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Christianity Oasis Ministry has provided you with this Christian Women Stories book with Christian Women Stories message. This Christian Women Stories book with Christian Women Stories study on Christian Women Stories message looks into the Christian Women Stories topic. This Christian Women Stories book looks into the Christian Women Stories message and how it can affect your Christian walk. Understanding the Christian Women Stories message is very important and knowing what the Christian Women Stories message means can help you to understand many things more clearly. Let us delve into this Christian Women Stories book and find what this author has to share on the subject of the Christian Women Stories message in this Christian Women Stories book, shall we?


 

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The Truth of Alissa Lynne

Alissa Lynne – Purple Butterfly of Christ
 

 

Disclaimer: The names in this book are fictitious names, changed to protect the innocent. I am not responsible for your actions after reading this book. If you do not wish to be bound to the above statements, return the book to me. God Bless

 

PRESS RELEASE

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Part One - The “Real” Truth of Alissa Lynne 

Chapter 1 - Early Years (Birth/Childhood/Teenage Years)
Chapter 2 - Young Adult – Adulthood
Chapter 3 – Marriages
Chapter 4 - Mother’s Influences

Part Two - The Truth of Alissa Lynne - Thoughts 

Chapter 5 - Alissa Lynne’s Truths – The Beginning
Chapter 6 - Alissa Lynne’s Truths – Self Esteem
Chapter 7 - Alissa Lynne’s Truths – Faith/Trust
Chapter 8 - Alissa Lynne’s Truths – Building a Relationship w/ God
Chapter 9 - Alissa Lynne’s Truths – Encouragement
Chapter 10 - Alissa Lynne’s Truths – Fellowship/Life
Chapter 11 - Alissa Lynne’s Truths – In Poetry
 
Chapter 12 - Alissa Lynne’s Truths – The Ending & a New Beginning

Special Message to Single Women
Author's Last Words
Web Page Listings

Inspiring Women on the Internet

 

Alissa Lynne’s Acknowledgements

First – I have to thank God for being so good to me. I give all honor where honor is due, I would not be here if it were not for the mercy of the good Lord whom decided to come to earth as Jesus, live a sinless life, die on the cross and rise again with ALL POWER in His hands. God is just so good to all of us we should not ignore His call on our lives. I thank God that my heart opened up to hear His knock and that I have let Him in. I am happy and content in Jesus!

I want to give thanks to the Lord for my family who has been there since the day I was born, my mother, my father, my siblings, and my aunts and uncles. God has blessed me tremendously and I know that in all things He placed each of these people in my life to affect me in one manner or another.

I thank God for my baby boy and my sweetie! I thank God for your patience when I was working on this project. I love you both and know that God is blessing us.

Thanking God for all my friends that I have met and have blessed me with their presences in my life. I want to thank all of you for just being in my life and knowing me in my good and bad moods, for encouraging me to keep speaking up no matter who said what or who said nothing at all. I thank God for all my Yahoo 360 friends who encouraged me to do this. I thank God for all my Yahoo groups who listened to me go on and on about the Lord. I thank God for all of you. I thank God for all those that visit my web page and have left their mark on my heart, whether it was as a number in the total visitors to the site or in the comments that you have sent my way.

I thank God for all those that are reading this book from front to cover – May you find it encouraging to you as it was for me to write it.

I praise the Lord for all of you and pray that each of you keep standing in the Lord and when given the opportunity to speak of the goodness of the Lord that you do so and let the world know that Jesus is wonderful and deserves our praises!!

 

 

Why Write This….

This book came about because I was dealing with my issues of my past. As I was growing closer to the Lord, I needed to let things go. I have always been a vocal person, so with my healing came talking to others that turned into writing down my thoughts and ideas. One day I wrote my life story in ten different segments and posted it on my Yahoo 360 page. As I was expressing myself on my Yahoo 360 page, I received such wonderful encouragement about how my story helped others.

As I was starting to heal from my past, the Lord revealed to me to write my life story in more detail. I started writing and here is the finish product. I believe that if we share our stories with each other, it will not only encourage those that hear the story but more importantly, God receives the glory from our lives.  After completing the story of my life journey, I thought that it might be interesting to add some of my own thoughts on God, life and how I see it. Some of my writings are from my early days as a Christian and some are recent writings. Some of these things are based just on my thoughts, so you may find that you agree or disagree. So please remember that these are my thoughts!

