A testimonial

When I was about 4 years old, I was fascinated by the sound that a zippo cigarette lighter makes when the flint is being struck, so I borrow a zippo cigarette lighter from my paternal grandfather during one of my visits. We were visiting his brother, Newt, at the time. I took the zippo to the living room and proceeded to spin the stricker wheel. I ended up catching my hair on fire, as well as the sofa and drapes. My paternal grandfather and his brother doused the flaming sofa and drapes while my paternal grandmother put me in the shower and doused my hair. I did not understand how a zippo cigarette lighter worked or what fire actually did until I accidentally caught myself on fire. At this time, my paternal grandfather was involved in a business partnership with his brother, Newt. Newt and my grandfather sometimes argued about what was the best way to operate their joint farming endeavor. My grandfather eventually got out of the business relationship.

When I was about 4 years old, I went with one of my female cousins to visit her father. He had a horse that he let us ride. The first trip around the yard, I sat behind her on the horse while she showed me how to "drive." The second trip around the yard, I got to sit in front and guide the horse. As we neared the clothesline, I yelled for her to duck her head so that she would not be strangled by the clothesline. Apparently, she did not hear my warning and she did not duck her head. The clothesline caught her in the throat and it cut into her neck and yanked from the back of the horse. I manged to halt the horse and began yelling for an adult to come quickly because Kimmy had been injured. her step-mother came running over (she had been watching from nearby) and began yelling for her husband to phone an ambulance. Kimmy was taken to the hospital and she survived.

When I was about 4 years old, my mother and I resided with her parents in their home. I sometimes accompanied my maternal grandparents when they went to town on errands. One Saturday, I accompanied my maternal grandfather to the barber shop so he could get a trim. I stayed in the car while he went in to get his hair trimmed. The barber decided to play a practical joke on my grandfather and told him that I had set his car on fire. My grandfather rushes out to the car and jerks me out of it threatening to kill me. One of his older male children has slyly followed his father to town to spy on his behaviour toward me and hears him threaten me as well as the barber stating that he had been joking about me setting the car on fire. My grandfather continues to threaten me until my uncle points a loaded shotgun at him and forced him to put me down.

When I was between the ages of 3 and 6 years of age, my paternal grandparents sold their farm and moved to Oklahoma where my paternal grandfather went into a business partnership with one of his relatives. He lost most of the money that he had invested in the business and soon moved back to Indiana where he eventually bought a house. As far as I knew at this time, my paternal grandfather was not wealthy nor was I aware of any business relationship that he had resumed with his brother, Newt. They still spoke to one another but did not seem as friendly toward one another.

When I was approximately 5 or 6 years old, I was again visiting Newt. One of his younger grandchildren and myself decided to do him a favor by tending his livestock in the barn. When we got to the barn, we discovered a fire in the hayloft. One of his (Newt's) other grandchildren was in the hayloft on fire. We formed a bucket brigade and yelled that there was a fire. We also set about freeing the tethered animals. We had walked past my older Uncle R. on the way into the barn, prior to our discovering the fire. We were questioned afterward in the presence of Uncle R., who accused us of setting the fire in the barn. Uncle R. is older than us, so he was believed rather than us. We were not searched for the presence of either matches or a cigarette lighter.

As I was wandering through the house at the age of 6, I heard my mother tell her second husband that she had never loved me because I had been born with a heart murmur and she would not permit herself to get emotionally close to me because I could drop dead from a heart attack. She supposed that since I had not yet dropped dead that she would have to learn how to love me. Her nickname for me was "the beast" as in the beast of the east because I supposedly acted beastly. She said that since she had given birth to me that she would be held responsible for my welfare, so I would receive the minimum of medical care and necessities just to keep me alive.

Once when I was about 7 or 8 years old, I became fascinated with English customs. I read about the fact that they placed copper pennies over the eyes of deceased people. I somehow decided that American pennies were too small but I wanted to see what someone would look like with their eyes covered in this manner, I had a bottle cap collection. An uncle lived with us and while he was napping one day, I decided to use him for my experiment. I placed a bottle cap over each of his eyes. I then awoke him by telling him to remove the caps from his eyes. I was afraid of poking his eyes out. He panicked and while removing them, scratched one of his eyes. He had to go to the doctor for antibiotics. I got in trouble and was forced to discard my bottle cap collection. My mother keeps accusing me of purposely trying to blind him to this day.

