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From Hell I Come To This - Part 2
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From Hell I Come To This - Part 2 From Hell I Come To This – Part 2 Moving from rural Ga to Long Island, NY was a culture shock of epic proportions for a 13 year old . I was the only in a house of 5 adults. My grandparents, my great-uncle, my dad and my aunt all lived in the same house. It was the summer when I moved. My grandmother was a retired 5th grade school teacher, had taught nursing and been an OR nurse for 20 years before that. She got me into a great psychiatrist immediately. She also had me tested in every way possible physically, intellectually, mentally, psychologically, you name it, she had the tests done. My 1st therapist was a survivor of Auschwitz concentration camps. She watched her entire family exterminated. My grandmother couldn’t have picked a better therapist for me to see. She taught me so much and probably shaped and modeled me into the strong survivor I am today. I don’t remember my birthday that year at all. There are large portions of those years I don’t remember and probably never will. I do remember trying to make friends with the neighborhood . I was teased mercilessly for my accent. I thought I’d found a boyfriend in a guy slightly older than me who was friends with the older brother of a neighbor. He rode me around on his handle bars of his bike to show me his house on the bay. We swam in his pool and he fucked me repeatedly. When school started, he pretended he didn’t know me. I was devastated. The school system insisted I retake all the standardized tests because they didn’t believe my scores could be as high as they were. Lots of people couldn’t understand me because my accent was so thick. I had similar problems because they spoke so fast. My dad and grandmother fought with the school system until they were satisfied I was well above average intelligence. They still refused to put me in the gifted program for a year. School was a horror for me. Somehow the students learned that I was only in NY because I was sexually abused and the rumors of me being a slut started. I was allowed to work in the library during my lunch and study hall because I was constantly harassed and even followed home by groups of taunting and teasing me. The following year, I was moved to the gifted program, started in the drama and arts programs. My grades never slipped below 95 in any class. Emotionally, mentally, I was a wreck. I was diagnosed with severe PTSD, depression, migraines, bleeding stomach ulcers, low blood sugar and blood pressure and several other things I don’t remember. I walked and talked in my sleep constantly and those were good nights when I didn’t wake up screaming. During the PTSD episodes I would have visual and auditory hallucinations. I cried uncontrollably for days and slept for days when I wasn’t crying. When I wasn’t in school I was in therapy, support groups, art or drama programs. I read more books than my family could buy. I spent hours on end in libraries reading everything from fiction to self-help books for abuse survivors. I was obsessed with finding a way to get my sister and brother out of the hell I knew they were living in. My mother wouldn’t speak to me. Within a year she abandoned my siblings and ran off to PCB, FL. Well, no one knew where she was for months. She just disappeared. My little sister called me crying because the babysitter was calling all of my family because my mom had been gone 2 days. They were sent to their dad’s for over a year. My family in NY tried to be supportive but they were not equipped to handle an emotionally damaged . My whole family was cowed by my father. He ruled the house with his tirades, mood swings and demands. I spend countless hours listening to him rant about his past with my mother, other women, Vietnam and all the other injustices in his life. As I learned to heal myself in therapy, I became his personal therapist. The healthier I became the worse he became and the more he tried to instill in me his beliefs about the world and especially the evils of women. My grandparents and my aunt were my life lines to sanity. My grandmother had 2 masters’ degrees; my aunt was a successful business woman. When I couldn’t cope with my demons, my dad was the only person who could get through to me and bring me back to reality. I started smoking his pot to cope and when he finally caught me he just warned me not to let my grandmother know. I went back home to Ga to visit several times a year and my siblings even got to come to NY for a visit. My dad remarried a woman, 7 years older than me, from the same small town I was from. That was a horror. He moved us all to Colorado for a year until he caught tuberculosis and my grandparents had to come from NY to move us back. My grandfather died the same day we got back from Colorado and my first great dane had to be put to sleep a few months later. Things started going down hill from that point forward. My grandmother was lost without my grandfather. Her and my aunt were in mourning for a long time and I was forgotten. My step-mother resented the amount of time and attention I took from all the adults in the house. She wanted