Today we look at some methods that Charley and Ann use to cope with the ongoing abuse. Our methods were diametrically opposed.
THE GOD GAMES: Heaven & Hell...Chapter 17...(HELL)
I have been passionately in love with ONE since the first breath I took. It just seemed natural to talk to him. I always knew that he loved me, and I was pretty sure that daddy loved me also, but daddy was working at a resort a long way from Long Beach. We only saw him a few days a month-if we were lucky. We told him what mother was doing to us, but he seemed ineffectual against her will. I guess that is why he was gone all of the time.
I fantasized about my real mother. Surely she loved me and there was some big reason that she couldn't keep me. I wrote poetry to her in case I ever met her.
My parents were religious. We went to the Brethren Church, a very small denomination. It was where my birth mother had gone before she gave me up for adoption. That is how my parents had heard about my being up for adoption.
I was totally in love with ONE, I really needed His love, and someone to listen to me. He did. So I started reading the Bible when I was five and when I was eight, the age when you could be baptized, I approached the minister and asked to be baptized. The minister asked me many questions and then went and spoke to my parents. They were kind of surprised and they questioned me, but two weeks after my eighth birthday, I was baptized by total immersion; three dunks. I was in awe.
I tried to "save" Charley's soul; tried to get him to love ONE like I did. I thought it would help him if he could talk to ONE also. But Charley hated the very idea of ONE. How could there be a ONE when he was treated like he was, and nobody loved him enough to stop the pain? I had no answer to give him but I assured him that ONE did love him. I tried to "save" Charley all of his life but he really resented that I of all people couldn't understand him. I was a lousy sister. I really was.
We moved a lot in our lives. We went to 21 different schools from kindergarten to High School. Every time it got bad at home-mom went on one of her rampages-dad would just pack his bags and move on. Mom would take that out on Charley and me, and then two or three months later we would all move to where daddy had moved. Everything would be good for a few months, and then the pattern would start all over again. Charley and I never made close friends because we were never anywhere long enough to trust another person.
Lucile had had two spinal surgeries before she had adopted us. They had fused a part of her back. She was always in great pain. She was an alcoholic and kept her bottles hidden in the toilet tanks and in the backs of cupboards. Charley and I loved hunting them down, then we would imbibe a tiny amount and feel like we had somehow triumphed over her. Since she was a registered nurse, she had a hypodermic needle kit. We saw her use the needle on herself a lot, but we couldn't figure out what she was taking. She spent a lot of time in bed reading and drinking. Charley and I loved this because while she slept and read and drank, we were fairly free-once our work was done-and didn't have to worry about being hurt. I read, and Charley went out with the boys in the neighborhood.
What frightened us was when she became quiet. We knew it was the quiet before the storm and we would hide in our rooms, afraid that we'd say the wrong word by mistake. Then suddenly she would get out of bed and grab the first implement she could find; a brush, a broom, a belt (sometimes she would have us go out and get a tree branch or a rose bush branch) and then she would start swinging, not caring what she hit; my glasses saved my eyes a couple of times but Charley once got it in the eye.
She would start in one room, having us clean while she hit us, and boy we'd better get whatever we were cleaning bright and shiny. She would remind us that we were adopted and that nobody else would have chosen us. We were fortunate to have such a nice home but she could throw us away if she chose to. I guess she could. Our generation was the last one that did not have any child protection. We learned early on that we were essentially rejects, totally unlovable, totally replaceable. We believed what she said. We bought the package.
It's real funny, my parents made a lot of money between them and they always bought nice houses whenever we moved. There was fine mahogany furniture, rich carpets, silver vases and tea sets. We set the table with Noritake china, silver implements, and crystal goblets. There were fine art pieces on the walls and plenty of fresh flowers. Everything in the house looked beautiful, and shiny, and bright. The floors were scrubbed, and washed and polished, on our hands and knees.
