CHAPTER 3

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By now hours had passed since the incident that took place at her mother's apartment. Lyssa had used her time wisely by meditating as the hours passed. She was in a different frame of mind now. She was at peace. She reaffirmed herself again and again by repeating phrases such as "I do belong, I am in the heart of the Creator, I am not ashamed of me, and, I love me-all of me." Alyssa sighed heavily. We made it through another crisis, she thought. Alyssa really didn't want to die, she just wanted the pain to stop. She climbed in her bed and drifted off to sleep, peacefully, listening to the sound of the powerful waters. "We made it. Another day and we made it through."

Alyssa woke the next morning with a headache. She knew it was due to the tension that had held happiness at bay for her practically her entire life. She had, about ten years ago, remembered the abuse again. She remembered how she endured the secrecy of the abominable acts committed against her tender body by Larry, her mother's live-in male friend. How awful! A little girl-a baby, thrust into such a heinous lifestyle-and she couldn't tell anyone! Her mother may not have believed her. "I guess I was right. I'm a grown woman now and she still doesn't want to believe me", said Alyssa aloud. She remembers how she still had to get up, get dressed, and go to school. She had to maintain an appearance of normalcy or someone would suspect that something might be wrong. She definitely could not let that happen! So she wore the mask. No one in her large family knew what that man was doing to her. She doesn't know how they could not have known something was wrong-even though she acted as normally as possible. It was, however, impossible to deny the symptoms she could not hide-psychosomatic illnesses, nervous coughing, and extreme shyness. She was always jittery and quivering on the inside; but, no one knew what she was feeling inside. In retrospect, someone should have known. A traumatized child always displays behaviors that are impossible to ignore if the caretaker has bonded with the child. Sadly, there were no bonds. So, Alyssa wore the mask and she wore it well. As Lyssa's mind sifted through all these thoughts, they brought tears to her eyes.

Alyssa rises to find the sky dressed in a gray and white pin striped suit. As she looks out of her window fourteen floors down, she is cognizant of splatters of rain from the east. The winds blew with ease, cooling things off a bit. This is a great opportunity to sleep through the coming storm as it inched closer and closer, Lyssa thought. Flashes of lightning confirmed her conclusion. She used to be afraid of violent storms until she found her present home. Now she felt safe in her space; therefore, the strong winds, the hearty thunder, and the pouring rain could.... Lyssa begins to cry as she remembers the lyrics to an old song. The artist sang that he wished it would rain so as to cover the tears he was shedding over a blighted romance or something. As she sat on her bed, Alyssa could relate to such a wish; but, she was already in her safe haven, not needing the rain to belie her tears as they flowed silently.

As she cried, her mind guided her through a variety of experiences, but it doesn't take her mind long to pause at yesterday's events involving her mother. Why? Why? Why did she have to endure the abuse and its repercussions, she wondered dolefully? She wondered if the actual years of abuse were more painful than her heroic efforts to recovery from the trauma. No. Absolutely not!

As the storm moves closer in full strength, Lyssa thinks about her therapy sessions and how tedious they can be. She'd been in therapy about ten years; yet, the abuse seemed so fresh in her vivid mind. "Why do I have to hurt so much?", she questioned herself. Why do I have to suffer my family's asinine understanding of childhood sexual abuse? she wondered, as she paced back and forth. Wasn't the abuse enough? Obviously not. She would probably suffer a lifetime of flashbacks, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts and attempts, and self-mutilation. Why do I have to be rejected by my family? Don't they know I crave their support through this process of recovery? "Don't they care?" she asked herself.