to start a family of her own and demanded my dad make a choice between her and me. When she left, my dad blamed me for ruining his marriage. My grandfather had helped start my modeling career before he died. I wasn’t tall enough to do the modeling most people think of but I started getting jobs other girls didn’t want; hand, hair, uniforms, and bikini contests. My dad’s mental state deteriorated and most of the time I was the only person who could get him to stop drinking long enough to go to work or maintain any sense of normal life. He blamed himself for my grandfather’s death. I was running wild at this point. Dating men in their 20’s while I was 14 or 15, cutting school, sneaking out at night, experimenting with drugs beyond just smoking pot. I was dropping acid, doing shrooms and drinking. I refused to do cocaine or pills because I’d watched those destroy my mother. I got caught doing acid when I had a bad trip and couldn’t find my way home. I’d been with my 20 something year old asshole abusive boyfriend who threw me out when my dad called his parents looking for me. The hallucinations threw me into a full blown PTSD episode for days. My dad’s answer was to lock me in a room with him and watch me please myself until it passed. Pandora’s Box was opened for him after that and he used sex with me as a punishment and way to control me. He claimed it was for my own good to keep me from hurting myself by fucking the wrong guys. Shortly after that I met my first real boyfriend. I had this same great boyfriend for several years in high school that was several years older than me. He was able to keep my father at bay for most of the time we dated by keeping me off drugs, other than pot, and out of the house a lot. He had a great job, lived with his sister and brother in law. I worked at their bakery and babysat his sister’s . My grades stayed straight A’s. He didn’t know everything but he knew enough to try to get me to move with him when he left NY. He was the 1st guy to ask me to marry him. I probably should have but I was young and stupid. The summer I turned 16, I received a phone call and certified letter from a district attorney in Ga. They wanted my help. The man who had molested me and my sister had molested another girl. She was in the hospital in a coma and her mother was also hospitalized. My father didn’t want me to get involved. I was determined I was going to do anything it took to see him punished. I spent hours on the phone with them giving detailed statements about my abuse. They sent me paperwork to sign saying that I would testify and he plead guilty. He was sentenced to 18 years in prison. I made sure the DA told him I helped put him there and I hoped he’d die before he got out. After that, I tried to get away from my father anyway I could, by modeling, he burned my modeling portfolio when he found out I was modeling nude. My grandmother offered to send me to an exclusive all girls’ college but he wouldn’t let her pay for it. I couldn’t start college any other way because he was a tax protestor so I couldn’t get any loans until I was 25 and not required to provide my parents tax returns. I tried to move out on my own and he followed me. He broke my nose forcing me to have sex with him in my apartment in NY that I paid for with my money from modeling and working a full time job while I finished high school. I pulled his own .45 on him and broke his nose with it because I couldn’t pull the trigger my hand was shaking so badly. I pressed charges and stayed with a friend’s family. He moved to south Florida but when he called the next year suicidal my grandmother begged me to go take care of him and paid my way down. I moved to south Florida and shared a 2 bedroom condo with him. I danced nude and worked at the local Mercedes dealership. The sex ended but the psychological abuse and control didn’t. I got pregnant and had an abortion. I swore I'd never do that again. No I wasn’t stupid I was on birth control and antibiotics interfered. He went back to NY, walking out on a lease he knew I couldn’t afford. I got pregnant again within 6 months even though I had changed birth control. The baby’s father wasn’t helpful at all. My grandmother called to tell me she was diagnosed with COPD and I asked her if I could move back in with her. My dad dictated the terms. I moved back to NY to give my baby up for adoption and take care of my grandmother while she died of COPD. I went back into therapy. I worked with birth mothers, rescue organizations for parrots, reptiles and exotic animals anything to keep me away from my father. I stayed with friends. I sang and shook a tambourine or percussion in their band sometimes just singing back ups, occasionally leads. I ran my grandmother’s household for her while she died. I didn’t date. I wouldn’t have anything to do with men for years other than my musician friend and it was strictly friends. I turned off my sexuality for those years. I fell at the place I worked as a bookkeeper while I was pregnant. I could barely walk and was on bed rest for the last 4-5 months of my pregnancy. Moranda was born May 28, 1994 and her adoptive parents took her home 2 days later form the hospital. The hole in my spine was found after I had her and they were