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Well, I drove up to our local office supply store today with my handful of old pictures I found this week to have them scanned.  I have no way to divide these apart from one another — so here I go with another sketch job!!

Sorry for all the blank white space, nothing I can do about that right now!  First picture – the tall woman with the glasses was my mother’s friend.  I believe her name was Natalie.  She’s gripping my brother, John.  Next comes sister Cindy who was turning 2.  Mother is pregnant with my sister Sharon, so this had to be 1955.  I am under the grip of my grandmother.  I was 3 nearly 4, John was 4 nearly 5. 

This is one of those pictures that lets me know once we children were outside of the prison we were little WILD THINGS!!!

In the lower picture I would have been 4 nearly 5, Cindy 2 nearly 3.  We don’t look like happy campers.

Oh, my angel brother John.  13 1/2 months older than I was – he saved my life!!!!  Such love he had for me, so protective, so watchful, my guardian angel!

I LOVE this lower one!  That is the ME that MADE IT!  I am 4, not quite 5.  With my two sisters.  I bet if she could have my abusive mother would have KILLED me to get rid of that spunk I had!!!  But – she managed over time to beat it nearly out of me.  But NOT!  I wish I had a poster of this!  This week is the first I’ve seen any of these photographs.

Then moving up – me trapped holding a not happy baby – HELP!!!

And the top one – oh the dynamics in THAT picture!!!!  My grandmother on the left of the picture – 2-year-old me who is LEAVING — Mother Mildred with that LOOK!  Holding sister Cindy – and look at the expression of my protective brother, John!  Not missing a thing!  Sister in NEED!   By the way, that should have read 1953 beside that picture, not 1955!

This is the ONLY picture I have ever seen that even begins to catch a glimmer of what the OTHER mean Mildred could look like.  There I am!  Right square in that little body being ME!!!

In a normal world this picture of my pregnant mother (with Cindy) and me would be precious and priceless.  Maybe in some ways it was.  The dynamics so changed when Cindy was born and BPD Mildred then had her split-world God’s child.  I can see that in the top right picture of Mother and Cindy – that interaction, that dyad, that expression in Mother’s being with her loved baby — I NEVER felt that from her.  Not once in my entire childhood.

My father holding me when I was one month old – BPD Mildred had to work on that man to turn him against me – but she did it.  He lost himself to HER — and I lost my father once that had happened. 

The top left is Mother holding me. 

Such mental illness in that woman — and NOBODY noticed!!!!  So much horrific abuse — I am quite certain, as a friend of mine pointed out, that the moving from house to house my parents did before we moved to Alaska before my 5th birthday had to do with neighbors hearing what happened to me in one house — asking questions — and on mother moved.  There are three different houses in these pictures….  And there was nothing wrong with ANY of these houses.

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