Once again, I was taken to visit Uncle Newt. While playing inside the house with them, I discovered that a fire had been set in the master bedroom. Another of their grandchildren had been set on fire. I yelled that there was a fire and all of the adults came running. I was again accused of setting a fire. There was not a cigarette lighter or matches in my possession at this time, but nobody asked this question nor was I searched.

As the years progressed, I realized that I was treated differently than my younger sister. I was scolded and beaten more. The following contains some of the truth but memory may not permit the telling of it all. My mother frequently dated men and allowed her by now 2nd ex-husband to hang about. Due to the fact that he had tried to strangle her in front of my very eyes, I did not want him around. I let the fact be known. We relocated a great number of times.

We even lived with one of my aunts, who had a passion for "uppers" and "downers." One day I watched her beat my cousin with a coathanger. I changed my mind about being so fond of her after that. I was only 9 years old at the time and had to live wherever my mother lived since she had full custody of me. We soon moved away from that place and got one of our own.

When I was 11, we had moved to yet another town. I was getting tired of making friends only to leave them behind so I didn't make as many. I liked the way my mother dressed and borrowed her clothing for school. I got yelled at a lot. I started babysitting for my younger sister (I am the eldest). I was told to discipline her if she did something wrong then I got yelled at by my mother for doing so.

The summer I turned 11, I decided to spend the summer with my father. He had visitation rights but seldom came to visit. AT first everything was nice. I was enjoying the visit. We went to Michigan to visit some relatives of his second wife's. Billy and I got into a verbal disagreement and became so frustrated when I would NOT agree with his point of view that he kicked me between the legs. It hurt so bad that I doubled over and collapsed onto the grass. I arose gritting my teeth against the pain and to teach him a lesson, I kicked him between the legs.

My then step-mother had supposedly been watching out the window and only saw me kick him so I was the only one who got punished. Some of her nephews had witnessed the whole disagreement between Billy and myself and were planning on beating the hell out of Billy for kicking me just because I would not let him have his way. They only changed their mind after I had kicked Billy back. I could not urinate very well for at least a week after Billy kicked me. I eventually was taken to a doctor by my mother and treated for a severe urinary tract infection and he stated that severe trauma to the female urethra such as would be caused by a kick could cause inflammation that would prohibit urination and that could be the cause of my urinary tract problems.

My father eventually talked me into living with him and he filed for custody. I began school and he raped me for the first time, his second wife caught him raping me. He threatened both of us with harm if we ever told anyone that he raped me. I was getting yelled at more and was being treated differently than my father had said I would be (before he raped me).

I started to develop breasts. I got caught lying about some lunch tickets that I had lost and he forced me to pull down my pants so that he could paddle me. I had lost them in the dirty laundry and had been therefore been forced to skip lunch but I had lied about skipping lunch because I feared getting in trouble for losing my lunch tickets. I had a phone number for my mother that I called and arrangements were made to pick me up without my father's knowledge.

My mother collected me and drove me to our new home in Florida where she informs that she is no longer going to be "Miss nasty nice." We are then staying with her mother, eventually I get my own room. I start getting beat on very often with no explanation. My mother eventually whispers in my ear her beliefs about me. I am NOT nor have I ever been "in love with" my mother, romantically interested or sexually attracted to my mother, she believes differently. She beat on me because of her belief.

I was not permitted to date boys until I am sixteen years old, nor was I permitted to be among a group of my female schoolmates who meet a group of boys at the movies or resteraunts or malls or anything except school. My schoolmates then accused me of being a lesbian and both "clothesline" and physically nail me to a cross outside of our junior high school. Two of my female classmates were also crucified when I was but rather than being nailed to their respective crosses, they were fastened there with rope. My mother blames me for their bashing and demands to know what I did to deserve this treatment.