Though I am not a professional writer, I tried to give insight of my life and what wonderful works God has done for me. My grammar and word usage is not perfect but this is written from my heart, which knows no grammar!

Our lives are a testimony unto the goodness of the Lord, so let us share and encourage each other.

God Bless and I pray you enjoy reading my story.

 Your sister in Christ,

Alissa Lynne

  

 

Part I

The “Real” Truth of Alissa Lynne

 

 

Chapter 1

Early Years from Birth to Teenager

 

My Story – The beginning

All my life I have overcome and survived. My mom’s family pressured her to abort me; Thank God she did not succumb to the pressure. My mother and father were married in August, 1967.  They were married because of her pregnancy, but were already planning on marrying; they just had to do it sooner than later, at least that was what I was told. I remember my mom telling me that she loved my father very much but they were both pig headed and young. My mom gave up a scholarship to Howard University to be with my father. My grandfather was very upset about the marriage, the pregnancy and giving up college for my father and me. On February 17, 1968 at 6:35 AM, in Pittsburgh, PA - Alissa Lynne was born, weighing 6 lbs and 7 oz, to Linda Jean and Walter Torrence Clay. I was the smallest baby my mom would have.  My brother is the only sibling born of this union; he was born 15 months later. Sometime after my brother, there was a miscarriage; I believe it was after my brother, but I am not 100% sure. My parents split up when I was around two years old. My mother said my father was not stable, but how stable can you be at 23 years old? He just turned 22 years old when they were married, she was nineteen. They were still babies.  By the time, he turned 23 and she was 20, they had two children and struggling with married life and raising a family. Years later, she admitted that she did not give him much of a chance. My father told me that she accused him all the time of cheating on her but he wasn’t, I am not sure if that is true or not for I was not there, but my mother believed that he did. However, he did admit to going out with his best friend a little too much. I knew my mom and how she was; he was not paying her enough attention, so in her mind he did not love her enough. My mom told me that marriage was not what she expected; life had a way of proving her right.

When I was 6 months old, I was hit with the Asian flu and my mom did not expect me to survive because of the fever, prayer is powerful and I made it through that night. She told me how she rubbed me down with rubbing alcohol and prayed over me and a few hours later my fever broke. She said that she knew that God healed me as my fever was too high, I could have died. My brother was born May 17, 1969; he weighed over ten pounds, and was the biggest baby that month at the hospital.  There was not much spoken about my first years of life by my mom other than what I have mentioned.

My first clear remembrance of my life is being touched by a man. I still to this day get an unsettling feeling when I think about it. When I was six years old; the years of molestation started in my life…my step father was my monster.  I was told to call my step father Dad, and my own dad was a forgotten memory. I want to say that from day one, we were told to call him Dad. I do not even remember calling him anything other than that. My step dad was Dad and my father, to this day, is called Clay. My mom forbid him to see us due to the hurt she was feeling, in later years she claimed he was in and out of our lives too much, never keeping constant, but she was very bitter due to the failure of their marriage.   

I resented my own dad for a long time, wanting him to come save me. My step dad and mom got together when I was about three or four years old. I am told that he came in like a Knight in Shining Armor. My mom was on welfare with two kids. She lived in what was nicknamed, “The little dirty house”. It was a one-bedroom place that she could afford on welfare. My mom was 23 years old and he was 10 years her senior. I believe he came in sweeping this naïve young woman off her feet. My mom admitted that he came in flashing and spending money. She was poor with two children to feed. He came buying groceries and yielding gifts. He was always telling her she was beautiful, in the beginning, something she so desperately wanted to hear. She was a very attractive woman, though she never seen it, she did not believe she was beautiful.

