THE GOOD GIRL, by Morrene Hauser

THE GOOD GIRL


"My child arrived just the other day,

he came in to the world in the usual way"....

 

When I was nine years old, Cat's in the Cradle was the number one song that was playing on the radio

a beautiful song written and sung by Harry Chapin

over and over and over I would hear that song

The year was 1974

 

Mom had just divorced her third husband

Goodbye, cruel, terrifying Fred.  You will not be missed

 

...."but there were planes to catch and bills to pay.

He learned to walk while I was away"....

 

"This is Emil.  We're getting married,  and we're moving back to Wisconsin where he lives" was my first introduction to the man who was soon to become Mom's fourth husband

I looked at Emil shyly turning away when he smiled at me

 

Off to Las Vegas Mom and Emil went to get married

And soon the packing began for yet another move

 

..."and he was talkin' 'fore I knew it.  And as he grew, he said, 'I'm gonna be like you, Dad.  You know, I'm gonna be just like you'"....

 

"Wait until you see my beautiful house.  And you will love riding in my new car," said Emil

Oh, the excitement of seeing that amazing house and riding in his new car!

 

Somehow in all of the packing my Baby Beans doll got lost

Running in frantic circles with tears flowing down my cheeks

I looked and looked and looked

where is my Baby Beans doll?

 

Baby Beans!  Where are you?  It's not nice to hide from mommy

Please come out.  I miss you

My baby was nowhere to be found

 

Crying out my heartbreak

with my arms aching to hold her again

between sobs I asked Mom if she saw my baby

 

"Oh, QUIT feeling sorry for yourself and stop that fucking crying!" was Mom's angry response to my pleas

I did my best to stop crying

for I didn't want to make Mom mad

 

Good girls don't cry

And I was a good girl

 

 

Baby Beans, momma loves you

I hope I see you again someday

 

Shortly after I started fourth grade, Emil came back to California to drive us to Wisconsin

Brother and I were taken out of school, and we began the long drive to his house

Goodbye my friends, my beloved pony Sunshine

My Baby Beans doll

And my babysitter I loved and trusted so much

 

Hugs and kisses

Goodbye, little one.  We love you and will miss you

"I love you, too," I said

 

..."and the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon.  Little boy blue and the man on the moon. 

"'When you comin' home, Dad?' 

"'I don't know when.  We'll get together then, Son.  You know we'll have a good time then'"...

 

Over and over that song played on the radio during that long and boring drive to Wisconsin

 

"We need to find a place to live when we get to Wisconsin.  I have a roommate,"  Emil said

"Well, kick him out!" said Mom

Emil's roommate was not a "him," it was a "her"

He must have forgotten to tell Mom about his girlfriend who was living in his beautiful house and driving his new car. 

Brother and I were dropped off at Great Uncle's house in Illinois

while Mom and Emil drove to Wisconsin to find a place for us to live

 

Back in to the fourth grade I went for the second time, Brother the fifth

 

Standing in a group of girls at recess

trying to keep warm in the windy and cold winter in Illinois

was hard to do in my thin clothes from California

Thank God for the warm scarf I had crocheted and wrapped around my head

 

It was decided that I would share a bed with Great Uncle

which turned out to be a very bad idea

 

...."my son turned ten just the other day.  He said, 'Thanks for the ball, Dad.  Come on, let's play.  Can you teach me to throw?' 

"I said, 'Not today, I got a lot to do.'   He said, 'That's okay'"....

 

Night after night I lay paralyzed with fear in that lonely and frightening bed with Great Uncle

while his hands touched the most private parts of my body

 

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

You don't argue with adults! 

Do not be a tattletale! 

were words I heard over and over

 

And I was a good girl

And good girls kept their mouths shut

 

...."and he walked away, but his smile never dimmed.   He said, 'I'm gonna be just like him.  You know I'm gonna be just like him'"....

 

Mom and Emil found a place for us to live in Wisconsin

and back to Illinois they came

to pick Brother and I up

and we continued on our trip

to our new home

 

On the way back to Wisconsin we stayed in a motel

Awakening to strange sounds in the bed next to where Brother and I were sleeping, I looked over at Mom and Emil

"Harder, Honey, harder!" said Mom.

Mom and Emil were having sex in that bed next to us

 

Frozen in terror, hugging my knees to the sickness in my stomach

and trying not to look I kept quiet as a mouse as my pillow slowly became soaked with silent tears

I knew better than to let them know I was awake

 

For good little girls kept their mouths shut

And I was a good girl

 

...."and the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon.  Little boy blue and the man on the moon. 

"'When you coming home, Dad?' 

"'Son, I don't know when. but we'll get together then.  You know we'll have a good time then'"....

 

The next morning I cried and cried and cried

"What the fuck's your problem now, Morrene?  You drive me nuts!" said Mom

Knowing I would be in trouble if I let Mom know what I saw them doing, I blurted out, "I'm afraid for Emil because he smokes."  That was all I could think of to say

 

Slowly Mom gathered me in her arms and said, "I know, Honey, I know."

