttons.

I will be 57 in August and I have two younger brothers.  One lives in Wichita, Ks. and the other in San Francisco, Ca.  My father, I feel, had a major impact on my life.  I'm not wanting to write a sad/sob story, but I do think that it's important that you know where I'm coming from.  My dad loved to beat my mother and us children on a regular basis.  We could simply do nother other than look at him with what he felt was the wrong expression on our faces.  He loved to use his fists and his belt; as well as switches from a spirea (bush) out in our front yard.

The worst beating I had ever had from him was from the result of my mother giving me permission to walk to the Dairy Queen with my girlfriend that lived across the street to get a Coke.  My mother was taking a bath when Dad returned home from drinking all evening.  He yanked her out of the bathtub and wanted to know where his **** of a daughter was at.  He made her get dressed and sent her out looking for me, leaving my two brothers at home while he went out looking for me in the car.  When I returned home my younger brothers were standing in the livingroom and when I walked in the front door, they said, "Connie, if I were you, I would turn around and leave before Dad gets back."  They told me that he was drunk and what he had done to Mom.  As I turned to walk back out the front door, Dad pulled up in front of the house.  I froze - - I had nowhere to go.  It was too late, plus I was worried about my mother.  I was thirteen when this happened.

He walked in the front door and asked me what I was doing hanging out with that ***** that lived across the street and didn't I know that I wasn't suppose to be with her?  Before I could say anything, he literally knocked me off of my feet and I went flying across the livingroom and landed on the couch - - having wet myself during the short trip.  He then came over and just started slapping me everywhere, as well as punching me with his fists.  He ended the beating by telling me to get my *** to bed and that he'd better not hear me (crying - - I wasn't suppose to cry), nor see me until morning.

I went to my bedroom and closed the door.  I put my pillow over my head and just sobbed.  I can remember worrying about my mom and wondering what he was going to do to her when she got home.  I started praying that he would just go to bed and pass out before Mom came back home.

I don't know how much time passed, but it seemed like forever and the more time that passed, the more my head and ears were hurting.  I could tell that I had knots all over my head.  I recall thanking God that it was at least summer time and that I wouldn't have to go to school.  I couldn't imagine what my younger brothers were thinking.  Dad had sent them downstairs to the basement the second he walked into the front door.  Thank God they didn't have to witness what Dad had done to me.  They just saw the end results of it the next day.

It was extremely quiet in the house and I was so grateful.  I didn't hear the TV on or anything.  That made me think that Dad had gone to bed and wasn't lying on the couch waiting for Mom to walk through the door.  Then, out of nowhere, I could hear a soft muffled crying.  I got the courage to leave my bedroom and follow the noise.  It was coming from the kitchen.  It was Mom.  She was sitting at the kitchen table with her face buried in her hands.  I walked behind her and placed my hands on her shoulders and told her how sorry I was for getting her into trouble and I hoped she would forgive me.  She looked at me and started to say something, but it was interrupted by a flood of tears and her standing up and leading me into the bathroom.

Mom ran warm water in the sink and got a washcloth.  We were being as quiet as we could be because the door to Mom and Dad's bedroom was directly off from the bathroom.  I couldn't believe it when I looked in the mirror.  Both of my eyes were black and purple; both of my ears were black and purple; and I had the knots all over my head.  I just started crying again.  I started wondering how long I was going to have to stay in the house so no one would see me.
Once again I was glad that it was the summer time.  Did Mom take me to the doctor?  No.  You see back in those days, those types of things were kept hushed and quiet.  You simply didn't talk about them; they were "family secrets".