Why do they tell me to fogive?????

Warning – “TRIGGERS” – Some may not be able to read this post, but this is my reality and my thoughts. Pictures at the end may be found gruesome, but they are my arms & legs.

I’ve gone my life, from age 12, carrying the scars of my, so-called, mother’s neglect. It infuriates me to think of a woman watching her child literally rot before her eyes and do absolutely nothing about it; not even acknowledge a problem exists.

YET EVERYONE SAYS FORGIVE!!!! I wonder how that’s possible? How do you let go of the very anger and disgust that is covering your body; especially when you know they could have helped???

I’ll never forget giving her a cold stare as she said to me one day, “Maybe if you’d take a fucking bath you wouldn’t look so disgusting?”

I knew she was probably right, but she knew the challenge that taking a bath or shower at home imposed. She was well aware of the danger it caused for me.

Many times I remember her sitting in the next room, or right down the hall, which was completely visible to the bath. She was fully aware, in fact couldn’t avoid knowing that he would come into the bath and stay for extended amounts of time, usually ’til I came walking out shortly behind cause I had to finishing getting dressed.

The woman who gave birth to me, even nurtured me through those first five years, completely sacrificed me to “his” perverted behaviors, sadistic sexual assaults, severe physical control. I was raised from six to be completely submissive to “him” – his slave!!! It could be something stupid to getting him a glass of tea or scrubbing the patio in my swim suite, I had to come running when he called my name. As many of us were taught in my generation, so that isn’t what bothers me most. It was the depth of that submission and her disregard.

My, so-called, mother could never be bothered when I went to her to make “him” stop. She couldn’t be bothered to teach me about being a girl; couldn’t buy me pads or teach me about my period; couldn’t provide a tooth-brush; couldn’t take me to a doctor or dentist; couldn’t acknowledge that her daughter was a human being!!!!

She never taught me about shaving my legs, although it’s been pretty tough to shave over the scars. She never encouraged me to do anything, only ordered me to clean her house, cook the meals, care for my sister, brother and especially “Him”.

As I went through school I avoided showering at school because of how I looked. Gym class was the most horrible experience and very trying to change in a small cell of lockers with about ten girls changing around you. All of whom looked quite normal, especially compared to my condition.

If you can imagine your pre-teen daughter being covered with pussing patches of deep infected sores. If it was a tough night before then I was trying to hide the bruises. As the dirt began crusting around my ankles, knees, wrists, elbows and the stench of body oder grew, this only made me more shameful of who I was. It was difficult to keep others from noticing me, but I managed to hide my way through school. Many of my classmates barely remember me, but not many had much to do with me back then. Don’t blame them though, not so sure if I would have and who knows what their parents told them.

By the time I was in high school and had reached the normal age of dating, the rumors through our small town had already been going on for some time. It fed through the coal mine where “he” worked, into the diner where “she” worked and like wildfire through the school, especially the teen boy rumors of who got me and what they were allowed to do.

I’ll admit that I was indeed promiscuous but these rumors came from the parties “he” held with the many local boys. “He” would supply the weed and the booze, force me to make the calls, and then I would be held up by my hair as he yelled; “Who’s gonna be first to fuck my daughter?”

Teenage boys love to talk and although they may or may not have taken the opportunity that night, I assure you the next day I was the main topic of discussion.

“Man great party last night!! He held her up and offered her out AGAIN!!”

In  the small community most everyone heard the rumors. They all heard things about what I did, how “he” acted, and worse. I’d then hear the whispers of “Who would want to touch her?”, but many of those boys took “his” invitation or tried when their friends weren’t watching.

It hurts my soul, angers my spirit, that no one ever said, “Can I help you?” Nor did anyone ever ask, “What happened?” They knew it all existed but 1500 people, our law enforcement, school officials, family friends who could have and should have questioned, never said a word. The worst of them being my own mother!!!

