Book outline finished, now document… TBI journey…

The more science learns about traumatic brain injury (TBI) the more they can help people like me…

80% of those who suffered a brain injury has someone in their corner to tell them about the injury and assist on their journey… I have no such support system…

When I stood in mom’s kitchen in 2010 and told her about the missing memory and her refusal to talk about what she and dad did to me, you could say she became a ghost of a memory in that moment… no longer a valid human being as my life has no meaning to her…

I have said it for decades the VA is not in the business to help veterans, they are in the business to bury veterans… We are and always have been expendable…

The writing from here on out, will be what memories I have and there won’t be many… I have no help on this journey to uncover any repressed memories… I have only me and my brain has put up road blocks before, so it will be a struggle…

It may take another tragedy, like the one on Nov 5, 2017 when a shooter killed 26 innocents, to trigger my memories, if there are any to remember…

I would rather get there with help, but as that is not being provided, I may have to accept what little I know and work on a draft of the book that will have all the details I have available to me…

I don’t expect this to happen over night… I still have police files and government records to review… A recent diagnosis may impact how I approach the story and the book itself…

At least I got some of the story out there and I got my birth family out of my life… Toxic people who believe in a god only so they can hide behind that god, are not humans… they are no different from the primates who battle for superiority in their groups… it’s about control, not family…

Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to read my story and maybe someday I will get it finished… 

There is hope for all with TBI, science is showing that… For veterans with TBI all I can tell you is talk, let the demons out and seek professional health care professionals that care about you and not the paycheck… There is always HOPE…

Times Up #MeToo

I Remember…

 

A Child’s Cry Her World Full of Sorrow…

Margie believed in god at one time… She said the prayers that all christian children learn… She read the bible and learned its meaning… She sang in choir, went to sunday school and practiced what was taught….

Margie quickly learned, no matter how good you behave… How much you forgive… No matter what you do to comply with the teachings that were handed down by human beings… They were after all only humans… Humans that control life with fear…

No supernatural… No magic… Just stories told by adults to sow fear in the hearts and minds of children and those adults, who are not able to believe in themselves…

Margie learned very early, no matter how much you do and say in the name of christianity… It is just humans having lack of faith in themselves…

Margie realized after the beating over the boob incident with her sister and brother… That god was just an excuse to say it’s okay to rape, beat, torture, lie and steal your way through life…

Margie chose a different path and that went against every thing her parents tried to beat into her… 

Margie chose to live her life based on right and wrong… Margie chose to believe in the laws that man-made to protect all, not just some… Margie chose to live life away from the fear that christians use to control, what they don’t own or in possession of…

Margie was vivid last night… I woke many times during those long night hours, finding my body curled in the fetal position… A position I took many a time after a brutal beating…Trying to give my broken and battered body some relief from the physical pain…

It is a very painful day… the depression is deep, the sorrow great… yet I tell myself…

Margie is alive if not complete… Margie is searching for answers that may never be met… 

Though I will never go by the name Margie again… giving her a voice is the most I can do for a child so brutally abused by the people who should have protected her… Mom & Dad…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember…

Whispers in the Night…

Margie comes often into my dreams… Holding an arm, rubbing a leg and cradling her head… She is only 6 years old and has been beaten by the woman called mom… the same woman who swears she knows her god…

Margie whispers quietly to me at night, so low a whisper I strain to hear her… she is afraid to raise her voice, for fear of being heard…

She has no one to talk to and no one to protect her… she has learned at 6, god is not real… If it was, it wouldn’t let a child be so brutalized in its name…

Margie is afraid, she goes to sleep at night in hopes of not waking… the pain makes her head swim with nausea and fear…

Margie knows the secrets of the adults she called mom and dad… She knows of their true character, no matter how much they profess to know their god…

Margie keeps asking this god that christians cling to, why do you allow harm against the innocent… what right does anyone or anything have to harm the innocent… she gets no response… She prays the prayers; Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep… yet she knows there is nothing there to hear her plea… Margie learns very young, the cruelty of humans against each other…

Margie knows there is no god, if there was, she wouldn’t be suffering… yet she continues the prayer, bless mommy and daddy, grandma and grandpa… these people who knew and did nothing, these people who committed these crimes against a child hide behind their man-made religion… just so they can abuse the life they brought into this world…

