by Rhonda Erickson

Created on: June 07, 2008

"Just Me"

The milestone of my fiftieth birthday this past March 2008, brought to me a startling new discovery about myself. For fifty years, one half of a century in time, I have been this person..... me. As I stared at my reflection in the mirror that day, at first glance, I was caught unaware by the stranger, whose eyes peered curiously back at me. I was taken back by these few fleeting seconds of self disorientation and sudden paradox of thought. Why would I ever question who am I ? This was very unfamiliar ground. My mind pondered as to its meaning, and small increments of my life flashed through my brain as I began to search for answers.

My childhood memories stood out as being quite normal. I was a happy, healthy little girl, not scarred or traumatized by any deep, dark family secrets. I had two pretty awesome brothers, one older, and one younger. My parents were wonderful, supportive, loving, and not divorced. My happy, normal childhood was also blessed with having a large and very close extended family. I enjoyed holidays and frequent visits with both sets of my Grandparents, and was lucky enough to still have them well into my adulthood. My Daddy had six brothers and sisters, and my Mother had five. The majority of them lived near by, and I had dozens of cousins of all ages.

I was a little bit of a rebellious and difficult teenager. Nothing too serious, just the typical "I am way smarter than my parents!" hormonally induced teenage attitude. With hind sight always being the supreme judge of fore sight..... I soon realized that my parents, even with their limited formal eductions, were not so unintelligent when it came to the facts of life.

In spite of their words of wisdom and protest, at seventeen years old, I left home and got married. I could not understand why my parents were so judgmental of my husband. He was my childhood sweetheart, we dated all through high school, and they knew what a hard life he had growing up. His parents were alcoholics, abusive to him and his brothers, and to each other. I loved him with all my heart and soul. He was funny, charming, sexy and wild as a buck.

I was loving my new life of freedom, no curfews, no rules, no chores and no parents. We partied everyday, did drugs, and listened to rock and roll music as loud, and as long as we wanted. Around six months into our marriage is when the abuse started. Harsh words, and total control of everything I did soon turned to jealous rages, and frequent beatings. I tried to hide

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