When I am 13, I decide that I have had more than enough of the beatings. I go to live with my paternal grandmother up north. My physical education instructer turns out to be a lesbian and she is dating one of the girls that I ride the bus with. My grandmother accuses me of being a lesbian because I have been talking to the girlfriend of my P.E. instructer. I get disciplined by her for it.

One of the boys that ride my bus asks me to have sex with him in the cornfield across from where I live. I refuse and pieces of property belonging to my paternal grandmother begin to be vandalized. She accuses me of being the vandal. I overhear some of Uncle Newts' grandchildren plotting to kill some of their relatives by setting them on fire and they believe that I will be blamed. They don't want anyone else to inherit the family farm so they are plotting the ruin of the rest of us. I tell my paternal grandmother who accuses me of lying. I again telephone my mother. She comes to get me. I told her about the conversation plotting my ruin that I overheard. She is skeptical of my story.

We live with another aunt for a time while I finish the school year. When school is out we move into a couple of tents at a campground because my mother has had an argument with her sister and a brother and we are no longer welcome at their houses. One night, while sleeping in the smaller of the tents with my younger sister, I am awoken by a gun shot. We are told that my mother was shooting at a raccoon that was trying to claw it's way into the tent I was sleeping in. In 1996, my mother informs me that she was shooting at me and accuses me of raping my younger sister that long ago summer in that pup tent.

At age 14, I discover that I am fond enough of a particular young man that I start talking about turning 18 and marrying him. He apparently wishes to marry me at 18 years of age. I discover that he is sterile due to a childhood illness and we discuss adoption as an option. With the beginning of school, we move to a mobile home near his home. I meet him on the sly and go for walks. I am not permitted to date until I am 16.

We eventually move to an apartment building away from him but I continue to speak to him when I can, which is seldom as we attend different schools. While walking to school one morning, my younger sister decides (despite my advice) that she wants a ride to school from a total stranger. I end up chasing the car down the street on foot. I go to her school and ask for information about her but the teachers will either not help out of meanness or because I am not her parent. I go to my high school and enlist the aid of various vice-principals as well as the principal, to no avail. I go home, get accused of trying to murder my younger sister, get slapped around and remember the gunshot while camping the previous summer. I slap her (my mother) back, get knocked down and my mother starts beating my head against the floor. She is sitting on me, so I end up having to throw her off after leveraging my leg in between the two of us. She takes me to my fathers' place of business and tells him that she can't handle me, for him to take me. He says that he does not want me. She gets back in her car and drives away. I am intimidated by my father so I stay outside after following my mother out. After dark, I contact some friends, who come and get me. I stay with them about a week and then am relocated to an aunt's house.

I live with her for a few monthes. Get blamed for various activities that I am not guilty of. Get caught in the bushes with my boyfriend. Get punished. Go to a custody hearing. Get lectured on womans' proper place in the scheme of things. Get yelled at. Contemplate suicide. Get thrown out. I end up in a foster home for a while. Eventually, I end up back with my mother who has recently remarried.

My maternal grandmother supposedly is lonely in Florida and wants my company, before the first semester is over, I am taken to Florida by my mother and new step-father. A couple of my friends from Indiana give me a marijuana cigarette as a "going away" present. I hide it on my person and it goes to Florida with me. After a week or so my mother and step-father return to Indiana without me. I start school and eventually smoke my marijuana cigarette with a new friend. I live in Florida until the school year is over when I return by airplane to Indiana. I am again "clotheslined" while asleep in my bed and then nailed to a cross on a vacant piece of land. My grandmothers' beau luckily has followed me because he heard a rumor and was concerned for my well-being so he rushes to my assistance. My grandmother does not believe the reasons for this bashing either. I work for my step-father that summer upon my return to Indiana.

I begin my junior year of high school in Indiana. My grandmother wants me to return to Florida, my mother won't let me. My mother and step-father argue about the fact that he wants her to continue using cocaine and she supposedly wants to quit. My step-father makes "a pass" at one of my old school friends who has been living with us. She sneaks off to Ohio to get away from our household. We move out of my grandmother's mobile home where unbeknownst to me, she was paying all of our utility bills and permitting us to live rent free. We first move to a large, two story house that we get kicked out of because of my mother's wild decorating ideas.

