This story was published last year, but I was forced to take it out because of the names mentioned in it. So I am editing the names, so that no one will know it is the same person. My purpose is to share and help anyone I can. So this is the first part of it. I hope you will like it and it will help you understand that you are not the only one out there.
I was born September 5, 1962. I was born with bronchial respiratory infection and had to stay in the hospital for two weeks. Mom did not have time to come and get me so my grandmother and uncle came and got me. I do not know how long I stayed with my grandmother. I do remember leaving Pecos to move to San Angelo when I was three. We lived with my dad until I was eleven.
My mother started abusing me when I was about five; the sexual abuse started around when I was six or seven. I do not really remember. The mental abuse started about the same time. When I was six, my mom broke my nose, cut my eye, and messed up my mouth over not being able to find a yellow ribbon for my hair. Then she put me in my closet and locked it. I do not know how long I was in there, but it was long enough to make sure that I do not have closet doors in my house. She tried to put makeup on me to cover it up, but it did not work. Everyone saw my face when we went to K-mart.
When we got home, I started doing my chores and my dad came home. I had one of his hats on so he could not see my face. When he asked me what was wrong, I said nothing because my mouth was swollen. He tilted my hat back and saw my face and said, “What happened?” I told him I fell off my horse. He knew better. So he went out and asked my brother what happened. My brother was scared to tell him because he was afraid mom would do the same thing to him. But my dad would not give up and finally my brother told him. My dad took us to some friend’s house for the night and when he came to pick us up the next day, my mom was in the hospital with whiplash and two busted eardrums.