No One Really Knows, but Now They Will...

***I wrote this yesterday afternoon, but didn't post it until today 02/29/08. The reason I did that was because, I felt that Mark needed to be the first to read it. He hadn't even heard the whole story, and out of respect for him and our marriage he needed to be the first to really know. And please, the last thing I want is sympathy phone calls from anyone. My intentions here are only to inform. Thank You.***

I have a mind that wanders often and the things that surface are about as random as a clown in the car next to you on the highway. While I sat outside and enjoyed the beautiful afternoon, my mind wandered. Unfortunately it wandered to a time that I've never talked about and I'd rather not recall. Writing about things often makes me feel better about it in the end. I am a product of my real mother. I enjoy writing. So in the midst of my wandering I thought to myself, 'Apart from my brother, I really can't think of anyone who truly understands or even knows about how I grew up...not even my own parents.' That is what prompted me to write this.
Before I go any further, I would like to say that I believe that I am very blessed, thankful and grateful for having become such a good-hearted and mentally sane person. My step mother Herlinda (Linda) Valvaneda is my hero for having taught me how exactly not to treat people let alone children. So before anything else is said, let me just say that most of you will be appalled, disgusted and amazed that such cruel people exist in this world. Many of you will probably be shocked to know that I lived this life.

In The Beginning...

When I met my step mother I was four years old. I lived with my father and older brother in my grandmother's three bedroom country home. I thought Linda was amazing. I loved her and I loved her kids. They were so much fun. My brother and I would beg to go to her house. I believe my father met her at a local bar. She was a recently widowed mother of three kids. Her kids were significantly older than we were. They were teenagers. Her daughters used to paint my nails, fix my hair and put make-up on me. It was every little girls favorite pastime, and I loved it! Very shortly after meeting they married, and oh how things changed!

Family Life...