He took us places; places that she could not afford to take us. There were simple things like going to Dairy Queen and taking trips to New Jersey and other places for fun in the sun. He would take us to West Virginia just to visit. I remember meeting his dad and his dad’s girlfriend at the time. Their house smelled like “old people”. I could not stand going there. We went to amusement parks, he took her “out on the town” and he was so charming, like a snake. He was still married to his first wife, when they met, which we learned later, his first wife had fled Pittsburgh to Alabama to get away from him. I have a few memories of my young childhood; there are some that are still fuzzy. Dad appeared on the scene in a convertible, not sure of the color but I remember sitting in the back of the car staring at the sky amazed that I could see the sky. My brother remembers that it did not go in reverse. He (Dad) came across as a man who was on top of the world.

The first house I remember living in was located in Carnegie on a family friendly street. The house was huge and there was wood throughout the house. I remember the house having wood floors and wearing my socks, sliding everywhere. We were not allowed to do that, but I did. I would sit on the big wood steps in the foyer watching my mom and dad hold parties with other family members. As long as I sat there quietly, no one ever noticed that I was there. I learned quickly that if I just sat there, I could stay up late, but the minute I asked a question, I was sent to bed.  I am told that I would sneak sips from the guests’ drinks and there were times I was found passed out from the alcohol or actually drinking the drinks. There was always someone at our house visiting us. It is during this time I remember a lot of visitors in our home for as the years went on there was less and less visitors, as if they sense something was wrong in our home. I believe those were the happiest times in my mom and dad’s relationship. They did not just have their friends but family members including my grandparents, both my mom’s maternal mother and father – each married to someone else, at the parties/functions. It was party central. I would come downstairs in the mornings after one of their parties and people were sleeping every where. This beautiful house had three floors, huge ceilings, and a lot of space. The house stays in my memory; in my mind that house holds positive and secure feelings. I always wanted to move back there. When I was old enough to drive past it on my own, I did and always wondered what the house looked like inside. I never went to the door to ask the owners to see inside. I wanted to remember the house as I did as a child. I was afraid that the house would not look the same if I did go inside. This was the happiest time in my childhood. The time in this house was wonderful, as I still trusted my parents and I loved my family so much. We were all so happy. I would go outside and play with the neighborhood kids. Some kids were not allowed to play with us because we were black, but others were allowed. This is in 1972 to 1974 and racism was still alive and active. The KKK was still very active in the Pittsburgh area during that time. Most times it was quiet with the racial issues but I was a witness to a few cross burnings.

I attended kindergarten in this area; my mom was a very attentive mother during my early childhood. I did not like to sleep in my room, but my mom did not allow us to sleep in her bed, even when we were sick. She would come to our room and sit with us. She did not fall asleep in our beds, for there was no room for her in our beds.  My brother and I had our own rooms, but we would sleep in the same room together. I believe I was the one scared to sleep alone. When I was little, my brother was my best buddy. If anyone gave me anything, I would ask for the same thing for him. My brother was my best friend in so many ways. He was always there for me as quiet as he was and he was a quiet kid most times.

In the beginning, we were the ideal happy integrated family. I have a memory that I questioned until I understood my mother’s relationship with my father, Clay. We knew that we had a father other than “Dad” and I remember sitting in the car when she went to run into a store, you could do that back then and not be afraid that someone would take your child. Each man that walked past the car who was black I would wonder if that was my dad, is he the man that left us? I had this fantasy in my mind that he wanted to talk to me but my mom would not let him, so he would walk past the car just to see us. I would wave at each black man that would walk past just in case he was my dad. We were not allowed to talk about my father, Clay to my mom or dad. My brother and I would talk to each other about him but not to anyone else. I can remember someone asking my mom about him and if he saw us, she hushed them up saying “not in front of the kids.”  I never told my mom that story; for I knew it would have caused her unnecessary pain. I was told that my parents partied themselves right out of the house in Carnegie. We had a dog at the time, his name was Devil. When we moved from there we had to get rid of the dog. I believe I was five years old when we lived there. Our next house was in the Beltzhover section of Pittsburgh, which was inner city area, prior to that we lived in the suburbs. I remember this house for several reasons, I had to give up my dog to live there, plus my sisters were born there. I have two memories of my mom being pregnant; I tried to sit on her lap and could not due to the size of her belly and I remember her lying in her bed with such a huge belly. I remember the day my sisters were born. We were at my grandparent’s house and my dad came to tell us that the babies were born and they were girls. My dad teased my brother so much that he cried and cried. My brother wanted to have a brother and not be the only boy. My grandmother was angry at my dad because he had upset my brother so much on purpose.  

