My story is not going to be always happy, or always sad; it is a real life story with real people and real events. Things that happen in it may shock you, may make you angry, and hopefully may just make you realize that we are all human. I need to preface my story with a few events in order to tie things together.
Corey and I were married in 1985 against the wishes of my mother. There were a myriad of reasons for her dislike of the union, but what they all boiled down to was Corey was not financially well off. He was not my mother's dream man for me. (She had a specific dream man picked out for me when I was twelve; unfortunately for her he was already married-at the time of my marriage very happily-AND I did not love him.)
This is not so different than most parent's dreams and wishes for their children, however most parents do try to talk to their children and listen to them, as well as help them with their goals. This was not the case for me. Intimidation, degradation, abuse, and fear were the routes that my mother chose for me. As an infant, child, teen or young adult. Most of these were not seen, or perhaps we can say ignored by the community around us as my mother is the best manipulator I know.
As a child I had braids that reached my thighs. It was not uncommon for my mother to drag me from one end of the home to the other by my braids while screaming at me because I had not accomplished some task. We had 1x1 inch boards in the windows of our home to keep them secure and they were used on many occasions to beat some sense into me. My dad had belts that had three or four holes punched across and I cannot name how many times I got to sit (or lay) in the entry way and stare at the green tiles while she beat me with those thick black belts; not caring if the buckle was hitting me or where it hit.
My mother and I would dutifully attend church every Sunday and my mother was a saint. My father refused to go to church and was the Town Heathen. My mother was pitied. I was known as the rebel as I hated my mother because of the way she treated myself and my father. She was physically and verbally abusive to me and always verbally abusive to my father. I never saw her physically abuse my father. However I remember her making him cry on so many occasions. Have you ever had to watch your father cry? It hurts more than anything on earth as a child.
I was not allowed to cook, I was not allowed to swim, I was not allowed to go outside alone, I was not allowed to play with certain neighbor children. Television was not allowed. I could read. I was rebellious when I listened to music. I was rebellious when I ate candy. These things warranted punishments-grounding and beatings. I could play with the "Reeder" Children, but I was not to play with the Larsen children. I literally was only to walk about 25-30 feet from my home. I could walk to elementary school. (I was on a timer-it was white) I was driven to middle school and high school. (Or carpooled with an approved friend of my mother's.)
Much of this might sound like that of a loving and protective parent. It was not. It was an extreme and harsh parent. When I made friends, outside of the circle my mother chose for me, those friends were whores. I remember that my mother called some of the most beautiful people I know whores and I screamed at her for it. I was then branded a whore. The young men I knew were pimps and scum and fags. (I shudder)
When I was at Brigham Young University I received a twelve page letter from her. It detailed all of her "reasons" for being so brutal for me. The most revealing of them was that I was a "bastard child." She had gotten pregnant before marrying my father. It also detailed that she had wanted to have an abortion, however was not able to. This caused deep feelings of hatred towards myself and my father that she had acted on all of our lives. Talk about a cold hard bitch. I think it was supposed to be an apology; I missed it however.
I still have the letter, because I guarantee that she will see this and deny it to all she knows.
My childhood, my mother, has followed my throughout my life. No matter how much I have tried to leave it behind me. I have a wonderful husband who I have been married to since 1985. I don't know why he has stayed with me, as my mother has remained the wicked witch in my life story to this day. She has tried to hurt me from the day I was born. She still does all she can to harm me. To this day. (more on that in another post.)
When we moved to Provo, Utah so Corey could attend Brigham Young University, my mother was determined to take our children away from us. We were poor starving students, all we had was love to give our children and she decided to take legal action and sue us for custody of them. It was hell for three years. That included trying to get Corey fired from jobs, kicked out of BYU, multiple calls to Child Protective Services, and so much more. This article was picked up by the Herald Journal after we had been in court for over three years. "Couple Battling for Parental Rights". Keep in mind that my Wicked Stepmother is very real, lives in California, and in no way a "step" anything but over her boundaries.
One other note: I am not the only one that she has abused and taken advantage of for love, time and money. She has been involved in endless court battles with old (ex) friends and acquaintances and I don't know of any of her family members that will even speak to her now. She has burned many many bridges. (And my father began divorce proceedings very soon after I left the home for good.)
My family is worth more than my life to me. I will do anything for them. We are not perfect in any way, however I will support them when they come to me for it. (and even when they don't!) XOXOXOXO
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