EMIL, THE FOURTH HUSBAND, PART 2

That evening after we found a stable for the horses to be boarded for the night, we went to a truck stop for dinner, then on to a hotel.  Brother and I slept in one bed while Mom and Emil slept in the other.

In the middle of the night I awoke to strange sounds in the bed next to us.

I looked over at Mom and Emil's bed illuminated in the sliver of light peeking through the curtains.

"Harder, Honey, harder!" Mom moaned as Emil moved on top of her.

Mom and Emil were having sex in the bed next to us.  

I stared at them in shocked silence before turning away.  Hugging my knees to the sickness in my stomach, I kept quiet as a mouse as I wept silent tears into my pillow.

- - -

The next morning I cried and cried and cried.  I knew Mom would get mad when she saw me crying, but try as I might, I couldn't stop the tears.

"Jesus Christ!  What the fuck's your problem now, Morrene?  You drive me nuts!" Mom said angrily when she saw my tear-stained face.

I knew I would get in trouble if I told her what I saw her and Emil doing last night, so I blurted out, "I'm afraid for Emil because he smokes."

That was all I could think of to say.

"I know, Honey, I know," Mom said as she gathered me in her arms.

Feeling the warmth of Mom's arms wrapped around me somehow did not take away the sickness in my stomach, but I did my best to swallow my tears and not think about what I saw them doing last night. 

I didn't know what else to do.

- - -

Later that day we arrived in Wisconsin.  Since we did not have a place to live, we stayed with our uncle until we could find a house.

 I slept in bed with Uncle while Brother and Mom and Emil slept in the two spare rooms.

- - - 

The next day Mom enrolled Brother and me in the school near Uncle's house.  Back into the fourth grade I went for the second time that year and Brother the fifth.

- - -

In class I stared at my teacher in hopeless confusion while she taught.  Some of the stuff I had already been taught when I lived in California, and some of the stuff I hadn't.  I had no idea how to catch up with my classmates.   I sat silently at my desk filled with shame and guilt, too embarrassed to ask for help wondering, once again, what's wrong with me?  Why am I so stupid?

- - -

At recess I huddled with a group of girls on the playground trying to keep warm in the bitter cold as I shivered uncontrollably in my thin clothes.  When I got home after my first day of school, I found some black and white yarn in my suitcase, and I started to crochet a scarf to wrap around my head when I went outside.  The bitterly cold wind gave me painful earaches and made it hard for me to concentrate in school. 

After a couple of days of feverishly crocheting, my black head scarf with white ties was completed, and I proudly wore it to school thankful for the warmth that it provided. 

Thank God Marion had taught me how to crochet!

- - -

At night I lay in bed next to Uncle in frozen and shocked silence as his hands touched the most private parts of my body.  I had no idea how to ask him to stop.

You don't argue with adults!  Nobody likes a tattletale! were admonitions I often heard from Mom.  I knew if I said anything about what Uncle was doing, I would get in to trouble.  So I kept silent.  I did my best to push the terror of what was happening to me into the furthest recesses of my mind.

I didn't know what else to do.

The sadness, the fear.  The guilt.  The shame.  The embarrassment.  And the overwhelming loneliness.  Always the loneliness. 

I couldn't wait to move into our new house.

- - -

A week later Mom and Emil had found a stables for the horses and a place for us to live.   

"Get your stuff together.  We're leaving today," Mom said.  

When I heard those words, I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I would no longer have to share a bed with Uncle.

After we packed our stuff, we said goodbye to Uncle, climbed into the car and left.

I couldn't wait to see our new house!

(To be continued….)

EMIL, THE FOURTH HUSBAND, PART 1

While Brother and I were at school, Mom and Emil finished the last of the packing.  Boxes of clothes, household furnishings and furniture were loaded into the pickup truck and the trailer hitched to the car. 

Day by day our little house became more and more empty until soon our voices echoed off the bare walls.

- - - 

The morning before we were to leave for Wisconsin, I got up and got ready for school.  When I was done, I wrapped my Baby Beans doll in her little blanket, gave her a kiss and tucked her into bed.  Then off to school I went. 

- - -

When school let out for the day, Brother and I walked to Marion's house for the last time.  As we walked into her house, the aroma of yeast and freshly baked bread greeted us at the door, and my mouth watered in anticipation of eating my favorite after-school snack.   

At the kitchen table were plates of piping hot bread slathered in butter.  After I sat down, I eagerly picked up my bread.  As I sank my teeth into the crunchy crust, I moaned in happiness as the delicious flavors of melted butter and soft, spongy bread swirled around my tongue.   

When I was done eating, I wiped my mouth and hands and went outside to play.

- - -

Later that afternoon when Mom came to pick us up, Marion gathered me and Brother in her arms for one last hug.  As we drove away, she stood on the sidewalk with tears streaming down her cheeks waving goodbye. 

I had no idea as I sat in the car smiling and waving at Marion that she suspected Brother and I were being abused at home.  She cried for days after we left.   

That was the last time we ever saw Marion.