As I look back, I wonder if he ever cared for my brother, I know he did not care for me. I sat next to my brother on the steps and tried to comfort him, at the age of six I was reaching out to people in pain. My mom made it clear to any one who would listen that they were the last children to come from her. My mom went into the hospital after my sisters were born to have her tubes tied. She did not want any more children. My brother tried to drown my sisters in the tub and we were not allowed alone with them ever again, at least not before they could call my mom for help. We did not like my sisters when they were babies for they received too much attention as far as we were concerned. Before my sisters were born, we used to go places all the time, for a time after my sisters were born, we did not go many places, which placed some resistance into accepting them as siblings. The relationships in my life changed drastically when I was six years old.

This house is where my first memory of pain that haunted my dream. I can still recall the first time he touched me; I can remember it as if it was yesterday. I was on my way outside to play and we would go out through the basement. He stopped me and said my bike needed fixed before I took it outside. He was rubbing my private area in the basement and I just stood there as he masturbated. I was so scared to go outside that I ran to my room and I remember that I stayed there all day avoiding everyone. I never rode my bike again until I was about thirteen years old. I would fake it as if I forgot how to ride it. When I think of it and the whole aspect of it, my whole childhood was changed in that moment. Since he started molesting me at such a young age at first I thought it was normal. It started with just touching me, foundling me while he masturbated. I told my friend, Sonya, and guess what happened? The next thing I know the neighborhood boys started coming around to see me. So when little boys and some older ones wanted to “play house”, I just laid there and let them feel me up and rub on me. I thought this was how things were for little girls, there was no penetration. The first time with a boy, I was in the extra bedroom and my friend’s brother told me he wanted to “play house” He was eleven and I was seven. He played the game too, telling me that he was the daddy and just came home from work, I pretended to cook dinner. Of course then it was time to go to bed and be “husband and wife”.  He took my hand and had me lay down on the floor and rubbed up against me until I felt stuff on my leg. So at the age of six, I was the neighborhood hoochie mama. I did anything for attention as I felt my relationship with my mother beginning to change.  I can remember boys coming to hang out with my friend Sonya and me. I wonder to this day, if Sonya was setting me up with all the neighborhood boys. I will never truly know but she was always coming to the house with neighborhood boys and leaving not too long after arriving claiming she had to go home. Funny how when I was pretending to cook dinner and take care of the babies, it was “mommy and daddy” and when it was related to sex, it was “husband and wife”, I have always separated the two situations, even now.

When the twins were born, I felt even more invisible. I started at the age of six to seek any attention at all from anyone I could. I would curl up to any adult who would let me and I would non-stop talk to them. I stayed away from other kids my age; I was really shy around them. My sisters (the twins) were the center of attention, I felt so lost at the age of six. I believe if a therapist would have been introduced to me then, that my life may have been different. There was a stigmatism with therapy and my mom who saw me withdrawing did not place me into therapy at that time for she was not ready to face the problems at hand. Her relationship with my dad was not what it seemed in the beginning and she was trying to deal with that. I do not know if he was hitting her at that point, but I do know that there were arguments that scared me so much as a child. I remember going to bed scared and afraid at night. I believe the arguments started because she was not a good housekeeper or cook. As I got older, I was in charge of cleaning and eventually cooking. I grew up believing that if I told anyone what he was doing to me that my sisters, brother, and my mom would die in a fire and I would be alone with him. So of course, I never told, but all things done in the dark will come to light and it did. I do believe that my mom knew something was going on because things had changed in her sex life with him. (This was revealed to me by another family member who was confided in during that time of her life.) I believe her own issues caused her silence in what was going on. My mom said we had to move out of the city because of the schools, but I believe it was because of what was going on with me and the little boys. I do not know what happened in school, but I know something must have gone on because my mom sat me down and told me about not allowing boys to touch me in my private parts and to keep my dress down at school. Well the next time I told a little boy that he was not to touch me there it did not work for he touched me anyhow. 

