Ghosts of Memories… foundation of the story…

Margie has no memory from the time of the hair brush incident until she is about 5 years old…

By now Margie had a new sibling, a sister… a sister born with special condition that happens once in every 5,000 births…

Though Margie has no memory of the new baby sister, the memories do pick up when the sister is about 4 years old and the family dynamic has taken a dramatic turn…

It had once been speculated that the sister’s condition was based on the probability of mother taking HGH (human growth hormone) injections through a trial study… but that seems unlikely… You see the first human studies were not done until 1956, which means it is very unlikely that mother received these injections during the last trimester of her pregnancy… unless it was back door medicine… we will never know for sure…

The condition my sister was born with is called precocious and it impacts growth… She grew at an accelerated rate and by the time she was 4 years old, she was nearly as tall as our mother…

I can speculate on what caused this growth, based on only what little I know and the research I have done…. my hunch is though, it was natural, just one of those flukes of nature…

The memories pick up around the age of 5… mother is pregnant with my little brother…

These memories have always been in my brain, and have never altered, so I will tell you what little I know…

I remember a TV show for kids and my sister and I were in the stands… The host walked up to talk to us, not knowing that my little sister was only 4 and it seem to have made her nervous… I remember her pushing up close to me when the host stuck the microphone in her face, so I answered… I don’t think my answer was what my mother wanted to hear…

Now this is where the memory is sketchy and you will understand why when I get to the 13th year of my life…

I remember mother being very upset after the TV show, when we were going home… I have no memory after that, but there is a picture that shows both my arms swollen, my wrist mal-formed, which was likely broken and the little finger on my right hand was obviously broken, I had blunt force trauma bruising from my knees to my neck and no I never saw a doctor… that finger is crooked as a witch’s hat 58 years later…

The next memory picks up and dad is taking me to school and as the nurse sticks a thermometer up my rear end, I look up at dad and say “I am being a good girl, aren’t I daddy”… he would not make eye contact with me…

The next memory picks up and we are staying in a tiny trailer and I get stung by a bunch of bees… Dad may have gone hunting and I remember a stranger leaving our trailer in the middle of the night… Dad came back from hunting with a bunch of buck shot in him… These memories are a puzzle that I am hoping that the regression therapy will help me sort out…

I have no memory of birthdays,  holidays or family life… this covers from the age of 18 months to around 5 or 6 years old…

Times Up #MeToo

I Remember…

Author: Adorable Spite

Domestic violence is an old song, sung thru the ages like a hymn and purported to be the way christians live their lives... full of deceit, hate, bigotry and most of all fear... It is that fear that cost me my virginity, my soul and most of all my humanity... I had to fight to keep the christians hands off my soul, but they stole from my body and so did the U. S. Air Force... Rape and attempted murder... but image was more important... Vance AFB and Webb AFB... #WhyIDidntTell #MeToo TimesUP, Circle of Silence is no more....