Breaking down the road-block…

I have the before memory of the 1967/68 attack that landed my dad in a psych ward… That roadblock was never there… I had always seen the picture frozen in time in black and white… It took Devin killing 26 people in Texas to trigger that memory of a hot night in Big Springs, Texas…

It is so frustrating, I can see the night play out from the beginning and I can get the pictures to play through to my brother and I getting in on the action, trying to stop our parents from killing each other… boy was that a big mistake… should have just run out the front door screaming for help, we lived in town… 

I remember fighting for my own life and it goes blank… my next memory picks up June 1968, months after the attack and head injuries… so I was walking thru life, just not remembering any of it…

Now why June you ask… why months later do I start making memories after nearly dying… that sticks out because my grandmother had just passed away… she was Mom’s mother…. This was the first time I ever saw my mother show any real emotion for anyone other than her self… so the memory stuck… I remember that my body was still covered in bruises….

No matter how much I meditate or focus on that hot night in Big Springs, Texas… I hit a roadblock… The memory is there… I saw a glimpse of it Nov 7, 2017, when I talked about Devin and the 26 people he murdered… I was able to describe to my husband what went down that night in Big Springs, till I got to the part of me being beaten and my brain refused… it slammed that door shut so fast it left me screaming to be rescued… I haven’t been able to get that door open since that day…

I knew this would be a frustrating journey, exploring my forgotten childhood… and I get why combat veterans get frustrated, when they know they should know something…

I’m not giving up… I work at the positive aspect of this quest and keep telling myself, it will come in time… Maybe not how or when I want, but my brain has protected me my whole life… I just have to have faith in myself…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

 

TBI at the Rice Pattie’s…Japan 1968

I honestly wish I could tell you what triggered another beating… but it went down like this…

We lived in the rice patties at Johnson AFB, Japan… the walls were so thin, you could hear people outside breathing…

One day, dad came home from work, keep in mind this man is 6 ft 4 in and 250 pounds and I am 5 ft 6 in 90 pounds…

He walked in door and mother said that I deserved a beating for something I said to her… Do you know, I so wish I knew what it was I said??? Just because I opened my mouth the following happened…

He grabbed my left arm, slung me around like a rag doll, whipping my neck back and forth as if I was in an auto accident, he had his 2 in leather belt with metal buckle in his hands and he started hitting…

I remember the first couple of blows and screaming for all I was worth… not one American neighbor in the military did anything… NOT ONE!!!

Being that my brain was still healing from the crack in my skull and brain trauma in 1967… you can imagine, my brain had zero defense with this assault one year later…

For decades I had always thought I had the flu during this down time… What do I mean by that… I have no memory of us getting to Japan, I have the memory of the beating and my memories pick up with me sicker than I could remember… Only one problem, It wasn’t the flu… I had suffered another TBI at the hands of my dad… and no as far as I know I never saw a doctor… the parents kept me at home until I healed, which if my ghost of memories is correct, I was down for about 10 days…

No other siblings were sick with the flu during this time, my brain is sure of that… So I have to accept, my dad tried to kill me one more time… and this time it scared the crap out of the folks…

What gets me, NOT ONE AMERICAN SERVICE MEMBER OR FAMILY MEMBER turned them in… Not one…

I have about a dozen memories for the next couple of years… I don’t remember my 15th birthday, I don’t remember us moving on base into base housing… I don’t remember a girl who I went to school with that I am friends with on face book… I accepted her friend request only because I had her picture in my photo album… I don’t even have many memories of the first man I dated and was my first big crush… I remember his name only and a couple of dates over a years time… I don’t even remember our move to Okinawa…

So far my parents, the master manipulator mother and her lackey dad… have given me at least 4 traumatic brain injuries by 1968 and I have a feeling there were probably more…

How did I survive… You will have to ask Margie… Margie has been the driving force behind my desire to remember all that is available to me in my brain… I know the memories are there… I know I am seeing them in my nightly nightmares and dreams… 