We moved to Bridgeville, Pa. As I look back as an adult, I loved the location of that house. We had deer everywhere, all kinds of wild animals: raccoon, rabbits, snakes, and groundhogs to name a few, the area was peaceful even though my life here was not. I think because I tend to be reclusive in my life, the location of the house appeals to me. It was located at the end of a dead-end street; the driveway was about 200 feet long with our closest neighbor about a football field away. It was very private. I would love to live there now, to build a house on the land. I used to walk to elementary school and I was so scared to walk through the woods, if my brother was not with me, I did not walk through the woods. For the five minute walk via the woods was a straight shot to my house and the fifteen minute walk was down and up a couple of hills.

I was so afraid someone would come and snatch me away from my family. I would take a five minute walk and make it 15 minutes if no one was with me to walk through the woods. If there were other kids walking through the woods, I would walk behind them. I would not talk to them but follow them through so I would get home sooner. I spent a lot of time alone in my younger years. I did not play with my siblings, I bossed them, I started taking control in areas I could at the age of six. I did not want anyone to get too close to me for I was so afraid. My siblings did not really want to play with me because I was so bossy.

When I was eight years old my house caught on fire. I should have never woke up The fire was right under my bed. The fire was an electrical fire and quickly spread through that side of the house. The kitchen, sitting area, and both my brother’s room and my room was destroyed. I will never forget this and that was at least 29 years ago…I still remember this as if it was yesterday. I know that this is the first time that God touched me!! I was sleeping and anyone who knows me knows that I sleep hard as a rock, a hurricane can come and I will sleep through it. Someone touched me and woke me up, literally, touched me and said to me “Wake Up”. I woke up looking around for my mother and seeing nothing but smoke in my room. I remember going to my mother’s room and waking her up and telling her that there was smoke in my room. My parents slept naked, so it took them a minute to get dressed and come in my room. She instructed me to get my sisters and brother dressed and out of the house. I could not go back in my room to change into my clothes and had to leave my night clothes on. My room was filled with smoke and I remember clouds of gray smoke, I am not sure why I remember that, but I do.  My mom wanted me to get my brother up, but I was not being able to wake him up. My mom told me to get the twins dressed. My mom and dad were yelling at each other. My mom kept telling him to come away from the fire.

The next thing I remember is being in the garage in the car. You have to understand that our garage sat on top of a “hill” and our house was in the “valley”. We were taught to go to a safe place, pre-picked by my mom for emergency situations such as this. This was back when Dick Van Dyke was on television doing fire safety commercials. The commercials were about “Stop – Drop – Roll” in case you were on fire and about families setting up emergency meeting locations. I do not remember being at the safe meeting place, but I am told I took all of us there. I watched my bedroom blow up. This was very traumatic for me, and I had nightmares for a long time after the fire. Our next door neighbor came running down to make sure we were alright and rushed back to his house for he had to go to the fire station, he drove the fire truck.

The out pour of the community was awesome. I went to school a day or two later and was sent to the nurses office to drop off some papers, which was a privilege when you were a kid in school back then. Well as kids always do, my class mate told the secret of why I was sent to the nurse’s office. My teacher talked to my class about the fire and told them to be nice to me. Let me explain a little more, I wore second hand clothes to school, I was not by any means a popular girl, I was one of two black girls in a class of about 15 kids, and my best friend and only friend was the other black girl in class. She was popular though and she befriended me. I will never forget her. She would stop the other kids from picking on me.  She would include me in the games even though I was not good at sports. If she were captain for the games, she would pick me first even though I was bad at the game. I was one of the worse players of all sports in school. I kept pretty much to myself during my grade school years. I was so afraid people would find out. I never told another friend in my non-adult life. After what happened when I did tell my friend, Sonya, I decided to never tell anyone for it seemed to only get worse when I did.         

The fire was in November, or it could have been December. I know it was near Christmas. We had to move into my grandfather’s house until the house was repaired. My grandparents lived in a two bedroom house. My parents slept in the living room on the couch and us kids, all four of us, slept in the second bedroom. My parents did not have home owner’s insurance so the repairs had to be paid by them. We had the best Christmas that year, my mom told me once that they spent over $2,000 and mind you that was in 1976, due to overwhelming out pouring of the community.  She had mentioned they received about $10,000 in monetary donations and tons of clothes for everyone in the family. There were toys lined up every where. The toys were piled up high. I was used to getting fewer toys than the other kids because it was explained to me at an early age that we did not have a lot of money and since I was the big girl of the family, I had to understand that the younger ones did not understand. I want to remind you that my brother was only 15 months younger than me.  This particular Christmas was different, I was given tons of toys but what I remember most is the Barbie toys and the Mary Jane paper dolls. There were tons of games and there was barely any room to sit in the living room with all the toys around. It was the best Christmas for me in my entire childhood.

