Ramifications
Part 1
The first half of my life before adulthood, when I was a typical kid, I suffered no abuse. I was respected and given the liberties of a child. The ramifications of this existence netted an outgoing chatterbox of a kid who was delighted to overcome her obstacles. This included being successful in school, properly placing clothing and school supplies, learning how to cook, be it frying my first egg, boiling a hot dog or watching food being prepared. Or learning to say yes and no mam to my elders. In short, the ramifications of proper growth were contentment and complacency.
Manifestations
The manifestations were a child eager to explore life and not just when the ice cream truck rolled around. Or to ask for a nickel or a dime when a Snickers called my little fat butt. One of my earliest memories was one day when all the children were in school, my mother gave me a nickel. There was no pre-k then. I went to the Dixon’s store right across the street. I bought a candy bar. Mrs. Dixon gave me a dime back! Oh Boy! I was about 5yo but I knew a dime was > a nickel. I quickly ate the Snickers and went back for some M&M’s. Well, on my 3rd trip, Mr. Dixon stopped our fun. Mrs. Dixon laughed and I sadly laughed. I always did like Mrs. Dixon better. And hide and go seek after dusk was the best, especially in the summer. Oh, and learning who were in the gangs and being bullied by the pre-teen and early teen ones. Going with mom to her card games and playing with the children of the host – sharpening social skills and loving life.
For this article I am going to split my age 1-18 into 3 parts. My first half before adulthood I was taught the Golden Rule, you can say; to treat others as I wished to be treated and to be treated fairly myself. It was my age of contentment – I had ease of mind and I was a satisfied kid. I was also complacent – I was pleased with myself and my lot in life.
My 3rd quarter of before adulthood, age 9-13, was the total opposite. There was neither contentment, complacency, or fair treatment. My 4th quarter entailed breaking free from the 3rd quarter.
Whether your life has been one of complacency or one of abuse there will be manifestations. First, I find it remarkable that a person that’s been abused turns out to be some of the most lovable, giving and safest people to be around. I also find it uncanny that a person that’ had a complacent life filled with contentment can turn out to be some of the most vulgar.
It’s funny how the situations in life manifest themselves. People for the most part do exhibit decency. Not perfect, but pretty decent lives. We have approximately 350 million people in the U.S. with about 2 million incarcerated. That is a low percentage even when you add some that need to be imprisoned and aren’t. But some people deserve to be in prison that aren’t. I feel if I pass 10 women while walking down the street that 3-4 of them were sexually abused in some way. Men? A little bit over 2.
I personally say this many because it is a most under-reported crime so it stands to reason that the data on sexual abuse is under-reported also.
I think for the most part, people are giving and loving, especially to their families. A lot of times people are observant and smart. They come up with strategic ways to give – without obstructing a barrier to charity and even through wills. They can also be firm in directing one on proper avenues to take.
The recipient of these gifts is wont to perpetuate like qualities. They make sure family, home, and self are well-maintained. Not perfect, but seasoned enough for growth. And that’s what is manifested in the lives of the recipients of this person’s gift. For the most part. They make breakfast for the mouths that are readying for school. On days they really don’t feel like it AND the kids want something different than what’s being prepared. Both Moms and Dads. They don’t want the family to be too hot or cold so they make sure bills are paid. And let’s not forget the one’s who only has a suit or 2 and sacrifice a tight wardrobe so their children will not be ill-clothed. And OMG! Excuse me, your boring, free, University worthy, boring lectures that permeate their souls for the good and they don’t even know it.
They are not perfect for they may or may not keep the extra $5 given them by the cashier. They may return the wallet but not the money. They may not always have the greatest demeanor but they suck it up and get the smile on.
I won’t say that everyone who makes these sacrifices will gain Harvard graduates. Most will gain the privilege to be normal, or the middle of the bell, if you will. Some will even fall by the wayside. But know it’s you that keeps the middle full.
Then there are the parents or caretakers that are the total opposite. You know them, they are as sharp as tacks while their children are ill-clothed and ill-shod. Not all people are giving. And if they impart, if they dispense, the ‘gifts’ are negative – lacking in constructiveness, helpfulness, or optimism. Being without rewards, helpfulness, or positive effect. Let’s assess: Maybe these caretakers are manifesting their path. Or some people are just foul. I would think if I walked pass 10 of this type of parent, that 6 suffered abuse and neglect. And what does this type of parent or childless adult for those matters, manifest for others? Nothing nice. For the subject of their aggression will always be used for their short-term gratification. At least until their usefulness of this maltreatment is over which could easily enter into further debasement pursuant to age.
Then there was the 3rd quarter of my life before adulthood, aged 9 – 14. A time when my mother was no longer in my life and my existence had become 160 degrees different. Not 180, because I still held on to my mother although she was gone. It was when I suffered physical, sexual, and psychological abuse, as well as neglect.