Feeling the rare warmth of Mom's arms wrapped around me somehow did not take away the sickness in my stomach

 

But I was a good girl

And good girls kept their mouths shut

 

...."well, my son came home from college just the other day so much like a man I had to say, 'Son, I'm proud of you, can you sit for a while?' 

"He shook his head and said with a smile, 'What I'd really like, Dad, is to borrow the car keys.  See you later, can I have them, please?'"....

 

In to the townhouse with green carpeting

we moved

And back in to the fourth grade I went for the third time and Brother the fifth

 

Sitting in class after school

staring at my math homework

Fighting tears of frustration

Why don't I know how to do my math?

Why am I so stupid?

 

Asking my teacher for help didn't work

feeling my body go numb with fear as I hear the impatience in her voice

I watch her mouth soundlessly move

for in my terror I had lost the ability to hear

 

I do not ask Mom and Emil for help

Because I might get hit

 

But I am a good girl

And good girls do not get hit

 

...."and the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon.  Little boy blue and the man on the moon.

 "'When you comin' home, Son?'

"'I don't know when.  We'll get together then, Dad.  You know we'll have a good time then.'

"I've long since retired, my son's moved away.  I called him up just the other day. 

"'I'd like to see you, if you don't mind.'

He said, 'I'd love to, Dad, if I could find the time.  You see my new job's a hassle and the kids have the flu, but it's sure nice talkin' to you, Dad.  It's been sure nice talkin' to you'
                                                   "And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me, he'd grown up just like me.    My boy was just like me."

 

All of these years later, at the age of 53, I still cannot listen to that song on the radio the whole way through without feeling the sadness, the depression and the fear of that      nine-year-old little girl that I once was.  And the gut wrenching loneliness.  Always the loneliness.

When the feelings become too frightening and start to overwhelm me, in desperation I reach over and turn off the radio.

 

Maybe someday I can listen to that song the whole way through

Just not now

Read More

THE BEST PART OF MY NERVOUS BREAKDOWN, by Morrene Hauser

Now, before I tell you the best part of my nervous breakdown, let me get something straight.  I am not and never would make light of a mental health disorder.  Never.   I suffered a nervous breakdown and was voluntarily hospitalized for one night in January of 2017.  I know the pain and the fear.  Trust me.

As I was saying...

Right before the first set of repressed memories of childhood sexual abuse came to the surface of my memory, for a period of about three weeks, I laughed and laughed.  I laughed until I was bent over double leaning against a wall, tears rolling down my cheeks. 

Laying in bed at night trying to get some sleep was difficult.  Because I couldn't stop laughing.  Night after night I lay in bed curled in to a fetal position hugging my knees laughing silently in to my pillow until it was soaked with tears.  Now, that does not make for a good nights' rest.

When I wasn't laughing uncontrollably, I got the giggles.  Putting my hand over my mouth to try to stop them didn't work.  It just made me giggle all the harder.

Forget trying to talk to me about anything serious during this time.  It just didn't happen.  I couldn't have kept a straight face if my life depended on it.

Going to the grocery store, the gas station, a visit to my doctor's office was difficult.  Again, I just couldn't control myself.

I always tried to warn whomever I was talking to that I was a bit loopy because I was getting a dissolution and please forgive my laughter.  Of course, my words of warning came out in bits and spurts between bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

I completely stopped working during this time.  Working in court, a hearing, an arbitration or a deposition is serious business.  And it would not look good if I, as the court reporter, was in hysterics.  I simply didn't trust that I could conduct myself properly in a professional setting.

Being self-employed has a lot of perks.  But no work equals no pay.  And that hurt.

Anybody that knows me well knows how much I love to laugh.  But, really, this was a bit over the top.  Even for me.

But I never questioned why I felt the need to laugh so much.  I just accepted it and enjoyed the ride.  I thought since I was able to laugh that I was finally coming to terms with the difficulties in my personal life.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Sure, I had a few problems.  Nothing these broad shoulders couldn't handle. 

My marriage had ended.

Living with my soon-to-be ex-husband was very stressful, to say the least.

My children were hardly speaking to me they were so hurt and angry at me for leaving their father.

I was suffering extreme burnout professionally.

We had just moved to a smaller house, a decision that I alone made with no support from my husband.

Major financial stress.

And, unbeknownst to me, the repressed memories of my childhood abuse were coming at me like a speeding train that would ultimately knock me off my feet.

A year and a half later, as I write this article, I can finally put the laughter in to perspective.  I now realize how good it was for me.  I desperately needed the release, and laughter provided that. 

The events leading up to my breakdown and the year and a half it has taken me to finally feel "normal" have been eye opening, to say the least.

And that, Reader, is my firsthand account of the best part of my nervous breakdown.

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.