When I was a little girl, the first memory I have is of sitting in my high chair, eating eggs and potatoes. My brother ” Joe” was in his crib, jumping up and down, smiling, and making funny noises with his mouth. My childhood turned out to be anything but happy.

My brother and I were physically and emotionally abused by our mother, and later by our step father. I often wondered where is my father? “Arthur” was his name,” Arthur Hopkins”. To hear mom tell it, he was the scum of the earth, and we, my brother Joe and I, were just like him.

I have two younger siblings, a sister “Tina”, and a brother “Mike”. Tina was great, she had strong feelings for her big sister. I comforted her, protected her on the playground. Everyone knew, you didn’t mess with my little sister. I even played dolls with her, when I was way to old to do so, only to make her happy.

I don’t think my parents noticed it, but every time they hurt me, they hurt Tina too. It was her pain as much as mine. My brother Mike on the other hand, he always supported what ever punishment, that they put out against us, not matter how undeserved, or cruel it was. I remember I used to spend a lot of time alone. I liked to be alone.

No one was there to tell you how big, fat, and ugly you were, and certainly , no one was there to back hand my face, for the slightest provocation. Being told I was ugly, especially hurt me. I wanted so desperately to be pretty, so people would like me, I thought.

I was always so tall and clumsy. I so admired the little girls, in their little coordinated outfits. You could see, someone cared about them. I dared not even wish for someone to care about me, and buy me clothes like that. Every once in a while at school, various teachers would ask us, what we wanted to be when we grew up. I always said a secretary, not ever believing that the likes of me, could ever become a secretary. I always had ideas of how one should look in my head. A secretary wore heels, make up, and was, oh so pretty.

I knew that would never be me, but I never knew what else to say. It really was a secret dream of mine , though, I never told anyone . They would have just laughed. When I turned sixteen, a friend told me about a job at the theater, as candy girl. I applied, and only got the job, I think, because my friend put in a good word for me. It was there I met Johnny. He was. oh so dark and handsome I thought, and he liked me! What was wrong with him? Nothing it turned out, he was nineteen, worked at a factory,was a pretty steady guy.

I ran away from home one day, just packed some things in my gym bag and left, never to return. My mom signed for us to get married, after all what did she care? “One less mouth to feed”, I believe was her comment. Of course it was a disaster. We were together seven years, but that was seven years too long. We had two girls, he cheated and ran around, he made me go to work when I was emotionally and physically unable to do so.

I didn’t clean the house very often . Oh I wanted to, but sometimes I was frozen, I just couldn’t bring myself to do things, because I was so miserable .Now I know, I had severe depression, and post traumatic stress disorder, because of the abuse I suffered. Then, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. After three failed marriages, I was living in California, and moved back to Chicago. I had friends here, and maybe I was finally growing up.

I got a job in an adult education program, (I had taked college classes in California) after a year, I got a job for the state of Illinois, as a caseworker. I worked there seventeen years. I must say, I feel good about my work. Many times I took the extra time and effort to speed their case along. They were, where I once was. I felt terrible when the workers looked down on me. I went there for help, and I got abuse.

They made me feel like I was a kid again, and someone was telling me how ugly I was. Well, I wasn’t going to be that kind of caseworker. I would learn all I could, pass the cases through as fast and accurately as possible, and do my job to the best of my ability. Somewhere along the way , I discovered I could write, I wrote song lyrics, beautiful words that touch your heart and inspire. I write articles. A little note to a friend , so to speak.

I want them to know , that there is some one out there, who has gone through, what you go through now. Dear one, be kind to yourself .Sounds easy, but being kind to yourself is one of the hardest things to do. Realizing your value and self worth, after being told how worthless you are, is very hard, Those old feelings keep popping up at the worst possible times. Take baby steps, but do take steps, often, the little things that you do, lead to big changes. I know the days when the kids are crying, the electric might get turned off, not enough food for the month. I know. I’ve been there .

I blamed myself for every bad thing that happened. But it wasn’t my fault. How can you pay the bills, when you have about half the money it takes? You can’t help, but fail at some point. It’s not your fault! It does get better. You have to endure the bad, to get to the good. One of the things you don’t realize is, that this is one of the best times of your life.

You have so much opportunity. Opportunity to mold little beings, into moral and good adults. To set an example of strength and courage in the face of the unknown future. Be strong my dears, have faith. Take those baby steps, make a plan, and then decide to do it. Let people know you are the woman with the plan. Your life has meaning purpose, and importance. If you have a dream, you can achieve that dream. One day as I was talking to the secretary,at work, she mentioned she was getting a promotion to the position under that which I was working.

It was then I remembered my dream of being a secretary, and a secretary was two levels below where I was! I have retired early. I have a beautiful mini ranch in the south west. I live here alone now, having successfully raised my four children mostly alone. It wasn’t always perfect for me . I made lots of mistakes. But the kids are understanding, and I think they know I love them. They are great kids, and I’m so blessed to have them.

Still, its pretty good, for a stupid, ugly girl, don’t you think? Last month my sister Tina sent me some old photos she had. There was a picture of me when I was about twelve years old. I was shocked! I was not ugly, I was beautiful! Why didn’t I notice this before? I have been beautiful all along. I just never noticed it before. I have long ago, forgiven mom, and my step father. How they missed out on the happiness we could have shared as a happy family, and instead chose to hate and abuse innocent children is beyond my understanding.

I choose to believe that she too, suffered some untold, trauma as a child, and thats what made her like she was. What other reason could there be? My sister Tina married her childhood sweetheart. He has been there for her, through thick and thin. She also bears scars of the abuse. Abuse against me, was abuse against her too. She saw it every day, and it hurt her terribly.

My brother Mike, is working as an environmental specialist. I get he feeling , he is looking for someone to take the place of Mom and Dad. To tell him how much better, than everyone he is.I never saw any feelings of remorse, from him. He just doesn’t get it.

It’s sad , he doesn’t have any true friends. No one wants to hear, how important he is. Tina and Joe won’t even talk to him. They say, they just don’t want to deal with him. I keep in contact, and try to give him support when ever I can, but there is a wall between us. I try to be close to him, but it’s practically impossible. I do love my little brother. He is also a victim of the abuse. He only acted the way, he was taught to act, but, to what end? It didn’t get him any further in life, did it?

It seems, there are no winners in this abuse game. No one got out untouched. It hurt and damaged everyone involved. My brother Joe is fine. He works as a chemist in a laboratory. He has been a good person all his life. He works hard , and raised two daughters, and is about to retire to a well deserved country estate in Missouri. He seems to be the one hurt the deepest. It was hard for him, being the big brother, not to be able to protect his little sister. He remembers the hurt every day, but he also goes on , with the baggage life has given him. He has scars, but he has hope. As much as possible, he moves on ahead with his life.

I do, however, wish he could find it in his heart to forgive, as I have, for his own wellbeing, but, he can’t do it. It goes too deep, and has hurt him too much. I would be the last one, to judge him for that. He is such a gentle soul. Everyone has their own ways. I am very close to my brother Joe. we are bonded by our past. So, you see, it will be fine. Maybe not perfect, few things are, but thats ok too. You can’t erase the past. People get in trouble when they try to act like it never happened.

You are, what you are. Your history, is your history. History doesn’t change. You make out much better when you don’t deny your past. Just come to terms with it, forgive everyone , at least on some level, and yourself, and go on with the business of living. Dream your dream, and dream big. The only limitations are those you place on yourself. Once you are an adult, its your life. Take control of it. Live happily, don’t be afraid to love, and most important… remember, the power of a dream.