When Tears Become Blood Become Crumbs Become Smile

by Mare Cat Finnemore on Sunday, 3 February 2013 at 00:28 ·

I was late - unforgivable in my world of zero tolerance of life experiences. Met at the door by the swift hand to face - my own already still with smatterings of blood that trickled down the front of my jacket - broken zipper - further punishment for that as well, once realized by the dark dragon who gave me life.

 This was not the first but the fourth attempt by the same one who came at me time and again, friend of older brothers - a mountain of a teenager age 16 - 17 - now 18. A strip from the cloth of his Father's loins - who just happened to be a staff sergeant of the city police as I was abruptly informed of my first AND last encounter with the predator who would stock me for 3 long years. Nothing shy of a sharp blade - a fillet knife - light and easy to conceal my weapon of choice -  put under his chin the last time he approached so close his breath was down my neck. I didn't acknowledge his presence and instead drew my blade and then quietly turned to meet him - face to face in the hall where I was at my school locker, now in grade 9. How unfair that he had advantage of our attending the same school. I had to find a way to end the daily shadowing, visual threats and fear I was living in.

Rape at home age 4 was met with a proper scolding of how and why I had allowed such a thing to happen - having cried out for help, the same dragon dragged me from my bed after my brother ran - took me down to the kitchen where I would be beaten of bare bottom and would receive more of the same if any further incident came to her attention. I was to shut my mouth, as always and keep my "woes" to myself as was taught to us all from the earliest days of our young lives ~ no matter how awful or wrong ~ everything was to stay with me, PERIOD! Not a peep, not a one. My two older brothers had each other to console themselves with and I am glad they did even though they were one - a great friend - the other an ongoing aggressor to all girls, not just myself, - much like the huge predator I came to have to deal with. Only real difference between them, Blair used his size to assault - my brother John his fists, as many women came to know about him over the years.

The dragon rarely beat him and NEVER once the oldest, her darling one - but when she did beat John, it more than once meant a trip to hospital when Father got home. My own relentless beatings took me to my grandparents to heal from IF my dad became aware of my injuries or she simply ordered him to upon his arrival from work, if he little one (from birth to age 5) was not there for him to greet, but locked in my bedroom - yet again. None of this was to be spoken of, shame lies silently behind closed doors of MANY families. The dragon's way of tolerating me was to allow me to stay in my room while dad was gone, and not to be out unless he was home to attend to me himself. It was their unspoken way for her desire that I be given away at birth was not honoured by her Father who delivered me, citing she did not want any more children and most certainly not one who he had to revive of breech birth - moments? without oxygen, meaning a less than perfect child, her mind made up right then and there.

 Getting big enough to be outside with my brothers, my new found freedom, YES!!!!!! - though they ditched me asap if for other agendas but they did often make me the games they shared of hide and seek etc. much to their personal amusement. I didn't mind - we had much fun together at times but if they abandoned me far from home, and making a great joke of it - laughing as they ran off - twas more suffering to me at home, brothers claiming I took off by myself - again. Oh well. Their lies and my truth didn't matter. I suppose she reasoned she could beat her anger out just fine if she had to go in search of me, or a neighbor called to tell her I was a long way from home - again. Crying during a beating was not permitted so I learned to cry alone at night by myself to let my hurt and sadness's out - quietly, well buried under my blanket, fearing more of the same if I got caught.

Both brothers now in school, two options came to be available to me. Stay in my room or stay outside. YESSSSS. More freedom, away from the hands that hurt me and the screaming voice of she who slammed the door if she was disturbed in the least way of my presence. Be very, very quiet I reminded myself, no words, no sounds, quiet. When outside became a choice - TAKEN - not so much as a second thought!!!!! Locked out during sun and rain, great storms of all seasons as we all 3 were when together - I had my tree in the bush across the street. It was home base to hear the ringing of the school bell to know when it was time to go home for lunch. It was my sleeping tree under which I would lie curled up in the warm sun if I was tired, and sleep. It was my umbrella tree if the rain got so hard it hurt and I needed shelter. I only once made the mistake of walking just over 5 miles to my grandparents for lightening and thunder, wind and rain that had me so cold and wanting in, but the dragon was not answering the door even this day, and neighbour refused citing " your mother is sick in the head, so I can't have you here".

Age 15, my stomach just would stop hurting, missing class, tossing up blood in the morning and days of the stress I must not show or bare to any other than self. Four younger siblings to care for and a big house along with several jobs weren't enough to take away my inner sadness and fear of my aggressors, ongoing. Sneaking to a doctor for help, my ulcer was addressed and I was silenced for many weeks, by the she dragon for my actions of weakness as she stated.

With time and patience and making my way through, determined one day my life would be my own after no replies to my cries for help to outside family and friends, whisked back for more of the same until I finally quit running by age 10, defeated to my place of darkness of the dragon - family became my joy and purpose in life and I poured myself into staying "busy" that I adored children anyway and would do ANYTHING for my Father who never once did strike me, but rather carried me to safety when needed. Funny, my siblings thought I was spoiled not understanding why I was being taken away for a few hours or days.

 I have lost that same family - ostracized ~ for my deciding I had to talk, finally and let my sorrows fall behind me like a trail of crumbs that lead back to my beginnings where they stay. Music alone wasn't enough of an outlet, nor humour, nor smiling no matter what. The dragon was eventually seen by a doctor and put on medication to calm her rage and anger, which helped but only to some degree. Mixed with a lil booze - she was at times tame and pleasant. Moments of peace did exist for all of us. The younger ones know none of my early life and the older two simply could care less, not their problem as taught. They have each other and seem to be just fine that way. It is not a path I wish to retrace but rather add crumbs to as I learned, slowly to share a little more of myself with the help of others who shared their own lives with me. Together, we walk the path that lies ahead, and ne'er do I take another's pain, suffering or silence for granted ~ to be dismissed as "poor you". "Poor You", is right and that is why WE are here, to share our hurt - one tear, one song, one word, one smile. Sometimes it takes some honest pity for self to begin to acknowledge the VERY REAL SUFFERING that silence holds such a grip on, to begin to let go of it - openly. I know it as healing ~ for myself and many others as we healed together, one quietly shared experience at a time. My Father taught me to put my thoughts to paper. Piano taught me to put them to music. Now - now I try to make music in all I do - be it literally or in how I live my life, each day, one at a time. Some of the music is sorrowful, reflections of what life can be. Others great or small symphonies of my joy of being alive. And - I smile. I smile from my healed heart, I smile.