By Terri Rimmer
Born into an alcoholic family as the youngest of four girls I had no idea of the abuse that would come to torment my life for 14 years.
Both my mother and father were harsh abusers, my father sexually, my mom physically. How can a young girl possibly grow into a health adolescent when what she knows about life is taught by the hands of a sick man and mother intent to poison? I may not ever understand, but perhaps that is my journey.
I always knew I wanted to be a writer when in the third grade I got an A plus on a short story I wrote. I loved it and wrote every chance I got at my dadÂ’s encouragement and the feeling and dream reverberated in my soul, refusing to leave me ever. When I was 8 I was devastated to learn of my parents divorcing and to add insult to injury my mom left my sisters and me with our dad.
My older sister, Cindy became my hero. She fluffed my pajamas in the dryer before bed, sewed my Girl Scout badges on my uniform, comforted me when the kids made fun of my glasses, skinniness, and shyness, and read me bedtime stories. She also became the surrogate mom in our newly formed mini-family. When I was 11 to my surprise and fear Cindy could take no more of the sexual abuse and told our mom about what had been going on for years, something my mom claimed to know nothing about at the time. To escape fear and uncertainty from the time I was 11 I concocted a rich fantasy world to counteract the hellishness that was my childhood and later my adulthood. I felt so alone as I went to live with my mom and Cindy requested to be sent to a foster home of her teachers. My other sister, Debbie had already left home by this time and my half-sister, Joy, ran away to live with her biological dad.
To my confusion our dad was fighting for custody when I was 12. At this time I was living with my mom but the physical abuse was continuing and by this time I had a step dad to contend with who was verbally abusive although he loved me and was also good to me. Due to increasing problems getting along with my step dad, much to my horror my mom put me in a childrenÂ’s home when I was 14 where I became anorexic to get her attention, which did not work.
After several other placements and through no choice of my own I went to live with my dad because my mom and step dad didn't want to deal with me. I was numb to the fact that while living with my dad, the abuse escalated as it did with my sisters. To my disgust my dad used to critique my stories while fondling me. As a result I thought everything I wrote was “bad” and I shut down my feelings for years. Despite my utter fear of him, I turned my dad in for sexual abuse for the first time at the age of 15. Holding my hand my sister, Cindy, drove me to the AGAPE Church of Christ Agency which placed abused and/or neglected children with church members. I was scared but determined when I was put into a temporary three-week foster home that I liked but knew I’d have to leave. Despite my stubbornness I got baptized just to please them because I wanted them to like me and maybe change their minds. But because of my tremendous defensiveness, fear, walls I built around me like Fort Knox, that placement didn't work out and my mom took me back just until after the holidays.
To my shock at the first of the year I was placed into a girlsÂ’ juvenile group home of six troubled teenagers. While there I was determined to be normal so I worked at Six Flags, my first real job, and took acting lessons. After a year and a half, disgusted with the fact that I would never get to leave no matter how good I was and watching so many other girls leave when they were disobedient, I sabotaged myself and got kicked out. After three weeks with my dad he was ready to buy me birth control pills so we could finally have sex and I was beyond terrified. Once again, Cindy came to the rescue and after trying to move back to my momÂ’s and being turned down by my step dad, we went to the Department of Family & ChildrenÂ’s Services (DEFACS) and as the realization set in finally that my own parents didn't want me, I was placed in an emergency shelter where I was to live for a year in between one other foster home. I spent my senior year of high school in a foster home and barely graduated from high school but I had already been accepted to two colleges and still wanted to be a writer refusing to let anyone stomp on my dream no matter what IÂ’d been through. My successes were winning a Creative Writing award and passing my SATs - so I was not my past.
When I was in college, I found out my dad was molested by his brother. My college years were spent working and writing for the school paper and school magazine. I worked my way up from beat reporter to staff writer to assistant news editor to editor of the campus paper and, became co-editor of the school magazine, and received a journalism scholarship. The newspaper staff and drama people partied together constantly and bonds were formed, relationships were made, and break-ups were common. Determined to not let my dad ruin my future I applied for my first fantasy freelance job, writing for a magazine. I sold my first article at the age of 24 for $200 and I still have the copy of the check in a frame. In 1991 I was so excited to win a Florida Press Association Award, an affirmation from a large entity.
In 1994, driven by my fortitude in my past and a passion for making a difference I became a Guardian Ad Litem (child advocate) and felt like my life had come full circle. Two years later, after moving to Texas, I became a child advocate there, testifying in my second court case. I felt like I had a new lease on life. It made me feel like after being a GAL I still had what it took to be a good advocate. I remembered how exuberant I was when an attorney told me that the judge loved me after I testified in a termination of parental rights trial. I had testified in two court cases resulting in victories. A year after I moved to Texas, I still had a passion to help kids so I decided to become a PAL (Preparation for Adult Living) Mentor through Volunteers of America at my friendÂ’s urging. I was good at it and garnered two awards before quitting after missing my writing, something I never stopped doing on the side.