able to do x-rays and an MRI. Permanent nerve damage to my lower back and sciatic nerve were the diagnosis. I went through tons of physical therapy and treatments and finally went back to work part time in the fall of 1994. I continued to work for the adoption agency as an open adoption advocate as well as the animal rescue organizations. My great-grandmother in Ga was also in failing health and I was considering moving when she died in late Dec of 1995. She was my rock of normalcy. I was her favorite. I could do no wrong in her eyes and I was heartbroken. I flew home for the funeral. My cousin Jeremy was planning on buying her house and I was talking about moving in with him if he was able to do that. My family acted like complete idiots about who was getting what out of her house and I was disgusted to claim them as my family. I hadn’t been back in NY for a full 2 months. My dad had to have surgery which of course meant I got to take care of him and my grandmother. In early Feb my cousin Jeremy called to tell me my little brother had been in a bad car accident. Minutes later my mother called me for the 1st time in 5 years to tell me Jon was dead. I flew back in one of the worst snow storms that year. I was shell shocked and just went through the motions of life when I got back. My grandmother in NY talked to me about dying all the time. She went into the hospital at the end of April and died on my dad’s birthday, May 13th. Those 3 deaths were my wake up call to stop wasting my life and make something of my life. My aunt went insane and took everything there was. I moved out going back to Ga and my dad followed when he couldn’t get my aunt to give him his part of the estate. I moved in with my cousin Jeremy and we found a run down farm house for my dad to rent if he did the restoration. He used my credit to pay for the renovations and I helped work on the house, even tried splitting it with him for a while but that didn’t work. I wanted to start dating again but every time I tried my father pulled some stunt, attempted suicides, injuries, animals sick. I moved to PCB, Fl for a while and then back in with my cousin. I started college, worked full-time at the local papers as a bookkeeper and tried to breed horses, great danes, ducks and geese. I rebuilt my life on my terms. Jeremy and I had a blast splitting my great-grandmother’s house and being the party house. My dad’s psychological abuse was kept at a minimum and I dealt with him as little as possible. I loved college, got back into therapy and doing rescue work for Great Danes and horses. I learned a lot about myself in those years. I finally started dating again. I failed miserably at several relationships and found myself in some unhealthy situations more than once. But soon I found I was capable of having a healthy relationship. I got married for the 1st time at 28 and had Lil Bit at 30. I made my peace with my parents and helped my sister wrestle with the demons of our childhood abuse when she regained her memory of that time period. The step-father that molested us both was released from prison not long after Lil Bit was born. My sister and I both had some major relapses from the trauma of people seeing him in our home town. We worked through it. I used to think if I saw him I’d kill him. I don’t know anymore what I’d do. I hope I don’t ever have to find out. I was able to forgive both my parents but they both asked for that forgiveness after making concerted efforts to prove they were trying to be better people in an effort to have a decent relationship with their granddaughter. I have very limited and strained relationships with them both but I learned that for me it was more toxic to try to hold onto the grudge and the hate than to just let it go and move on. For me being happiness was the best revenge. Eventually their own consciences forced them to deal with their own guilt. No amount of me accusing them ever made a difference but having a grandchild that they might not see certainly did. So that’s my history. That’s a glimpse of the hell I lived through. No it’s not all of it by a long shot. I could write entire books on the details of what actually happened. This wasn’t supposed to be a blow by blow of the horror but more a synopsis of how I got here. I still struggle with those demons from my past sometimes. I have issues that will never go away due to the abuse. Anal sex is one of them. I tried to work through it and couldn’t and long ago decided it wasn’t a battle I was willing to keep fighting. Being touched in anger, threatening to hurt my animals, my or me is another one. Overall, I’m proud of myself and how far I’ve come. I don’t regret my life or the things I survived. They all combined to make me the person I am. I have a great life, especially my sex life. I have a great attitude about my own sexuality and love life. I have so much to give. My heart is overflowing with love and I know that someone out there is going to be happy to share that with me. Don’t feel sorry for me, just take what I’ve shared with you and use it to stay vigilant of the abuse around you. It happens everyday and the people being abused often can’t help themselves. Thank you for giving me a way to share this. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten this much out at once in this structured way. It’s good to put it down and let a little more of it go. Take care of yourselves and love each other well. Kisses, LA    |
