I am going to be absolutely honest, I don't know how far I am going to be able to go with this, but somehow I think it would be good to open the coffin and bear some skeleton's.

I am told that I suffered trauma from the time I was only months old. I lived in the house with a Mother, Father, 2 Sisters and 1 Brother. My Father was very abusive towards my Mom so I am told. I only have one memory of him abusing her, I think they tried to shelter me from it as best as they could since I was the baby of the family. The next oldest sibling is 11 years older than me, so I was an Ooops baby that my mom had late in life. My mom tells me that I had a full beer can thrown into my head at approx. age 18 months and took stitches, she never knew what I did to piss him off, but I did something. She would never dare ask as he would have turned on her.

Well, he left home when I was 4 1/2, but I can remember a final fight that they had and I remember crying and sitting on the bathroom sink while my sisters tried to comfort me as they fought. That is my last and only image of my father other than seeing him once at my Grandma's funeral many years later.

After my Father was out of the house my mom had to find a job. Mother worked all the time leaving me with my one Sister alot. She is 13 years older than me. My sister was wonderful to me for a few years, then she got pregnant and something happened. She changed. My sister would tell me to be quiet, and she ment cease existing. She would slam my head into the wall over and over because she was in a bad mood. But, worse than the physical abuse I endured daily was the mental abuse. By the time I was 8 years old she had me in such a mess. I started to have nightmares/night terrors and the school made me see the school shrink. My mother had no clue, nor did anyone else in the house. My Mother had suffered a nervous breakdown when my Dad was gone, so she was literally useless to me during that period. My Mom tried to jump out of a moving car going down the expressway and I had ears, I heard it. Then my sister told me that the reason my Mother and Father had split up was due to me and that the reason my mother tried to kill herself was my fault. Well, my sister had the baby and he was a doll. My mother still worked all all all the time, so I watched the baby constantly even though I was still a baby myself, I had no clue that at 8 years old you should not be left alone with a baby for hours on end. My sister would make me watch him so her boyfriends could come over and she would have sex with them. I would watch the baby. Then when I had to go to school, she would write a note and take me out so that we could go meet with a boyfriend and she would leave me in the car with a infant/diaper bag/and a soda while she would hop into van in the same parking lot and leave me to tend to him in a hot car for several hours. I have not even touched the tip of the iceberg, but this is enough for now.

I want to add that my sister was very beautiful, great figure, brown skin, long brown hair, looked like an indian princess, even though we are Italian and Irish. My sister always chose to be with older men and they would buy her expensive things. My nephew's father was her best friends Dad. Yeah, when you look up dysfunctional, that was my family. So...My sister would create reasons to beat me up, telling me that my mom would never believe me, or if she did believe me then she would move out. I knew if she moved out the baby was in mortal danger. By the age of about 2 she started being horrible to him too. At one point when he was younger, about 18 months I had on a dress with kittens printed on it. My mom had made it for me and I could not get the zipper down in the back, it was stuck. My sister took a set of shears and violently ripped and cut the dress off me, I cried silently as crying set her off more. She cut me and my mom found out and my sister moved out. I cried and cried for days. Finally my Mom pleaded with her to move back in as I was actually getting sick. I was so worried about the baby. After that my mom told me to tell her if anything was done to hurt me. However, my sister said that if I told she would beat her son. That was always the threat that put the fear into me. My sister would give him a bath and he would be screaming and I would hear him gurgle as she was holding his head under the water. So....I started and never stopped bathing him, it was my job. When she would go on a violent rant it was always when we were alone, meaning her, me and my nephew. She never spanked him, she would hit him in the head. I was about 10 when I did something not to her liking and she said, "Now that you did that, I am going to beat him". I took a dog leash hanging on the hinge on the outside of the hall closet and swung it so hard across the back of her legs right as she was going for him. She definately changed her target. She welted me all over, I had to wear clothing to cover as my mother would surely have put her out of the house. I am going to continue this later or tomorrow.

You are doing a great job.... keep sharing. Proud of you!

You're doing great, Portabella.