When I was 34, after thinking I couldn't get pregnant for 14 years, I got a positive pregnancy test. Though extremely tormented I knew I couldn't keep the baby because of living in abject poverty. Underneath it all I was a survivor who wanted more than anything to be a successful writer and wanted no part of my dad's life. I had spent my whole life trying to be someone I wasn't, namely someone that knew how to live but I finally broke free of my dad's clutches by looking at my daughter and seeing me. It was then that I smiled inside as I made the connection from my head to my heart for the first time - there was never anything wrong with me but my dad inflicted his sickness upon me.
"I have given you awesome parents and you're going to have a great life," I told my newborn daughter on Placement Day as I shielded her eyes from the sun. I who had always thought of me as selfish was performing the most selfless act I have ever performed and I don't know how. With all the strength I could muster with God's grace there was no choice but to do the right thing.
One day I got a letter from Mom:
"I hope that things are going okay for you," she wrote. "You know I told you earlier that I was going to write a long letter to each of you. You see when Mother died and even before, I did a lot of reflecting and thinking about my relationships with each of you. As she lay there not able to speak, I thought of so many things I wish I'd said. I didn't because she couldn't respond, and there were many things I wanted to ask her and now I'll never get the chance.
First I wanted tell you about my childhood and I believe that reflects the parent role. I was raised, as you know on a farm - nine children. We were very poor. We raised our own food. I can't remember when I didn't have to work or assume responsibilities; babysitting, my brothers and sisters when I wasn't much older than them. I handled tobacco when I was only seven, standing on a box to reach the table. That was expected of people back then. I don't blame my parents as they were brought up that way. My parents were always fighting over money, as there was never enough to provide even the barest essentials. I don't remember being a normal teenager. There was no prom or dances, as my parents couldn't afford them. The up side to all that is we talked with each other around the table. I dropped out of school in the 11th grade. I could see that my dad couldn't afford a gown rental, ring, or the necessary graduation costs.
I didn't date much as my dad was very strict so when I met my first husband he was older than me and a farmer, which impressed my dad. He pressured me to marry and after I promised I wouldn't go back on that. My parents had to sign for me as I was under age. I kept thinking why they never asked if that was what I wanted. If they had, I probably wouldn't have married. Anyway, the marriage was short-lived - no job and no child support. Anyway, I struggled with Grandma Hooker's help. She babysat for me to work long hours in a restaurant, which was all I knew how to do. There were constant legal battles over my son from my first husband. The judge allowed visitation and every time he took him and left the state where I couldn't find them. It was a black period for me for years.
I met your dad about this time. Up until then I had nothing in my life but work. He was very upbeat, loving, and fun loving, all the things I'd never known. He was a good dad to Joy, which was unusual. Most men didn't want a woman with children. He took me to New York to meet his family and asked me to marry him. We had to struggle very hard, as he was only an airman 1st in the Air Force, and right away I got pregnant with Debbie. We really couldn't afford another child but we managed.
You and Cindy came along when things were much better. Your dad got a good paying job and we bought our first home. We could buy about anything we wanted. Isn't it strange that underneath all this prosperity that there was decay worse than any termites ever! All the years I lived a lie! My sister lived with us in Jacksonville and babysat for us. She told my other sister that your dad made advances to her and that's why she went home so suddenly. My sister also told me that she was a victim. When I asked why no one told me, she stated they were afraid of hurting me and she knew he would convince me they were lying. He was very manipulative but I think I would have known. Anyway, it would have put up a signal for me to observe more.
There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not aware of what this has done to all of you. Joy has shared with me so many things that I never knew. I also made some mistakes in my decision about each of you and your lives. I never should have let you go in that children's) home.
I am so amazed at what a survivor you are in spite of all you've been through! I know, too that many people don't understand your giving up MacKenzie. You put her needs before yours. That takes so much courage and so many mothers don't have it. I know what you went through and still am going through. I finally realized that I was pulling my son apart like legal hamburger.
You are a very talented young woman. And then there's the writing talent you have. That's a special gift.
I love you very much and I'm so proud of you and all you've accomplished! I'm so proud to call you my daughter.
Love,
Mom"
I've written my story before but always devoid of emotion because I learned to shut off my feelings at such an early age so in a sense I guess this exercise in practicing emotion was healing as I began to thaw out my feelings. Last week I got word that my adoption novel I wrote based on a journal I kept while living in the maternity home was published as an e book by Booklocker.com and a foster care article I wrote is on poewar.com.
A writer needs material and I had it before the age of ten.
The material of life continues to inspire me to write - though now I am a bit wiser to its meaning.
