Lessons From Abuse: From An Innocent Six Year Old Girl

UNEDITED EXCERPT:  ‘Freeing the Unloved Girl‘ book. 

This is a sneak preview from my new book, leading into an experience with my father when I was six years of age that left damaging, soul-destroying energy imprints that caused decades of pain, addiction, chronic fatigue and depression. I came to understand that these imprints stay in our bodies and affect us continually. My book reveals how to free yourself from negative childhood condition and abuse.
Enjoy!

My grade one teacher was called Miss Mather.  She was nice enough and often let me help clean her classroom which was very small and cramped. Today it would be considered an occupational health hazard as we were all squished closely together.  We would climb over the school desks to get to our places.  It felt more like an attic than a classroom.

Helping Miss Mather allowed me to find some tiny bits of self-worth I was seeking as a six-year-old. I invited her to my birthday party, and when she arrived, she chatted to my mother and her best friend, Jill.  I looked up at them and without thinking I blurted out, “Gee you’re so big Miss Mather.”  My mum and Jill both glared at me. I quickly realised what I had said and continued to say, “I mean you’re so tall … not fat …. just tall!” No one said anything.  After Miss Mather left the party, my mum scolded me for being so rude.  My childhood mind chatter echoed in my brain, “you’re so stupid, why do you even bother. You can never win!”

Those words became a reality the day I walked home from school with my classmate Janette McLeod.  Jeanette had a slight lisp. However, she spoke with confidence and took delight in playing on my insecurities.   Jeannette would relish in telling me that ghosts haunted the old derelict house we passed on our way home.  She said me the ghosts would come out and torment anyone who walked by the house. I retorted hoping she would change her view, “they will not!”  She didn’t comment.  Jeannette did not know that this would be the last day she would scare me with her haunted ghost stories.

Jeannette and I parted ways as we approached the top of my street on McKitterick Rd, Moorabbin. I lived in a friendly neighbourhood in a average street that never attracted anything eventful.  It was an entirely different story inside our house! I would come home from school to find my mother working in the kitchen or preparing meals.  We were allowed two sweet biscuits. As I was always hungry and my body was thin and fragile, I delighted in this treat.

It was life as normal through our evening meal. We sat around the laminated dinner table. My father sat at the head of the table.  My brother Mark swallowed his peas whole as he detested the taste. My younger sister Donna, sat placidly at the table, dutifully eating all her food.  When we finished our meals, we would seek permission to leave the table which was always a relief.  I considered my father the enemy, so I was continually trying to get as far away from him as possible.  Growing up in this way,  festered intense feelings of hatred and resentment in my heart. He wanted control and to have power over me.  It was as if he knew I hated him and he was going to find ways to punish me until I relented and agreed to love him.  This was never going to happen.

Bedtime came around at 7:30 pm.  Out of fear, we all religiously brushed our teeth.  My father would apply toothpaste on our toothbrushes so that he could monitor our teeth cleaning obedience. We did not want to be caught out.  We would pay for our disobedience with a huge belting.  There was the constant reminder of his power and control as the thick, leather army belt with the large gold buckle hung on the back of the kitchen door.  Every time we opened the kitchen door, it would smash against the door to remind us of his authority and threat of punishment.

My sister was 18 months younger than me so she was around five years of age when we shared the back bedroom.  Above my bed hung an angel plaque with an inscription, “Guardian Angel watch over me tonight.” My bed-head had the Road Runner sticker on it, and my sister had Porky Pig which I always teased her about.  After taking ourselves to bed, the words of Jeanette’s ghost stories began to penetrate my mind.  A feeling of dread and fear started to bring on anxiety.  I asked my sister if I could jump into her bed as I was too scared to sleep alone. She agreed which I knew she would.  I climbed into her bed feeling some relief.  15 minutes later my father walked by the bedroom.  It was unusual that he did this as he was always too preoccupied with watching his favourite TV programs to take an interest in what we were doing at this time of the evening. It was as if he had his radar out that night.  He was going to catch me being noncompliant at something. His inner rage had to come out, and I was going to be the recipient of it one way or another. Tonight was the night.

When he walked by our bedroom, he glanced at me and with his deep, angry voice yelled, “Get into your own bed.”  I quickly jumped out of Donna’s bed and into my bed.  I lay quietly in my bed as the fear of the ghosts coming to get me mounted up. I must have laid in bed for a good 60 minutes before the fear of the ghosts coming to get me superseded the fear of my father getting me.  I jumped back into my sister’s bed hoping he would not come by.  Tonight I was wrong.  My dad’s radar was on alert, and he caught me out of my own bed again.

My father walked back into the kitchen, and he took the army belt off the back of the door.  I knew then I was a goner.  I start to quiver as he grabbed my skinny little arm and pulled me into the bedroom. He closes the door as he always did. No-one ever witnessed what he really did to us. Even my mother would not open the door to see what he was doing when we screamed as he yelled and beat us.

Tears roll down my face as I knew what was coming.  I try to place both my hands behind me as he pulls down the thin pajama pants.  He lifts the belt high in the air and yells, “this will teach you not to disobey me”, “don’t you ever do that again,” He swung his arm back to get as much force as possible. The belt hit my bare bottom with a thud and terrible pain. Again and again, he continued until the anger and rage subsided.  I was a mess of tears and pain as I slowly climb back into my bed. My body was frozen in fear and pain.

I lay in bed, still fearful of the ghosts coming to get me. I lay awake most of the night, just waiting.  When 5 am comes around, I hear a dragging noise outside our bedroom window. It was close by on the driveway. I am thinking that the ghosts are plotting my death. They are coming to get me.  I felt so incredibly scared, too scared to get out of bed and too afraid to stay in bed. The noise I was hearing was getting louder.  My fear became overwhelming. I could not contain the fear a moment longer, so I screamed as if I was being murdered. Everyone came to my room.  My mum, my dad, my brother and my sister all awoke in shock.

I told them that Jeanette said that if I walked by the haunted house, the ghosts would come and get me. I heard them coming in the driveway.  My mother said that there are no ghosts and Jeanette just made the stories up.  My brother said that the noise was caused by his slippers.  He just had gone out to the front of the house to pick up the milk bottles and was returning along the driveway directly outside our window.  I lay there still in shock. Everyone then went back to bed.

I got up at 7:30 am, ate my breakfast and walked to school. When I walked home from school with Jeanette, I said to her “you just made those ghost stories up didn’t you?” “Yes,” she replied, and it was never spoken of again.

Dragging my feet along McKitterick Road, with my head held down, I reluctantly made my way towards our home – my hell on earth. Tonight’s torturous sexual abuse from my father would change my life forever.

UNEDITED EXCERPT:  ‘Freeing the Unloved Girl’ book. Now released.