Category Archives: About My Parents

My biological mother and step-father

My Body… It Belongs to Me.


I have always had issues with my body. It’s no wonder why. As a teenager, I was really embarrassed about my body. I wasn’t obese but I was a little on the heavy side. I wouldn’t ever change in front of other girls or anyone so when we had to start dressing out for gym, I would go change in a bathroom stall. When I couldn’t, I would figure out how to change without ever exposing myself. I was always afraid of someone looking at me without clothes on. I would even have nightmares of being naked in front of other people. These weren’t just normal naked dreams but terrifying nightmares. I would panic and wake myself up. Other times I would try not to wake up because, in my dream, I thought I was naked under my covers and there were people in my room watching me sleep. I was probably in that in between state of sleep and awake. This also happened to me well into adulthood. It’s possible that Dave was in my room watching me sleep but I never woke up and caught him but I definitely sensed it.

My body issues didn’t just end with the nudity stemmed from sexual abuse. My mother had a few obsessions regarding my body as well. She had (and still has) this weird obsession with my hair. It is naturally blonde and fine, but thick. I’ll admit it… I have really great hair. Well, I did when I was younger. It’s not as great anymore now that I’m older. It’s one thing to think that someone has really pretty hair but it’s another to get all pentecostal holiness on their hair. After I turned 14, I never cut it. It was perfectly straight and didn’t need to be blow dried or straightened. It was pretty convenient considering that I identified as a hippy. She would just gloat over it. It got annoying after a while.

When I was a preteen I was left home alone a lot so I was pretty bored. One day, I found a pair of scissors and would make little cuts that weren’t noticeable but one day I accidentally made a cut that was more noticeable. It wasn’t much and I didn’t ruin my hair. At this point, it wasn’t real long but it did fall a few inches below my shoulders. I didn’t think it was a big deal and went about my day. Later that night my mother noticed the cut and questioned me. She asked what I did and what I was thinking. I think that I told her that I was bored and cut my hair and oh well. It wasn’t “oh well” for her. She went on a ballistic tirade and chopped my hair off into a disgusting bob. Now, remember that this was the early 90’s. Big hair was still in and I was like 11 or 12 with a “mom bob.” I really didn’t think that taking a little snippet of my hair would be a big deal but she was so obsessed with my hair and treated it as if it didn’t belong to be. It was hers. She yelled and screamed and I don’t even know what all she said but all I could think about was how embarrassed I was going to be at school the next day. She thought that was good. She liked it when I was embarrassed in front of my peers, especially when it was because I got in trouble. I think it made her feel powerful.

She didn’t stop her stupid obsession with my hair during my teen years. When I turned 30, I decided to let loose. I worked at a very carefree job so I could do what I wanted. I chopped my hair off, died chunks of it hot pink and got my first tattoo. It was freaking awesome. I still don’t regret it and want more tattoos and pink hair! This wasn’t the first time that I cut my hair off but this was by far the shortest. The few times that I did it, she would make remarks that she didn’t like it and “why would you cut off your beautiful hair?” After 30 my hair texture just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t as straight and required a lot of attention and product to make it look good. Also, being pregnant in the hot summer with long hair was no fun so it had to go. The point is, at 30 my hair wasn’t the same as it was when I was 17. She didn’t quite get this so I would tell her to grow her own damn hair out if she wanted long hair. She thought I was being funny but I was actually really pissed. I cut my hair about 3 or 4 times in my adulthood and every time she gave me the same song and dance. It was one of the few things that I wouldn’t tolerate from her. I would tell her A) it’s my hair and I will do with it as I please, B) mind your own damn hair and C) it just doesn’t look the same as it did when I was younger. The last time that I cut it, we went to visit her shortly after and she went off with her remarks. I immediately told her to can it or I was packing the car up and leaving. That seemed to worked.