My sister decided that I could handle my nephew "totally" at a young age, so she would take us places. (Bronx Zoo, Haunted Mansion of Longbranch, Vernon Valley Great Gorge, Great Adventures, etc) and drop us off there, these places were all very far from home 100+ miles. She then would leave me with my nephew when he was 2 1/2 and older at these places and come back after a whole day and into the evening to pick us up. I look at a child at the age I was fully responsible for him and cannot believe I could do what I did. I will jump around a bit as I have no true chronological order to these things. I remember it was my birthday, approx. 8-11 years old and my mom bought me a ball and chain radio. I was so excited, I wanted one so bad. So, I am sitting in my room listening to my radio and my sister came in and told me to lower it. It really was not loud to begin with, but I lowered it. She then came in, pulled it from my hands and told me that she was putting it up for me not listening. I started to cry, with her you better never cry, so she swung it and broke it on my head. She then broke the little chain that was attached to it and threw it at me, like here you go! So, I had no use for it anymore. I got to enjoy it about a half hour.

My sister was also horrible with the animals in the house, and they hated her and were afraid of her. She had some that she would not do anything to, but others were a target. She once went after Bo Bo (Chihuahua) and he ran up under the skirt of the couch, she literally lifted the couch and he ran out scared to death. She was right after him and I grabbed him and wrapped my arms around him, she put my head through a wall for that one. She had always pounded my head against the wall screaming she would put my head through, but this time she actually succeeded, but bo bo was okay, I placed him to the ground to run as my punishment commenced. We made an excuse for the hole in the wall and of course I kept to it and lied to my mother. At approx. 13-14 years old my sister bought me a horse. I had asked my mother for one and she said "NO". So, my sister bought me one and that way she would have just one more thing to hold over my head. I bit and we got him, his name was "Taco". I loved that horse.

I will continue later

How old were you when the abusive sister finally moved out for good? What kind of interaction do you have with her now?

I am sorry I am taking such a break, but, this is going to take long.
Kers, in answer to your questions. She never moved out, I did. I occassionally have to speak with her when she answers the phone, I say hello and sometimes if I feel generous ask how she is doing. When I go home to visit my Mother and other sister I do my damndest to stay away from her. But...she knows better than to say anything even remotely wrong to me, she pretty much stays out or in her room when I am there. I have been back a few times in the past 20 years. So....it doesn't hurt her too bad. However, we met for a vacation in Pagosa Springs 2 years ago, that took work. We were civil.

I am struggling with keeping things in order for this journal. So...I am not going to sweat it. I am just going to write. I was very awkward in school growing up. I was different from the others, I was very introverted and shy and meek for lack of a better word. I was overweight and had a lazy eye and was picked on, bullied and abused by fellow students beginning in about the first grade. I was not even really like by the faculty, I could feel it. I had to see the school psychiatrist because of my endless nightmares and continued to see her until I moved from elementary school to Jr. High. There I did not have a Counselor, however the bullying became violent on many an occassion. They lit my coat on fire when I was walking home from school. They really targeted me, I think sometimes we have, "Victimize Me" written on our farheads. The kids were ruthless. I was also thrown down stairs on many occassions. I had no friends, I mean none at all. No one wanted to be seen with me, who wants to get their ass beat for being around me. So....I got it at home and then I got it at school.

Then I met Laura.....I ran into her during summer vacation from 9th grade, she was not exactly miss popularity in school, but she had alot more friends than I had. I ran into her in a school yard, not our school, we talked and she asked me why I dressed the way I do. I asked her what was wrong with how I dressed. Well to make a long story short, she actually helped me. She advised me how to dress to make myself less of a target. I would meet with her a few times a week and we would hang out. Then I figured when school started she would dump me, she didn't. However, I made a few friends and the picking on continued. I am in 10th grade now, and they are still vicious. This one gang of kids caught me walking home from Laura's house one afternoon and whipped me with bicycle inner tubes that were deflated. It was a horrible beating. So....I continued to let people smack me around, and pound on me, never raising a hand. All the while getting it at home from my Sister. Well, don't know exactly why it happened, but one day I snapped a bit. I was at school and this girl breached my locker and stole my sweater. I saw her wearing it and gloating. I in my normal passive fashion reported to the principal and he called her in, my mother in, and her mother in. When I stepped out of his office which was an office within an office, Mary was sitting waiting to go in and speak to them. She glared at me. I was scared. I walked into the hallway and it was already a buzz with how her gang was going to beat me down. Well, I figured if they are going to beat me down, I might as well fight back. Imagine that concept, never thought of that before. So....I went to the wall outside where her group (15-20) would hang out and smoke. I stood there by a pole within 10 feet of them and they seemed to stress for a moment. I think they thought I was trying to set them up. Well, that day was pivotal in my life, because I have never ever allowed anyone to lay hand on me again without a fight. I never realized when you have a belly full of hate just what a bad ass MoFo you can be. Violent OMG. However, these rules did not apply with my sister, sadly she still had a grip on me, but it was loosening. And Oh yes I had to see the School Psychiatrist and The school Counselor constantly, cause I lived in detention. I had structured study hall, I had before school detention, after school detention and they had no other way to give me detention. I am shocked they did not expel me, hell I never even got suspended, not once. I beat some ass in those 3 years of school, not one, not one a hole that hurt me went without a beating. They got me a bit too, but it did not matter anymore. I still have trouble with pain, I get mad, I don't feel Physical pain, that is until later.

