The Beginning Experience of a Wounded Child

It must have been cold. Very cold in the winter time of early January of 1941. I was just twenty months old. This foreboding beginning could not have been altered. This fateful, ominous time could not be changed.

We lived on eleven acres in California and had a small farm.

My mother had just given birth to my younger sister, ten days earlier. The photos that I have of my mom, show a beautiful and affectionate mother. Holding me and playing with me.

When she gave birth to my older brother, nine years older than me, she was not to have any other children. She had gone into, temporary, deep psychotic, psychosis. Then came my older sister, by 4 years. Again, a temporary psychotic state. Then I came along. She was not as bad with my delivery and a shorter psychotic period. (I have found, 70 years later, that this was not true.)

She was very beautiful and had been a ballerina. She came from a large, early California, pioneer family. A Danish immigrant's family. Delicate and frail. A soft voice and quick wit. A bit of an artist and she played piano. So I believe that I really loved her. Bonded with her as completely as a baby can. The photos of her and me being silly and loving, portray it.

So when I was twenty months old, she gave birth to my younger sister. This time she didn't come back. She went into the deepest psychotic state and was institutionalized after ten days. I believe they did try to let her come home to be with the baby on a visit?. Perhaps after a few months? I remember the baby. I looked over the side of a cradle and saw her.

But I also remember two nurses coming into the house. There was a man too. He must have been a doctor. Mom was crying softly and they took her by the arms and led her away. I was helpless. I didn't even cry?

I feel this was a shock, or trauma for me.

(Now, after 71 years, I have learned the truth. My daughter's doctor acquired the file on my mother. It is at the end of this book. She came home at least 22 times for weekend visits between 1941 and 1943. She was allowed to be alone with us. She had gone mad and was a schizophrenic. I do know from aunts and other family members that I was found two or three times, unconscious under her or being squeezed tight by her.

My almost lifeless body was torn away from her on at least three occasions. My grandmother wrote the hospital, that she feared for our lives and our safety.)

I have no memory of the next year. My grand mother and grandfather took me. My little sister went to our maternal uncle and his wife. My older brother and sister stayed with my father.

My memories of my years with my grandma were loving and warm. She was a Danish power house. Secure, safe and I could sit on her lap anytime. She told me over and over again, that I was a cousin to the royal family. I didn't know what she meant, but she would dress me in long dresses and I would dance and dance. She treated me as though I was a princess. She curled my hair and dotted on me. Dresses and curls and ribbons and bows! I had dolls and a doll house and was always in dress up, play time.

I found her weeping one day. It frightened me and I begged to know what happened. She said her papers had all been burned, by accident. Everything was burned. She had been receiving dividends from Europe and needed her papers for identification. She cried for a long time. I tried to comfort her with a pillow.

On a visit to my aunt and uncle I do remember being very worried that grandma would leave me. I asked her to promise, she would never leave me. She promised. Then I asked her if, "Could I be sure to die before you, so I would not be without you?" She promised. Then she hugged me. I must have been almost four.

I did see my mother once when I was around four,—an overnight. She was on a visit and my sisters and brother were there. My mother was so beautiful and I just wanted to hear her speak.

As I remember, it was an uneventful visit. I went back to my grandma.

She did come to my grandma's house one time. My mother had run away! My grandma said she had to go back. I remember the words as though it was yesterday.

"You have to go back!" Grandma said.

It must have killed my Grandma to do it. This was her favorite child that she was sending away. I just looked on. My mother held my gaze and gently smiled at me. I said nothing. I just looked at her. I stood frozen! Helpless to it all. Helpless.

My grandma and grandpa were my parents. They were my everything. I was tucked in at night and secure. All was well.

They would take me to see my mother, perhaps twice a year. The buildings were huge and I thought it was a castle! We would go on a picnic or out to a country, outdoor garden, restaurant. It was enchanting to be with her. She was so beautiful and her voice was soft, like a whisper. Black hair and dark, dark eyes. She would always give me a little present of some kind. Some coins or some ribbons. I cherished them and held them close to me. Then I would say "good bye" to her. I never cried. Strange that I never cried.

Early Years and First Marriage

I think I had the measles. I was tucked in and cozy and warm. The sun was up, but I was still in bed. Grandma had taken my temp. She was standing at the foot of my bed. I was almost five years old. I looked up and a strange man was standing over me. Grandma started screaming! Crying and screaming and yelling. The man grabbed me and started out the door. Grandma chased us. Screaming and screaming! I was terrified. But she couldn't get to me. I was helpless. There were two other men in the car. They put me in the car and I could see her. She was running after the car and screaming!

