Never Again, I will Hate You

It was February 9, 1972 when I went home to wait for what would come it would not be pretty. Around 6pm February 11, I went into Induced Labor after the Instillation Abortion and my mother was quite put out by the inconvenience of my timing. She and my father were preparing for a Valentine’s Day party, now they would have to take me to the hospital instead, damn I was a troublemaker and rude on top of it. My father had finally been told and was not happy with the choices made, there was nothing to do though but go along, it was done. I was driven to the local hospital and escorted into the emergency room. That was it, she left me there they went off to the party, I was alone to finish what she had started.

I will not tell the rest. It was horrifying and terrible. Three weeks later, before I was healed my mother took me back to the doctor and demanded I be fitted with an IUD, because as she had so clearly stated previously, ‘I am not having any more Bastards in my house.’

This was the Year

This was the year I learned to love the Blues.

This was the year I slapped my mother and said, “No more, never again.”

This was the year I began to regularly run away from home. This was the year my mother told the Juvenile Court systems to ‘keep the Bitch’, leaving me in lock-up for 7 weeks while she was in Hawaii. This was the year I entered the Foster Care System and was subsequently declared both a Juvenile Delinquent and Incorrigible.

This was the year, on December 15, I ran away from my foster home and everything else familiar. I wouldn’t see or speak to anyone in my family for just over three years. I had turned 15 that September.

This was the year I started on a path that would teach me everything I would ever need to survive anything life threw at me. The year that would strip the last of any innocence I might have clung to and any hope I might have had. This was the year I made a desperate choice to save my own life no matter the price.

Winding Roads to Perdition

The road from Seattle to San Antonio was long I hitchhiked the entire way. There were stops along the way. Sometimes people were kind, feeding me and giving me a place to sleep for a day or two. There were still hippies on the road back then, people who were willing to reach out a hand for nothing much in return. Other times, people weren’t so kind and what they wanted in return for the offer of a ride, a meal or even a cup of coffee wasn’t simply a thank-you. Sometimes I found myself in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night. I learned quickly to evaluate who was offering a ride and politely refuse them if they didn’t ‘feel’ right.

Texas isn’t as cold in the winter as other places, especially central Texas. I have a long history here, which is what drew me back when I ran. Unlike most runaways of the time who made their way to San Francisco and Los Angeles I headed to the land of my heart. San Antonio in the early 70’s was a booming and dangerous military town, not a safe haven but easy enough to find havens for short periods and easy enough to find work if you weren’t too picky. People didn’t ask many questions back then, not how old you were, not for ID.

This is where I met my first husband, at an after-hours bar where I was waitressing. His father ran the poker game in the backroom. It was a whirlwind romance; he swept me away with sweet words, real dates and trips to buy real clothes. Nobody had ever pursued me like this before, treating me as if I was precious and valuable. Within weeks we were living together, Sundays were dinner with his parents and siblings, cards and dominos in the backyard. I was part of a family, prized and cared for.

Everything changed soon enough; I was too young and didn’t see it didn’t understand the signs. First it was the little things, the jealously the screaming rages. Then the name-calling began. As the months wore on my nerves frayed and my fear rose, he became cruel or maybe he always was. It started with open hands, the slaps that cut a lip or bruised a cheek. Soon it escalated, closed fists that didn’t stop with one or two but continued until I was curled in a ball on the floor no longer able to beg for mercy.

Everything Comes Back to You

September 17, the day my choices were forever stripped and I learned the meaning of hate. That day started just like any other day. The day didn’t start out well, I had been sick for a couple days, with fever and cramps, this always tended to cause problems since if I was sick I couldn’t work, couldn’t earn money for the household and by now I was the only one working on a regular basis. It was also the start of the football season, I was supposed to prepare something for a party that evening but I was too sick to get out of bed. This earned me a vicious beating; one focused where I hurt, the region of my Cervix and Uterus. I guess he though if he beat me hard enough he would beat the pain out of me.

