I was never really lovey-dovey with my children. I kept them at a distance. I guess because I was abused, I didn’t want to take the chance I would abuse them. So I kept them at a distance. I got so good at it, that when I did what I had to do to the boys, it didn’t bother as much as it should have, I think.
When Randy, my oldest, was about three, I was working the night shift and I would go pick up him up at my dad’s house, then go home to rest. One day I was so tired I dosed off, when I woke up he had took a black magic marker and wrote all over the T.V. and little bit on the walls. I don’t really remember what all I did to him, because I blacked out, but when I woke up again he was under the bed asleep. I have never felt so ashamed in my life and more terrified than that day. I was so afraid I had turned into my mom.
When he was seventeen, I told him what I did and apologized to him. Back then I was high strung and had a bad temper you would not believe. Sam, my middle son, had Down’s Syndrome and one day I blacked out and when I came to I was choking him. I called his teacher immediately and told her what I had done. She came over and sat with me and talked to me for about two hours. That was the worst day of my life. Sam trusted me, had no hate in his little body, and here I was acting just like my mom. From then on, I made sure that I watched myself very closely and if I saw that I was getting too mad, I would walk away until I calmed down before I said or did anything for punishment.
My youngest son is Daniel. He was pretty lucky, I guess. I just hollered at him; I never physically hurt him. Maybe just mentally. Because now he is going through blackout spells of his own. By the way, Sam died when he was twelve years old of leukemia. I never had any trouble protecting my children from other people, just myself. Everyone knew me in town, that if they ever touched or hurt any one of my boys, they would have me to reckon with.