Born into an alcoholic family as the youngest of four girls I had no idea of the abuse that would come to torment my life for 14 years.
Both my mother and father were harsh abusers, my father sexually, my mom physically. How can a young girl possibly grow into a health adolescent when what she knows about life is taught by the hands of a sick man and mother intent to poison? I may not ever understand, but perhaps that is my journey.
I always knew I wanted to be a writer when in the third grade I got an A plus on a short story I wrote. I loved it and wrote every chance I got at my dadÂ’s encouragement and the feeling and dream reverberated in my soul, refusing to leave me ever. When I was 8 I was devastated to learn of my parents divorcing and to add insult to injury my mom left my sisters and me with our dad.
My older sister, Cindy became my hero. She fluffed my pajamas in the dryer before bed, sewed my Girl Scout badges on my uniform, comforted me when the kids made fun of my glasses, skinniness, and shyness, and read me bedtime stories. She also became the surrogate mom in our newly formed mini-family. When I was 11 to my surprise and fear Cindy could take no more of the sexual abuse and told our mom about what had been going on for years, something my mom claimed to know nothing about at the time. To escape fear and uncertainty from the time I was 11 I concocted a rich fantasy world to counteract the hellishness that was my childhood and later my adulthood. I felt so alone as I went to live with my mom and Cindy requested to be sent to a foster home of her teachers. My other sister, Debbie had already left home by this time and my half-sister, Joy, ran away to live with her biological dad.
To my confusion our dad was fighting for custody when I was 12. At this time I was living with my mom but the physical abuse was continuing and by this time I had a step dad to contend with who was verbally abusive although he loved me and was also good to me. Due to increasing problems getting along with my step dad, much to my horror my mom put me in a childrenÂ’s home when I was 14 where I became anorexic to get her attention, which did not work.
After several other placements and through no choice of my own I went to live with my dad because my mom and step dad didn't want to deal with me. I was numb to the fact that while living with my dad, the abuse escalated as it did with my sisters. To my disgust my dad used to critique my stories while fondling me. As a result I thought everything I wrote was “bad” and I shut down my feelings for years. Despite my utter fear of him, I turned my dad in for sexual abuse for the first time at the age of 15. Holding my hand my sister, Cindy, drove me to the AGAPE Church of Christ Agency which placed abused and/or neglected children with church members. I was scared but determined when I was put into a temporary three-week foster home that I liked but knew I’d have to leave. Despite my stubbornness I got baptized just to please them because I wanted them to like me and maybe change their minds. But because of my tremendous defensiveness, fear, walls I built around me like Fort Knox, that placement didn't work out and my mom took me back just until after the holidays.
To my shock at the first of the year I was placed into a girlsÂ’ juvenile group home of six troubled teenagers. While there I was determined to be normal so I worked at Six Flags, my first real job, and took acting lessons. After a year and a half, disgusted with the fact that I would never get to leave no matter how good I was and watching so many other girls leave when they were disobedient, I sabotaged myself and got kicked out. After three weeks with my dad he was ready to buy me birth control pills so we could finally have sex and I was beyond terrified. Once again, Cindy came to the rescue and after trying to move back to my momÂ’s and being turned down by my step dad, we went to the Department of Family & ChildrenÂ’s Services (DEFACS) and as the realization set in finally that my own parents didn't want me, I was placed in an emergency shelter where I was to live for a year in between one other foster home. I spent my senior year of high school in a foster home and barely graduated from high school but I had already been accepted to two colleges and still wanted to be a writer refusing to let anyone stomp on my dream no matter what IÂ’d been through. My successes were winning a Creative Writing award and passing my SATs - so I was not my past.
When I was in college, I found out my dad was molested by his brother. My college years were spent working and writing for the school paper and school magazine. I worked my way up from beat reporter to staff writer to assistant news editor to editor of the campus paper and, became co-editor of the school magazine, and received a journalism scholarship. The newspaper staff and drama people partied together constantly and bonds were formed, relationships were made, and break-ups were common. Determined to not let my dad ruin my future I applied for my first fantasy freelance job, writing for a magazine. I sold my first article at the age of 24 for $200 and I still have the copy of the check in a frame. In 1991 I was so excited to win a Florida Press Association Award, an affirmation from a large entity.
In 1994, driven by my fortitude in my past and a passion for making a difference I became a Guardian Ad Litem (child advocate) and felt like my life had come full circle. Two years later, after moving to Texas, I became a child advocate there, testifying in my second court case. I felt like I had a new lease on life. It made me feel like after being a GAL I still had what it took to be a good advocate. I remembered how exuberant I was when an attorney told me that the judge loved me after I testified in a termination of parental rights trial. I had testified in two court cases resulting in victories. A year after I moved to Texas, I still had a passion to help kids so I decided to become a PAL (Preparation for Adult Living) Mentor through Volunteers of America at my friendÂ’s urging. I was good at it and garnered two awards before quitting after missing my writing, something I never stopped doing on the side.