It’s just trying to put a puzzle together and not putting the edge pieces in the middle, but piecing it together in a manner that makes sense and follows a time line…

I imagine combat veterans who have had TBI’s get my meaning, maybe even those in auto accidents… Head trauma and memory loss is the most disconcerting experience you can have… It’s almost as if you are constantly having an out-of-body experience…

Last night was a fun ride of memories in fast forward mode… Every time I woke up, I knew I had been seeing some more of the past that I lost… It just played through so fast and when I went back to sleep, it repeated itself… kind felt like I was on a merry-go-round…

I only hope that merry-go-round stops and lets me off and I land on a ferris wheel that allows me to see things more clearly… Hope springs eternal, when searching for repressed memories…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

Margie’s tears are in my dreams only…

I can’t say Margie doesn’t cry… She does often in my nightmares… Those tears are old ones that dried a very long time ago… I don’t stop her from showing her emotions or crying tears of fear, she was a child at one time so very long ago… She has every right to shed those tears, I don’t…

You see the tears started at a very young age of 18 months, with the first memory of violence… that was around 1955… and those tears continued until 1972, the last time any human on this planet laid a hand on me, when dad gave me my last TBI at 17 years of age…

I only remember 2 of the attacks clearly… One in 1968, in the rice patties of Johnson AFB, off base housing, on Japan while my  brain was still healing from the 1967 attack in Big Springs, Texas… and the one in 1972 on Okinawa, in Naha AFB housing…

For Maggi to shed tears over the past only happens when the memories of what was, come out of the darkness of her mind… They are there, those dark memories, yet they are like watching a slide show or a movie in very slow motion… They are taking their time coming to light…

I have always felt them, never understood them until the VA in El Paso said I had PTSD… I knew then that I had been right to confront mom about the missing memory in 2010… Her refusal to fill me in on what happened under her watch spoke volumes of the character of the woman I once called mother… Now I see her only as the master manipulator and dad was her lackey…

As you read my story, feel pity for the children that are suffering today and have no voice… IF you see something, SAY something… It is better to turn people in and be wrong, than to ignore the signs of abuse…

Margie will heal and one day those tears will be no more… they will become a memory that can be laid to rest so that Maggi can live in the here and now… It will just take time and Maggi’s strong desire to know all, so that the nightmares haunt her no more and Margie is free of the prison not of her making…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

Margie rebels….

Crawled into bed last night, tired and ready for some sleep and bang!!! Eyes wide open and brain saying I don’t think so!!!

So I challenged my brain and told it, okay, so lets focus on the near death beating in Texas in 67 that got us shipped off to Japan… and there came the roadblocks!!!

When Maggi sat down on Nov 7, 2017 and started talking about the shooting in Texas on Nov 5, 2017 by Devin and ex-Air Force member that killed 26 people, it was the first time I had truly looked at that night in Big Springs, Texas…

The memory frozen in time in a black and white picture… Dad hitting mom, mom hitting dad, my half-brother trying to break it up, my pushing the younger siblings back into their rooms and hearing their screams of terror… Seeing mom go down, then my brother and all I could think of was the baby that was the reason for the fight…

Yet it wasn’t the baby, it was mother that was the reason for the fight… As the memories slowly come back from my childhood, I see mother for what she really is and was… Manipulative… the woman was brilliant, just very twisted in her thought process and corrupted by man-made religion and her own warped sense of right and wrong…

It never was about the baby that wasn’t dad’s…. It was always about how mom wanted everything her way, in her style and in her beliefs… Even if those ideas were mentally perverse and deranged…

That night in Texas was never about the baby conceived while dad was in Vietnam… That night was about a woman who’s own troubled past clouded her thinking, her morality and her judgement…

It was all about control… She was and still is in control of that household… Even though all the kids are grown and grandparents or parents… She is still in control of them… all except one… ME…

