Something About Those Eyes

by Debbie Wheeland

  Something About Those Eyes

  Copyright © 2018 by Debbie Wheeland

  All right reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  The stories in this book reflect the author’s recollection of events. Some names, locations, and identifying characteristics may have been changed to protect the privacy of those depicted. Dialogue has been re-created from memory.

  This book was printed in the United States of America

  ISBN (Print): 978-1-54393-499-1

  ISBN (eBook): 978-1-54393-500-4

  Foreward

  Something About Those Eyes by Debbie Wheeland is a written chronicle of her life. As a child, she describes the sexual and emotional abuse she suffered and as an adult, she endured physical abuse. Even though the consequences of her childhood mistreatment plagued her into adulthood, she survived by diligently working to understand how her past affected her which has led to healing and redemption. God has “made up for the years the locusts have eaten,” (Joel 2:25) for Debbie and her family.

  Jeenie Gordon, M.S. M. A.

  Licensed Marriage & Family Therapist

  Prolific Author

  Foreward

  In her book, the author describes her life growing up with alcoholism, sexual, physical, and emotional abuse as well as dysfunctional relationships. As you journey with her she will show you how she has risen above her circumstances in this poignant and powerful tale of loss, recovery, hope, love, forgiveness, healing and redemption.

  As you enter her world you will come to love her personal stories written with humor, wit and passion. I guarantee the reader will experience a pivotal of emotions. You’ll find yourself laughing, crying, reacting with anger and sharing in her joy as Debbie takes you through the trials and triumphs of her life.

  “As I entered each room, memories of the abuse flooded my mind. I could see myself as a little girl and it brought me to tears. I finally became aware that the little girl inside of me still needed to be healed.”

  As a therapist, I recommend Debbie’s personal story. Her memoir is instrumental in teaching the victim how to become the victor and live life to the fullest, while leaving the past behind.

  Sharie Stines, PsyD, CATC-V

  Praise for:

  SOMETHING ABOUT THOSE EYES

  5 STARS for this spellbinding, tear-jerking, thought-provoking, awe-inspiring, mind-blowing, charismatic, captivating, gripping, heart-wrenching inspirational triumphant, rags-to-riches book.

  Something About Those Eyes, is a real-life memoir of Debbie’s courageous journey through her life. Her captivating story will leave you on the edge of your seat. You will not be able to put the book down. Her descriptive, touching account of her life sweeps you in with a whirlwind of emotions ranging from laughter to tears to exasperation. Debbie speaks of her childhood and the incestuous sexual abuse she had to endure, two failed marriages, where she encountered physical and emotional abuse. Finally, she was able to find peace through her devout faith in God and finding her Prince, who swept her off her feet. Her book speaks of faith, hope, love, acceptance, forgiveness, healing and triumphing over adversity.

  “You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.” Psalm 139: 15-16

  Karen Barber, Blue Ridge Mountain Book, North Carolina

  Debbie is an outstanding mother and wife. She has been a close friend for over fifteen years. Her book is inspiring. It is a must read for any woman whose life has been affected by abuse. My friend’s memoir helps you to believe in redemption and restoration. There actually is love and light at the end of the tunnel.

  Debbie’s story is proof there is hope for women who have been victims of abuse and living with addiction.

  Lisa Moore, friend and neighbor, CA

  My aunt writes a truly inspiring story. I spent two days reading her book. It was amazing, and I’ve been on a roller coaster of emotions since. I truly loved her story and was honored to read it. Debbie, you are an incredible woman with an amazing family!

  Kristina Canada, niece - Director of Marketing Universal Studios, CA

  My friend’s book brought me into a closer relationship with God; it was sad, happy, inspiring, hopeful and at times funny. I couldn’t put it down. I highly recommend it.

  Lois Roth, friend for over 30 years, CO

  Something About Those Eyes is a riveting memoir from my aunt. Through her many struggles, she perseveres with a love for life and her family, a steadfast faith and a forgiving nature. She is an inspiration for all who have experienced and overcome abuse. Despite the difficulties that she faced, she was able to find joy and laughter in every day. The stories of her childhood are full of life’s simple pleasures and humor. You will laugh and you will cry as you read her journey from abuse to meeting and marrying her real-life Prince Charming.

  Melissa Furgison, niece, CA

  Debbie and I met some years ago when our children were very young. Through the years we have been a part of each other’s lives. Our children are now grown with children of their own. We have shared many tears, and sometimes the pain was so deep but it led us to the One who hears the cry of the broken-hearted, our Precious Lord Jesus Christ. I was blessed to play a part in her healing. Thank you, my friend, for giving others hope by sharing your story.

  Rosa, friend and mentor for forty-two years, CO

  Something About Those Eyes, takes you on a roller coaster of emotions. The book not only opened my eyes but also my heart to what many women suffer behind closed doors, yet for many years remain locked in silent pain. Debbie’s memoir although heart-wrenching and often unimaginable will leave you inspired and hopeful, knowing that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.