I said to myself, "I am too afraid. I can not go through this. I am going away."—I went away. It was the only way to survive and I must have known this as a child. I split away. I was gone to somewhere else? I didn't cry.

The man was my father. The others were my paternal grand father and my uncle.

I do not have any memory of the next few weeks. The first time my memories started again was when a little tiny girl, with big dark eyes, walked into the room. She was so tiny and frightened. She was crying! I went to her rescue. I ran to her! It was my little sister. I was going to be OK now, I thought. I will take care of her. We stuck together like glue. We slept together, ate together and played and played. She told me she heard bad things about our brother. I didn't know what they could be. But I was soon to find out.

My father was a gambler and was gone a lot on the weekends drinking and gambling. We were OK alone, although we would get very frightened when my brother would terrorize us at night. He would go outside and pretend to be a robber and tap on the windows in the dark! Or say he saw someone in the yard! He was cruel and mean.

When I was about five, I was left alone one day with my brother. I was out in the yard, playing. I could hear him calling me. But I stayed hidden. I was fearful and shaking. He was getting closer. He was getting closer and closer to me as I stayed still, and hidden! I was hardly breathing!

He yelled, "If you don't come out, I am going to kill you when I find you. And I will find you!"

Well, I wanted to live. I didn't want him to kill me. I wanted to live. I made the choice, I stood up and thought, he won't kill me now. But he took my hand and said "come with me". I was in such terror that I said to myself "I have to go away now".—I went away.

When it was over my brother said to me, "If you tell anyone what happened to you, I will kill everyone you love. Everyone! I will kill them all. Then I will kill you!".

—I wanted to live. I loved my little sister now! I wanted to love. I froze inside. I felt paralyzed. I told no one. I bore it alone. It was gone from me. Just gone. And part of me was gone again. I was sad. But I didn't allow myself to cry.

Life went on. We had a small farm with cows, chickens, rabbits and dogs and cats. After a few months, my father asked, "would you like to see grandma?" I said "no". I couldn't bear to see her. That person went somewhere? I could not reach her and I did not want to feel anything. I needed to harden myself and take care of myself. I wanted to survive! I wanted to live.

I started school and was always the best, the fastest, the smartest. I was very dirty from not being washed and bathed. But somehow I knew I was capable of being accepted by my playmates at school. I knew I was pretty. I was so capable of anything I attempted to do! My older cousin was staying at my Grandma's and she would wash me in the rest room before school. I was driven to compete and come out first! Just competitive in every move, as I wanted to survive everything.

With no mother or supervision, we just played and got to roam the hills and country side. I found that if I ran in the hills and fields, until I dropped in pain, some of the tortured feelings inside me would ease. We could run in the hills for miles and miles. No one was there, except for an occasional cow herder on horseback. Our swimming pool was huge cow troughs! You just didn't put your nose under water!

I loved nature and was a natural artist. I drew everything. I went to church with any girlfriends that would take me along. I knew about Jesus and God the Father. I liked that Jesus was the Son of God. We were catholic and went to church on holidays.

The catholic nuns would bring us shoes. They all knew we were left alone and they were kind. The shoes were not pretty shoes, but we wore them. We were a raga-muffin lot. Our bath water had to be heated on a wood stove. So a bath was quite a project. You would have to hurry with the pots from the stove and run to the tub! My little sister and I did the laundry. Old machine and wrung through the wringer. Then put on the clothes line.

We did all the housework. We didn't know we were poor. Friends would share their school lunches with me if I didn't have anything to eat. We were taught what Indian lettuce was. We would pick it in the woods and run home and put mayonnaise on it. Yummy! I have kept in Touch with all my classmates. I love them. I guess they became my family. I have wondered for a lifetime why I loved them so?? —I bonded, as I would have, with a family.

When I was nine, my grandma and grandpa came to live with us! It was like heaven! We were bathed and clean! The house was overhauled! What order and grand meals! Everything was wonderful. She was strict! One afternoon I was way up on a hillside playing and I heard her call.

"Mary Imma! Come now, for dinner!"

And even though I wanted to keep playing, I started down the hill. She saw me coming and called, "Do not dawdle! Run!"

