Lee was small in stature and I wasn’t afraid of him physically like I had been with Kenny. But there was something about the way Lee manipulated things that made me feel as if he had control over my kids and me. Because there was no alcohol involved I had erroneously believed that this time things would be different. Boy was I wrong!
During the times, we fought it became evident we were both a couple of pessimists.
“I’ll never lose the extra fifteen pounds I’ve put on. I feel so fat,” I’d say.
“You probably won’t, and I will never be able to stop smoking.”
“You probably won’t. We are just a couple of losers, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are,” Lee agreed.
We brought out the worst in each other. Lee and I fought like cats and dogs. Because I wasn’t afraid of him, I yelled as loud as I could and said things to hurt him. He, in turn, would let a torrent of cruel words explode from his mouth. We both seemed helpless to control our anger. Thankfully these altercations only happened when the kids were at school. It would take me a long time to realize that not only was I mad at Lee, I was unconsciously mad at every man who had ever hurt me and I took it out on him. Nonetheless, I didn’t want to be a failure for a second time and I continued to try and make the marriage work.
Eighteen months after we were married Lee and I listened to a speaker talk about co-dependency and dysfunctional relationships, but we were both so blinded we didn’t even relate it to our own lives. We were too busy pointing the finger at each other or everyone else. Denial still had a stronghold over me. I spent my time at my job, raising my kids, and trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with my marriage and thinking of ways I could fix it. We continued to go to church on Sundays and mid-week services. Once again, I believed I was doing the right thing. But I was gradually losing hope in my marriage.
31
Ashley
“You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.” Psalm 139 15
Jeremy asked me on a number of occasions why I continued to stay with Lee. Shaking my head, I was filled with despair for the stupid mistake I had made. I felt as if I was trapped and couldn’t find my way out. I made excuses for his actions while trying to encourage my kids. “He didn’t mean it. His own mother didn’t treat him very well. Please try and forgive him. Don’t let his words bother you.”
About two years after we were married, I was convinced maybe having of a child of our own would fix our relationship and Lee and I talked about trying to have a baby. I thought it would bring us closer and that it would somehow replace the children he had lost. I still felt sorry for him. It would take me much longer to realize Lee had really given up his kids because he had refused to take responsibility for them.
“I’m not sure I want a child. I feel like at thirty-six I’m too old to start over again,” Lee said.
We didn’t come to any conclusion after several conversations, but I did end up getting pregnant shortly after one of our talks. I was thrilled to be after the shock wore off. Of course, I worried about our finances since I was basically the one who was supporting the family. I was grateful I had insurance and the kids seemed to be excited as well. My boss at work refused to let me carry heavy boxes and treated me as if I had never been pregnant before.
All and all things seemed to be going well but we still fought constantly. Once, when I was about seven months pregnant, Lee became so angry with me after an argument he raised his fist and hit me.
I exploded and punched him back. “I will never let another man hit me again.”
“It’s all your fault! I’ve never hit a woman, you made me do it.”
“You’re crazy! You chose to hit me. I didn’t make you.”
He never hit me again.
Sometimes Lee would get so depressed and self-condemning I was immediately moved to feel sorry for him. I felt my role was to do whatever I could to make him happy. I believed if I focused all my attention on his needs I would be able to make a difference in his life and he would be joyful and content. I was so consumed with fixing him. I failed to think about the emotional needs of my children. Although I did not neglect them and I paid attention to them I should have been making them my top priority instead of trying to fix Lee. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I was repeating what I had done with my mother and Kenny.
I was eagerly awaiting the birth of my fourth child. My last baby, Jeff, was already eight and I longed to hold another baby in my arms. The kids were excited too. Kristy desperately wanted a baby sister and finally in March of l987 I went into labor.
Ashley was born several hours later in a birthing room at our local hospital. All the kids were in the room, and they watched in fascination as I gave birth to my baby girl. She was beautiful with a full head of dark hair. I held my little bundle close and thanked God for the new life he had given me. I was thrilled she had become a part of our family and each of the kids looked in awe at the tiny baby in my arms. I’m sure it was a moment in their lives they would never forget.
When I had been pregnant, Lee would pat my tummy and talk to the baby and fall asleep with his arms around me. After she and I came home from the hospital, I expected him to continue to cuddle me.
“Why aren’t you holding me like you did when I was pregnant?” I asked him one night.
“You had the baby,” was all he said. With no other explanation, his embracing stopped.
Immediately following Ashley’s birth, the other kids and I ceased to have any importance in Lee’s life. At least before, on his good days, he acted like he cared somewhat for the kids. I dreaded going back to work after taking my maternity leave. I had never before had to leave any of my children at eight weeks and it was killing me. Thankfully, I was able to nurse my baby and freeze my milk in between shifts. Lee was also kind enough to bring Ashley to work so I could still feed her on my breaks. Between him bottle feeding her my frozen milk and bringing her to the store I was able to nurse her for over a year.