It was at my grandfather’s house my mother found out about my step father molesting me. At this point he had migrated to having me touch his penis and rubbing it. I did not know what I was doing so he would take my hand in his and masturbate with my hand. He usually had me upstairs in the back room off the living room, but my grandparents were home, so he took me to the basement. He had become bold in when and where he would obtain his pleasures from me. My mother walked in on him hurrying up after ejaculation and hearing her coming in the door. She sent me upstairs and I heard them arguing. She called me downstairs and she asked me if this was the first time. The look he gave me was a warning not to tell the truth, my mom told me to tell her the truth that this had to be the first time. It was like she was begging me to say it was the first time, so I did. She sent me back upstairs after that. I was crying that much I do know. I know that I stayed home a few days from school. Now what my mother never knew is, I knew she was forced to make him leave. It took my mom a week after her discovery of what was going on to tell anyone. When she found out what was going on that day, she did not make him leave. He told her that it was the first and only time. She was afraid to make him leave. She was not working at the time and he supported the house plus at that time he already starting to be abusive to her not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. The first person that she told was a family member who is by profession a social worker. They told my mom that if she did not make him leave, they would be forced to report it and she would be in jeopardy of losing me. I am not sure what transpired from there but she had him leave. She had a therapist talk to me a few times. We had family therapy but that did not last long as my step father refused to go to the therapy sessions. I know she told my grandparents. I was sat down in my grand parents living room and told that he would never touch me again, that he was staying at our house and fixing it up from the fire. My grand parents, my mother, along with him was there. I was sitting between my grand parents as the conversation was going on and they had him tell me that he was sorry and that he loved me and would never hurt me again. I did not believe any of it.  

After some time apart, he started threatening my mom, and told her that if she wanted to be with him, she had to trust him and move back in with him in the house. We moved back into our home with him as he finished fixing it up for us to live in. He was still not permitted to be in the same house as me, and I remember my mom telling me to tell the social worker that he did not live with us because if I did they would take me away from her. The social worker did not believe her and informed my mom that she could do surprised visits. I do not believe she ever did though. My mom told me years later that my grandfather would not let her stay with him. But, what he told her was she could stay with my grandparents as long as she wanted, but she had to stop dealing with him. My grandmother even offered to let me live with them but my mom would not allow it to be. I did as I was told; I did that and suffered the abuse until I was 17 years old. I would hide from him and tried to get my sisters or brother to be around me as much as I could to avoid being alone with him, none of this worked out in my favor.

Before my mom started working, he had to hide not just from her, but from my sisters and brother. Most times it was done in the garage, but if my mom was not home, he would send my siblings to their room to play or outside to play. I had to tell them that I did not want to go outside and they would go with out me, this is another reason why I did not play with them, for he would call me away from them while we were playing and they would question me when I returned, asking about what I was doing. I was to go downstairs to the second living room so he could hear my mom coming into the house. If I would protest, he would tell me how I could not do something I wanted to do or I could not have something that I wanted to have, so if I wanted a new Barbie, I did not get it unless I did what he asked or he threaten the safety of my family. By the time I was about nine or ten years old, I was performing masturbation on him, he was “feeling me up” and had migrated to “fingering” me. I would feel so degraded and so nasty behind that. I was so scared to tell anyone because I was told he would burn down the house with my family in it, minus him and me and I was scared to death of that. The good thing is there were no little boys in the neighborhood to “play” with. The boys in my neighborhood were not into me because I was a black girl and they were all white, I was safe, at least from that nightmare.