Because of all the “ugliness” that covers my skin, the decay that turned even my four front teeth into deep black holes, my life, my goals, my dreams have all been plagued by judgement. The little girl who hid close to the bushes at the bus stop, fearing the teasing of classmates, whispers of adults; condemning eyes of all, had to survive in this world. Granted there has been more than one incident of running to sit by a gravestone, asking God to please take me out, but I still had to feed, clothe, shelter myself and my children.

From the men who’ve chosen to be with me, to the innocent questions from my own children, through job interviews, jobs serving food or alcohol, and especially working in a professional position; it’s all be hazed by the extra effort to conceal the scars and bury the truth.

Today I use my wounds to help others see how turning away from a child or growing teen can have detrimental effects. Those who were trusted with my well being convinced me that I never deserved care, treatment, help. They had an in-house slave who was directed and trained to care for the family who has now completely abandoned her.

The, so-called, mother who always expected me to answer her needs or be someone to talk about her health issues with, left me a voicemail about 8 months ago, I keep saving it in my messages to keep me focused.

It starts out, “Fuck you daughter, you never did anything for me when I lived up there by you.”

She had moved up here for a short time, it was during that time that I had gone into respiratory distress and was hospitalized for a couple of weeks. Truly I was minutes away from death when Robbie walked in and found me, rushed me to the hospital, saved my life. During the few months after this incident, I was on 5 liter oxygen support and using a cane to get around.

My younger sister would call me upset by all of the dark secrets within our family. When I went to talk with “mother” about my sister’s distress, she threatened to have the cops escort me out of her house and told me never to come back. It was then that I succeeded at breaking ties with the toxic woman who had kept me so obligated to her for so many years. Anything she wanted, needed, or whatever “her” whim, I answered and would act like a puppy over any affection “she” bothered to pretend.

No one in my family talks with me now because they don’t want to hear about the anger or the issues I have about “MY CHILDHOOD”, but they are willing to sit and bitch about how horrible it was for them and how the toxic alcoholic environment hovered about in their lives.

I’m still working on closure for this very touchy issue of my basic health being so severely disregarded. These actions I blame on only one person, “Mother”. We had great health insurance, one of the best in those times. Our family had a steady income, although it was quite difficult at times because of the alcohol involvement. It’s not as if the needs couldn’t be met, “she” made a conscious decision to ignore them and allow me to just rot away.

All my life I can only remember making sure I was covered up when in public. I never wore a dress without heavy nylons to cover up my legs. It wasn’t until my late thirties that I stopped forcing myself into long sleeves during the summer, except of course for job interviews. Those are open floors of judging anyway, so it was much worse for me. People who do see the scars are shocked by the severity. Some are caring or just want to know what happened, others still point, turn away, avoid contact, or you hear them whisper.

My upper body has been decorated with some very special tattoos. When I show my arms it draws the attention away and makes me feel better about myself.

“I’ve turned what was ugly into something pretty to look at!!”

Will the anger over “her” severe neglect ever leave my spirit, I don’t know!! There is an instant second when I see my reflection or stand at the vanity to brush my teeth, that everything flashes like a movie in my head. Yesterday as we rode on the bike and joined up with some folks we hadn’t seen in a few years, along with a lot of new faces, there was still that shame of how I looked. “What were they thinking at first sight? My own instant reaction was to feel their judgement.

“How do you explain, I lived a childhood full of rot?”

Moral I’m hoping to share- Please never turn away and allow the neglect, physical, emotional and sexual abuse to continue. You can’t UNKNOW something and when you hear the rumors in a small town, or have that moment of suspicion at family gatherings, this is the time to react or at least offer kindness. The violence, abuse, and disregard will only flourish in the silence.