Growing up I used to go to a place called YDA, Youth Development Association. I enjoyed myself there. It was in an old red barn colored farmhouse down a dirt road sitting way in the back fields of the high school, however not part of the school. One beautiful day when I was about 15 y.o., I was walking home from the stable and wanted a cigarette really bad. I had no matches. I saw a guy walking the opposite side of the road and called over to see if he had some. He crossed over and asked where I was headed. I told him home. He said why don't we go to YDA and shoot some pool. I agreed that sounded fun and I did not have to be home for about another hour. So, we walked back and headed down the dirt road. When we got to YDA it was locked, but he was quick to tell me that he had done some intern work there and had a key. He said stay put and went around the building, next thing I know he is inside an has the front door opening for me. I remember I was wearing dark green corduroy's and a green checkered sweater that day. Funny what you remember isn't it. So, we are going to shoot some pool an he comes up behind me to assist me with my stance. I can remember when he put his arms around me it did not feel right. I had to use the restroom and he walked in on me and then apologized. I remember looking at the restroom window and thinking could I possibly get out through it. It was small. So, I took a deep breath and went back into the main hall and told him I needed to go home. So, we got out front and along the east side of the house there was a row of single pines and then a corn field beyond. Well, I am not going to go into the gorey details on a public forum but I was manhandled, and violated. I then walked home and got into trouble for being late. I never told. He was a senior in my high school and he told me his name. After he violated me he asked me to hit him. I wouldn't, I was scared to death. I remember throwing away those clothes because I could not wear them again. I also knew that it was my own fault, in looking back boy was I naive.

Well, I know I am jumping around while writing this diary, but the trauma's from my younger years are massive. As you probably guessed my horse Taco was short lived. I had him approx. 2 years, we kept him on rough board for $50.00 a month. Full board was too expensive as it was around $200.00. However, I worked it out with the stable owner that I would muck stalls, water and feed all the full board horses if they would feed my horse in return. This worked out well for a while. I practically lived at the stable. I was there during my summer vacations from school from morning until night. While in school, I would go there directly after school and work. The stable owner sold out and moved to Texas and new people came in. They agreed to the same terms, however I had to unload the tons of hay delivered also and gave riding lessons once a week on top of the other chores. Well, Taco came down with a disease called Navicular, it would render him lame. We had to give him Bute daily as he was in some pain. I could walk him, but that was all. I loved him dearly anyway.

So, I was going to Texas to visit my brother, he was stationed in Kileen Texas as he was in the Army at Ft. Hood. I went for two weeks. I missed Taco soooo bad. I could not wait to get home and see him. I finally returned home and headed straight for the stable. The minute I entered the gate to head to the barn the stable owner screamed from her house for me to wait. I heard it in her tone, I knew something had happened. What happened, while I was gone my sister convieniently sold him to a man that would sell them for rendering. The hate I felt was overwhelming. I was hurt to the core. To this day I can get upset when seeing a horse that looks like my baby did. From this day forward I would just as soon kill her as to look at her. My sister was very evil, and still is. I am very grateful that 1700 miles seperate us. However she still lives with my Mom and treats her mentally like crap, my mom will not defend herself, neither will my good sister that also still lives with my mom. I wish they would put her out on her ass, but they can't. Or so they say.