And I replied, "I would like to see you run down this hill!"

I got down the hill and she calmly put a bar of soap in my mouth and scrubbed every spot in my mouth! And my teeth! I can still taste it!

A few days later she was sitting at the sewing machine and I heard her say to herself, "I'd like to see you run down this hill".

I felt bad for what I had said and if I had upset her. But I was powerful now and ready to stand alone.

Within the week, I woke early one morning and went in to kiss her, as I always did, before she woke up. But she was cold and her lips were blue! I started yelling at her! Then screaming and running! I curled up in a little ball and just screamed!

My dad yelled, "Don't be upset! I just heard Grandma call for you!"

And so I thought there was hope! Hope that everything was OK!? I ran back to her with hope! I bent over her and called to her to come back to me! "Come back to me"!

She had promised not to leave me. But she was gone. Hope was gone.

The relatives came quickly. Her sons and my aunt. They took her jewels and anything they wanted from the house. They went through everything. They took dishes and paintings from the walls. Most of the items were my mothers. But they took whatever they wanted! (Fifty years later, an aunt gave me back my Grandma's watch. She said she was sorry)

At the funeral they made me go and look at her in the casket. I didn't want to. But they made me. She was gone. I was almost ten years old now.

Back at school my little friends had heard what happened to my Grandma. They were all kind to me. School and my teachers were my refuge. My safe place in the storm. I excelled and fought to be the first in everything. In all my years, in this small little town, no one ever mentioned my mother. No one ever made fun of me. No one ever laughed behind my back. Even though I was poor and didn't know it and my mother was ill, my little friends didn't hurt me. I have kept in Touch with almost all of them.

So grammar school was over and it was summer vacation. Getting ready for freshman year in High School! All grown up and just turned thirteen. Always allowed to run. No one was at home now. My brother had joined the service. My older sister married and younger sister moved in with a family of her best girlfriend. My father was gone gambling and different jobs that took him away. There was no food or money most of the time. I found white cake flour in the cupboard. Mixed it with water and I got it down. Since I was alone, I could walk to my girlfriends, down the road a mile, and spend the night with her. It was a hot summer night. There were girls and guys and a party was going on when I reached her house. A couple of kids with cars. Everyone was jumping in cars and going to go somewhere. I jumped in a car too. I knew the driver, he was nice and a little older. A few boys that my sister went to school with. And his brother that went to school with my brother. Everyone was laughing. They stopped and got some beer to drink. A boy that I didn't know tried to kiss me and I pushed him back and away from me. I guess it made him mad and I was unaware of his anger.

They drove to an isolated area and got out of the car. It was a bright moonlit night. We were all laughing and walking on the road. The guys said lets go back to the car and go back to town. I was following behind and walking back toward the car. I took a great blow to my back and went down. The wind knocked out of me. A boy I knew was holding my head and shoulders down. The boy I had pushed away, was pulling my jeans down. I kept saying "Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" In a split second I was raped. I was horrified and in terror. I pulled my jeans up. I thought they were going to kill me.

So I ran and ran into the woods. I didn't know if I should stop and hide because my breath was so loud. I was like a little rabbit hiding. Running and then stopping and hiding. I couldn't breathe from terror. My heart was pounding so loud that I thought they could hear it! They will find Me! They were yelling my name and trying to find me! They are going to kill me. So I curled up in a little ball to stop the sound of my loud breath! Stop the sound of my beating heart. The boom from my heart must be heard by them!

And then one of them found me. He reached down and said "You are not going to be hurt. I will watch over you. Come with me and we will take you home".

It was his younger brother that had hit me from behind and dropped me and held me down. I did not speak. They took me home.

Then I was taken to a hospital. It made the newspapers. Not my name, but everyone knew. It went to trial. I remember asking God if I could die? It would be merciful to let me die. It was horrible. To testify on the stand about what happened to me was shattering! Then it was over.

But I didn't die. I went on to high school. One of my brothers buddies, Jake, from the Service, came home with him on leave. I didn't have a good feeling about him. But he seemed nice and he was friendly with everyone. He had just started a job on the police force. He knew about the trial and the case.

My older sister began to baby sit for Jake and his wife.

I always remained friends with Jake, through high school. He was ten years older and it would seem he was too mature to be around my high school friends and kids. However, in my senior year we began to date.

We drove to Los Angeles and stayed with his family. They were wonderful. I liked all his extended family! We got engaged around my graduation time.