In closing let me ask you this, “Would you be able to forgive the mother?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(c)Patricia A. McKnight

Published by @ButterflyTrish

I am a survivor of over thirty years trapped inside the silence and brutality of Family Crimes, Child Sex Trafficking, and a life lived pattern of tolerance for over 30 years in almost murderous relationships. In Feb. 2011 I chose to publish the truth about what happened in our home, the community around me, and the learned patterns of self-hatred and tolerance which became such a huge factor in my life. My life today was built through publishing 'My Justice'. I never would felt worthy of life, breathing, love & respect with first healing myself. There were many things the traits and tragedies that influenced my life seemed to control everything inside me and it was nothing but sadness and fake emotions. Only by facing the horrors I went through, the choices I made as a woman & mother, then relating to the greatest guilt I have; how the trauma behavior has affected my children's lives. It's my hope to help others get through their battles, regardless of the type of trauma because when we hurt our lives are forever changed. This graphic, violent memoir is NOT SUGGESTED FOR ANYONE UNDER 14 years of age. It discusses the permanently wounding life and the cycle of destruction that held me in expecting/tolerating ridicule and violence in my adult relationships. This truth was published to inspire others to take an in-depth look at their life and behaviors as a result of their past. Connect the dots of your rebuilding in understanding the pattern of adult choices in coping addictions, parenting, and partners; even affecting our careers and self-sustainable life. I'm so honored to have 'My Justice' used at the collegiate level for psychology classes, upcoming therapists and educators. Today my life is very blessed. I'm finally safe, finally truly loved, finally feeling the magic of what life is supposed to be like. My greatest power only began to show when I first made the choice to end the violent relationships and behaviors around my children; to give them something better, something SAFE!! In choosing to share my own story, I've also gone that serious extra step to educate myself through years of research, attending training opportunity, and collaborating with other advocate resources, abuse, sexual harm, and the experts digging deep to recreate help and healing. I've chosen to use my past as a way to inspire a greater good; hopefully somehow change the cycle of tragedy in our homes so that we empower our kids to live a more positive path. The best education we can give, is a survivor of traumatic experiences who can use what they felt then and what they wish they would have had available; those who could have and should have said something. We can change things for our life today, but best of all in healing our wounds, we give communities a supportive working strategy in assisting the people in our lives. One step at a time, one caring soul at a time, we can give them a path to changing our human society as a whole. This is a tell all, which was written in the midst of my third nervous breakdown as I struggled to put all my distorted pieces back together, help my children understand how the violence I tolerated against me invaded their emotional well-being. My children have always been my world, but my behaviors, lack of healthy parenting and life skills, and an inability to remain stable has caused another generation of suffering for my grandchildren. This is a very difficult thing to watch and the continued tragedies that seem to keep affecting the choices in my family. Writing this book was only the beginning of trying to release all that has haunted me for so many years. I have finally removed his thick, cruel, coal stained hand which trapped me in fear for decades. Those hands and his evil, her housemaid and caregiver; they created a slave and that slave submitted to horrific and brutal attacks but always felt it was her burden to bare. I lived with that hand holding me down to terrorize and steal away my voice, holding me captive in the dysfunction of the aftermath and casting a shadow of darkness on everything good in my life. Living in the true spirit of freedom, I have now become a strong advocate against the life cycle of human destruction. We cannot live stuck in the tragedy of hardships and pain. Life is meant to be lived, to be enjoyed, to see what you can do and what you can achieve, to find out what is important to you. We all become adults. We all have a burden to bare. Stand up and keep moving, keep living, keep dreaming. You have two choices in recreating and rebuilding yourself. Do you stay stuck in the dark shadows of your past? Do you dig deep and find that spirit that kept you alive so that you could become the proud, strong, capable, resilient, kind human being ? Which do you choose and how will that choice affect your children and theirs? We can be supportive, provide resources and suggestions for help so that families suffering with addiction or past trauma themselves can find a recovery balance to rebuild their family in a more positive life pattern. We will recover, we will rebuild, we will conquer the pains of yesterday to live in the true sense of life, freedom and safety today. Patricia 'Trish' McKnight Author: 'My Justice' Fndr/CEO: Butterfly Dreams Alliance, NFP Mentor/Advocate/Speaker/Survivor

13 thoughts on “Why do they tell me to fogive?????

