Molly’s First Bra

A girl’s first bra and for that matter, anything having to do with such personal and private matters of a girl’s femininity, should be made special between the mom and the girl. It matters not what the event or issue is, the little girl in her growing years should have a relationship with the mom that is just between them in “girl things.” These developmental changes are not to be made fun of, used to be an embarrassment to the little girl, or to make the little girl feel ugly and dirty.

This morning, while preparing for my chiropractic visit, I began to dress. This event triggered a difficult and painful memory for Molly – her first bra. You see, in 1976 it was apparently getting time for Little Sherry to start wearing these awful things. The fullness was becoming obvious. My mother hadn’t taken care of that detail and it was mentioned to her while visiting someone she was friends with that day.

We remember that day, that experience, vividly. We were at Nellie Burpee’s house in Orland Maine. My step-father’s brother, wife, and cousins were there as well as my family less my step-father because he was working at the mill that day. Because Nellie and Aunt Edith mentioned to my mother my need for a bra and put much pressure on her to do so, she left and went to the Bucksport Main Street shopping strip.

At that time I don’t know what name the five and dime had but at times it was Trueworgy’s and at others it was the Ben Franklin. In 1976, I can’t remember.

Being that I’ve realized and learned that I was nothing but a paycheck for her, it makes sense the disgust she portrayed when she brought this nasty thing back to me. She came in the house, took this box out of the bag, and demanded I go to the bedroom at the end of the hall and put it on.

It wasn’t even pretty but just two foam triangles put together with bias, white, bias tape. There was nothing pretty about it or the events that took place that day. The picture above is prettier than what I was handed and IT is ugly. No lace, no beauty, no care…. Nothing. Pain.

I was instructed to come back and “show it off.” I couldn’t do the back and called out for help. She came and put my arms and hands behind my back and “showed” me how to clip it. I finished and went to grab my shirt.

“No, go show everyone” she said. I was mortified. My Uncle Wolfred, his sons who hurt us when we were 4, and Mr. Burpee were all in the living room. How could I go out there with this on and no shirt? I was so embarrassed.

What mother does this to her child?????? What person condones this kind of behavior? First, she buys the bra out of pressure and is angry about that, then she parades me in front of men who’ve hurt me and some who haven’t?
I never remember going back to Nellie’s house again. Once I did what I was told, I was allowed to put my shirt back on. I don’t remember the rest of that visit and as I said, I never remember going to visit Nellie again.

I remember the ladies talking in the kitchen but not what was said. Is it possible that Nellie and Aunt Edith chided her? I would hope so!

When we left there and went to pick up my step-father at the mill, we went home. I was to, once again, parade in front of him. Him who’d been hurting, molesting, and abusing all of us so badly. Him who’d continue to do terrible things to us in the coming years. How? Why??

What is the point of humiliating a young girl like this? What is the point of humiliating ANYONE like that? Nothing was pretty on me, nothing about me was pretty, I wasn’t worth pretty, and only worthy of humiliation, embarrassment, and deep, deep hurt. Why?? What had I done? What was it about me that deserved such treatment?

What would have been so bad about just a little bit of beauty such as the photo to the right? Couldn’t there be any privacy? What about a cherishing of that time for a girl? Something a mom would do with her little girl as a “rite of passage” if you will? Yes, this is a very painful memory of an event that took place 38 years ago when we were 9 years old. Why? What mother does this? Such agony for a child……

Such agony for me, now 47 years old, in remembering this event.  Such pain and deep hurt.  Tears.

Molly’s Fall

Molly wanted us to tell about the fall. We hurt so badly. We can’t sleep either well. Hubby said he knew we were struggling last night badly since we moved ever two seconds for the first several hours. Molly isn’t able to remember just when the fall took place but she feels like it was in 3rd grade, which would have been 1975 possibly.
It was in the morning on the way to school at this place. We were just getting ready to turn the corner off Broadway into the school playground when Molly stepped wrong, twisting and breaking her foot, as we learned much later in life – 9 years later, and landing on her right side, as we’re finding out now with all the pain. The grass was not there at this spot then like it is now; however, this is the entry to the Jewett School in Bucksport Maine.

