BITTER MEMORIES: A Memoir of Heartache & Survival (29 page)

Ann, my first protector, and the oldest of the others, tried to keep peace in
our
private little family. I truly don’t know what would’ve happened to me if she hadn’t saved me that first time with Daddy.

The terror I felt was what brought my wonderful angel to life, and she was always there to protect me. Being the strongest, Ann protected the others, too. She protected all of us from the cruelty of so many men who paid the evil stepmother to get their
kicks
with a scared little girl. I trusted Ann and the others; I loved them.

Ann truly was a guardian angel. 

Until Ann arrived I’d been so lonely…so lost. Ann and the others saved me from unbearable heartache and physical pain so many times. I owe them my life.

After I learned they were
real
and accepted each of them for the roles they played in my survival, even though I felt extreme gratitude, I was still scared to admit hearing voices because of what
society
would think. I was afraid of ending up in a sanitarium in a straightjacket!

I haven’t been visited by them, or their voices, in over thirty years, but I’d like to believe, if needed, they’d still be right by my side helping me.

As for Daddy—I came to realize that I hated him for a long time, but no longer. I still don’t like him, and the things he did to Mama and me, like Granddad said, are unforgivable. But, if I feel anything at all towards him now, it’s pity.

Love? I don’t think of love when I think of Daddy. He didn’t know the meaning of the word. Daddy’s love for me was a backhand across my face, sex and instilled fear.

After all I’ve learned, as well as the pain I endured, again I ask myself if I love Daddy, and my answer today is a firm—NO! How could I love the man who did all the things he did? All the things a father isn’t supposed to do to his daughter?

He didn’t act like a father, so I no longer feel an obligation to love him like one. Besides, love can’t exist or thrive with fear as its motivator. 

True love is wonderful and should be cherished. It should be respected and nourished. The
proper
kind of love truly is unconditional. When true love lives in the heart, everything is breathtakingly beautiful, and to share that beauty—that love—with a spouse, a relative, or a close friend is a gift to be appreciated and treasured.

Unfortunately, Daddy never learned that lesson.

I don’t have terrifying nightmares to haunt me any longer, but I wonder if Daddy ever had nightmares of the
bad
things he did.

As for Olivia—It took many years of soul searching, but I no longer blame her for her beliefs, or for trying to
beat the meanness
out of me. Who knows? Maybe she did. Maybe because of the daily
whippings
I turned out the way I did.

She didn’t have the greatest childhood, either. Olivia was younger than I was when her mother died. She was raised by her father, a preacher, who I liked a lot, but from stories heard, being a preacher’s kid is just as hard as being a cop’s kid.

Her dad eventually remarried, but I don’t know the relationship Olivia had with her stepmother. I do know, for many years she didn’t have a woman’s influence to teach her how to be a good mother. I’m sure Olivia did the best she knew how to raise me. I just wish she’d known that listening, believing in a person, hugs, kindness, and understanding goes a lot further to building a loving bond than a belt, switches or paddles.

I believe if she’d gotten me the professional help I needed when I first went to live with them, my life would’ve been much better. I wouldn’t have had the worthless feelings, the sorrow, and the gut wrenching pain I lived with for so many years. Even as an adult I couldn’t shake these feelings. 

Several years ago I forgave Olivia for not knowing any better, and maybe, under different circumstances, we might’ve been friends like she had been with my mother.

All my life, until I found Dr. D, I tried to run from my feelings. I tried to run from myself. Like my mother, for quite a few years, I also tried to drown myself in a bottle of booze. I couldn’t face those feelings that I
really
was no good; that I had turned out like Daddy.

Nearly fifty years later, if I dwell on it, I can still feel that gut-wrenching sadness overpowering my thoughts with what
could’ve been
IF Daddy hadn’t kidnapped me, IF Mama hadn’t turned to alcohol, IF Mama hadn’t died…IF I’d known at ten years old Aunt Julie and Uncle Jason wanted me.