  1. Dear Lord… You are a miracle!!! Thank you for sharing your very soul with us ~ I cannot imagine such a childhood. As to your question – I don’t think I could forgive a mother who blatantly did Not protect me from “him” and who treated me less than human ETC!!! But “they say” forgiving helps heal the victim/survivor and has little to do with the perpatrator/abuser. I have not experienced “truly forgiving” those in my life, which I probably should. God bless you! ❤ Moosie

  2. Dear Lord… You are a miracle!!! Thank you for sharing your very soul with us ~ I cannot imagine such a childhood. As to your question – I don’t think I could forgive a mother who blatantly did Not protect me from “him” and who treated me less than human ETC!!! But “they say” forgiving helps heal the victim/survivor and has little to do with the perpatrator/abuser.  I have not experienced “truly forgiving” those in my life, which I probably should. God bless you!

    1. See Something, no i’m no miracle!!! I believe it’s important for others to hear our voices to better understand. Many look at me and say you need to forgive, no I don’t – I need to talk about it so maybe I can help someone. I’m sure there are many of us who are still living in that non-forgiving state. Do we have to get there, I don’t believe so. Bless you sweety 🙂 there are some things that even God will not forgive!!!hugs

    1. Sometimes we have to forgive the person for being human, and accept that no matter what we can not change their actions, to enable us some form of closure, some way of dealing with living along side this horrific nightmare.
      Accepting that what she did, has caused this outcome for you, however accepting the outcome for what it is.
      There are no words to take away the pain and agony you have suffered, all I can say is i am honestly sorry that any person has had to endure what you have, big hugs to you (as I shake my head at the hurt humans can cause one another, and how a mother can do to her own flesh and blood what yours has done).
      Angel

      1. Angel, my friend, is it really necessary to forgive in order to move forward. We can give our own closure or accept that we will never get any closure for what’s happened, but it doesn’t have to keep us from moving forward. Indeed you cannot change another’s actions or choices, we do have to find a way to cope so that we can survive, can break free, can achieve for ourselves. ty 🙂 for the hugs, and hugs returned!!

      2. No I will not forgive no damn female who knew she didn’t want me before she took me home to a very dangerous situation and her husband said I wasn’t his baby he turned his back on me and walked out the hospital and the women turned against me too and she dehumanized me and she destroyed me on purpise for what she done to me and as a result the people on her side of the family don’t have nothing to do with me and the people on his side of the family never taken the time with me either and they all robbed me of my personal dignity and they all pose a serious threat to me and my children personal safety and they can not be trusted they gang bustered me and my kids I’m not going to for that BS I didn’t deserve that at all I had to flee several addresses, they might not be my true relatives and thanks for the notel.

  3. This hheartbreaking. Your anger is a sign of a healthy heart. People need to hear your story. Forgive means hand it to God NOT pretend/trust/or let it happen again.

    Your anger is good
    I wish I could give you a hug

    1. Elea Lee, ty dear – yes indeed I believe that if I wasn’t angry about what happened that it would be a sign of something deeper being wrong. It’s necessary to have the normal healthy emotional reactions to what’s happened, so that we can find our own strength. hugs returned dear, and ty for the awesome comments 🙂

  4. I do not think she deserves to be forgiven. For one thing she is in such denial that she does not think she has done anything to be forgiven for. It is sad that people can detach emotionally from their kids. They are so afraid of the abuser they can not do anything to help their own child. It is sad, we do not have to forgive them they will be judged on judgement day. We should feel pity for them.

    1. bdsshnaw2, thanks bunches for your comments here. I’m glad to know that there are many who are responding with the same sense as mine, somethings are not forgivable!!! Although I don’t agree that pitty should be felt for them. They make a conscious decision and for that there is no sense of pitty. ty 🙂

  5. Oh Hun! Bless your heart for what you have had to bear. Your words made me cringe, cry and get very angry. I am so sorry that they did these evil things to you!
    You asked, why forgive? My answer to that is, forgive because she probably enjoys that she still has you in such a state!
    I know you’ve heard it before but you really can’t begin healing til you let go of those that hurt you.
    You are in my prayers hun!!
    Love n hugs!
    Zephyrr

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