Tomorrow we learn more about what went on in Ann's childhood home and how Charley and Ann coped with steady abuse...
THE GOD GAMES: Heaven & Hell...Chapter 17...(HELL)
I have been passionately in love with ONE since the first breath I took. It just seemed natural to talk to him. I always knew that he loved me, and I was pretty sure that daddy loved me also, but daddy was working at a resort a long way from Long Beach. We only saw him a few days a month-if we were lucky. We told him what mother was doing to us, but he seemed ineffectual against her will. I guess that is why he was gone all of the time.
I fantasized about my real mother. Surely she loved me and there was some big reason that she couldn't keep me. I wrote poetry to her in case I ever met her.
My parents were religious. We went to the Brethren Church, a very small denomination. It was where my birth mother had gone before she gave me up for adoption. That is how my parents had heard about my being up for adoption.
I was totally in love with ONE, I really needed His love, and someone to listen to me. He did. So I started reading the Bible when I was five and when I was eight, the age when you could be baptized, I approached the minister and asked to be baptized. The minister asked me many questions and then went and spoke to my parents. They were kind of surprised and they questioned me, but two weeks after my eighth birthday, I was baptized by total immersion; three dunks. I was in awe.
I tried to "save" Charley's soul; tried to get him to love ONE like I did. I thought it would help him if he could talk to ONE also. But Charley hated the very idea of ONE. How could there be a ONE when he was treated like he was, and nobody loved him enough to stop the pain? I had no answer to give him but I assured him that ONE did love him. I tried to "save" Charley all of his life but he really resented that I of all people couldn't understand him. I was a lousy sister. I really was.
We moved a lot in our lives. We went to 21 different schools from kindergarten to High School. Every time it got bad at home-mom went on one of her rampages-dad would just pack his bags and move on. Mom would take that out on Charley and me, and then two or three months later we would all move to where daddy had moved. Everything would be good for a few months, and then the pattern would start all over again. Charley and I never made close friends because we were never anywhere long enough to trust another person.
Lucile had had two spinal surgeries before she had adopted us. They had fused a part of her back. She was always in great pain. She was an alcoholic and kept her bottles hidden in the toilet tanks and in the backs of cupboards. Charley and I loved hunting them down, then we would imbibe a tiny amount and feel like we had somehow triumphed over her. Since she was a registered nurse, she had a hypodermic needle kit. We saw her use the needle on herself a lot, but we couldn't figure out what she was taking. She spent a lot of time in bed reading and drinking. Charley and I loved this because while she slept and read and drank, we were fairly free-once our work was done-and didn't have to worry about being hurt. I read, and Charley went out with the boys in the neighborhood.
What frightened us was when she became quiet. We knew it was the quiet before the storm and we would hide in our rooms, afraid that we'd say the wrong word by mistake. Then suddenly she would get out of bed and grab the first implement she could find; a brush, a broom, a belt (sometimes she would have us go out and get a tree branch or a rose bush branch) and then she would start swinging, not caring what she hit; my glasses saved my eyes a couple of times but Charley once got it in the eye.
She would start in one room, having us clean while she hit us, and boy we'd better get whatever we were cleaning bright and shiny. She would remind us that we were adopted and that nobody else would have chosen us. We were fortunate to have such a nice home but she could throw us away if she chose to. I guess she could. Our generation was the last one that did not have any child protection. We learned early on that we were essentially rejects, totally unlovable, totally replaceable. We believed what she said. We bought the package.
It's real funny, my parents made a lot of money between them and they always bought nice houses whenever we moved. There was fine mahogany furniture, rich carpets, silver vases and tea sets. We set the table with Noritake china, silver implements, and crystal goblets. There were fine art pieces on the walls and plenty of fresh flowers. Everything in the house looked beautiful, and shiny, and bright. The floors were scrubbed, and washed and polished, on our hands and knees.
Tomorrow we learn more about what went on in Ann's childhood home and how Charley and Ann coped with steady abuse...
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