Tag Archives: case worker

Damage Control

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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.

Ages 8 and 9

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We only stayed in that house for a year and then moved again. This time to an apartment complex. We ended up living in the complex until just before my 13th birthday. We lived in two different apartments. This first one was just a two bedroom but the master bedroom was big enough for my brother’s crib and such. This also meant yet another new school. Luckily I was finally moving into the 2nd grade. My brother didn’t stay in my parent’s room for long. I remember him being around 9 months old when they moved him into my room. It was really convenient timing considering that he was totally crawling out of his bed. Since my room became his, he ended up having free reign over all of my things. I had some trinkets and music boxes that my grandmother had given me that he trashed. My mother didn’t bat an eyelash but rather told me that they were ugly anyway. I loved them. One of the music boxes was a copper peacock. I thought it was beautiful! I also had a glass, water-filled globe of a pink rose. I think it was musical too. It was kind of like a snow globe. He smashed it against my headboard and broke it. Instead of telling me how sorry she was and offering me sympathy, my mother reminded me that it was an ugly, thrift store trinket. I had no reason to cry about it.

I haven’t mentioned my mother so much yet because her screaming, yelling and ranting was just common place in our house. There are specific events that stick out in my mind and those are the ones that I write about.

Something happened that she got mad at me for and sent me to my room. I was playing with my Barbies, pretending that they were my friends that I could talk to. I said to one Barbie, “My mom is such a bitch!” My mother walked by as she heard this. I was sitting in front of my closet. She flew into my room faster than I could look up and smacked me as hard as she could in the face more than one time. She then yelled at me how I should respect her. I had so much fear of my mother. She purchased a paddle and put my name on it. It hung from the wall next to the kitchen. They thought this would keep me “in-line.” I wasn’t a bad kid. In fact I was typically timid and shy. I didn’t have any friends yet and no one to play with or talk to. She also was under a lot of stress raising 2 kids and working full-time. Any time she got stressed out she would take it out on my. Most of the time when she spanked or smacked me it was multiple times. Not just one correctional, oops I lost my temper, smack. It was typically an all out smack-the-shit-out-of-that-child event. I still didn’t feel like she loved me. She was proud to have a daughter, that was for sure. Once she got a job in an office, she never hesitated to prance me around to her co-workers. I never understood why this was so important to her but I was more of a trophy than anything. She also started commenting on my body. She would always comment how I was “so skinny.” I wasn’t a skinny kid at all. I was a pretty normal, healthy size for my age. She has always been obese. I’ve never really known her to not be overweight. She was self-conscious about it because she used to be thin and attractive.

In the meantime, my step father was busy showing me all of his Hustler magazines and pornos. He had been talking to me about attractive women. Anytime we were out he would point at a woman who was very attractive and thin (like the ones in the videos and magazines) and tell me that those women had “hard bodies.” They were the most beautiful. When it came to my mother, he had nothing nice to say. He would tell me how she had a fat ass and cottage cheese thighs and how disgusting it was for any woman to have that. This would be when I began to be self-conscious about my own weight. I didn’t think that I was beautiful. My parents told me that I was all the time but it was different. They also told me that I was a “sack of potatoes,” meaning that I was very heavy for what I looked like. I also had to get my first pair of glasses at the age of 6 so I didn’t feel pretty whatsoever. In the 80’s, pretty girls had perms and cools clothes… and boobs.

My grandmother finally told a close friend who was also a social worker. My parents received a phone call from DFS letting them know that they should expect a visit from a case worker. They sat me down to explain what was going to happen. The two of them conspired together to devise a way to brainwash me enough so I wouldn’t tell the truth.

“Do you love us?” They asked me.

“Yes,” I replied.

“You wouldn’t want to tear this family apart now would you?”

“No.”

“If you tell the case worker that your dad has touched you, they will take you away from us and put you in foster care,” my mother warned me.

“Foster parents don’t love their kids as much. You wouldn’t want that now would you?” Dave asked.

“No.”

“You wouldn’t have all these nice things that we buy for you like your Barbies and baby dolls. You wouldn’t have any of that.”

“So, are you going to tell the case worker that anything happened?”

“No,” I quietly replied.

I was around 8 or 9.

When the meeting came I stayed quiet for the most part. My parents told her that it must have been something I heard at school. When she asked me, I told her nothing happened.

At this point my mother knew. She had found my underwear on his side of their bed numerous times. She would normally question me and I would just shrug. I didn’t want her to get mad at me.