Her weird body obsession didn’t end there. As a teenager I had acne, probably like most kids. I wasn’t extremely pimply but pimply enough for my insane mother to notice. When the pimples began to surface, she would hold me down and pop my pimples. This was no act of love for a daughter’s complexion. This was torture. My mother has extremely long and strong fingernails. She was trying to get zits to pop that weren’t ready to pop. She left me bloody and scarred. She always told me that it was for my own good and I shouldn’t let the zits and blackheads fester. She didn’t really give me a choice. I always felt like I had to give in to her wishes just to keep the peace or she would go on a crazy, screaming rant. She would try to pop them on my back as well. She was at least 250 lbs and would sit on my behind to hold me down. It was so painful when she did this and I would beg her to stop but there was always one more and “hold still!! This HAS to come out!!!” I realize now that it was likely just another antic for control and her own appeasement. Like I said, I wasn’t that pimply but she made me feel that way. Now I was totally self-conscious about my skin. I really hated my body for a long time.

Now, I do what I can to take care of myself. I eat right, exercise, wash my face, moisturize, sun block, etc. One of the perks of being an adult is that I get to call the shots on my body.


Damage Control


I got to speak to my aunt/god-mother the other day. It was so sweet to hear her voice. We had been corresponding on Facebook for a while but I decided that it was time to reach out to her. I sent her a message just informing her that I was no longer in relationship with my parents and that I’m sure she knew why. She did. She messaged me back that she had some information for me and would call me in a few days.

It’s come up in conversation and in comments as to why other family members didn’t make the call to social services if they knew that I was being molested. I think that it’s a little complicated and I hold no hard feelings toward those people and here is why:

If you read my story from they beginning then you are already aware that around the age of 6 or 7 DFS (Department of Family Services) received a report that I was being abused. They called my parents and scheduled an appointment to visit us and talk to me. Unfortunately for me, this gave my mother the time to “tidy” things up. I got the lecture about foster homes and was told to lie to the case worker and such. I later found out that a family friend had made that phone call. She was a friend of my grandmother (Dave’s biological mom) and my mother’s step-family (Dave and my mother met through friends of their families). This woman had been sexually abused as a child so when my grandmother confided in her, she wasted no time getting that report filed. Right after she filed that report, she flew out to the east coast to visit my aunt/god-mother. My aunt didn’t know anything was going on but she was also a thousand miles away from me. The family friend told her what was said about me and that she filed a report.

Not long after that visit, my mother called my aunt in hysterics telling her that someone was saying awful things about her family and that they were being visited by social services. This is the information that my aunt wanted to tell me. The part that I didn’t know was that my mother had called the family to do damage control. I guess she thought that the social worker would be calling other family members to see if they knew anything so my mother was trying to beat them to the chase. She is a very manipulative woman and if you question her manipulation she will get “offended and hurt” so then you question yourself and end up believing her because why would anyone in their right mind go out of their way to do this if what they were saying wasn’t true? Well, what a lot of extended family didn’t understand was that she was definitely not in her right mind. Needless to say, my aunt left it in the hands of the social workers and thought that if they didn’t suspect anything then there probably wasn’t anything to worry about. After all, what could have been done otherwise- legally?

I’m not sure who or even if she called anyone else but it sure is interesting finding out more and more information about my mother and her antics. She certainly didn’t want anyone to think that anything was really going on. I’m curious about that second visit- the one where they came to my school. My aunt suggested that it might have been the same family friend but I wonder if it was someone else that had their suspicions. Next week, I am making it a goal to call DFS in OKC and see if they still have records of those reports. I know it won’t tell me who but if I can get a year then I might have an idea.

I’m starting to get really upset at the statute of limitations laws. I really feel that I should take action to at least get my parents put on the sex offender registry but that won’t be possible with current laws. My aunt suggested that I contact all family, especially family with children, and warn them not to allow their kids around them. That’s not necessary because nobody in the family speaks to my parents much less visits them. I don’t know anyone else with kids that I would need to tell.