We moved into her three bedroom house in the city. All three of her children still lived at home. The younger two were still in high school at the time. Upon moving into her home, I was never allowed to play with such things as makeup or nail polish. those things were now considered to be taboo. I was never to touch those things again so long as I lived under her roof. We were criticized about everything we did on a daily basis. I, along with my brother were called ugly and told that we were good for nothing. Everything we did was wrong. We'd never amount to anything in this life. The way I brushed my hair was critiqued. We were made fun of and called cows when we ate. Everything about the way we ate was wrong and disgusting. So disgusting that we we were forced to eat separately. My brother would eat first and I would eat second. We ate at the table. Alone. We would get smacked if we took too long to eat according to her standards. We were forced to play and stay outside in the Texas heat every single day of summer. We were not allowed to enter the house for a drink of water. We were forced to drink scalding hot water from the hose. We were also not allowed to go inside to use the bathroom more than three times a day. If we did, we were accused of being nosy little brats, and we would get spankings. We were never allowed to see my father's family. They were lucky if they were able to see us once a year. And when we did get to see him, she insisted that one of her kids go along so they could listen to every word we spoke and report back to her. If they showed up at our house they would get cussed away and get told that they were nosy and controlling.
After kindergarten we moved to the country where we lived about five minutes away from my grandmother's home. We still didn't see her. We were still required to spend every waking moment of the day outdoors. We would wake up and have to go straight outside. We weren't allowed to make our own breakfast until we were about ten years old, so until then we were forced to starve. We were not allowed to wake anyone up if we were hungry. If we woke up our step sisters they would tell on us and we would get beat for asking for food. They often didn't wake up until noon or one in the afternoon, so you could imagine how hungry we were by then. We were never allowed seconds and we had to eat what was on our plate whether or not we liked it. We could leave the table and throw up, but we were still forced to finish our food. We were also required, forced and expected to eat beans on a daily basis. Often the pinto beans were sour and old, but we were still required to eat them. If we complained, or said we thought the beans were no longer good, we would get beat. They sometimes had dead cockroaches in them, but we were still expected to eat it. We could pick around the cockroaches or eat them, they didn't care so long as we ate the beans.
Showering and bathing was highly regulated in that house. We were required to shower at the exact same time every day. If we were a moment too late, we'd get a spanking. Despite the rigid schedule, we were forced to walk into the living room and say, 'Excuse me, does anyone need to use the restroom before I take a shower?" We bathed in the tub every day. We used a bucket that we would fill up with water. We had to splash ourselves with water from a cup and then lather and rinse ourselves with the cup. We later earned the privilege of taking a real shower. Once we were allowed the luxury of a real shower, we were often surprised with hard slaps to the back or a sharp yank of our hair for not showering the "correct" way. We were never allowed to close the bathroom door when we showered or needed to use the toilet. We had no privacy. We were never allowed the luxury of new personal items. Combs, brushes and toothbrushes were expected to last years upon years. We were not allowed to ask for anything new and if we did, we would be called ungrateful.
We were solely relied upon for cleaning the house. My brother was expected to cut the entire lawn with a push mower. I was required to wash, dry and put away all of the dishes from everyone in the family which consisted of myself, my brother, my father, my step mother, my two step sisters and step brother. I was yelled at daily for not washing the dishes to Linda's satisfaction. I quickly learned that "do it yourself" was not a smart thing to say! I was also expected to scrub down the entire bathroom and to clean the floors in the entire house. Cleaning the floors consisted of sweeping and mopping the hard floors while getting told that I was doing it wrong and I was good for nothing. I was often pushed down to the floor, shoved and pulled up by my hair for not listening and not doing it the right way. Cleaning the carpets was done by picking up every piece of debris visible....by hand. We were basically servants. We were expected to clean and wait on the adults, hand and foot. If they were thirsty, we were summoned to get them a glass of whatever they desired. If they were hungry we were sometimes told to make them a plate. We would take them their food and take away the mess when they were done. We were slaves.
We were once given a single dresser that we had to share. It had five drawers. We each had two drawers and the middle drawer was split in half. The rest of our personal belongings had to be kept in the closet. We had a cardboard box that we used for the clothes and things we owned that didn't fit in the dresser. The closets were infested with termites. We were never allowed to sit on the furniture. We had to sit on the floor in the hallway away from the rest of the family. This is where we spent our evenings and winters and where we did our homework. We were very rarely given toys. By very rarely, I mean, maybe once a year we were allowed a toy. We were always given shoes and clothing for Christmas gifts. Our birthdays did not exist. They weren't celebrated or mentioned. We were always told that our birthdays were just another day. They were no different than yesterday or tomorrow.

Social Life...

We were not allowed to have friends let alone speak of them. We were never allowed to go to any one's house, or allowed to have anyone over. We wouldn't have dreamed of inviting someone over anyway because of the harsh conditions we lived in. We were not allowed to talk on the phone or give our phone number to anyone. Our phone number was changed and was always unlisted because they feared someone might find us. Our real number wasn't even given to our school. If we even mentioned the word friend, we were always told that we didn't have any real friends and all of our 'so-called' friends were just there to get us into trouble and to use us. We were often unknowingly 'watched' at school and would be surprised with beatings when we returned home. We would get beatings for silly things like having friends or talking to someone in class when we had free time. We were expected to speak to no one.
Since the age of five I was accused of being boy crazy, fast and a whore. I was always being told that the only thing I ever thought about was boys! That is what my entire life revolved around, according to her. We were not allowed to watch TV and if we did, we'd have to cover our eyes every time someone kissed. Even at the age of 12, I was not allowed to change my step sister's son's diaper. They feared me knowing what "privates" looked like, even if it were a baby's.
I was always accused of doing things I shouldn't be doing with boys. I had a jacket that the zipper stuck out on and it would constantly hit and irritate my neck. Every time I wore that jacket in elementary school I was accused of making out with boys and getting hickeys! I would get a beating every time I wore that jacket to school. The funny thing about it all is that I didn't even kiss a boy until I was 13 years old, and had never even had sex until I was 17 years old. Boys were always the last thing on my mind. I was more focused on school and becoming something better than them.

Crime and Punishment...