When I was 34, after thinking I couldn't get pregnant for 14 years, I got a positive pregnancy test. Though extremely tormented I knew I couldn't keep the baby because of living in abject poverty. Underneath it all I was a survivor who wanted more than anything to be a successful writer and wanted no part of my dad's life. I had spent my whole life trying to be someone I wasn't, namely someone that knew how to live but I finally broke free of my dad's clutches by looking at my daughter and seeing me. It was then that I smiled inside as I made the connection from my head to my heart for the first time - there was never anything wrong with me but my dad inflicted his sickness upon me.
"I have given you awesome parents and you're going to have a great life," I told my newborn daughter on Placement Day as I shielded her eyes from the sun. I who had always thought of me as selfish was performing the most selfless act I have ever performed and I don't know how. With all the strength I could muster with God's grace there was no choice but to do the right thing.
One day I got a letter from Mom:
"I hope that things are going okay for you," she wrote. "You know I told you earlier that I was going to write a long letter to each of you. You see when Mother died and even before, I did a lot of reflecting and thinking about my relationships with each of you. As she lay there not able to speak, I thought of so many things I wish I'd said. I didn't because she couldn't respond, and there were many things I wanted to ask her and now I'll never get the chance.
First I wanted tell you about my childhood and I believe that reflects the parent role. I was raised, as you know on a farm - nine children. We were very poor. We raised our own food. I can't remember when I didn't have to work or assume responsibilities; babysitting, my brothers and sisters when I wasn't much older than them. I handled tobacco when I was only seven, standing on a box to reach the table. That was expected of people back then. I don't blame my parents as they were brought up that way. My parents were always fighting over money, as there was never enough to provide even the barest essentials. I don't remember being a normal teenager. There was no prom or dances, as my parents couldn't afford them. The up side to all that is we talked with each other around the table. I dropped out of school in the 11th grade. I could see that my dad couldn't afford a gown rental, ring, or the necessary graduation costs.
I didn't date much as my dad was very strict so when I met my first husband he was older than me and a farmer, which impressed my dad. He pressured me to marry and after I promised I wouldn't go back on that. My parents had to sign for me as I was under age. I kept thinking why they never asked if that was what I wanted. If they had, I probably wouldn't have married. Anyway, the marriage was short-lived - no job and no child support. Anyway, I struggled with Grandma Hooker's help. She babysat for me to work long hours in a restaurant, which was all I knew how to do. There were constant legal battles over my son from my first husband. The judge allowed visitation and every time he took him and left the state where I couldn't find them. It was a black period for me for years.
I met your dad about this time. Up until then I had nothing in my life but work. He was very upbeat, loving, and fun loving, all the things I'd never known. He was a good dad to Joy, which was unusual. Most men didn't want a woman with children. He took me to New York to meet his family and asked me to marry him. We had to struggle very hard, as he was only an airman 1st in the Air Force, and right away I got pregnant with Debbie. We really couldn't afford another child but we managed.
You and Cindy came along when things were much better. Your dad got a good paying job and we bought our first home. We could buy about anything we wanted. Isn't it strange that underneath all this prosperity that there was decay worse than any termites ever! All the years I lived a lie! My sister lived with us in Jacksonville and babysat for us. She told my other sister that your dad made advances to her and that's why she went home so suddenly. My sister also told me that she was a victim. When I asked why no one told me, she stated they were afraid of hurting me and she knew he would convince me they were lying. He was very manipulative but I think I would have known. Anyway, it would have put up a signal for me to observe more.
There isn't a day that goes by that I'm not aware of what this has done to all of you. Joy has shared with me so many things that I never knew. I also made some mistakes in my decision about each of you and your lives. I never should have let you go in that children's) home.
I am so amazed at what a survivor you are in spite of all you've been through! I know, too that many people don't understand your giving up MacKenzie. You put her needs before yours. That takes so much courage and so many mothers don't have it. I know what you went through and still am going through. I finally realized that I was pulling my son apart like legal hamburger.
You are a very talented young woman. And then there's the writing talent you have. That's a special gift.
I love you very much and I'm so proud of you and all you've accomplished! I'm so proud to call you my daughter.
Love,
Mom"
I've written my story before but always devoid of emotion because I learned to shut off my feelings at such an early age so in a sense I guess this exercise in practicing emotion was healing as I began to thaw out my feelings. Last week I got word that my adoption novel I wrote based on a journal I kept while living in the maternity home was published as an e book by Booklocker.com and a foster care article I wrote is on poewar.com.
A writer needs material and I had it before the age of ten.
The material of life continues to inspire me to write - though now I am a bit wiser to its meaning.