We move across town, where I end up sleeping in a drafty converted porch. I am forced to sleep with my door closed which decreases the amount of heat available in my room. It's winter and I catch a cold due to the chill in my bedroom. My step-father refuses to accomodate me in my request that he turn down the volume on the television so that I can leave my door open at night. He is drinking alcoholic beverages more heavily and more frequently. My mother finally discovers that I like Elton John, three years after I start collecting his recordings. She complains very loudly about the company I keep at school and tells me that I am only allowed to speak to Frankie and Bobbie. For a week I talk only to them. I get yelled at by my mother for continuing to be seen conversing with my "druggie friends." I finally conclude that my mother has confused Frankie and Bobbie with "straight (non drug using)" people. I only speak at school when spoken to and begin to avoid even Frankie and Bobbie.

One night while I am sleeping, my mother comes storming into my bedroom, screaming at me to turn down my stereo. It had been off all evening. She said the loud volume of my music was bothering my step-father. I told her that it had been turned off all evening and that I had been asleep when she came into my room. She accuses me of lying and threatens to cut the power cord off of my stereo.

Soon after this incident, my step-father yells at my younger sister for watching a cartoon (Strawberry Shortcake) that my mother had given her permission to watch. He said that due to the fact that one of the characters was a magacian that it was satanic and could screw up her mind. He threatened to beat her ass if she did not turn it off. I told him that our mother had given her permission to watch it and told him that if he beat her ass then I would beat his. He threatened to "put me thru a wall." When my mother gets home, I get yelled at and punished by her about this argument. Around this time, I watch this step-father attempt to push my mother down the stairs during one of his arguments with her. I begin to plot ways of getting all of us away from his influence, including becoming a drug dealer (which did NOT happen due to the fact that there already was one in my immediate household). The local drug lords did not desire having two people in the same household owing them money for drugs.

One evening after school, I come home to find my mother amidst the pieces of my stereo. She starts screaming at me that she wants to know where my (illicit) drugs are hidden because she can't find them. She had assumed they were inside my stereo but obviously they are not. I asked her what she was talking about as I know that I haven't had any illicit drugs since my "goodbye present" of the year before. She continues screaming at me. Soon thereafter, I discover that I am going to live with total strangers who operate a home for "wayward" girls in Georgia.

I resist going as I am actually NOT guilty of any of the more recent things she has accused me of. My step-father supposedly was an expert on my behaviour at school because his buddy who worked there told him all. The buddy was known to "party" with some of my schoolmates but had never done so with me. A couple of years later, I discover that my step-father was trying to hide his drug stash from my mother and had forgotten where he had put it and he had assumed that I had stolen it. Somewhere along the line, my mother starts calling me a little bitch.

I was in that home for "wayward" girls for about a year and a half. I had almost no money as hardly anyone ever sent me any. The minister in charge kept forcing me to write my mother asking for money. She had agreed to pay for my care and had not been doing it and he wanted to know why. He did not believe me when I told him that she probably did not have it because we were not that wealthy. As far as I know, he never got any money from my mother though he had full custody of me.

In one of the letters that I wrote to my mother, I mentioned that we travelled a great deal with the travelling evangilist and that sometimes we were taken to the mall to go shopping. I hardly ever had any money for shopping, though one time, I did have a couple of bucks that I spent on new guitar strings. I also may have mentioned to her that one of the churches we had visited, had paid for all of the girls who resided in the home to got to "Six Flags." My mother promptly wrote me back stating that I was not to go anywhere except to school because she forbade it. The wife of the minister read all of our incoming mail before we got it and she asked me who my mother thought she was, because my mother no longer had custody of me and was no longer in charge of my supervision. The minister decided whether or not I travelled with him and whether or not I got to go to the mall and Six Flags and other places. The "commands" of my mother regarding where I was permitted to go were then purposely ignored by the minister and his wife and they actually seemed to flaunt the idea that I had their permission to do these things. We were always supervised by at least one adult on these outings.