- - -

In the painful and frightening years that were to follow in my life, I thought of Marion often.  Her selfless acts of love and kindness had made a permanent imprint on my heart, and I missed her terribly. 

For years each time I smelled yeast and freshly baked bread, I thought of Marion, and I was instantly transported back to her warm and loving kitchen.  

- - -  

When we got home, I went to my bedroom to get my Baby Beans doll.  As I entered my room, I saw that my bed and dresser were gone.  All that remained were a few empty boxes on the floor.   

I walked through the house searching from room to room for my doll.  She was nowhere to be found.

With rising alarm and tears in my eyes, I went to look for Mom to ask her if she knew where my doll was.

Mom and Emil were in the garage arranging boxes in the trunk of the car.  As I walked up to them, Emil put his arms around Mom and whispered in her ear.  Mom giggled as she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a long kiss.

"Mom, I can't find my Baby Beans doll," I sobbed as tears rolled down my cheeks.  "Do you know where she is?"

When Mom heard my voice, she turned to me in annoyance.    

"Goddamn it!  QUIT feeling sorry for yourself and stop that fucking crying!" she said angrily before turning back to Emil. 

I did my best to swallow my tears as I sadly walked back into the house.

I never saw my baby doll again.

- - -

That night as I lay under a blanket on the floor of my empty bedroom, I thought about my Baby Beans doll.  My heart ached with sadness, and I desperately longed to hold her again.   Suddenly I felt the walls of my room getting bigger and bigger.  I opened my eyes and stared fearfully into the suffocating darkness as I felt myself getting smaller and smaller.  Terror raced through my body and adrenaline filled my veins as I curled into a ball and cried myself to sleep. 

- - -

The next morning we got up early and finished packing.  Afterwards we walked through the deserted house to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything.   

When we were done, Mom picked up Muffin, closed the front door for the last time, and off we went to the stables to pick up the horses. 

- - -

Brother rode with Emil in the pickup truck with the horse trailer while Mom and I followed behind in the car with the trailer. 

While Mom drove, I sat silently next to her listening to the radio and staring out the window.  I thought about Sunshine, my Baby Beans doll, Marion and my friends.   At times I felt so sad and lonely that my throat ached painfully and tears filled my eyes.  Each time that happened, I quickly wiped them away.  I knew if I started to cry, Mom would get angry.  I loved Mom very much, and it scared me when she got mad.

- - -

Breakfast, lunch and dinner were eaten at truck stops.   After we were done eating, Emil lit a cigarette.  While he smoked, he pointed at the other truck drivers in the restaurant and laughed.

"Look at that fat slob! 

"See that guy over there?  Wonder when he took a shower last?" Emil sneered as his fat belly shook with laughter.

Sometimes Emil showed me and Brother how he could wiggle his ears back and forth without moving his face.  Each time he did that, Brother and I got the giggles.

Emil was very funny!

- - -

Before we left, we walked through the convenience store in the truck stop so Emil could look at the many T-shirts for sale.  Emil loved T-shirts, and he rarely left a truck stop without buying one for himself.

- - -

In the evenings, Mom and Emil got off the freeway and drove the back roads looking for a stable to board the horses for the night.  

Once the horses were taken care of, off we went to the nearest truck stop for dinner, then on to a hotel for the night.

- - -

The closer we got to Wisconsin, the colder it became.  Soon a bitterly cold wind started to blow, and snowflakes filled the air.  Each time I went outside, I shivered miserably in my thin clothes from California as the wind stole my breath and made my eyes water.

- - -

A couple of days after we left California, we were sitting in a truck stop eating breakfast when Emil turned to Mom and said, "We need to find a place to live when we get to Wisconsin.  I have a roommate." 

"Well, kick your roommate out!" Mom said as she looked at him in surprise.

It turns out Emil's roommate was not a "him," it was a "her."  He must have forgotten to tell Mom about his girlfriend that was living in his beautiful house and driving his new car.  

Now we had to find a place to live.

- - -

AHHHH, SLEEP..., by Morrene Hauser

AHHHH, SLEEP...

I hope I am not out of line or going to embarrass myself (yet again) by sending you this letter.  You rarely answer me when I reach out to you for help, but I will try, and hopefully you will respond this time.

I am begging you, Sleep, to please read this letter to the end.  Throw it away, burn it, rip it up when you are done.  I'll leave that to you to decide.

I will try not to bother you after this letter, but I cannot promise.  I have no pride where you are concerned, Sleep.  None.

Please do not feel I am attacking you, but, Sleep, my friends tell me that you are sleeping with them.

"I slept with Sleep until 10:30 this morning!"

"Me and Sleep slept like a rock!" 

"I took the most wonderful nap with Sleep today!"

Smirks on their faces, laughter in their voices as they look in to my eyes knowing of my obsession for you.

And, yes, a little voice in me says go to hell! 

Go to hell.

But that doesn't last long.

I am a lover, not a fighter. 

And a forgiver.  Always a forgiver.

I awoke with another panic attack at 2:00 a.m. this morning, Sleep. 

Whose bed are you in at this very moment?  My heart pounds.  My mind races.