He left me on the bed, bleeding and curled around myself. His mother found me three hours later and called an ambulance. I was barely coherent when I arrived at the hospital but I was able to tell them I had an IUD. They were unable to remove it; they were also unable to determine the extent of the internal damage without surgery.

I woke up on September 18, one day before my 16th birthday. I had been in surgery for 5 hours. The nurse looked very sad and said she would call the doctor. The doctor didn’t look very sad, just concerned.

He said my IUD had perforated my uterus wall. That they could not repair it and that there was other damage as well. They were forced to remove my uterus. He also said one of my ovaries had been damaged and had been removed. Finally he said I had Syphilis, my husband had given it to me, there was no doubt about this diagnosis, no doubt where it came from either. My husband, the man who had beaten me, while screaming his love for me  had destroyed my future fertility and infected me with a potentially life-threatening disease. That son-of-a-bitch was standing beside my bed with his parents; hanging his head in shame as the doctor delivered this terrible and terrifying news and all he could do was say he was sorry.

The doctor watched me closely, ‘do you understand everything I have told you?’

‘Yes, I will never have children and he made me sick’

I understood. My rage was cold it was like an arctic ice flow. I asked everyone to leave and told the doctor I was in pain. I could not face the future just then. I thought, as the morphine slid through my veins and I drifted off;

‘I will never love anyone or anything again, I will never love God again.’

Part One: https://valentinelogar.com/2012/06/02/no-bastards-no-choice/

Comments

  1. Again….I am sickened of what you and so many women have/are and will go through at the hands of others. BUT….I am so impressed with your ability to get it out and your refusal to be broken. You clearly picked up the pieces and put yourself back together. You may not be the same person you once were, but you clearly have more wisdom, more strength and more awareness.
    Beautiful inside and out.
    Now….a little bit of Articles: Screw those filthy bastards!

    • Part of the reason I write these stories now, of all times now is to make people aware of what it means to not have full control over decisions. What it means to not be able to say ‘No’ or ‘Yes’.

      Yes, screw those bastards. But more screw the ones today who think some of us have forgotten.

  2. How can any man do this to his wife? If you were my daughter, I would have turned killer…

    • It is odd Eric, many people men especially react that way. My baby brother reacted that way years later when he heard only part of the story. In the first series of Broken Chains I told the story of what forged my Mother, perhaps in the next one I will tell what forged my first husband. There are very few of us that wake in the morning and say, “I think I will do evil today.”

      Don’t misunderstand, what he did wrecked me for many years and it took a very long time for me to heal. For many years I wanted to do great harm to him, I wanted him to die in pain in fact. But truthfully I didn’t want him to own my entire life or define who I was forever. So Never Again, has great meaning.

  3. I offer only my heart, which aches for the destruction but rejoices you survived. I can empathize with the pain of writing this. I have an extra vat of strength if you are in need…and a bottomless coffee pot.

    I love you,
    Red.

  4. You have gone through so so much, and my heart reached out to that young girl who went through all of that. It now explains much .. It explains why you have called yourself a survivor . It explains how you rely upon yourself. and it explains why you are such a strong person on the outside.. Putting your barriers around yourself, not letting anyone reach too deep inside enough to hurt you ever as deep again.
    This was so well written, and you wrote this piece in a descriptive way which shows not only the skills you have in writing, but your skills in pulling us into your emotions.. a rare skill.. and one which I admire..
    I admire your strength and courage, And I admire immensely your Courage in digging in so deep to pull out all of that which has laid hidden..
    You are at last setting yourself FREE Val… and send you my heart and love most sincerely to give you added strength to continue this epic journey of Self Discovery. Love Sue

    • Freedom Sue is so tenuous right now, hard to hang onto when you are hanging by a thread! I have written these stories for so long in my head, but always in the third person because finally saying ‘these are mine’ meant the door was opened and I had to let the demons out.

      I don’t know that letting the demons out will bring down the walls, but it may crack the gate a tiny bit. Thank you again, you are one of my guides in this.