I was forced by this minister to dress only as he desired me to dress. He also forced me to sing in the little gospel group he had formed out of the girls that he had custody of. We also had to give our "testimony" about how evil we had been before he had gotten ahold of us and our testimony had to jive with the things our parents had told him. I was threatened with a beating if I did not give my "testimony" so I started telling lies in every church that I supposedly gave my "testimony" in so that the minister would hear what he wanted to hear. He would have beaten me if he had heard the truth because he would not have believed the truth. He was a travelling evangelist and a lot of the time, we travelled with him to gain him sympathy and therefore larger "love" offerings from the churches he preached at. The money went directly into his pockets. He also sold tapes of his sermons and an earlier version of his gospel group than I sang with along with Bibles and Bible covers. Another girl and I once oversaw these transactions under the watchful eye of both the minister and his wife to insure that we gave them all of the money from these sales.

Many of the girls were physically abused by this minister who would happily give them 50 or more whacks with his paddle for any infraction of his many rules. I often saw the bruises that resulted from his discipline and was threatened with this discipline more than once. I finally got out of this place only after my mother had confessed to murduring her third husband. I did not attend the funeral because the minister had decided without consulting me that I should not attend.

My maternal grandmother then decided to visit the home for wayward girls in Georgia. Unbeknownst to me she had just argued with the minister over my whereabouts. She decided that I need out of the place and we discover at the local sheriff's department that legally I can live wherever I want. I decided to leave. My grandmother decides that I will travel with them to Florida. On the way there, she told me about how her new husband had talked to the mafia and hired a "hit man" to kill me. Then she talked about how she had a loaded gun in the trunk that she had been planning on killing me with if she found me but the argument she had with the Georgia minister had changed her mind about killing me.

I went to live with an aunt and after some run around got my school records from Georgia. I finished the school year and graduated in May of 1984. If I had remained in Georgia, I could have graduated a semester early but since I had left Georgia, I graduated at the end of the school year. I have never been a year behind in my studies, nor was I a later graduate from high school than I should have. My school records prove this to be so. They also will prove that I was in Georgia at the time my step-father was killed in Indiana.

Eventually my aunt found a "reason" to kick me out. It was partly because I refused to give her money out of my paycheck for my upkeep because she was already receiving money from the state of Indiana. I went to live with friends on their farm and I worked for them for room and board. After about a year, I found a job in a cabinet factory. I remained at their farm and paid them room and board and worked for them for free some of my days off. In 1985, I am hospitalized for an unknown illness and tested negative for HIV/AIDS. In 1986, we all relocated to a different farm north of where we had been living. I quit my job at their request and again worked for room and board.

At one point during this time, I paid a visit to some of my relatives on the paternal side of my family. They more or less accused me of murdering my step-father and demanded that I prove my innocence to them. I was too poor to travel to Georgia to get a copy of a police report stating that I had an airtight alibi and they refused to telephone the people I told them to contact. It was 9 years before I spoke to any of them again.

During this time, my mother was in prison and I wrote her about once a week. A part of the time, I had a post office box so that she and anyone else would have a difficult time finding my residence. I only wrote to her and some of my other relatives in order to keep track of their whereabouts so that I could attempt to avoid them.

In about 1988, the lady I had been living with had to have open heart surgery. She had an infection in her teeth and had to have her teeth pulled out. She also had an artificial heart installed. She was still fighting the infection when she was allowed to return home. It became my responsibility to administer her intravenous antibiotics. I was taught how by a home health care specialist. I also took care of most of the household chores as well as some of the outside work. She eventually got over the infection and she kept her extra pre-filled syringes that were filled with antibiotics.

She soon left her husband(Ray) and moved in with her youngest daughter. She was living with her a few monthes later when she died in her sleep on Christmas Eve. Her mechanical heart failed in the night. Her husband was at church when I got the phone call informing us of her death. Ray had been home all night due to the holiday and had gone to church alone. I had holiday related things to do around the house and stayed home from church. After the phone call informing me of Jean's death, I got in the car to go get Ray. I met him on the road a few miles from where he and I then lived.