My mom started working when my sisters started school. This caused more issues in my parents’ relationship. He was open with her about his past abuse on me. He had told her that he preferred me over her. He would refuse to have sex with her and tell her that he was punishing her. When we were staying at my grand parents’ house, he would tell her those things and then sleep on the floor, when we moved home, he would sleep on the living room couch. It got much worse after August 30, 1980, the day they were married. I found out much later that they were not even legally married then, because his divorce was not final. He did not tell her that he was still married to his first wife until all the plans were completed for the wedding. They were legally married later on, but I am not sure of the date. They had a wedding ceremony on the 30th of August and a huge wedding reception. I was twelve, my brother was eleven and my sisters were about to turn six. He wanted more control over her, so he married her for the control. He did not want her working and the fights increased not only in frequency but in intensity.

At times he would tell her fine, since she was working; she could pay the bills on her own.  He was not only abusing me but he was verbally, mentally, and physically abusing my mother. By the time I was thirteen, he had migrated to having me perform masturbation on him and trying to get me to perform oral sex on him. He would offer gifts and I would refuse to take them. My mom and his fights would be much more often and violent. He was very much into controlling her. He was angry that she was working. The bad thing for me was she was at one time working the afternoon shift from 2:30 PM to 11:00 PM. He would rotate his shifts, so the best days were when they both were working that shift. In middle school and high school, I had a small circle of friends; there were a total of six of us. So when my parents were not home, I was a typical teenager talking to my few friends on the phone. I had what was considered the quiet girls in school. We all had issues going on at home that none of us really talked about in great detail. As far as I was concerned, I was considered the “normal” one. I never told any of them what was going on with me then.

I had my first boyfriend at the age of thirteen. My brother became friends with some other black kids that lived a little ways from us…not sure how they met. Well I went to the shopping center with him to meet them. I met him that day and we dated on and off for 3 years. I thought the world ended and began with Eric. He was kind to me and he was sweet. I thought he was going to be the one I was going to marry….come on first loves are like that. Funny thing, everyone else thought that too, until he started to realize that other girls thought he was cute too. High school has a way of doing that to you. We did not go to the same high school; he went to different high school due to his learning capabilities. He was not unintelligent by any means; he was a slow learner and needed special attention. All we ever did was kiss and make out, he tried to take it further on several occasion but I always refused. I figured if I gave it to him, things would get worse with my dad. When I started dating, my dad tried to increase what he wanted to do to me, telling me it was to prepare me with what happens with the boys. He would have me lay down on the bed and he would rub me down and make me get naked and rub up against me until he ejaculated. So when my boyfriend would rub up against me, I would just freeze. There was no way I was giving in to Eric for I did not want things to get worse in my life at home. I just knew if I did, my dad would know and I believed that because that is what he told me. I had my mom also telling me that if I had sex with a boy she would know. They were both wrong about that, as they did not know when I lost my virginity. The relationship between my parents got worse. The worse it got for my mother, the worse it got for me. She was a big woman when I was growing up. I bet at her heaviest she was 300 pounds. She started to lose weight with the Cambridge Diet fad. She went from a size 28 to a size 6 in a couple of months. My dad went nuts; the relationship was not on good terms by any means before she started losing the weight but after she started, the fights between them were so often. I am amazed she survived, only through the grace of God. Looking back, I know why she stayed as her self-esteem was beyond low. I wish she had left. I can remember destructive fights between them. She was starting to get attention from other men, and since she was lacking that at home, she lavished in the attention and my dad had a major temper, bad combination. I remember plenty of times he would beat her after they got home from a party, calling her all kinds of sluts and whores, but I would hear them making love afterwards. I thought that was normal and how it was supposed to be between men and women. I will never forget the day I woke up to see my mom had her jaw wired shut because my dad beat her so bad while they were out at some bar for some celebration. I was about 14 or 15 years old then. He beat her senseless in front of her own family. My great uncle had to stop him. He beat her down the street in public. Both my grandmothers were at the house and a bunch of women visitors the next day. My dad was still there, saying how sorry he was over and over again to her and telling her how much he loved her.

