Tracey Anne Hallberg is my Monday Guest Contributor. She is a survivor of Family Crisis, and proof positive that there is light on the other side. She shares from her heart, leaving very little to the imagination.
Her story is valid, important, and needs to be shared. My personal journey is very different from hers, but on my journey, I have come upon many...many...who have had to live through horrors similar to the upbringing Tracey was forced to endure.
Tracey is one of the most courageous women I have had the privilege to know, and I am honored to share Wings Like Eagles with her every Monday.
Tracey's account is graphic and raw, and is not suitable for young or sensitive readers. I give her posts a strong PG-13 rating.
The Story of Jason
Some of the only good childhood memories I have, are from when I was 5.
My sister Dana Sheree, Dana Dana Ditch Witch. Haha! My Little Big Sister, cuz I outgrew her when I was 12. She was tiny. She used to play with me. Dress me up like a little doll, and drag me around the house. She was 10. She was very loving and doting at this point. I knew she adored me.
Sadly, that would be short lived. She would be Mama's drinkin' buddy by the time she was to be 12.
Dana would bring her her beer, smokes and pills, cleaning up her messes after days of binging. Tears. I remember so many tears. Dana tellin' Mama, "It's gonna be OK, Mama. It will all be OK." Mama would say, "Are you sure Baby? How do you know?"
Between Mama's binges and threatening her life, we would be shuffled from her older brother, my Uncle Mickey's house, and friends' houses. Once the Welfare came and took us. They had metal caps put on on 14 of my teeth. We never brushed. I mean, what was a toothbrush?
Our worst caregivers kept us in line by threats, pulling our hair, and taking us to church. Telling us we were heathens.
Uncle Mickey, however, was a wonderful, Godly man. He had a kind voice, compassionate way, and he was larger than life. Really. He was 6'5, and 250 pounds. His wife, my Aunt Dianne, all of 110 pounds, had four children of her own, so it was understandable how hard it must have been for her to lovingly take us in as her own. She was very high strung. Never a crumb on her floor, or a foul word from her mouth. She gave us clothes, toys, baths, naps and lots of hugs and kisses. These were some of my good memories also...playin' with my cousins. But, I knew we would soon be ripped from their arms, only to go to apartments, end up with men, and Mama's poor judgement upon her return. Mama would shower us with hugs and kisses and of course, gifts. Lots of gifts. I loved my Mama. That was her way of appeasin' her guilt.
When I was five, my father John, (Ray) had a son. I met my brother when I was 8, and he was three. It seemed that I would not feel so alone anymore. I loved my little brother, Jason. He was the light of my life. I played with him at Daddy's apartment building. When kids would chase him around throwing water balloons at him, I would defend him. "That's my brother!" I would scream. "I am gonna kick your ass!"
I taught him not to steal once when he took a plastic toy car from the store. He was sittin' in the buggy when I told him, "Put that back." Mama was diligent about that. You do not steal and you do not lie," she would say. Apparently she was a whore who had morals, cuz unbeknownst to most, she did. I remember the lecture she gave me in tears for three hours when I confessed of stealing Dana's 4-H money from the laundry when I was 7. She said, "Two things I cannot stand. Thieves & liars," crying the whole time. She said she had failed. "You are BOTH!" she cried. Reminds me why I never told her the truth again.
When we were little, my sister, brother & I would play together. He loved his cars. He would sleep with them on his pillow and wake up with car indentations on his face. Haha! I always thought that was sooo funny.
His mother, Debbie, was only 18. She was a drug addict. Cocaine. She would leave us alone, and lock us up in the closet. Sometimes jest me. It was frightening. We had little food, or no food at times. I felt like I would starve. Once I found two slices of bread, a stick of butter and some sugar. So I made buttered sugar bread for me and Jason. Dana went with Mama a lot, so it was the two of us, quite often. Daddy was workin' on a ship yard. He prolly had no idea what was goin' on. Two half grown, addict women, having children having to fend for themselves.
My little brother, Jason, was taken by his mother when I was 8. He wore welts on his legs that night cuz he was jumping on the bed in his little diaper. I can never forget that day, because it was so traumatic. I took him in my arms like I always had, and protected him. "He is my brother, & I will kill you," I told her. We slept in the closet that night. Only place I felt safe. The next morning, he was gone. All his belongings were gone. He was gone.
I woke for 29 years to come..in a panic, lookin' for him. I failed him. Worthlessness. Pain. Fear. Self-loathing. Deeper, deeper into darkness I fell.
The longing for stability would soon be real and my resentment would creep in, with darkness to follow.
...TO BE CONTINUED NEXT MONDAY
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