She went on to explain to me that Dave was most likely molested and that we know that my mother was raped and such by her father. I don’t know about my mother. I know that she was abused, there’s no doubt about that. She has just always had such a problem with lying and trying to get sympathy and pity from others that I just don’t know if that was the case. I remember hearing from someone, don’t remember who, that her father had told her for a long time that she needed help. He even got to the point of telling her that she was demon possessed and should be locked up. He was an atheist so if he did say that it was more for shock value. AND… he disowned HER. Yeah. Even when he died, she was so upset because she wanted a relationship with him but he wanted nothing to do with her and she spent all that time and money dealing with his estate and still has his ashes. If the abuse that she went through was that severe then why bother? She had told me once that she needed to come up with the money to fly back to Hungary to spread his ashes. I was pretty blunt when I asked her why she would put herself through that when he was so abusive toward her. Maybe it’s just me and the fact that I have no belief in the hereafter but I don’t think that everyone deserves a proper burial. She didn’t really say anything in response just a “yeah, ok” and changed the subject.

I really wonder about that relationship and just how abusive it was. I would think that if he molested and raped her, wouldn’t he want to keep her close especially since she had me? According to the story that I have gathered from several family members, it sounded like he was trying to get rid of her and when he finally did, he was done. My aunt/god-mother was also his step-daughter. So he was in my life as a child during his marriage to my aunt’s mother (that’s why she’s my aunt, lol- sorry if that was confusing). They divorced when I was about 8 or 9 and were married for 7-ish years and she left him because he was abusive but his abuse toward her was more verbal and emotional. He was very controlling but I don’t think he was physical with her. He was just an asshole. He might have been, I don’t really know the whole story. He was physical with my biological grandmother, that’s why she left him.

I am starting to get a clearer picture of my mother and the events surrounding my life. I absolutely understand now that she is a sick woman. I didn’t understand this for a long time. I thought that she just had a social issue or a personality disorder but I think it goes deeper than that. I have no doubt that she was abused but I just wonder how much of the hysteria about her life was her own doing.

My Step-Father


He was always considered my father because I never knew my biological father. He is the only father that I ever knew. He officially adopted me when I was 9 and gave me a 2nd middle name so that I would be named after him in some sense. He is actually a pretty nice guy. Unlike my mother, he comes off as a gentle giant. I’ve heard several people refer to him as a “big teddy bear.” He is about 6’3″ and has always had a pot belly. He gets along with everyone that he meets. On the outside, nobody would ever guess what he had done to me behind closed doors. At times I feared that people wouldn’t believe me because of their preconceived ideas about him.

He married my mother when I was about two. She was his 3rd marriage. He had been divorced for just over a year when they got married. In that marriage, he had two kids. His daughter was just a few months younger than me and his son was 4 years older. I think he was only married to her for about 5 years. The marriage before that was only about a year. She had two girls from a previous relationship. He never spoke of them and as far as I know, never had contact with them after the divorce. He lost custody of his kids from the 2nd marriage. I had never put much thought to his previous marriages until recently. My earliest memories of sexual abuse start at about age 4. I realize now that might not be the earliest it started but just the earliest that I can remember it. I wonder now if he had been abusing the children in those previous relationships. I asked my grandmother why his 2nd marriage didn’t work out. She stuttered a bit when she answered. I felt like she knew something. All she told me was that his ex-wife had been working 2 jobs because he was barely making any money. They had just had their 2nd child. I would be pissed off if I was in her shoes so I can’t blame her at all. Grandma also told me that he just wasn’t a good father. When she said this, it seemed like there was more to it than not being a good father. Considering that there were two girls in his first marriage, I wondered what happened there.

I began to really question these marriages because I recently found out that I definitely wasn’t his first victim. I won’t get too specific but I recently found out that a female family member who is a little younger than him was also molested by him. This part really makes me shutter. When I was younger, one of the ways that he convinced me that this was “normal” was the story about the relationship that he had with this family member. He had told me that he had sex with her as a “favor” to (shutter again) stretch her and get her ready for sexual activity. It now sends shivers down my spine even thinking about it. When I was younger I didn’t think twice about it because he made it seem like it was consensual. I recently found out that it was in fact not consensual and happened for a long time. She had a daughter when she was 18. I am still in contact with that daughter. This person is very dear and special to me. She opened up and told me that she thinks that Dave might be her biological father. After this eye-opening conversation, I really began to wonder if there were more victims. I could easily contact my step-brother and step-sister but I question if I should. I realize now that he was and still is 100% a pedophile. This is a very good reason to keep my children away from him.

