The farm: My abuser and I had a produce stand and grew fruit and vegetables. The people from Washington D.C. would come down to their breezy summer cottages and load up. We had about 65 acres of open land and planted about half in vegetables and flowers. We picked and hauled to the city for sales and I stayed in the vegetable stand selling locally.. He could pull dozens and dozens of ears of corn while you waited, as the produce was growing right there by the business and the road. It was as fresh as if it came from your own back yard. He built the business on a 49-foot trailer chassis. We put a kitchen on one end, a walk-in cooler on the other and built shelves that slanted out in the middle. Being only a couple of feet from the highway in an agricultural area, we were highltly visible. Business was booming. Eventually, because of boredom, I began canning for my family. Canning gave way to pickling and I started selling pickled cantaloupe, a spicy corn relish, green relishes, pickled cauliflower, watermelon rind, chow chow and eventually homemade pound cakes from scratch. They brought good money, and sold as fast as I could crank them out. Later we sold sausage and scrapple that we made from the pigs. Life was very busy on the farm. Even my son, at 5 or 6 was quite the entrepreneur. He rode the tomamto setter at planting time, dug up sassafras root and sold the root. He helped gather greens in the off season. People were amused at him selling sassafras and bought it just to reward his efforts. The first year he bought his bavy sister her first doll. He bought a young calf and hand-fed it. That little businessman loaned us the money (about 70 dollars) to buy seed and start up business in the spring. Yes, he was paid back. At some point life was fairly good, but my abuser became overly excited with all the work, which led to anger and anger led to drinking and threats. He was not an honest businessman, either, which exacerbated our problems. In summer we would argue because I needed to bathe the children, feed them and put them to bed. He felt we needed to stay open late. Often I worked until midnight. I would wake up un the morning, lying face down on the cash register drawer, having fallen asleep in the wee hours, counting the days income. He didnt understand that mananging a home, cleaning, cooking, paying bills and raising children required any effort. He would go off, coming back hours later, having stopped somewhere to eat. Thus, the kitchen....and for me to have anything for me or the kids I had to cook....while I worked. I dont have to look too hard, though, to see the blessings I had right there. I had two beautiful children, plenty of food, and I was no longer isolated. I saw people all day while working, and even had company come in to visit. There was a fenced yard behind the business. I was adamant about that, so there was room to play and run. From spring to fall I ran the stand. In early spring I planted. I crawled on my hands and knees in the cold. The winter was worse. I helped with the farm chores and sometimes caring for livestock. One winter, I miscarried right there in the mud on my knees, cutting greens in the field. He saw no reason for me to return to the house due to my pain. So it happened in the bitter cold, crawling and cutting and lifting. He could have cared less. So on goes this story of mine without anyone knowing what was happening. I bit my lip and forged on. Why is it that some of us are driven to please others? Why couldnt I have just said, No!? It has taken me 30 years to even broach that question. I began to think about how I could get out of my situation. Just a little bit of history to explain the misery from where I have come. Now, I feel like I am a growing living thing that rose from lifeless ashes. If I did this, this miracle if rebirth, from nothingness to who I am now, you can do no less. Belive me, IT CAN BE BETTER. Have hope for yourself. Cling to it. IT WILL GET BETTER!
Posted on: Mon, 25 Aug 2014 01:46:24 +0000
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