Once I had to stay with Somebody, I think it’s safe to say childhood was over. The life I knew was over. There was nothing typical about it. It was as though at the age of 9 I had children. I was making baby formula, changing diapers, cleaning boo-boo underwear and making children lunches. I was no longer able to enjoy the outdoors for outside now had its limitations because I had children to tend to, especially in the summer when school was out.
Being beaten when a dish wasn’t properly washed; oh, the anxiety I felt upon inspection. And the sexual abuse. I had no idea what that was nor how to deal with it.
Part 2
The ramifications were a frightened, beat-up, and misguided kid who withdrew into herself. My outward show now included talk to try to puff myself up and compete with my constituents. But I no longer had the team to support my efforts. There is no proper guidance in maltreatment. Remember, abuse is deliberate. I was now subservient instead of self-serving. I was always an A student and still was. But the things I now learned was counter to living a successful life. I was no longer at the forefront of anything positive. Parents say “If you are late for school one more time there are going to be serious repercussions.” Not for me, I was readily made to be late for school because before school I had to do shopping for her family. Parents say, “Make sure you round up all your dirty laundry so you’ll have clean clothes.” There were not many clothes, only dingy ones that I washed myself a lot of times. Humiliation is what I got. Parents say, “If anyone yells or raises their hand to you, you let me know. But I didn’t get that protection, not even when her husband was sexually abusing me. I was totally unsafe and unprotected.
Further Manifestations
The manifestations, oddly enough, were a culmination of both the 1st and 2nd half of my before adulthood. For a quick glimpse, remember that girl cousin that came to live with us? When she died, 3 of her children lived with me for a little while. I guess the typical manifestations for someone who has experienced trauma is Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll. And it can be sad; an extension of experience. And for me, I can also see where fairer treatment also had its dictates.
Again, I was looking at Bill Kurtis’ Investigative Reports and it showed victims of sexual abuse. Nearly all of the people hanging out there were sexual abuse victims and now they were out prostituting themselves. And although I wasn’t on the Hollywood Strip, I was on drugs and prostituted myself too.
And what goes with mashed potatoes? Gravy. For I drank beer, wine, and liquor and liqueurs too, anytime I felt like it. Whether playing cards or barbequing with the neighbors, sitting on my porch or watching tv, hell, for the matters waking up to pee. Garlic bread. Oh yeah, I smoked marijuana too. Before and after crack cocaine.
At the age of 15 marijuana and alcohol was a recreational outlet for me. It was something I did when I skipped school and at home, for by then no one could tell me what to do. There was no authoritative figure in my life. Were drugs wrong? I didn’t realize they were until years later. The detriment of them all, especially for people of my persuasion, personality. Then again, a lot of things in my life had been wrong. When crack cocaine entered the fray by 1986, my 3-day binges made me nickname myself 72 Hours. Sex for drugs, no prostitution was not hard. For my introduction to sex was not a sanctified free from sin event. Then sex for drugs was not a leap.
It’s funny, but throughout it all school tugged at me, it never really left my mind. I tried both early on and later. I remember one class was wardclerking, about the time it was becoming obsolete, and a few other classes too. But tending to children did not lead me to Yale.
So I don’t sound like a crybaby, I’ll say, just because I had children did not give me a license not to go to school to make sure my life was better than it was, people do it every day. But I will say my mindset, due to whatever reasoning, did not choose correct avenues. And I guess it was easier not to.
Bar-b-qs and beer, marijuana and music sufficed after beatings, manipulations, and sexual abuse.
And as for relationships, I had one. It lasted from 1982 until I bought my house in 1995. Sex was great and I got to do whatever I wanted for we never lived together. I think ultimately, I didn’t trust a man in the house with my kids if I wasn’t there and that took care of that. It really worked for the both of us. Thusly, I didn’t marry and my children were born out of wedlock.
That scenario means my children did not have the most ideal of homes. What they did have were proper clothing and good things to eat like my mother gave to me. Some people think you should never spank your children. I am not one of them; they were physically disciplined. For them I used my mother. And oddly enough, I used Somebody. When she would beat us, my little brother and I would play, “Count the Licks.” 50, 60 wipes with an extension cord was slavery, to me reminiscent of Roots.
They never went to school with extension cord or junkie track whips on their person. But I will say I did occasionally leave reddened skin, something that disappeared in a day or 2, never blood. And I counted the licks.
And then the kids got older and school still beckoned me. It came at a time when my children were old enough to make determinants about education. The question had to loom to them, “Why was she doing this now?” I sat at my table for a few years. I’ll say, it lent to them the importance of their education. I received my degree in the Winter of 2010. Oh, and no I never traded my children for drugs. They were safe in their bedrooms like I was when I lived in my mother’s house.
Although there is no proper guidance in maltreatment, there are long lasting lessons and manifestations to being treated well.
Further Ramifications
2bcontinued next week