The Invisible Child

 

The snow was falling heavily on that cold January night, when I was born. My father was out drinking again and mother had no way to get to a hospital. My older brother had to walk two miles up the road to get a neighbor to take her. I was born two hours later. Mother was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and her violent outbursts were usually directed at her children. One some days she would be the perfect mother, on other days, she would hit us for no reason. When my father sobered up and came home, the fighting would start. I was so scared, I would crawl under the bed and hide there. It became a habit for me to hide, and try to stay out of their way. I don't think anyone cared about me enough to wonder where I was.

When I was seven years old, I was so traumatized by all the abuse and neglect I started sleepwalking. I remember waking up in the morning, under the bed, or finding myself on the back porch in the dark. On Saturdays, my mother and father would travel forty miles to town, and leave my older sister in charge of us. She was told to whip us with a belt if we didn't mind her, while they were gone. There were four of us kids younger than her. To punish us, my sister would hit us and make us sit on the couch and we weren't allowed to talk to each other. We usually had sit there for several hours until my parents came home.

When I turned thirteen, I had no self-worth or self-esteem We had moved to another town and the school we attended had a lot of cruel kids. They knew we were poor and what my parents were. I avoided other kids as much as possible. I didn't get to go out much, only with my older sister, who was dating at the time. She took me along with her to a football game with her boyfriend. While we were there, he introduced me to his best friend, Jarred. He was four years older than me. I was taken by surprise. I became immediately attracted to him. He kept starring at me, and I was thinking, he is looking at me with these old hand-me-down clothes and no coat. We began talking, and I became afraid of him. I thought all men hit women.

 

He took his coat off and put it on me. He said: you are so pretty! No one had ever told me that in my life. When I was sixteen, I married this wonderful man. Thirty-five years later, I can look at myself in the mirror, and see a real person. I believe God sent this man to save me. I no longer hide from myself. "I am here."