From Pain came Hope

This is one of the many painful memories embedded into my mind, at the age of 6 or 7 years of age. It talks of the abuse suffered from my own fathers hands.

My dad wanted me to sit on his lap. I was young and scared and my mom and brother were there.  Along with an aunt or an uncle, Cannot really recall...

I was hiding in the basement. I do not know why, but for some reason, that one night,  I chose not be in the family room.

My nanny was ironing our clothes. I liked her a lot. Her name was Ana. She always gave me treats and did her best to keep me in check.  Yet, that day, there was nothing she could do, as my father started  calling out for me.  I was not making any noise, just sitting on the stairs and observing how my nanny was 

ironing our clothes.  To this day, this one memory still causes  some pain, not as bad as before, yet the scar is still there.

So he starts calling out softly and I tell him that I am with the nanny

and do not want to watch tv. And deep within my being, my heart was starting to beat a tad faster, and my pulse started accelerating. My stomach started

fluttering and tightening as well. I started having a cold sweat, and hard 

as I tried, my body started shivering.  My mom told him to let me be, as I was not misbehaving but my dad was not appeased. She needs to learn respect!  I am the king of this household and she will do as I say!

     Each word, was said in a angry tone. I knew what was coming, yet I tried

stopping it.  Please, I am fine where I am, let me stay here, please...I said in my 

most bravado voice.  Than the warning came, he would count to 3 and after that, he would come for me. Tears ,started falling, as I tried to think,  Why? Why must he bother me. What does he want from me? I do not want to be with him. 

And than he started counting, very loudly...

1,.......... 2,............3,.............

My nanny took pity and told me to go before it got worse. As I got up

and started forcing my legs to move up the stairs, the pit in my 

stomach became cold and full of much dread.  And as I reached the 

very top, out of reflection, I put my hands over my butt and 

had no reason why. At least not back than.  As he saw me, he motioned me over and asked that I sit on his legs, and

I still was covering my butt with my tiny hands.  I was 5 1/2 years old at the time.  And he once again, told me to sit on his legs, and I said, No! Can I lay down next to my brother?

   He was laying on the rugged floor, unaware of what was about to happen.

My dad yelled, No, you come and sit on my lap, as any daughter would do

with her father!  And I started backing away, and nodding No, over and over, as tears started  spilling out of my eyes.   By that time, my heart was beating against my chest, and I was having difficulty breathing, 

as I begged my mom to intervene.  She gave me this sad look, and said, in her most quiet voice, Just do as he says, and nothing else has to happen to you.  I could not believe it, and right than  I felt betrayed and abandoned to my fate.

My dad tried grabbing my arm and I ran and tripped and he took his belt out and started hitting me, with no avail, or care to what he hit.  My brother finally realized something was happening and he stared out in fear, as my dad rained down on me, with kicks, and the belt and his hands.  His face was full of rage, and he kept on saying, How dare you disrespect me! I will show you

to respect me, as the king of this house!!!!

    I wailed, screamed and begged him to stop, as I curled into a fetal position, waiting to break free.  My mother, started pleading that he stop, but never got close  to him or me.  My brother, was too young to do much, and deep within he knew if he tried anything he would be next. I was finally able to scramble under this chair, it was big enough for me to hide under.  He still came after me.

   That night, I had been wearing my favorite overalls.  They were red, and soft and comfy.  Underneath I had a colored t shirt on.  My mom would always have to beg me to take my outfit off, in order to get it washed.  So on this very night, full of his rage, he ruined my favorite outfit, and did not  stop there.  He finally dragged me out from under the chair, and punched me in my face, and I think 

I saw stars, before I sort of passed out.  My head was screaming out in pain, my chest and rib cage were trying to keep up, as I came to, and yelled with all my might.

   Blood, pain, so much pain, and my nose, was never the same.  Finally, once he saw the blood he stopped and said, it was all my fault. And my mother finally came  and helped me off the floor, as I cried out that my overalls had been ruined, and how my nose and body ached.  She took me to my room and took off my clothes, took me to the  bathroom and washed off the blood.  After that she put my pjs on, and told me that I needed to go back downstairs and apologize for provoking him.  As it was all my fault.

   I never understood, what I had done, to merit such a beating as the one he had given me. I told her, that I was not in the wrong, and he was the one that needed to ask for my forgiveness but she said that as my father, I had disrespected him, and how I am supposed to honor both mother and father, for the bible tells us so. My heart was shattered, and broken, full of many scars, and I bled out that night. And eventually I did go down, and asked for his forgiveness, and he stroked my head, and called me his Princess.  

   For years after that, I kept reliving this moment, time and time again,

in my sleep and awake. Pondering on what I ever did do wrong, to provoke him 

into this fitful rage.  He broke my nose that night, but never took me to the ER.

And my heart kept on bleeding out, seeking answers and such. He never liked my questions and would fill my mind with much negativity, yet I never stopped asking until God finally, came and took me, to a place,

where He finally revealed the truth I had been seeking and my healing 

journey began, after that.

   And what had been meant for bad was turned around for good, 

and now that I know the truth, I will never stop standing up,

for those, that such as I, have faced abuse of any kind from the hands

of those, that were meant to love and protect us.

   Pain meant to kill me but instead I found God within my pit,

and He took me out, and gave me Hope and Love and Forgiveness.

So no longer am I bound to pain, but Hope.

Reviews

[Accalia]

I felt like I was reliving this with you..great work I could hear the screams, yelling, the whip of the belt...the crunch of bones breaking, I will admit this did bring back some painful memories of my own but I don't regret reading this. Thank you for sharing and keep on writing.

[Hope]

This is really touching Maria.
Thanks for sharing this:)

[rowan.taylorrr]

this created the image in my head. this piece is full of abuse and sadness and just pure pain. I really like how it has a happy ending, keep writing. you're amzing

[Coyote Poetry]

A very sad story written. Abuse is cold and heartless. You create bad situation that became worst and more scary. Poor children raised in hell. Can they find peace? Thank you Maria for sharing the powerful tale.
Coyote

[Carol Cashes]

Want to review but just too mad, first. Starkly and truthfully told, with no sparing the reader's sensibilities. I love that - if you can live it, they can certainly read it. Let them flinch, your need to write it is more important. Well done, and again, love that you spared the reader nothing.

[Maria]

totally understand where you are coming from Carol, and I truly appreciate your input and encouragement as well.

[Priyanshi]

OMG. How could a father do so!... He is unbelievable. Overall your work is great..thank you for sharing.

[Maria]

Thanks for reading and your input. I lived through years of physical abuse and other stuff too. He would always back himself up with bible verses that he would interpret in ways to clear his own conscious.

[Priyanshi]

My pleasure...
That's been too difficult for you...

[Maria]

Yeah but I am not going to let that keep me down.