I stayed on at the farm working for room and board and shouldered more and more responsibilities as time progressed. In approximately 1991, my mother got out of prison and eventually came to where I lived to get some things that I had been storing for her. Ray wanted the things I had been storing of hers gone. She decided to snoop around my house and found the pre-filled syringes that had been left over from the treatment of Jean's infection and accused me of being a heroin addict and stuck me with one. She said that she hoped I died of an overdose and she said that this is what she was going to tell the police when they arrived but she wanted to watch me die first. I started laughing and asked her how I was going to die of an overdose of antibiotic and then I went after the loaded shotgun, so that I could escort her out of my house.

During one of our visits to her house in Florida, she said that she would do anything to get me behind prison bars, including framing me for molesting one of my younger siblings. She also said that if she was not afraid of going back to prison that she would kill me and all of my "little friends." I grabbed my husband's arm (I had married Ray) and told him to help me pack our stuff as we were leaving. We gathered our possessions and left. Every visit that Ray and I made to the dwellings of my family members were announced prior to their occurence. In 1993, during our "honeymoon," I visited my "hippie" Uncle C in Florida.

In approximately 1993, I began communicating with my father again. Ray (my former husband) wanted us to reconcile. We visited each other a few times. During a visit from my father, he ( my father) told me that he had never been "in love" with either of his wives, one of which was my mother. He stated that he had lied to them about this because he wanted an heir. Even though genetically, I can pass on the genes from both sides of my family as well as my last name, I am still viewed as less than desirable by my father because I am female. A female heir was/is not what he (my father) wanted/wants.

I was invited to the home of his brother Bob one Christmas. I took my new husband, Ray. My uncle threatened out of the blue to shoot me if he ever caught me on his property again. I grabbed the arm of my husband, told him we were leaving and we left. I had only attended this family gathering out of curiousity. I suspected that it was animosity that I saw in the eyes of Bob and that he was trying to hide it with lies. I discovered that this was an accurate assessment during this visit. I also discovered that Bob is an egomaniac who erringly believes that he is favored by me. He is not my favorite uncle. I don't have one of those. I am my favorite relative.

My younger half-brother(Billy) eventually shows up at my door informing me that unbeknownst to everyone in our family except the two of us, that he has secretly reinlisted in the navy and is leaving soon. He asks me to keep this a secret and he will eventually inform his parents of this by mail. I remain silent on the matter. One day my father shows up at my door demanding to know "where his body is hidden." I asked him what he is talking about and he called me "a little bitch" and accused me of killing my step-brother(Billy). He had/has some letters that were mailed from a naval base that Billy had sent him but he believes them to be forgeries.

My father says that I should pay for my crimes and at the very least, I deserve to be raped and that he can do this and is willing. He tries to grab me and I duck under his arms and slip sideways away from him. He ends up hugging himself and looking surprised because he is. I head for the dubious safety of the house where I lock myself in and telephone my husband and inform him of my latest "conversation" with my father and his actions afterward. My husband decides that his presence is needed at home.

I lived with Ray in his house for 12 years between 1984 and 1996. I was married to him for 3 of those years. I again test negative for HIV/AIDS in 1996. My mother is astonished. I divorced him for a number of reasons. He and I could not agree on some important issues and my mother had threatened the safety of his family as well as his safety. Our divorce may or may not help protect him from my mother.

I moved to another state after my divorce became final. I again test negative for HIV/AIDS. I had another post office box. I continued to write to a couple of my relatives. My mother somehow got my phone number and contacted me wanting to visit. She wanted directions to my house which I refused to give her. I told her to call me when she got to my town and I'd then meet her someplace in town. She hung up in a huff.

I met a male who was/is secretly homosexual and we discuss homosexuality and HIV/AIDS. He had a friend who died of AIDS. He acts surprised when he claims that he can detect a little "bitch" in me. He was referring to the male homosexual definition of "bitch," which basically means "sex slave." I know because I asked.

Between 1998 and 2005, I have gradually ceased communicating with all of my relatives. I have little desire to speak to any of them at this time and some of them have been informed of this. I am currently being treated for depression and soon will start counseling that will hopefully help us decide if I am suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. My psychiatrist wishes me to cease all communication with my American family. He suspects they are suffering from Bipolar Disorder with psychotic tendencies. I am seeking safety and security and he knows it.