Our punishments varied from time to time, but Linda had her favorites. A spanking was always carried out in the kitchen. We had to pull our pants and underwear down and would get spanked with either a leather belt or a wooden paddle. The number and force of the swats varied with how angry she was. A beating was full on punching, hitting, pushing, scratching and hair pulling anywhere she pleased. I believe her favorite punishment was kneeling. We were forced to kneel on wooden pencils or raw pinto beans for hours at a time. We were required to keep our arms out at our sides. If we dropped them, we would get our hands beat with a ruler or we would get spankings in the kitchen. One time I was forced to drink an entire glass of Mexican brandy for lying to my father. We would get into trouble for "stealing" food from our own home. We were always hungry and would sneak food. If we got caught, we would get beat.
We were punished and abused daily, whether it be verbally, physically or emotionally. We were ridiculed because of our skin color. I was told that I tried to be 'too white' and my brother was told that he tried to be 'too black'. We would always get into trouble for trying to be anything other than Mexican. The sad part of it all is that I look white and my brother looks black. My brother was always called a fat asshole and I was always called a skinny bitch with no ass.
We were threatened with "The Lechusa" and "The Chupacabra" on a daily basis. These are Mexican folklore and urban legends. She used to tell us that they were going to come and get us while we were sleeping, and once we were in bed with the lights off, she would walk outside and pound on our windows. She was psychotic, and I have her to thank for my years of nightmares about the Devil himself.
Through the eleven years of my life that I lived with this woman, I (and my brother) were never allowed to show any sort of emotion. If we did, we were beat or ridiculed. Two years after my brother moved with our mom, I finally left. I was 15 years old when I moved to Virginia, and my life has never been the same since!

Where Was Everyone?

Many of you are probably wondering where my real parents were at through these 11 years. My mother remarried and her husband was in the Navy. They obviously moved often. She tried to gain custody of us through the years but was never successful. For years she didn't even know where we were until her mom and step dad stumbled upon us one day. We were always told that our mother abandoned us and started a new and better family. She didn't care about us or what happened to us. we would often find letters or cards in the garbage that were from our mom. And if we wrote to her, somehow Linda always knew and she would burn the letters in front of us.
My grandmother called CPS on our family several times, but no good ever came of it all. We were threatened and scared into lying. We were told that if we didn't tell them we were happy and never got spankings, we would get beat. Even if it would have saved us, we feared telling the truth. We were afraid of the repercussions.
Our father was an alcoholic our entire lives. Our own lives were endangered all too often because of his disease. We could have died several times because of his driving drunk. We learned to drive at the age of 10 so that we could drive our drunk father home. He has now been sober for about 4 or 5 years. I doubt that he realizes the things we endured.
One of the most disturbing things about this all is that Linda worked at a day care center for nearly 20 years or more. She also never treated her own children the way she treated us. Her kids have no explanation for the things she did. I once considered her and her children to be my family. I no longer do. I have disowned them. Family doesn't treat each other the way they have treated myself and my brother.

And In the End....

I have since forgiven Linda for the awful things she did to me, and like I said before; in a twisted way, I consider her my hero. She has taught me exactly how not to treat my children, other people's children and people in general. So, now you all know why I am so blessed, thankful and grateful for having turned into such a good-hearted person, let alone normal! Very few people could have pulled any good from all of this, but I have. I have risen above and beyond her. I wish the same for my brother. He seems to struggle with our past all too often. I hope that one day he too can forgive them and move forward with his life as I have.
Here I am, 21 years after that wretched woman entered my life and10 years after I walked out of hers. I am so thankful for my children and my husband and I am truly blessed for all that I have in this life. I wouldn't trade it for the world. I will never subject my family or anyone else's family to the things I have been subjected to. This was not a normal way to grow up by any means, and I hope that someone somewhere can read my story and learn something from it.
I'm not one who tells my life story to every person I see. In fact, this is the first time I have ever written about it, let alone actually talked about my life in detail. I'm sure my family will be shocked to learn that things were much worse than they suspected.

"Their sins and lawless deeds I will remember no more"
- Hebrews 10:17