I lived with Henry and Olivia for eight
long
years, and even though parts of it never turned out the way I wanted, or had hoped, my only regrets today are: (1) I didn’t have enough quality time with Henry, (2) I didn’t find out until grown I could’ve had a happy life with Aunt Julie and Uncle Jason and, (3) I waited so long to seek professional help.

The latter, I partly blame Olivia for. She never let me talk to the preacher, and even when our family doctor examined me for the first time and told her I’d been treated in ways a little girl shouldn’t have been, she refused to get me help. Just another case of my family’s motto
:
sweep it under the rug…it never happened!
 

But that’s okay! The main thing I always had going for me, like my mother, was my hardheadedness! I had a strong will to live a life different from the teachings of Daddy, and I proved Olivia wrong—I’m not anything at all like
him
!

I believe, today, that scared little kid has come a long way toward living a happy, fulfilled life, and even though my life started out as crap, then continued to be somewhat crappy for several more years, I climbed out of that gutter.

I climbed ALL the way Up to the TOP!

Normal? That’s something I’ll never know.

IF I’d had a “normal” life—
that’s not so important anymore—and
, whatever the hell “normal” is—
it can’t be any better than the life I have now.

It’s been a long hard struggle for many, many years, but thanks to Dr. D and the four years of weekly therapy with him, and of course with assistance from Ann, Jean, Polly, and Scottie—I made it!

Taking on a life of its own, my story has dealt with explosive topics that former child victims of mental, physical and sexual violence will understand, and I hope it will help “regular” people understand the pain and sadness endured.

Child abuse, neglect and/or abduction
are
national epidemics.

I urge parents of abducted kids—the ones who beat the statistics and were found alive—
please
don’t wait to get the child professional help. Even if they
seem
to be okay, unknown fears may be lurking; just waiting to destroy the child.

For any adult survivor of abuse, with or without abduction, seek help immediately. Talk to someone. Buried fears could be waiting to raise its ugly head; waiting to keep you from living a fulfilling, wonderful life without hidden pain of the abuse/abduction, and whatever else may have happened during that experience.

Even if you haven’t experienced this firsthand, but you know of a parent or a child who was abused or abducted, share my story.
Help save that child; make a difference.
Recommend this book so that person can receive the help needed. It’s not necessary to live with the pain, the unknown feelings of—it’s my fault; I’m being punished for being
bad
; my life isn’t worth living.

My life was a living hell; one of the extreme worst, but it doesn’t take
extreme
to mess up a child’s head. It doesn’t take
extreme
to possibly drive that child to taking his or her own life because the pain inside becomes overwhelming.

My story was told in hopes another child might be saved from such a life. 

As for me—Today I believe I
am
a good person. I
am
capable of loving, and being loved, and I’m happy. With a wonderful man in my life for twenty years, and a handful of really terrific friends who I hold very dear to me, I feel exceptionally lucky.

Lucky, not only because I was one of the fortunate kids to be found alive and, for the most part, healthy after years of being missing, but I have people who love me and respect me for the person I am today—not for who I
might’ve
been or
could’ve
been so many years ago. 

Today, my life is unbeatably the best it can be!

I am a survivor!

.

About the Author

Kidnapped when she was three years old, Sue began her writing career as a means of escape from the emotional scars and repetitive nightmares from her childhood. She started her first book, a sci-fi, in grade school. With only one more chapter to write, her aunt found the manuscript hidden in Sue’s closet. Without reading it, she called it garbage, a waste of time and paper, then forced Sue to watch as she tore it up and threw it in the trash. Giving up writing until she had left home at 18, Sue started writing poetry, then wrote her first book, the memoir about her life after the kidnapping. Not stopping there, she’s written two other books in this series, and has a new poetry book out that exposes feelings never shared before. She is currently working on a series of short stories. Today she lives in Nevada with her husband, two dogs, a cat and a bird. She enjoys the outdoors, reading and writing. All of her books are available as e-books and on Kindle. Her poetry book is also in audio.

Contact the Author

Website:
http://sj2448.wix.com/suejulsen

Email:
[email protected]