She never could control me… Was it because I was born self-aware, high IQ and Edetic memory… I will never know that answer… When the psych evaluation in El Paso proved all those talents I have, I had my answer, yet I was unaware at that time I was missing memory.., missing memories of abuse… I was not aware that my own mother did all she could to destroy the very life she brought into this world….ME…

I am aware now… So last night was an over active brain that went to every subject under the sun except the one I wanted it to look at… The night Margie died in Big Springs, Texas 1967… I hit roadblocks…

Head trauma, according to all the text books… you either remember the before of the trauma or you remember the after of the trauma… You rarely remember the trauma..  Well I remember the before, but the after doesn’t pick up for months later after the trauma… The indention in my skull is a good indication that I may never remember… Thus the request for police records, psych records on dad in the Air Force and his military records… None of which have I looked at…

Not out of fear… but out of the desire to see the past through my own eyes, not from the perspective of anyone else, not even the records in my possession… Not yet…

I have only been on this journey for 5 months and I have many more miles to travel to understand and remember, before I give into the paper trail… 

Our move to Johnson AFB, Japan in 1968 to protect the Air Forces’ image is a key factor in remembering… Those memories are slowly surfacing…  but it is a slow and cumbersome process… One that is taxing, draining and over-whelming… but necessary…

The memories are there… I see ghosts of them nightly… It’s just convincing my brain, I am ready to see all the ugly, hateful and violent parts of them…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

Maggi goes into the Air Force…

MaggiBasicTraining77

When I entered the military, I had zero clues that I had suffered multiple brain injuries as a child…or blunt force trauma to my arms, legs and rib cage and back… If you are never told, you don’t know… and I didn’t know… and I was never told and yes I asked, many times I asked…

To this day it amazes me how my parents got away with it, living among other military families and even in the rice patties at Johnson AFB when I got one in 68 and another on Okinawa in 72… No one turned my parents in…

Going into the military was my choice, so I could support my two kids… I got lucky and went into the medical field and loved it… Though my first job as a dental tech an my first patient, I had to leave the room… breakfast was on its way out…

As time went by, I got a stronger stomach and loved working on patients… I enjoyed surgery the most…

What I found interesting was we had lots of retirees in our area and the majority of them had been in Vietnam… So we had something in common… Dad served in DaNang and I knew lots of GI’s on Okinawa that were back and forth to Vietnam…

The most interesting thing though was the fact that our surgical gloves were defective… and I was exposed to some very nasty diseases by my patients… It wasn’t their fault… It was our cheap ass governments fault…

With in a year of going active duty I was struck sick… the doctors did try very hard to figure it out, but like lots of things back then, science wasn’t up to speed and it would be decades later I would learn what was happening to my body…

I picked up an infection in 78 and that infection has now progressed to give me Polyneuropathy… Will they ever know what it was that infected me, only the test they are now doing will give me that answer…

As a disabled veteran I learned after my discharge the VA wasn’t in the business to heal us, they were in the business to bury us…

We moved to Hawaii a couple of years ago and I got lucky, I have all civilian care… so I am hoping that I will get answers…

Only one thing scares me… They sprayed Agent Orange on Okinawa when I lived there as a teenager… Then they buried it on Okinawa a few years later… These files have been declassified, if you want to research it…

So not only do I have to be concerned about what I got from a patient, but also being exposed to Agent Orange… I watch my father die from Agent Orange, DaNang was the depot for the substance…

What has this to do with my story… I made it through the military with no knowledge that I had a brain injury and the Air Force psych exam I had, got the diagnosis 100% wrong… Scary to think anyone working for the military in psychiatry getting it wrong… but my exam by the El Paso VA in 2011 says they got it so wrong, it’s ridiculous…

If you are a veteran and have been through these kind of exams and you don’t agree with them… go see a civilian psychiatrist who specializes in PTSD and TBI… They may have a different answer for you… I know I was shocked when I got mine… I believed the Air Force idiot for 25 years and regret not pursuing a civilian specialist…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