My mother swears that he has changed and is working toward being a better person. I call bullshit. I just don’t think that he wants to go through a divorce again and my mother does such a good job taking care of him that he would actually lose a lot if they did split. I know he hasn’t changed. He is still a pervert. I was briefly friends with him on Facebook but had to call that quits after a couple of months. He kept liking and friending porn stars that were very young. These things would pop up in my news feed. It pissed me off. It grossed me out. It proved to me that he hadn’t changed and didn’t care. This was only a couple of years ago. I made sure that my mother knew about it. I told her ALL about how I felt. She didn’t really react. It was like, once again, she didn’t want to be faced with who her husband really is.

He never thought he would live passed his 50th birthday. He is now in his 60’s and quite frankly, I wish his time would come. He has been close to death so many times because he doesn’t take care of his health. He always said that God gave him a second chance. Bullshit. He had insurance and good doctors.


My Mother


My mother is quite a peach. Just kidding. My mother is the source for a lot of my anger despite the fact that my step-dad sexually abused me. I have had an on and off relationship with her. Things had actually been alright for the last 9 years up until the big fall-out. I didn’t realize that I had so much anger toward her until I started to write this blog. There were many times that she was faced with the fact that her husband was molesting her daughter and she did nothing about it. She was abused by her father growing up so when I became an adult, I tried to be understanding and forgiving. Something else that I’ve learned about myself recently is that I am a people pleaser because of her. This isn’t necessarily a good thing. This personality trait is the reason why I kept a relationship with her at all. I was always afraid to let her go. I don’t know why. I felt guilty at the thought because her mother abandoned her and my biological father also abandoned her. I didn’t want to be one more person in her life to leave her. I sympathized with her. The older I got, though, the more I couldn’t keep doing it. Having children of my own really opened my eyes.

She wasn’t a nice person to me. Not only was I abused sexually by my step-father but she also was abusive toward me. Her preferred method was with words and violence. I don’t know what is wrong with her but whatever it is doesn’t allow her to be disappointed or criticized. She absolutely can’t handle it and will lost her cool especially if she is already under any kind of stress. I don’t have any good memories involving her from my childhood because all of the bad ones overshadow any of the good ones. She was always yelling at me and demanding me around. I was forced to care for my brother to an extent that I shouldn’t have been. Nothing was ever good enough, either. I was a really good kid. I didn’t act out (generally) in public, I had good grades, and seemed overall very normal in the public eye. As a child I was still treated like I was just a piece of property. As I grew closer to being an adult, she tried to convert me into her best friend and shopping buddy. When I wanted no part of it, she couldn’t understand why. She still doesn’t understand why I don’t want to be close to her.

My mother has always had a problem with denial. She tries to play off our family secrets as normal and then tries to put up a facade that we are a “white picket fence” family. My brother had behavior issues as a kid. She would either play these down or just put the blame back on him. She never would take responsibility for him but instead would put all the blame on my step-dad or the school. As I got older I realized that a lot of the things that she did for me was only for this facade. Behind close doors where nobody else was looking or listening, she was a bitch to her family. If it was something where others could see in, she would go out of her way. She did this for birthday parties, my prom, etc. I understood wanting a decent place to live and a decent car to drive, but she got into the habit of living outside of her means to support the idea that things look good on the outside. She was in denial about her own health too. She had been told by several people that she needed to consider getting on meds. I remember one time she was prescribed anti-anxiety medication but she never took it. This was the obvious problem in dealing with my abuse from my step-father. She didn’t want to face what was going on which would force her to divorce and be on her own. Instead she tried to pretend that nothing was happening and convince me of the same.