We don’t remember much about that day after the fall. We don’t remember whether we got up or the teachers found us but we remember next being at home. A couple of days after the fall, my mother took us to the doctor’s in Bucksport but the doctor said nothing was wrong. We were denied any care and made to go on as if nothing was wrong.

2014
Now, 40 years later, the pain from the injuries is so strong. Molly is being treated at the chiropractor for her injuries sustained all those years ago. The pain is so much worse now than it would have been back then. The thought is that while her left foot twisted and broke, it was her right side she landed on; hence, now the right rib cage, right arm, and right back buttock is so much in pain. Even her hand making life so difficult.

We went to see Renee on Tuesday and tomorrow we will go again. The pain we are experiencing now is much worse than the pain we would have experienced had we been treated back then. We cannot sleep well, we walk in much pain and with much difficulty, the right arm pain is excruciating, and the right hand is somewhat asleep, making typing difficult but Molly wanted this written. There is a pinching pain also going up the left back buttock as well as the right shoulder pain. Renee was able to make the right side rib case feel much better and we’ve had no problems since. Am so hoping to have these same results with the rest of the body. It hurts so badly and causes such crying.

It makes no sense why we weren’t cared for then. None. Today, now we have to heal. The healing is much worse today than it would have been then.

 

Life As A Multiple

 

As children grow up, they are supposed to mature.  I didn’t do that educationally.  Children learn to think, they learn vocabulary words and what they mean, they begin to understand concepts, they make parallels, and a number of other things.  When someone is sexually molested from a very young age, in my case 3 years old, threatened with death if they tell, and then when they begin to learn are once again threatened with death if they learn, this shuts that person down.  They fear learning for they know they will die.

With that, add to the fact that I was also a slave keeping our house clean from top to bottom and without enough to eat causing me to be in the 25th percentile in weight of girls my age, I was broken, shattered.  I spent my days/nights numb, empty, in fear.  This was my life.  This is why I became a multiple.  This is also why I am only now, at 45 really starting to learn because I no longer fear death if I do.  I learned some things growing up, yes; however, I did not learn so many things.

My vocabulary suffers terribly and what someone may say to me I don’t understand which causes me to have to ask.  Sometimes that person is willing to tell me or explain to me and at other times, they walk away.  I often feel very dumb, very isolated, and very left out.  Imagine being a system of over 25 people, all different ages, and the havoc that creates.  I can be 45 one minute and the next 10.  I may be Crystal, who is 8 one minute and the next minute Sherry who is 45.

God gave me, according to some, the “Gift of Multiple Personality” so I’d not destroy myself.  I thank Him for that.  Today I’m healing.  Today I’m learning.  Today I’m not fearful of death.  Today I am free.  While I may make wrong assumptions or make wrong parallels, I am learning.  I have truly come a long way.  I truly appreciate those in my life who have stuck with me, loved me in spite of my struggles, and accepted me.  I no longer have to hide and be embarrassed about who I am.  I’m thankful for those who have been patient with me.  One day I truly hope to be a help to those who have been down my road.

I am saddened by the number of people who have lived this kind of life.  We aren’t as rare as we’ve been led to believe either.  We all need to be much kinder to each other.  I’m not “demon” possessed as some would believe.  I’ve been hurt terribly by those who I was supposed to be able to trust.  This is not “humanistic” philosophy but it is what I live with daily.  Thank you to all who help me learn, answer my questions, and are so patient with me.  Thank you from my heart.  I’ve been given a very special love from my Sweetie who loves me totally unconditionally.  He loves me with a love divine at times which is more than I ever thought possible.  From the bottom of my heart Sweetie, I love you!

I am, today, now 47; thus, you can tell this was written two years ago.  I have had the emergence of more little girls since this was written.  This journey truly is one filled with pain, heartache, and difficulty but the freedom that will be mine when it is come to completion, will be so worth it.