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This picture from a slide I just discovered last Thursday is connected to the two abuse memories from my childhood (age 5 1/2) written about in the posts with links below this picture. Now that I can see the picture bigger than its original one inch size, I can see two Easter baskets against the wall. I believe one of them was mine. I have no idea who the second one could have been for – there were only four children in the family at this time.
I can also see that my siblings don’t look particularly sad in this picture. Nor should they have. We were all pure, beautiful and innocent children being mothered by an insane Borderline sadistic terrorist. How they felt having witnessed the hours of terrible abuse of me from the night before — that I was shocked to realize was still going on even the next morning, Easter Sunday while my siblings were posing in this picture — I cannot ever know.
I can never speak for how my siblings experienced the nearly continual rages my mother had toward me — and her abuse of me. I am in the process of writing my own story — and that story is NOT my siblings’ story any more than it is my mother’s or my father’s. It seems very strange to me that I should encounter this picture just after writing the two abuse memories that are sandwiched around the time this picture was taken — within hours.
My daughter has just forwarded to me Question #6 of the eventual 19 questions that I am answering as I tell my story. I am now in my four day ‘waiting’ period of preparing myself to respond in writing to Question #6. Therefore I will offer nothing more about this picture now. I will need to decide if I am going to back up and write about this picture within the body of Question #5 which I have already finished, or if I am going to start my response to #6 with this picture.
All I can say right now is that this depicted ‘situation’ was so common during my childhood that it WAS my and my siblings’ reality. Linda was simply missing from most of the ongoing life of my family as I was being ‘punished’ in bed, in a corner — having been beaten — with all the other etc. that accompanied my mother’s madness about me.
(The Fox memory) – +WRITING A BOOK? MY STORIES? WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE?
(This picture belongs between these two memories – related to last night’s post) – +ME: THE INVISIBLE CHILD MISSING
(The Bubble Gum memory) – +AN EXAMPLE: ABUSE MEMORY AND FINDING OUR OWN GOODNESS
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Stop the Storm 
it was a scary scene when ur brother described how excited he was to go to the park and how ur mother got wickedly jealous of her daughter’s care for him. When she screamed” I am your mother.”
Is there any stories that ur sisters contributed to this blog I could read?
My sister did nearly all the raising of this brother past the infancy stage which I was ‘allowed’ to help with — she WAS an inadequate mother, completely!
There’s a little here by sis 2 years younger – Cindy:
https://stopthestorm.wordpress.com/my-siblings-comment-page/cindys-1953-pages/
a little here from oldest brother
https://stopthestorm.wordpress.com/my-siblings-comment-page/johns-1950-pages/
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I find myself envying brother Steve’s brain (of course!) — I lived nearly daily with the kind of hell he described in these two events, but I don’t think he ever experienced more than these 2 — I can’t compare my writing to his, or to anyone’s ’cause I ALWAYS come up failing — I do NOT have a brain thanks to my mother’s 18 years of torture that processes left-right brain info correctly — and I never will — and my brother DOES!!
Important to remember my mother had 2 Borderline conditions – I lived in her inner core HELL – that allowed her to keep together her outer Borderline universe all the rest of the family lived in — I was sacrificed so they could have an ‘easy life’ – what Steve described was connected to her disintegration that happened when she no longer had me at this core —
Just read the Red Robbin story and I am a crying mess.
Seems ur brother is also a gifted writer. I hope ur siblings share more either on this blog or in ur book. He no doubt is a very sensitive person and I am sure wounded from all that he witness his mother display on his beloved sister.
His salvation was in being the youngest — I was in 8th, sisters in 6th and 4th by the time he was born — tho Mother’s beloved baby (she turned 40 the year he was born) – she did NONE of the meaningful raising of that boy — WE did – and we did a great job — so thankfully! He’s doing great in life — and was very kind in writing those pieces for the blog (will no doubt allow pub in book if needed…) – but NOT anything he wishes to dwell on at all — nor does he need to. He was also spared witnessing what happened to me, he was 4 when I left home……
I wanna read ur book Linda!
I am PLANNING for you to be a proof reader, too!
Just asked my sis re: your question about sibs — I am hoping she will write a chapter!!
Will start my response to #6 day after tomorrow — I’d rather eat worms!
would she also ever abuse ur brother and sister..like when she was angry at them?
Very very VERY rarely – but yes, it did happen — her anger was 99.9999999% reserved for me, including her anger IF they displeased her by blaming me for it
Not sure if you’ve read these my youngest brother wrote? His memories happened after I had left home that he recounts here:
https://stopthestorm.wordpress.com/my-siblings-comment-page/brother-1965s-pages/
Please tell us in this picture…who is who and what ages. Were u 5 and a half?
Yes, I was 5 1/2 on April 21, 1957 (turning 6 August 31, 1957)
My brother John was 2 months from his 7th birthday (June 15th) when picture was taken, baby Sharon was 3 months from turning 2 (July 20th) and Cindy was 3 months from turning 4 (July 10th)
Dear Sweet ,Strong, Survivor Linda:
Oh how my heart goes out to you on this writing and photograph..and I see your struggles with WHY didn’t someone(anyone) HELP YOU!!! and I feel your pain a thousand fold. You did not deserve any of this horrible abuse- your mother was psychotic…and you were her scapegoat, and the receiver of her never ending rage. I hope writing this book will help you find your true self more deeply, the part that is eternal and deserving of everything great in life just for being here.
I have been going through a lot of memories again, they just don’t seem to stop. I ask the same question all the time..why didn’t someone take me away from her, from the situation?? Although I was a stoic survivor,the signs were there, didn’t anyone notice anything? I remember feeling like a paper doll -like i was a zombie and not there, and wearing the facade of clothes and a child’s face. Underneath the tabs the held my clothes on I was dead.
I have decided that I am to write a book as well, with my 20-30 drawings I have which tell my story much more eloquently than I am capable of. I am not ready yet, but I will be in the future.
My prayer is that books like yours and eventually mine, will be read and will make a difference in this world…
hugs and many blessings to you
Yes – and I am finding the process of book-writing itself, different from any other writing I have done, is about going inside the living, breathing PERSON I am now and always have been that LIVED through the abuse. In some ways it feels like tearing myself out of the madness one single cell of my body at a time — as I define what MY reality was like – the best that I can.
Thank you for your words: “I have decided that I am to write a book as well, with my 20-30 drawings I have which tell my story much more eloquently than I am capable of. I am not ready yet, but I will be in the future. My prayer is that books like yours and eventually mine, will be read and will make a difference in this world…”
I don’t think I could ever do this work ‘just for myself’ – my desire is tied to this hope that something in my story, in your story, in our story can HELP other people — in ways I can’t actually imagine.
As I prepare for the next stage of writing I can only pray that my heart be true to the truth and that I be brave!! much love! Linda – alchemynow
Perfect picture of my mother’s ‘playing house’ with her baby dolls – set the stage, arrange the props, stage her baby doll actors — all the while using her evil psychosis with me captured in the center of it running invisibly in the background to keep her functioning AT ALL in her outer Borderline universe