Lee was a very attentive father, always taking care of her when I was at work. But unfortunately, he discouraged any relationship between Ashley and her siblings. In fact, he acted like he resented my kids and he made sure they knew it. After she was born, Lee borrowed his brother’s brand-new video camera and it became a permanent fixture on his shoulder. Ashley was on camera from the time she was a tiny baby. This was before cell phones with great cameras were invented.
Jeremy took an immediate liking to his new sister and watched over her when Lee wasn’t around. He continued to be the man of the house taking care of the rest of his siblings while I worked. He found time to hang out with his friends in the neighborhood and he and I often spent time together throwing the basketball, playing catch or getting involved in a card game whenever we could steal a few minutes from daily life.
Kristy, who had turned ten shortly after Ashley was born, was my creative child and she had quite an imagination. A favorite game of hers was decorating the dining room table with colorful material. “Mommy, can I take your order?” she’d ask. Some afternoons when I came home from work, she’d run to greet me at the door with a plate of homemade cookies and lemonade. Sometimes Kristy imagined she was a mommy and mother her little brother. Lee didn’t trust her with Ashley and made sure she didn’t spend any quality time with our new addition. She was brokenhearted. All she wanted was to be a big sister to our baby. She just wanted to please me and make me happy and she did whatever she could to receive attention from her stepdad. Incredibly he just continued to ignore her or belittle her. I spent most of my time worrying about my children’s feelings.
I worked different schedules, and when I had to leave before the kids got home from school, I’d walk across the street looking for my two younger ones who were usually at recess.
“Kristy, I have to go to work now. I will miss you. I love you v
ery much.”
She’d reach out to me through the fence and we’d spend a little bit of time together before I had to leave. “I love you too, Mommy. Wish you didn’t have to go.”
Jeff would wave. “See you later, Mommy. Hurry and come home.”
He was happy-go-lucky and was popular with his little friends. But the longer Lee was in the picture, the more it affected Jeff. He seemed to lose his good-natured personality and he began to act fearful and insecure. He’d come home from school wearing his jacket zipped up under his chin and refuse to take it off no matter what the weather was. Lee would belittle him about taking off the jacket. I came to realize later it was his security blanket. Jeff spent hours playing with his friends or his brother and sister and he kept himself out of his stepfather’s way as much as possible. They all did well in school, and I didn’t notice any disciplinary problems. In fact, they were a joy to be around. From all outward appearance, you’d never know the scars that were forming in their young hearts.
We celebrated Kristy’s l0th birthday by having a dance party at our house with several of her girlfriends and neighborhood boys. We’d laugh and act silly, although Lee would get angry when the kids or I got more attention than he did. He wanted to be the star of the show. The kids and I had more fun times when he was out of the house, which unfortunately, wasn’t often enough. Since he rarely worked he always seemed to be around except when he would leave to take Ashley to parks and restaurants around town.
When I’d come home from work he and Ashley would usually be gone. I missed my baby. After a long day at work I wanted to hold her in my arms. His relationship with our new daughter became obsessive. It was evident to the other kids that she was the star. When I was away at work Lee often dressed her up in frilly dresses and took her to restaurants where the waitresses swooned over her. He loved the attention! In fact, he hardly took the kids and me anywhere after she was born. He bought stuffed animals and toys and presented them to Ashley while my children stood by and watched. I felt helpless to do anything. I couldn’t understand his behavior and I didn’t realize at the time how much it was hurting my kids.
32
Restoration
“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
When I was pregnant we took a trip to California to visit my older brother, Mike and some of my old friends. One of Mrs. Kinzer’s boys from my neighborhood had recently bought my childhood home. I asked him if I could walk through my house where I had lived when my father and mother were married. 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 knew it was time for the little girl inside of me to be healed.
My father lived nearby and shortly before Ashley was born, he had begun to stop by frequently and would randomly visit me at work. Even after all the time that had passed, I still needed his love and acceptance. I never blamed him for the sexual abuse because I had long ago convinced myself it was my fault, even though my mother told me it wasn’t. I started to notice that being around him felt uncomfortable and I found myself cringing when he’d reach out to hug me. Afterwards, I’d feel guilty for feeling that way.
Rosa and I still prayed together but not as often after I married Lee. She helped me to understand that God wanted to heal me of the deep hurts in my heart that I had hidden away. I continued to ask God to show me how I could change. I had recently begun listening to a Christian radio program where several psychiatrists answered questions about life issues. I started to read their books. They taught that we are all products of our childhood. It was if the blinders were slowly coming off and I began to understand I had a lot of unresolved anger and resentment towards my father, ex-husband, Lee, and God. I thought the past could no longer hurt me. I began to realize the choices I had made in my life were a direct result of being sexually molested. I felt like a child reacting to situations the same way I had as a little girl. Erroneously, I still blamed myself for what my father had done to me, believing it was my fault and I was filled with shame, guilt and self-loathing. The Bible said my Savior, Jesus Christ loved me unconditionally but all I could focus on were all the bad things about myself that I hated. How come He didn’t see them?