I reach out to Margie in my dreams… she withdraws to her cell… afraid to be seen… she is covered in bruises, she walks with a limp… she holds her wrist with the little bent finger… she turns an looks at me with those big eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks… an asks me what did she ever do… If this god is so real, it was gods choice for her to be born… what did she do to this god to be so brutalized at 6…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

Margie speaks softly…

Many a night I had dreams like nightmares… Always the same dreams, always the same outcome… Never deviating from its course, never-changing the principle players and always ending in violence… always ending with a little girl quietly praying to the god her parents said existed… and never being heard… praying for the pain to stop and to be taken so she would suffer no more… she prayed to a man-made god that had even less substance than the air the child breathed…

Only one problem with those nightmares… I never recognized me… I never saw the little girl named Margie… the child was a stranger, a ghost of a memory that had no substance, no form… yet there she was with her curly hair, big gray eyes, swollen limbs, broken bones and bruised body… In clinical terms, I had disassociated with myself… Which when you think about it, classic PTSD and TBI…

margie
Covered in bruises…

You can’t see it in this picture, but both arms are swollen from blunt force trauma, the right hand and wrist are injured and little finger broken… all at the hands of the woman called mother, the woman who knows her god…

It is Margie I hear calling my name at night… It is Margie I see running, for ever running to get away from the people who wanted to harm her…

It is Margie with a forced smile, because to not obey meant being hit… Hit on the body and hit on the head… It wasn’t about a child, it was about an adult and control… Control in the name of a man-made god…

Margie is still running, trying desperately to get away from the people she called mom and dad…

Margie never had a protector in that house… It was never a home… It was a house of pain, bullying, control and hate… It was a house built on a false foundation that stands to this day…

Margie is struggling to break free of the confines of her imprisonment… It is a slow process, it is a painful process… To come to the realization you were so hated for being born and who and what evolution gave you, drives many to end the life that is so precious… Margie was pushed there but was stronger than the ones who hate and still hate…

Yes, Margie is struggling to be heard… I am not always so ready to listen… The pain of the body is a constant reminder of the gifts given by my parents… 63 years later, it will not let me forget… The pain of the mind is taken one day at a time… It is called acceptance…

Acceptance that I was hated from birth… Acceptance that my first love was only in my mind… Acceptance that my siblings turned out just like my parents…

It’s a hard road to walk upon… It has its ups and downs and pitfalls… It is a lonely road… and I hear a soft little voice and a hand upon my heart… Margie is here, she is waiting and hoping, she knows we will get to the end of that road of acceptance…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember…

 

 

Margie with TBI, PTSD…and Maggi not knowing…

The first clue was Margie’s missing childhood and mother refusing to answer the question in 2010 when I told her I was missing memory and her reply, “some things are best not remembered”….

When I realized I did not even remember my younger brothers, christmas’, birthdays and school, I did not believe it… I thought dementia starting at an early age, I was 56… I was wrong….

I had initiated an appeal through the El Paso VA in 2011 and underwent a very extensive psyche exam… When I received a copy of the appeal with the results I was shocked… PTSD… How could I have this???

No physical assaults that Maggi knew of, no training accidents, never saw combat, never was in an auto accident, so how… The psychologist wrote “PTSD related to illness”, but that could not be, the diagnosis of Fibromyalgia was an incorrect diagnosis in 98…

So began the journey to find answers as to why the psychiatrist thought I had PTSD and how the Air Force got it all wrong… I say this only because I took the same psyche exam when the Air Force was pushing me out in 1983, to cover up the rape and attempted murder of my child by the 1st Sargeant’s son at Vance Air Force Base…Those results by the Air Force were not even close to being correct… Cover up at it’s best…

How do I go about figuring out what was missing in my long-term memory, what caused me to lose most of the first 18 years of life and how… 2011 is when Margie started to make her self heard, though I was deaf to her attempts…

It would take another 6 years to get my answers… It would take a young man named Devin to provide those answers and the lives of 26 innocents…

Times Up #MeToo

I Remember…

 

 

 

Margie speaks…

The goosebumps cover my arms as I think of that day… the hair on the back of my neck standing tall… I hear a small voice softly saying “I am scared”… it’s Margie wanting to tell all…

