So my mom was far from home, wondering what she was doing wrong as a wife, and at age 20, my oldest brother was born. My mom was delighted and determined to be a good mom. My dad’s job kept them moving, they had 7 different houses in the first 10 years of marriage. He was often away on “business” trips. She was kept far from her family, and never stayed long enough in any town to put down roots or feel like she belonged anywhere, always the outsider.
She was made to believe they were very poor, and he often scolded her for spending money, on things like diapers and formula. Certainly she was not allowed to get things for herself or the house either. Somehow he had enough money to buy himself nice clothes, saying he needed it for work. He did not allow her to have a car, so she was home with the baby and had to walk or rely on friends to drive her to the grocery store or pediatrician.
Mom had a few more baby boys in the next several years, and loved being a mom. She was extremely excited when I was born to finally have a girl, but she was never allowed a chance to get close to me. There were no car seats back then, when I was just a baby, my older brother held me on my lap while my mom drove. One afternoon, she was rushing another brother that had fallen out of a tree to the hospital. My brother had not latched the door, and I tumbled out of the car, and got squeezed by the wheels of our car. By some miracle I was not crushed, but was very hurt. So a panic-stricken mom now drove 2 kids to the hospital. I guess she kind of lost it, crying and screaming, at the thought of what could have happened. My dad finally shows up at the hospital, very angry. But the cold quiet angry that does not yell, the kind of angry that plots revenge. He was embarrassed to the core by her public display of emotions, and for causing the hospital bills. (Mom often “snuck” us to the doctor while he was at work, and later suffered his wrath for the bills)
My brother was fine, but I needed a week or so in the hospital to heal from tires pressing against me. All I know from pieced together stories is my dad was my nightly caregiver for a while, that he basically told my mom she was unfit to care for me. I think she was so belittled and rattled with guilt, that she had no fight in her anymore. She completely believed she was the worst wife and mother ever to exist. My dad, years later, told me that my mom hated me and had tried to kill me that day. I believed that for most of my young life. And from as young as I can remember, he would whisper to me that mom never wanted me, and that I should only come to him. I did. I listened to my daddy. I tried to be perfect, good, quiet, and not bother anyone.
Eventually you can believe anything when it is told to you by a crafty psychopath. And that is how I was completely isolated in my own home, and had my mom stolen from me before I ever knew her, even though we lived in the same house (until the divorce – but that is another story for another day). And that is how my dad set the stage to abuse his family with no one ever knowing. His treatment of all of us, was carefully planned, coldly calculated, like a twisted plot in a horror novel.