I was beginning to understand that because the relationship I had with my earthly father was abusive, it was hard for me to accept God as a kind and loving father. I know at certain times in my life I had tried to believe it, but I don’t know if I ever really accepted it. I still hadn’t realized what could transpire in my life when I fully acknowledged the real healing power from the Lord and the power God had to change my life. “He brought them out of darkness and the deepest gloom and broke away their chains.” Psalms 107:14
I went to visit Rosa after my vacation and told her how I had felt when I had walked into my old house again.
“I’m also feeling uncomfortable when my dad pays me a visit and he hugs me when he leaves. I hate the way it makes me feel when he touches me, it makes me cringe,” I explained.
“I know you still blame yourself for what happened. I think you’re feeling uncomfortable with your dad’s touch because it’s time for you to confront him,” Rosa said.
“Why did God let it happened?” I questioned. “He had the power to stop it.”
“I don’t know the answer to that,” she took my hands in hers. “Let’s give this to Jesus and ask him. Now close your eyes and imagine the homes you grew up in where the abuse occurred. Describe to me what you see.”
“I can see the room and can also picture the bed it happened on. I am lying there and I can see myself as a little girl. “My dad is coming in. He pulls back the covers and lies down with me. He begins to touch me and I ask him to stop. He won’t.”
“Can you see Jesus? Is he there with you?” Rosa asked.
“Yes, yes he is. He is sitting near the bed and he can see what is happening to me.”
“What is he doing?”
“His head is in his hands and big tears are rolling down his cheeks. I think he is crying for me.”
“Debbie if he is there with you, why doesn’t he stop it?”
“I can see him shaking his head sadly, crying the whole time, and He looks toward me and says, ‘your father has his own will and I cannot stop a person’s free will.”
“What else is Jesus saying to you?”
With my eyes tightly closed I felt as if I could hear Jesus say, “I chose you. I was always with you. I am here with you now. I will never leave you.” It wasn’t as if I heard an audible voice but instead it was an impression in my mind.
Opening my eyes, tears streaming down my face, I understood for the first time why God did not stop my dad. He hurt for me, he watched it all, tearfully knowing he couldn’t make my dad stop. The vision the Lord put in my head would become instrumental in my future restoration.
No longer mad at God, I found myself feeling angry towards my father. I finally felt strong enough to confront him. I knew it was the right time. I realized I hadn’t really trusted my heavenly Father to take care of me because I had been so deeply wounded by my earthly father. “Please help me to really trust you,” I asked God in my prayers.
My father liked to buy old, broken-down used cars. Because I lived outside the city limits, he used my address to receive the titles of the cars he was buying, so he wouldn’t have to pay sales tax. I began to feel used and taken advantage of. It reminded me of how I had felt as a child. I asked my mother if she would sit with me while I confronted my father.
“I’m so angry at that man for what he did to my girls. I will tell him myself how he messed up your lives.”
“No, Mom, this is something I need to do. I just need your support and I need courage.”
“Okay. I’ll be here for you.”
&nbs
p; Nervously, I dialed his number. “Daddy, I don’t want you using my address anymore and if anything else comes in the mail I will throw it right in the trash. I feel like you’re using me just like you did when I was a child to satisfy your own desires.”
“Oh, honey please, please do not throw my mail away. You know I would never do anything to hurt you.”
Those were the exact words he had said to me as a child while I laid helpless in my bed in the darkness of the night. And he did hurt me, physically, as well as emotionally and spiritually.
“I mean it! I remember everything you did to me when I was little. You better not use my address again. Don’t come visit me and don’t ever call me. I want nothing to do with you ever!”
“Honey, don’t throw my mail away,” was all he said.
Click! I hung up on him. I felt like an enormous weight had lifted off my shoulders. For the first time in my life I transferred the blame to where it should have gone in the first place-on him! I had been an innocent child and he violated me. He used my body with no regard to what it would do to me later on. In that instant, all the hatred I had felt about myself transferred onto him. I felt so angry! He had destroyed my trust in a loving God and had destroyed my faith in men. I had believed I was worthless all my life-even after becoming a Christian. The scars were so deep.
Over the years I had read books on incest and talked to people and had been prayed for. Now I was beginning to understand, only God could heal me from the inside out. Each week I was able to comprehend more truths. I began to see that I had chosen men who abused me either physically or verbally. It’s what I believed I deserved. It was comfortable in a familiar way and it was all I had ever known. After all, it was what I had grown up with. I was beginning to see the lies I had concocted in my own head because of what had been done to me. I was finally beginning to believe God had always loved me and I was worth loving. That was the truth, not the voices in my head that told me otherwise.
Something About Those Eyes Page 24