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Moving is always a challenge. Kisses
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You are simply an amazing strong woman. I could go on and on but I will not. I will simply send you a hug  and be happy that you have the internal will that you do my friend.Kisses, LeeAnn Kisses, LA
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You are simply an amazing strong woman. I could go on and on but I will not. I will simply send you a hug and be happy that you have the internal will that you do my friend. BehindMyBlues
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Hello LeeAnn I have been following your blogs for maybe a year now, and have read much of those posted, further back. You are one of the strongest, self resilient people I know. You've walked the edges of hell and even gone in a few times, and still you think first, of those around you. May you never need to look through hells doors again. My you find your true happiness, we all seek. Stay strong, B Bopp Thank you so much for those kind words. I do so appreciate your friendship and support. I have ventured into hell a few times and hope never to have to go back. From your lips to God's ears about me finding true and lasting happiness at last. We all deserve that! Kisses, LeeAnn Kisses, LA
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Good for you! I mean that most sincerely. To have had such rough times and to have learned not just cope but to rise above it , the way you obviously have is amazing! Kisses, LeeAnn Kisses, LA
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You have lived life 12 times over, and still your commitment to self, to family, and to the larger world has always been an inspiration to me. You walked your vey painful path for a reason...but you knew that already, didnt you? Luv ya grrl, We seem to inspire and support each other at every turn. I'm grateful to have you as my friend! My life has certainly never been dull and continues to stay interesting. I've always believed that everything happens for a reason. I may not ever know what that reason is but I have faith. I love you too! Kisses, LeeAnn Kisses, LA
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I don't even know what to say, LeeAnn...I knew bits and pieces of your past but never the whole story put together. I cannot fathom going through all of that and the fact that you are so well-adjusted now speaks to your strength of character. Something inside you has pulled you out and raised you up, and I admired that so much. I love you, and I'm so very sorry you endured all of that to get to where you are today, but where you are today is a beautiful, strong, brave woman who has so much love to share with others. Most of my friends only know bits and pieces and that's one of the reasons I wrote this. I realized there was no cohesive account of my past anywhere on my blog. I don't know how well adjusted I am...lol...but I do think that I've done ok given my circumstances. I'm happy with who I am although I always strive to improve. Thank you for your love and support you know you mean the world to me. I do have lots of love to share and am happy you're one of the people I get to share it with. Kisses, LeeAnn Kisses, LA
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Hello LeeAnn I have been following your blogs for maybe a year now, and have read much of those posted, further back. You are one of the strongest, self resilient people I know. You've walked the edges of hell and even gone in a few times, and still you think first, of those around you. May you never need to look through hells doors again. My you find your true happiness, we all seek. Stay strong, B Bopp . B Bopp
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Good for you! I mean that most sincerely. To have had such rough times and to have learned not just cope but to rise above it , the way you obviously have is amazing! Whats the difference between kinky and perverted? Kinky is when you tickle your girl friends ass with a feather. Perverted is when you use the whole chicken...
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You have lived life 12 times over, and still your commitment to self, to family, and to the larger world has always been an inspiration to me. You walked your vey painful path for a reason...but you knew that already, didnt you? Luv ya grrl, Ur.Grrl.CC 
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I don't even know what to say, LeeAnn...I knew bits and pieces of your past but never the whole story put together. I cannot fathom going through all of that and the fact that you are so well-adjusted now speaks to your strength of character. Something inside you has pulled you out and raised you up, and I admired that so much. I love you, and I'm so very sorry you endured all of that to get to where you are today, but where you are today is a beautiful, strong, brave woman who has so much love to share with others. ***
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