Some vindication I wanted to share with you guys concerning the abusive adopted mother ("mommybitch" in my MS vernacular) who put me in the position as a perfect target for the CSA by my high school guidance counselor. Yeah, it's a long one, but important to me I post it.
She was a demanding, vicious, two-faced, snotty gold digger who drove Dad away to greener pastures (lol...not that he was a saint, but he treated me well) even before I was in first grade. Her favorite, oft-repeated cocktail party story was how she'd smacked me around in the crib, leaving me sitting in the corner stunned. Hysterical, huh? She quickly latched on to a rising insurance VP who moved us out of town and she even started insisting I change my last name. The VP quickly got what she was about, divorced her and returned to his first wife. Mommybitch got a nice, new house out of it.
But, as she prowled country clubs as a has-been tennis star/pro, she was an abusive drunk, too. I remember her passing out at the top of the stairs. I remember the vodka bottle rolling around under her bed. I remember being shoved in the car for a horrifying rides to the store (even trying to jump out once, but I was scared seeing the curb rush by at my feet as she drove over it...I was probably all of eight). I got to visit Dad on some vacations, but any mention to her that I had a good time would send her into a blind rage.
Dad's second wife, already having been a successful mother to two, knew what she was doing (right down to old-fashioned mustard packs when I was sick) and I often wished she had been my mother. She and Dad were good family and dedicated to the larger family. Unlike the mommybitch, they encouraged MY interests, particularly photography (part of my profession today!). Mommybitch had an agenda for what she WANTED me to be - a tennis "star" like her - and for which I had no talent.
Mommybitch's country club prowls eventually netted her a millionaire candidate who, however, died before she could nab him.
She settled a couple years later for a wimpy, socially-inept chemical engineer for a Fortune 500 company, who had a good salary and who she could control. Hell, she was past 40! Money started going immediately for a couple houses and country club memberships, but not my needs. The pressure to change my name re-emerged, as well. She also engaged hubby #3 to verbally and emotionally tag team me at nightly dinner table cross-examinations...every night, for years. A couple of times #3 acted like a "man" – against a 13-year-old? - and shoved me up against the dining room wall, until I started shoving back. Damn coward.
Fortunately, these days, they put people like that in jail and take the kids away from them. But, it made me a perfect candidate for my abuser.
Years later, Dad told me he suspected she'd been "rough on me". I filled him in. We finally had a good father/son relationship until he died in '85.
In the course of casual Interweb browsing I discovered Dad's closest brother died a year ago. It made me sad because the guy really WAS a saint, especially to Dad. So I posted a tribute and pic. Almost immediately I heard back from one of my cousins. None of them ever knew "what had happened" to me. It was a family mystery. In general terms, I started to fill her in on why they almost never saw me growing up, even at large annual reunions that were about like the Kennedys...and something I've often mourned that I was never allowed to participate in. And I've had nothing to do with the mommybitch – as I put it, "that awful woman" - since '90.
It's vindicating for two reasons. One, obviously, the story is now out, the silence broken. (I may eventually share the CSA part with the ones I find I can trust). Second, the mommybitch is still alive and living out her widow years in a country club McMansion. She remained connected to that uncle's equally-bitchy wife (deceased) over the years, so there's a good chance my cousins may deal with the mommybitch differently when/if there's contact.
And all I had to do was tell the truth.