She isn’t a horrible tyrant of a person but she isn’t the most pleasant either. She can be nice and is to other people. Hell, she was nice to me for the last 9 years for the most part. She was trying to be a decent person, as long as nobody brought up the past and treated her with respect. My childhood was the worst with her. Really, what I dealt with as an adult was her constantly trying to make me be her best friend. She wanted that perfect mother/daughter relationship but I just couldn’t give it to her. I gave in a little but I still had to have my boundaries. I needed her to not talk about my step-dad. She tried to bring up their sex life and how he needed viagra. I didn’t want to hear any of it. She just wanted all the normal things in life like a relationship with her daughter, being a grandma, etc. I couldn’t give her these things anymore because she chose to stay married to my step-father and disregarded what he did to me. She wanted to stand by her man so that’s what she ended up with.


My Mother – Before Me


My story begins before I was born with my mother’s story. She came into this world as a result of an abusive marriage. My grandparents immigrated to the US from Hungary while pregnant with my mother. Soon after she was born her mother (my grandmother) abandoned her and left her in the hands of her father who was very abusive. I have been told by other family members that she might have been raped amongst other types of abuse. When she neared adulthood her father remarried. The woman he married was very sick and cruel herself. I’ve heard stories of how they took the hinges off of my mother’s bedroom door and “examine” her because they thought she was being a loose girl and doing drugs. After my mother became old enough she finally left (or was kicked out, I’m not sure which). Unfortunately, she ended up on the streets and turned to prostitution as a means of fending for herself. She did tell me that she got pregnant before she had me and had an abortion but it wasn’t enough for her to get off the streets. She’s also told me of some of her drug use at that time. One story involves a trip where Jesus comes to visit her. She still believes it was divine.

She got pregnant with me when she was 21. According to her, she had been off the streets for a while and in a relationship with my biological father but was dishonest and didn’t tell him of her life on the streets. He eventually found out and kicked her out (pregnant) because of her dishonesty and he thought she was still doing it for money. She had told me once that he demanded a paternity test but she refused. In her mind, she refused because she didn’t need him and wasn’t going to be told what to do. (As you read more of my stories, you will see much of this thinking throughout her life) She was forced to move back in with her parents since she planned on keeping me. They took her in a helped her take care of me. I don’t know of any abuse during this time. At some point in my infancy, the step-mother passed away from a terminal disease. Soon after my grandfather and my mother (and me) took a trip to Oklahoma City to visit some Hungarian friends.

During this trip my mother met a young man who was the step-son of one of my grandfather’s friends. His name was Dave. He was a little bit older than her but they were the only ones out of the group in their 20’s. They got to know one another and spent a lot of time together since my mother didn’t know anyone. The trip overall was supposed to be a few weeks but was cut short when my grandfather decided to up and leave for home on the east coast. Instead of waiting for my mother to come back to the friend’s house, he called Dave’s house and informed her that since she had a boyfriend, she had a place to stay and he would not be taking her (or me) back home with him. He abandoned us in Oklahoma with no money, no place to live and no family or friends. Dave was in a relationship with another woman and had no intentions of beginning one with my mother but immediately felt bad for her and opened his home for her to stay until she could figure something out.

Dave had just recently gone through a nasty divorce where he had to relinquish all his parental rights (aka. lost his kids). That was his 2nd marriage. The relationship with the other woman dissolved and Dave and my mother found themselves in a relationship of convenience. My mother still convinces herself that she fell in love with him, but Dave has told me differently. When I was nearing two, he applied and accepted a job as a manager at a steak house in Kansas. It was a few hours away and he intended on a permanent move. He gave my mother the option to join him or stay in OKC and start her own life. She opted to come with him. They ran the restaurant together. It was a win-win for the both of them. She had a job and he had another contributor of income for the time being so he could get settled. Not too long after they moved, the owner of the restaurant informed them that the small Kansas town looked down on folks that were unmarried but living together. They needed to tie the knot or the steak house would lose business from the mostly Christian townspeople. So, they got married soon after in a shopping mall. Ironically, I yelled “shut-up” the whole time. I was two.

Dave had no intentions of this marriage being forever. In his mind, this was purely out of convenience for my mother because she needed help getting on her feet. My mother didn’t see it that way. She was in love and this was forever. Forever, ever.