Margies ghost enters ….

Life is good, the days filled with kids and grand kids… Family in and out the door make for a busy life… I took a job for a realtor out of boredom and then it happened…

My night became filled with turmoil and unrest… Doctors tried sleeping meds, which seem to make it worse… Smoking a little weed seemed to help and lots of Vodka… but it wasn’t restful sleep…. 

It was sleep filled with images of carnage… It was nights of waking up in a cold sweat and a scream upon my lips… I started talking in my sleep, not making any sense to anyone and I dropped down to 113 pounds… Something had to give…

The alcohol became a thing of the past… sleeping meds were thrown in the trash and I started looking for answers inside my brain…

It was a slow process at first… Life played its part in our next decision and it helped me find my way through the nightmares about Margie…

In 2003 we moved to Arkansas, to be near my family… I knew dad was dying, he showed all the signs of Agent Orange contamination… Da Nang was a depot for the substance and that had been his duty assignment, so I knew he didn’t have long for this earth…

Being around the family was traumatic… Though we lived in the same town as my siblings… I stayed away from them as much as possible and for good reason…

Mother was always telling stories of the past, but they never rang true… None of the older kids my half-brother or younger sister by 2 years lived in the state, so any stories the younger ones told, I discarded, especially if they had to do with me in any way… because I knew the story had come from mom or dad and it was their version, just not the truth…

The nightmares intensified and sleep became something I missed like you would miss a limb you had lost…

Within 2 years of moving there, my father-in-law was given a 20% chance to survive lung cancer… so all of a sudden we were spending our time between Arkansas and Washington…

When in Washington, I got rest… I wasn’t around the family… I wasn’t any where near my mother… who always made me very uncomfortable… 

On one of these times to Washington, I knew we would get the call to come back to Arkansas, dad was dying… This time period is critical to my remembering Margie and the nightmares that became more vivid…

His death watch was something out of the Twilight Zone… the half-sister, not of my dad’s blood made sure I was never able to sit with my dad or be near him… If I entered the house to go check on him, I was met in the hall by my mother, never given any private time with my dad… my first love…

Because of this, we left and went home to our house, where we stayed until dad died… Never allowed to be with my dad during this time opened up Pandora’s box of memories… 

Margie was beating on the cell door to be let out… She was screaming at the top of her voice to be heard… August 11, 2006 I knew I was missing memory… I knew something terrible had happened when I was a child… I knew that an ugly dark secret was coming up from the dark recess of my mind… I could hear Margie in the background begging to be set free…

I did not attend my father’s funeral… I had given him unconditional love and respect towards the last years of his life… always giving him a hug and kiss as I left his house…

My aunts and uncles showed up at my house after his death… appalled at what they had witnessed when their brother was dying… We all knew what had happened, yet were powerless to stop a man’s death with no dignity…

Yes the man nearly killed me and took away my childhood with a severe traumatic brain injury… all because he loved the woman he called wife… The damage to my skull is still there… the headaches that accompany the damage, still active today…

Yet he was my daddy and I was denied the right to be with him at the end…

We left Arkansas and headed for a much-needed vacation in Mexico… We sold off our stuff, rented our house out and loaded up our 5th wheel…

It would take us 4 years to sell that house, so that I would never have to go back to Arkansas… the place my mother told me to butt out after his death… because she didn’t want Margie to come back to life again… Margie would destroy the false christian image she had established…

Margie walked back into my nights… the dreams filled with anger, pain and abuse… She is beating on the cell door to be let out and to be heard…

Domestic violence is an old song on our planet… to abuse in the name of a god that is man-made is something I will never understand…

I take the key to that cell and open it… waiting for Margie to exit and tell me the rest of her story, so that she may be set free of the confines of a false religion called christianity…

Times Up #MeToo

I Remember….

Author: maggi9454

My earliest memory is before the age of 2... by the time I was 13, I had no childhood memories... No holidays, no birthdays... On 11/5/17 a shooter in Texas changed all that... It triggered my memories from my 13th year... The Air Force covered it up an it happened in Big Springs, Texas 1967... Domestic violence, PTSD, TBI and I too served in the Air Force 10 years later... This is my story to remember what was stolen...