Change

Posted: July 24, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , ,

After 3 years of accumulating friends, enemies and bruises,  Pasadena was beginning to grow on me.  A routine was set and oddly enough,  I was okay with it.

I found that my friends could be as strange as I was.  My kindness, wit and sense of humor became my greatest assets.  These qualities let me into the club.  I was in the white homes,  white tables at school and white circles.  They were no longer gringos to me.  They were white, kind, funny and friendly.  I had hit the lottery!

Just when I was finally happy, tragedy strikes.  I told you. I resided in trouble.

Certain events are likely to take place when a Mexican father leaves his wife and kids in absolute dire circumstances.  The mother has to work several jobs to support her kids, so she doesn’t see what becomes of them.  Babysitters are rare because there is no money to pay them.  The kids rely on each other for survival. The kids, in turn, accept and are grateful for any show of kindness and/or concern.  This environment is the breeding ground for predators.

Vulnerability is what demons look for in their prey.  I was loaded with it.  Who did what to me, isn’t important.  I was a victim and it wasn’t my mother’s fault (although, I did initially blame her).  I was terrified, confused and not brave enough to tell her.

I was 11 when the abuse started and 14 when it ended.  It had no pattern.  Months could go by, without incidents.  Then the abuse could, out of nowhere, start-up again.  My demon had a PhD in psychology and was an ordained minister.  I had no chance against him.  So, I acted out.  I became violent, confrontational, withdrawn and tearful.  My mother’s solution to my extreme mood swings was drastic.  I was to go to Mexico and live with my grandparents.  I was all for it.  The escape from hell was a welcomed solution.

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