TBI and Mental Roadblocks…

When I realized that Margie had suffered a TBI, I made myself focus on the past… Something I had not done before Nov 7, 2017… I always felt, leave the past alone, you can not change it, so why bother going there… Little did I realize that thought process is what kept me from remembering the horror of the household I grew up in…

Margie’s memories, the few I knew of, had always been the same memories, they never changed or altered… I didn’t understand that either until I was told I had PTSD in 2011…

When I stood in mom’s kitchen in 2010 and told her about the missing memory time in my childhood it was a Eureka moment… painful, so painful that I still to this day want to strangle the woman who caused me so much harm…

When she refused to answer my questions, I knew right then, at that very moment I had lost my childhood to violence because of her and her manipulative behavior… Her cruelty knows no bounds and still doesn’t to this day…

When I left Arkansas, in 2010, that was the last time I saw my mother… I will not mourn her passing… It will only be a relief to me, when she is no longer of this earth…

Accepting that I was missing most of my first 18 years, is what set me on the journey to find Margie… Only one problem… my brain, it did not want to cooperate… In fact it puts up road blocks on a regular basis and I am the one that caused that problem…

You see, when unpleasant thoughts of memories came to mind over the years, I immediately shoved them into a file cabinet in my brain, a special place I set up decades ago, so I could cope with the physical and psychological pain that my parents caused, along with a little help from a couple of siblings…

This file cabinet is what I have been trying to get access too… I know the memories are there, I see ghosts of them in my nightly nightmares…

Lately it seems I am making progress… Not a lot of progress, it’s extremely slow and exasperating progress… It’s like my brain is giving me a flash of a memory and if I accept the memory, I get more… If I do my old routine of shoving it into the file cabinet, then I know I am hitting a roadblock… of my own making…

I am only into the first 8 years of Margies life and what I have been able to see so far is horrific… something out of the Twilight Zone type of trauma… It’s very painful to wrap your head around and believe that anyone can be that cruel to a child… Yet she was… For what reason, I will never know… but the cruelty is still alive and well in her beating heart today, the woman I call mother…

As long as I am receptive to remembering and not fall back on my old habit of shoving it into the file cabinet… I will remember all of the 18 years that I have lost… I know that some of it will be so heart breaking it will take me to the pits of hell of depression… 

I have hope though… I have hope that there are good memories, though none have ever surface in the last 50 years… I still cling to hope… Without hope, I would have give up on life a very long time ago… Facing this kind of pain, I wish on no one… not even me… but it is my choice to face that pain, so that I can put the past to rest and enjoy the here and now…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

 

Margie struggles to stay alive…

It is a conundrum to think you have to fight to stay alive… Margie learned that lesson very early on…

WHY

In this picture her wrist is malformed, the little finger broken and the arm swollen as well as the thighs and knees… This was after a brutal beating… You can see the bruising from her head to her knees…

You can also see mother digging her fingers into her injured arm… the left arm was swollen also… All from blunt force trauma…

Margie was only 6 when this picture was taken… It is hard to believe that she had to learn to adapt at such a young age, to just stay alive… She received another beating 2 years later…

Maggi6yr

Why those beatings happened, because an adult acted like a monster instead of an adult… They thought they had a right to abuse this child… They thought they had a right to shove their man-made religion down her throat and up her ass, till she folded and believed as they did… They tried hard to beat into her, this is the way life is… their way, no other…

It would take leaving home at 18 and not looking back to realize how mentally ill and pervasive the people she called mom and dad were… then she came to realize, that her siblings were and still are under the control of this woman, who says she knows her god…

So much abuse on our planet against children by adults, who want their perverse way of life kept quiet…

Margie came to my dreams last night, she was a toddler and she was being abused… I can not explain why I was born self-aware with edetic memory… but my mother did all she could to destroy those gifts that evolution gave me…

The memories are coming back to me in a very slow and painful way… They don’t let me see much, its like a bread crumb trail that I have to follow… My brain is waking up from it’s 50 years fog… the lies and deceit have melted away and all that is left is the truth of what Margie endured for 18 years…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….