My story: "Pop!" goes the Little Circuit Breaker (page 2)

Hortensia

I don't know if I could read part II. Too painful.

tijkmo

I've read so many worse and heart-rending stories here

well not many i'd wager..

i thought mine was bad enough ..but at least mine was my own fault

hope you are happy/happier now

TJ - iAmCleared2Land

Thank you ALL for your support and hugs and comments. Writing this all out is harder than I thought it would be. Here's the next part, I just finished typing it out...

The "3-day restriction" became stricter, if you can imagine that. The first day of restriction came to include no dinner—go to bed hungry. My siblings would try at times to sneak some food to share with me (with six kids, and one income, the meals weren't what you'd call sumptious, anyway). You could not leave your room without asking first—not even to use the bathroom. Instead, you'd stand at the doorway, and call to them: "Mom and Dad, may I use the bathroom, please?" If they felt you hadn't gone too recently, they'd grant permission. "Get to the bathroom, and get right back to your bed."

This process of emotional rape, isolation, and withholding of food, love, and conversation left me dysfunctional in social situations. I didn't know how to talk to friends, or engage in conversation. I was always afraid I'd say the wrong thing and get in trouble again. At school, we got free lunches due to the family's (can you call it a family?) financial standing. I'd always take the salad bar rather than the normal lunch line, because you could take more food as you served yourself. The kids would tease me that I had the "Mt. Rainier" plate, heaped with lettuce and sprouts and sunflower seeds. I would sit in the stall in the bathroom next to the lunchroom, listen for someone to throw away the rest of their brown-bag lunch in the bathroom trash can on the way to the playground, and try to time it so I could get to that food, pilfer it, and hide it in my backpack or in the back of my tucked-in-shirt, under my coat, when I got home, so I wouldn't go hungry that night, just because I'd wet the bed the night before. I wasn't always fast enough to get the food out of the can without someone walking in and seeing me, and that led to being called a "scrounge" by the other kids...

On the bright side, I was getting very good grades... I really applied myself to school, both for fear of bringing home a bad grade, and because I was enjoying learning. I thrived on praise from teachers over good work, of being "first" in the class on something, anything. Of course, this alienated me from a lot of the kids, who viewed me as a teacher's pet.

With all the 3-day restriction reading I was doing, I was an excellent reader and speller. I surprised myself by winning the spelling bee in my class, then my grade, and was able to represent my school at the District championships. My folks made it clear to me that District was as far as it would go... going to State or National (Washington, DC) would be out of the question, as it would certainly be an 'extra-curricular' activity by then. Therefore, my alternate went to State.

My step-sister, who also had a bedwetting problem, was the step-monster's natural daughter, so of course she didn't get the same 3-day restrictions for bedwetting that I received. When I'd get up the nerve to push the issue and ask (for which I'd be punished for showing a disrespectful attitude), I was told "she has a medical problem—you DON'T!" I would plead with my parents that I couldn't FEEL myself have to go... WHY would I want to go through the restrictions, no dinner, etc.?! They insisted that I was just being defiant, that I had no "problem" like my step-sister had, and I just needed to stop wetting the bed.

Claiming financial burden for hot water and electricity, we were confined to baths or showers twice per week, with a sibling. This meant going to school smelling of urine. I still remember in sixth grade my name being called over the PA system to "please report to the office." The kids all said "oooooh! BUSTED!!," as they would when anybody was called to the office. I wondered what I'd done wrong. Turns out I stunk so bad, the teacher had asked the office to have the nurse call me down and have my parents come get me to shower. I was a distraction to the class. Guess what? Step-monster showed up, CHEWED ME OUT THE WHOLE WAY HOME FOR EMBARRASSING HER, made me sit on the wet bed the rest of the day, after she made me suck on the wet sheets.

Dad supported all of this punishment. When he woke up from sleeping (he slept days, worked nights at a local drug packing warehouse), they talked, called me in, and explained how my bedwetting problem was strictly a case of me being lazy. I was too lazy to get up and use the bathroom, and chose to instead just lay there, pee on myself, soil their home, and make more work and embarrassment for everybody else. Therefore, starting then and there, I was to write 100 sentences each time I had an accident... and for good measure, they assigned a scripture I still can quote to this day.

Hebrews 6:11,12: "But we desire each one of you to show the same INDUSTRIOUSNESS so as to have the full assurance of the hope down to the end, in order that you may not become SLUGGISH, but be imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises."

I believe my brother had to write these sentences too when he wet the bed, but I do not recall with accuracy his punishments, and for that I am sorry, bro.

Part III to come...

Satanus

Oh christ, i said at the point where i read that the mucking fother made you suck on the wt sheets. Are those monsters still alive? I'm glad that you are putting this stuff out here, but really the story of those parents should be written in the local paper, to at least embarass them. Even if they are 80 yrs old, that doesn't matter.

S

TJ - iAmCleared2Land

Oh christ, i said at the point where i read that the mucking fother made you suck on the wt sheets. Are those monsters still alive?

It's worse than that... they now both claim to be of the anointed... I'll get to that and how much that influenced me to leave the rucking feligion, as you'd say. :-)

mind my own

Thanks so much for sharing with us, this must have been painful for you to re-tell the story!

I couldn't help but cry while I read your story, b/c this brings me back to such unpleasant memories of my childhood. I can't tell my story in full detail to this day...

You are safe here, and please know I feel your pain. Please tell part 2 when you are ready.

Hugs!

MMO

mind my own

I just finished reading part 2...I'm not sure I can endure part 3.

I'm so sorry for your pain!!! If I had anything helpful to say to you I would. I haven't figured that out yet.

Love and hugs,

MMO

Abandoned

Thank you for sharing the second part of your story.

She made you suck on pee soaked sheets after making you go to school smelling like pee in the first place? I really don't like that lady.

lisavegas420

This is so sad. Thank you for sharing your story.

lisa

My story: "Pop!" goes the Little Circuit Breaker

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