      Val

      • I know of deep hurt Val, and verbal abuse, thankfully I haven’t been Physically abused, well not to the extent you have my friend..
        I guess as at some ‘soul’ level I see you.. For it is only recently I have been looking deep within my own Soul, and coming to terms with many things..
        Letting the Demons out as you say will be raw for a time.. But once you have cleared within their last traces. .. You will then start to bring in that peace which you so seek..
        I feel your tiredness of your burden, like a lead weight within the pit of your stomach..
        You asked in your previous reply you didn’t know why now you were choosing to release the long held hurts and memories at this time in this way..
        We are at that time Val within the Cosmic cycle where we have to start and LET GO and Heal.. Karma as such is happening faster as this world spins ever faster within our Illusion of Time.
        The Time is Now for New Beginnings ALL around, Both for us as Human Beings, and for the World as A Whole.. As she is shifting her frequency to a higher more loving vibration.. Much turmoil has to ensue before we begin to feel that Calm and Peace.. She is bringing about Compassion into the world.. We also have to hold our own selves within that blanket of compassion as we tease out the splinters of old wounds and heal their scars..
        Too long have we suffered and been held within our pain – especially as females who have been shackled within the Male Dominance of this era..
        As Venus is now in Transit across the Sun, She is allowing the Feminine once again into rule.. She is bringing back once again Care and Compassion and Love.
        But before we can do all of that.. We are being asked to take a good look at who we are.. as we look deep within our reflections as we are asked to first Love ourselves and all our imperfections for in truth.. All of our lives, ALL of the hurts and bruises we carry, have made us into who we are today.. Without them we would be hollow beings with no value on experience..
        We came to this Earth to experience .. We may not understand WHY we had to go through the pain we did.. But I can tell you hand on heart Val.. It brings us to a greater place through the growth of our Soul.. Love to you ~ Sue

        • Yet that process is nearly as painful as the first hurt. I had such a good plan, lock it up, hide it away and ignore it. So much for planning.

          Sue, I value your thoughts and your guidance. Thank you

          Val

  5. What an honest and heartbreaking post. It could not have been easy for you to write. But with it, you remind us to appreciate what we have, because there are so many who live in pain and suffering.

    Beautifully written as well.

    • Or walk through it to something new. It has been nearly 40 years, in some cases more since the events in the first two trilogies of Broken Chains. It has taken this long to write about them, to even think about them this closely. I have always know they were there and have talked about some of them in great detail (e.g. domestic abuse). But I have never strung them together, now I am doing so Action – Consequence – Outcome.

      Thank you

      Val

  6. This is beautifully written but so sad. I am sad for you but also impressed by you, I think this is what it means to be a self-made woman. Well done.

    • I suspect life made me, or those that contributed to the strange twists and turns my life took. It would be few more years before I stood up and said I am taking control. It is hard to write these small pieces life, these trilogies (this is the second), I have kept them locked away for a very long time.

      Thank you for reading though, I know they aren’t easy.

      Val

  7. OH Val i am sorry can’t like this post,its just too gruesome, too violent,i felt sick after reading this,and i cant even call your first husband an animal cos that would be insulting them..
    as for your mom…( )
    what kind of world do we live in….how cruel can people be
    and we talk about mothers love,the very people who should be protecting their kids,where does one go when the only people we ever knew ditch us…
    its so heart wrenching …it must have taken a super human will just to get up and face a new world……..again

    • No Soma, it is actually okay to like it. I am okay with liking it because it means that not only did I get up but I walked through it and I am here. People often say we are never given more than we can bear, never more than we can withstand. The Broken Chain series, which I write in threes is rough, I know. But, as I write it not only do I release all of these old hurts, I discover what has defined me.

      There are sometimes in life I have let other define me, but not often. So really it is okay.

      • You are a fighter Val,what i meant was by the time i finished reading it felt that if i like it, it would be linking the horror you went through but yes you are right it also meant you got up and gave you life another chance….
        Big hugs 🙂

  8. This is achingly beautiful. Really hurts . . . really beautiful. And your inner strength shines.

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