  Renee Caloca, friend and Elementary teacher, CA

  Debbie’s life has been one of vulnerability, violation, quiet suffering, unspeakable hopelessness and significant challenges. Yet, it has also been one of forgiveness goodness of heart and Spirit. And one of God’s mercy, grace, and redemption resulting in a dynamic, victorious life lived to the glory of God. (Ephesians 3:20)

  Bobbie Bailey

  friend for over 20 years and mentor for unwed mothers, CA

  In a culture inundated with alcoholism, sexual and emotional abuse, Debbie’s Something About Those Eyes depicts these everyday issues throughout her own life. While taking you back to your own childhood it will inspire and give you hope as you see God’s faithfulness to heal and restore her. This is a must read for those of us who have not begun the healing process and those who appreciate a hilariously entertaining story! Debbie has been a dear friend for over twenty years.

  Annette Camareno, friend, CA

  Something About Those Eyes tells the true story about a little girl’s journey through life, inflicted with the worst kinds of pain and abuse by the people who were supposed to love her the most. The man who proves that fairy-tale endings are indeed possible and that Prince Charming does in fact exist. Reading Debbie’s journey, my emotions ran the gamut of fear, sadness, anger, pain, and ultimately joy that left me in utter amazement of this woman. She shares her story with a simple, unpretentious honesty that grabs a hold of your heartstrings. Through her beautiful eyes Debbie sees the world in a positive and hopeful light looking for the best, the
good in all in everyone. She sees the face of God and his love for his children despite the ugliness those same eyes have seen in her worst years. Her story is inspiring and gives hope that through Him all things are possible. She is courageous for sharing her story. She is brave for actually putting it out there. And she is my hero for having survived to become a better person in spite of her abusers.

  A fan for life, Gina Adams, friend

  Chapters

  Terror in the Night

  I Was Chosen

  Neighbors, Friends and Fights

  Siblings

  God and Cops

  Where’s Dad?

  Our Pets

  Holidays

  Times with Dad and Other Friends

  Mom’s New Boyfriend and Life Goes On….

  Truth Revealed

  Wes and The Grand Canyon

  Fears

  Changes! What Now?

  My Boyfriends

  Colorado

  Chaos and Kenny

  My First Job

  A Night Gone Bad

  No! Please God, No!

  Too Young to Marry

  Jeremy

  Betrayal

  Sober?

  Kristy

  Jeff

  Finding Faith

  It’s Over

  New Job, New Friends

  Second Time Around

  Ashley

  Restoration

  A New Start

  My Brother’s Friend

  The Chase

  Third Time is a Charm

  California Here We Come

  Tyler

  My Dad

  Romance

  My Heart’s Desire

  My Mom

  My Big Brother

  Family LifeEpilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Pictures

  1

  Terror in the Night

  “Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them.” Ephesians 6:4

  When I was young I had frequent nightmares. Maybe they were from the science fiction shows I liked to watch, The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits. Mom didn’t know I was afraid to go to sleep at night, fortunately, my little sister Monica and I shared a twin size bed. One side of our bed was shoved against the wall, which is where I slept. I believed if a stranger came in he would grab my sister and I would have time to run away. Later we joked as adults and Monica shared her version of the story, I liked sleeping on the end because I thought if a stranger came in I would roll onto the floor and slide under the bed and he would grab you then I would have time to run away. My sister and I were only a year apart and we were always close and the truth is we would have tried to protect each other.

  Sometimes before going to bed, Dad wrestled with us kids on the carpeted living room floor, tickling us until we’d all erupt in giggles. Later, after a warm bath, naked and dripping, Monica and I would dive under the covers. I loved the feel of cool, crisp, clean sheets on my body. Dad would gently pull us out by our ankles and dry us off. “Come on girls, it’s time to get your pajamas on.” Afterwards, I’d fall asleep with a smile on my face, listening to my father walk around the house singing silly, childish rhythms he’d made up. He brought fun and laughter into our home.

  One night, as I lay sleeping, no noises were heard and dreams danced around in my head. My heart beat slowly as my chest rose up and down. Suddenly, I felt a shift in weight as the mattress moved, and I heard heavy breathing. With my eyes tightly closed, I sensed a presence. I did not want to see the stranger who had laid down next to me. No sounds, no words, no face, just a nameless shadow. My heart began to beat rapidly. It felt like it would explode and tear me to shreds from the inside out.

  I lay there frozen, as if dead, too petrified to move, too scared to open my eyes, not daring to see, not wanting to know, afraid even to breathe, trying to force myself to go back to sleep. It was as if I rose above my body and watched what was happening down below. Don’t think, don’t look, just pretend it’s not happening. It’s all a dream; I hope it’s over soon. I can’t wait for daytime to come and bring an end to the eerie, silent, scary darkness.