She sits on the floor of her little cell and plays with ball and jacks… I hear the thump of the ball as it hits the hard cold floor, I see the sunken eyes of a child… she sits an plays quietly for fear of being heard… she knows if she speaks it meant a beating…

I push the thoughts out of my mind as I listen to the news on CNN about the shooter in Texas… it had been 2 days since a young man killed 26 innocents…

My husband was reading the paper and I started talking… for once he was all ears and eyes…

I sat slowly onto my desk chair, kitchen towel in hand that I could not keep still, wringing it as the black and white memory turned to color…

Dad walked in the door, it was a hot night in Big Springs, Texas… a baby had just been born… Mom was in a mood and started in on dad.. the man who had just finished a long day working 2 jobs….

At first it was just words and I rolled over to go back to sleep… then I heard a thud… I crept out of bed and opened the door and both parents where hitting upon each other with a viciousness I had never seen… My older half-brother too came out of the bedroom and what came next is a blur….

I remember mom hitting dad and dad hitting mom… both intent on causing harm… I heard a baby crying in the background and the words “don’t let him near the baby”…the him was dad…

I saw my brother being brutally beaten and mom was going down… the younger siblings standing in the doorways crying and my pushing them back to safety… then it was my turn…

There was no one left to stop the enraged man who wanted to take the life of a baby, he knew wasn’t his…

I fought and clawed, I screamed and begged…. my body so little had no impact on the enraged man…

I succumb to darkness and Margie fled…

I screamed out for my husband to save me as it all hit me at once… the ugly carnage, the hate and the violence… my brain would let me see no more…

It was the first time in 50 years that I would remember that fateful night in Texas, when Margie fled to a jail cell not of her making… her first love had tried to kill her…

I see Margie lift her eyes up to look at mine… I see the pain so long-buried but no longer denied…

She takes my hand as we leave that jail cell behind… No more secrets, no more denying… Margie has awaken there is more to find…

TimesUp #MeToo

I Remember….

A Child’s Voice Silenced No More…

Time has passed and so has life… we have lost many in these past years… It makes you appreciate every morning you wake up, be it good or bad… You are breathing, when so many are not…

By 2010 I had the house in Arkansas sold and we had to make one trip back to get our stuff out of storage…

I stood in the kitchen of my mother’s house where dad had died and looked straight at her and said… “I am missing memory”… her reply…”there are some things best not remembered”…

How I wanted to walk across that room and grab her and shake her the way she shook that baby so long ago… How I wanted to scream you coward, you abused me, tried to kill me… because I knew your secrets…

Any love I ever felt for the woman died that day… Any remorse or guilt I had for trying to get answers flew away on the wind…

It took all the strength I had in me to leave that house and not hurt her the way she hurt Margie, a defenseless child… Yes this woman who knows her god…

As we pulled away in our heavy laden truck, my sister-in-law standing by the woman we called mom… Mother turned her back on me as we pulled away.. she told me in that moment, what I had always known… My life mattered not to her and never did… just as long as no one knew of her secrets she thought she had won…

We spent the next few years between New Mexico, our new home and Washington state… Working on the properties we invested in when the real estate market tanked… struggling to stay afloat on our fixed income and going home to Washington to see my husbands parents… and our grand kids…

Now every one is grown, the folks have left this earth and my struggle to understand what had transpired for 10 years was coming to a close…

We sold our properties in 2016… My husband in heart failure wanted to die on Hawaii, so I made it happen…

All the while I am traversing the nightly nightmares, trying to understand the dreams of violence… seeing moments frozen in time in a black and white picture…

By now I know I have PTSD, and the VA says I have an above average IQ… So I put this knowledge to work for me… I start reading and learning and talking… I start pushing for answers…

By October 2017 I was close to a breakdown… It felt so much like my mind was dissolving into total and complete chaos… So much so I had my husband see neurology for testing… Because if it wasn’t me, then it was him… his test were negative… It was me… I was at my breaking point… then it happened…

A young man named Devin, recently kicked out of the Air Force… Enraged for what he thought were injustices against him, he sought revenge… He entered a little town in Texas… walked into a church and killed 26 people, including children… He murdered these innocents on November 5, 2017…. 

Two days later Margie left her jail cell and started talking… Margie was alive once again…

Times Up #MeToo

I Remember….