Alyssa had struggled hard to find an answer to that question. She'd spent years in counseling and in psychiatric institutions searching for the love of her family. She visited her mother at least once a week, usually on Sundays. However, she'd always return to her own home feeling so gravely miserable. Her husband at the time seemed sympathetic, but never understood Alyssa, either. He wanted a divorce after a while-- even though Lyssa was so sorely depressed most of the time, so much so that she could seldom oust herself out of bed. He was aware of her suicide attempts, her self-mutilation (she would cut gashes in different parts of her body-it was really gross.) He was aware of the repeated hospitalizations in a psychiatric institution in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, the uncontrollable outbursts of anger, the crying, and everything else that was symptomatic of her mental illnesses, but like her biological family, he never 'got her'. After eight years of marriage, they divorced. They had vowed to be with each other in sickness and in health. Alyssa began to feel hostile as she mumbled to herself, "He lied." Alyssa was crushed; however, she would not stay where she was not wanted! When she was a child, she couldn't leave-even though she felt unloved there, too. As an adult, however, she could and would leave. (Alyssa was so afraid of life that she never waited around to see what would happen when something was going wrong. She had left many situations and circumstances-with no regrets.) He said he loved her, but he lied. Sadly, Rick, alone, had won her hard-to-win heart. Anyway, she left him and their home two days before Christmas in 1994-with no regrets. His haunting words still plague her. Rick said, "I can see how you could have had a rough childhood, but I don't see how it could be affecting you now." Well, damn!

Since childhood, Lyssa had always felt different from everyone. She was a star student, which brought her more conditional attention from her mother than her siblings got. Maybe her mother tried to live her own life through her academically-excelling daughter. Had not Alyssa been an 'A' student, she would not have received the tainted attention she did receive. Alyssa knew it wasn't the real thing, though, and never took it seriously. Alyssa never felt in sync with her family. She never even felt as if she was a part of her family. She was the ironic black sheep. She was known as Margie's 'smart child'. Certainly, then, there was sibling rivalry. Some of her sisters hated her. One would think that since they'd all grown up, all hatchets had been buried. Not so. They hated her then, and a part of them still hated her now.

She was a lonely child, emotionally on her own, even since her earliest memories. She remembers needing to have a bowel movement. Her mother, however, was bathing a sibling in the bathtub. The door was ajar. All I had to do was go in there and use the toilet, remembers Alyssa. Nonetheless, she couldn't do it. She was two or three years old and grappled with such an intense feeling of being disliked, and of being so timid. Instead of using the toilet, she hid behind a chair and relieved herself. Her grandmother had only recently finished scrubbing the floors and was disgusted when she knew what the child had done. Alyssa remembers getting whipped by her grandmother with the thick back of a hairbrush on her naked bottom. She remembers how she cried. No one came to her defense. She remembers family members thinking the incident was funny; and they began poking fun at Alyssa-even into adulthood. Her second memory was one in which she hid behind a living room chair, greatly embarrassed because her mother had forgotten to prepare a plate for her. It was a holiday, and the house was filled with relatives. Why couldn't I, thought Alyssa, just speak up? Behind that chair, Alyssa's adrenalin was flowing madly through her confused little body. As her heart pounded with ghastly fear, she knew that when she was found, all eyes would be on her. She gravely hated to have everyone looking at her. When the situation was rectified, again the family thought this was humorous, and they laughed. Alyssa begins to weep as she remembers those events. Something must have been wrong even then, pondered Alyssa. " Why was I two or three years old and so unforgettably self-conscious?" Alyssa asks herself. She continues to cry as she recalls these events. Then she can't stop weeping as she realizes that the sexual abuse, by that time, had already begun. She remembers sitting next to him, closely, grateful for this newcomer's attention, until he betrayed her precious trust and began sexually abusing her! Alyssa was devastated! She thought he liked her as a friend, not as something nasty! Even at such a young age, she felt sorely betrayed.

Her heart sat quietly on her bed for several more minutes as the steady stream of tears slowly dried on her cheeks. She stared into space, in a meditative state. Depression is written all over her face. The thunderstorm is raging, but Alyssa can't sleep now. She has too much to think about and not even the electrical activity with the gusty winds and clamoring thunder could put her to sleep now. She rose to close her bedroom window; for, it had gotten chillingly uncomfortable. She climbed back into her much-appreciated queen-sized bed only after she had showered, lotioned, and perfumed herself. She donned a pair of delicately-decorated pajamas as she began to feel taken care of. "We have to nurture ourselves. I feel like a queen. I am the queen of my castle", she declares playfully. She remembers to take her medications, which will help her sleep.

Chapter 4