When I find out whose bed you have slept in, I feel as though somebody has punched me in the stomach.   

Sleep, the days on end where I have to go to bed at 6:00 p.m., 7:00 p.m. even on weekends because I know I need to get some rest before I wake up at 2:00 a.m., 3:00 a.m. and be awake for the rest of the day.

Thinking of you

Loving you

Longing for you

Ahhhh, Sleep...    

The ruined weekends.

The ruined evenings.

Gritty, aching eyes, pounding headache, the mental and physical exhaustion that haunted my days while I tried to work and care for my babies when they were little.   I learned to lay in bed awake for hours with eyes closed so at least they would not hurt.  

Sleep, I am so very tired of disappointing my children because I am just too exhausted at times to do the things they want to do.

My kids would say, "Mom, you just don't want to spend time with me!"

"You don't care!"

Not true, my babies, not true I would say to myself all the while knowing they would not understand at their young age if I tried to explain. 

The missed soccer games.

The missed parties.

The missed school events.

The activities that I did do with my babies all the while concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

You can do this I say to myself.

Adrenalin was my drug of choice to get me through those long, difficult days.

The guilt, the shame, the depression, the sadness over disappointing my little ones.  I am so very sorry.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.  The gift that keeps on giving.

Ahhhh, Sleep...

The one-night stands we have.  I never know when you are coming, and that is the best!  I wake up the next morning, and there you are, Lover, sleeping next to me.  It would not be appropriate to write down on paper the pleasures we share in those moments.

The next morning I am endlessly happy!  The sun shines brighter, the birds sing clearer, my obsession for you goes away!

But, Sleep, you cruel, fickle, heartless lover,  the next night you again sleep with one of my friends.   And when I find out who you had slept with, I am crushed.   The depression and sleepless nights return in full force.  Once again, I lay awake in bed wide awake 

Thinking of you

Loving you

Longing for you

The sun does not shine, the birds no longer sing, my obsession for you continues.

Damn you, Sleep.  Damn you

And, Sleep, you must have adored my pregnant body, Lover, because you slept with me night after night.  And, oh, yes, the naps we would have!   

Perhaps you have forgotten. 

But, Lover, I have not. 

But as soon as my babies were born, Sleep, you left me without a good-bye.  Cruel, heartless, fickle Sleep. 

Even when my baby girl was born still, you left me. 

Thank you, Sleep, for at least staying in the hospital with me during that long, difficult birth. 

Again, I am a lover, not a fighter. 

And a forgiver.  Always a forgiver.   

So I forgave you yet again.  Again and again and again...

Ahhhh, Sleep...

please come back to me. 

I beg of you.

I will take one-night stands.  I will take anything.  Join me in the middle of the night, early morning after you have left another's bed. 

I don't care, Sleep.  I am that desperate for your love.

I have not slept with you in several weeks, Sleep.  And I am very, very tired.

Ahhhh, Sleep...

 I beg of you please come back to me.

Please come back.

THE SILENCE OF CHILD ABUSE THAT FOLLOWS IN TO ADULTHOOD, by morrene hauser

When I was a young child, I was taught from an early age to not talk about what went on at our house.  Ever.  For years I heard those words over and over.

"You do not talk about what goes on at our house!" said Mom.

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So that's what I did.  I kept most of those secrets throughout my adult life without even thinking about it.  That's just the way it was.  Silence!

Sure, I talked some about all of the husbands and boyfriends my mom had, the moves and the number of schools I went to.  Even when I did talk about the past, at times I felt some guilt.  I was giving away family secrets.

I did not talk about the sexual, physical or verbal abuse.  I repressed most of the horrible memories.  File the ugliness away in the back recesses of my mind.  Just don't think about it.

Until I turned 51.  That's when the floodgate of my sickening childhood started spilling out.  I will talk about my subsequent nervous breakdown when the memories surfaced.  Just not now.  Now I want to focus on silence.

When I started recovering my repressed memories, my friends tried to be very helpful.

"Just don't think about it!" 

"Don't think about the past.  Look to the future!" 

"Forget about it!" 

"So you're sitting home feeling sorry for yourself?" said an ex-friend.

As in my childhood, my friends were encouraging silence.  Ouch. 

For years I drank too much.  I suffered panic attacks at night.  I had severe insomnia.  Depression.  Anxiety.  And the list goes on.

All because I didn't think about it.  I couldn't think it.  It was just too frightening and painful.

My friends, don't you see?  In order to move forward with my future, I have to deal with my past.  Facing the grief, the horror and the sadness of my childhood has helped me immensely, as hard as it is.  For 18 years I was abused to varying degrees.  Now, that's a lot to process.  I will be dealing with that for the rest of my life.

Thankfully, I rarely feel a need to drink now.  The anxiety and depression that were my constant companions almost on a daily basis for years have significantly decreased.  Panic attacks at night are minimal to non-existent.

I still struggle with insomnia some nights.  But it's much better.

If you know of someone that is dealing with abuse, whether present, past or both, please do not tell them not to think about it.  That is one of the most painful and hurtful things that can be said to a survivor who has suffered in silence most of their life.