  My eyelids fluttered as light slowly drifted into the shadows. Opening my eyes, I began to focus on familiar patterns in the room as the brightness of the early morning sun streamed through a slight opening between the curtains. Sitting up and rubbing my eyes, I caught sight of my little sister lying next to me near the wall on our twin-sized bed, strands of dark brown hair falling around her tiny face. There is nobody here but us. I must have had another bad dream. It must have been my imagination playing tricks on me.

  The cool morning air touched my body and I shivered. As I sat up, eager for the new day, I realized I was on the edge of the bed. How did I get here? I always slept near the wall. I looked down and saw my nightgown and lace underwear in a heap on the floor. Those are my panties. All of a sudden, I realized my nakedness and gasped! Quiet tears streamed down my face. I hate the night time. I hate it when the sun goes down. I wish my grandmother was visiting she always slept with us girls.

  Hurry, can’t let my sister see me without any clothes on. Please don’t wake up Monica. I can’t let her know about the faceless intruder who comes in the darkness of the night. Stepping barefoot upon the cold, floor, reaching down, I grab my panties and pulled them up around my waist. Throwing my nightgown over my head, I quietly ran to the bathroom down the hall and wiped the wetness from between my legs, all the while grimacing in pain.

  But then the house felt abnormally quiet and fear settled around me. Too afraid to walk back into the small room I shared with my sister, I sat petrified on the closed toilet lid desperately trying to forget the events of the night before. Tears clouded my eyes. Can’t let anyone know. Must forget. Must not remember. Silently, I tiptoed into the living room and turned on the 25-inch black and white television set. Tears turned into laughter watching Saturday morning cartoons although I still felt afraid.

  Soon Mike and Monica ran quickly from their bedrooms. Then I heard the pounding of footsteps from the rest of my siblings, Dave and Rob, the two little ones, were close on their heels and I could hear baby Steve stirring in the other room.

  Glaring at me, my older brother reached out and changed the knob on the TV.

  “I’m going to tell Mommy on you. I was watching The Roadrunner.”

  Mike looked at me smugly daring me to turn the channel back. “Mom’s not here and I can do whatever I want.”

  Apprehension began to well up inside of me. “You’re a liar. Who’s watching us then?”

  Mike waved a note in front on my face. “Says here the babysitter is coming over ‘cause Mom had to go to work. And I’m going to watch MY favorite cartoons until she gets here.”

  Good. Daddy must be gone too, instantly the fear left me. I didn’t care about watching cartoons anymore. Walking into the kitchen, I poured myself a bowl of Cheerios with three heaping teaspoons of sugar. Afterwards I fixed a bottle and went to get baby Steve out of his crib.

  I pointed to my older brother, “Is Debbie the one coming over?”

  “Of course, she is the one.”

  “Oh goody, she is my favorite babysitter.”

  “You just like her because you both have the same name.”

  “So, what! Debbie likes me better than she likes you.”

  Mike laughed and chased me. All us kids piled on top of each other and soon forgot about the cartoons. Wrapped in blankets we rolled around the floor, bodies sprawled on top of one another, laughing and having fun.

  By the time Debbie came over, we were again glued to the television. As soon as she walked in she promptly shut off the cartoons and turned on the radio. Soon the sound of rock & roll drifted through the room.

  “Come on kids, we’re going to get this house cleaned. The sooner we get it done the sooner you can watch your shows again.”

  Although we were m
omentarily angry with her, she made chores fun. And sometimes afterwards, she’d let us help her bake cookies or make crafts.

  During the Christmas season a few months earlier, I had accidentally broken an ornament and some blood oozed from my little finger. Running to Debbie, I showed her my cut. She picked up a piece of the broken glass, jabbed her own finger and smeared our blood together. “Now we are blood sisters.”

  I never forgot it and I always felt like we had a special bond.

  “Please don’t leave,” I said a few hours later after my father came home.

  “Your dad is here now and your mom will be home soon,” Debbie turned to close the door behind her.

  After she left, I caught a glimpse of Dad strolling in the kitchen, wearing nothing but his white underwear. Something about his near-nakedness bothered me. Debbie would tell me years later, he frequently walked around the house like that and she always felt uncomfortable whenever he was there.

  Later that day, I passed the bathroom. My dad always left the door ajar when he used the toilet. I turned my head quickly and walked even faster to stay out of his sight. Why didn’t he shut the door? Mom finally returned home from her job at the factory where she had started working shortly after her last baby was born.

  Soon she prepared dinner and it was time for bed. Usually after we ate, all us kids watched television or played outside until it was time to go to bed. I’d beg Mom to let me stay up with promises of helping bathe the younger kids or help clean the kitchen, hoping to prolong bedtime, I hated the dark. But unfortunately, bedtime always came too soon. As I lay in bed shuddering, fear permeated me but I could no longer hold my eyes open. I’d try talking to Monica as long as I could, but eventually darkness would envelope the room.

  As I got older, and the nighttime visits became more frequent, the stranger’s face became familiar to me, and my beloved daddy would whisper in my ear, “Shhh, honey, you know I’d never hurt you. I know you want to make Daddy feel good now, so here is what I want you to do to me.”