Apparently, some guy was flirting with her, she was flirting back, and my dad went ballistic on her. After that, he was not home much as he had a girlfriend already and my mom knew it. I think that is why she would accept the attention from the other men. My dad had girlfriends for years, but then he got one who was taking a lot of his time. We were happy when he was not home, my mother was more relaxed and I had less to fear. My sisters were not as happy about the situation though, they were daddy’s little princesses. When he was not around, they were treated as the rest of us and when he was around no one could do or say anything to them. They were spoiled rotten and they knew it and took advantage of it when they could. When he did come around, it was awful. He wanted to have sex with me and I was fighting and begging him not to do that to me. He would turn me over and rub his penis on my butt until he ejaculated. I would cry in the shower and wonder what I did to deserve this in my life. My mom had started to yell at me for dumb stuff. I wanted her to love me. I thought she was unhappy with me, not knowing that she was unhappy in her life with her choices. She knew what was going on and the day I realized that was a hard pill for me to swallow. She would get me to ask him for stuff we wanted. For example, if she did not want to cook, she would tell me to ask him to buy pizza. I would do as she asked and pay for it later. He would make sure that I knew it too. I wanted her to like me, I wanted her love and I wanted her to be proud of me. I would do anything that she asked me to do but it just never seemed good enough. She would say, “Get your sister to ask, he does what she wants, she is closes to him, his favorite.” It was so hurtful to me to hear that from her. She would walk past me and make comments, telling me if she caught me with him, she would hurt me. She would remind me that he was her husband not mine.

Our relationship started to change when I was about thirteen years old. I was stealing cigarettes from her and wanting to be with my boyfriend. I was still a “good girl” at that point. I was about to break out into a whole new me. When I was sixteen years old, I decided I was tired of being a virgin. I had my best friend at the time hook me up with some guy, who I do not remember to this day what his name was. I told her I wanted to just get it over with. So I had sex with him, lost my virginity to a complete stranger. I thought to myself, this is it. No fun to me, what is the big deal, he was appreciative for I was a virgin, he had no remorse as he knew I was doing it to get it over with. The front seat of a car, two kisses and ten minutes later, the deal was done. I looked at it as a deal and I never talked to him again but did not care either. I was starting to gain some confidence in myself, not because of that but I believe it comes from age. I wanted the nightmare to end, so I knew I had to tell someone. I went to a close relative’s job and told her. I kept beating around the bush and she decided to help me and she told me that she knew that he had molested me when I was six, I informed her that it had not stop to that date still. She was upset, but what I did not know until years later, she had over the years asked my mother over and over again if the abuse had stopped and my mom reassured her that it did. She was hurt for me and angry at my mother. It was easier for me to get to her while she was at work and not have to take the chance of telling her on the phone and someone over hearing me. Oh the wonders…she just gave me the lift that I needed.

I was getting so scared of my step father, but he was not around as much anymore. We would see him once a month or so, but when he was there, it was really bad. My mom would call the house before coming home to see if he was there or not. She was even getting tired of his beatings. I will never forget the day that he tried to beat her in the driveway of the house. My brother was about 15 at the time and he was a big guy even then. He was coming out of the house to go after my dad, but my dad made my mom tell my brother to go back in the house or he would snap her neck. I do not think my brother ever got over that still to this day.

I will never forget the day that God gave me strength to stand up for myself, I was sixteen at the time and it was the summertime, I will never forget. My step father was good at not allowing me to go places with my friends or do anything at all with anyone if I did not do what he said. I had no option and it hurt me so much, but I did what he wanted and half the time never did what I wanted to do because I was so ashamed. I wanted to go to the mall with my girlfriends and he wanted me to “do things” and I said NO!!! I started yelling at him, he threatened me with burning up the house and killing everyone, I told him to make sure that I was in the house when he did it because I did not want to live anymore and I told him that if he made me do that again…I would tell my mom and I would call the police. I told him that I was going to the mall and meeting my friend and he could kiss where the sun did not shine. I left the house in a huge angry ball of fire, to only go to the top of the hill run into the woods and cry my eyes out. I collected myself and for the first time in my life I felt like I had won, I had peace in my heart and soul for the first time since I was six years old. So after that wonderful triumphed move, my life came to another all time of difficult situation!!!! Here come the wild years along with the first bout with cancer!!!!!

 

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER TWO



 
 

Published by: Alissa Lynne – Verona, PA

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Copyright © 2007 Alissa Lynne – Purple Butterfly of Christ - All rights reserved

First Edition, 2007

Published in the United States of America

 

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