EVERY SCAR HAS A NAME EVERY SCAR I KNOW PERSONALLY
by Gloria Brown Bates
Not For Sale
Not For Sale
EVERY SCAR HAS A NAME ON IT... EVERY SCAR I KNOW PERSONALLY...
I began this as an email to my friend, and went on to write it to all my readers. I had to write her
another little email to explain. By Gloria Faye Brown Bates
I noticed when I began to write my email... I 'knew' what I was going to do.... this is what
it became... my morning's story to everyone. This is exactly how I begin when I draw or paint... I 'know' what
I am going to draw or paint... but, when I finish, it's completely different from what I started out to do. I look
at it... and I am satisfied. It came out better than I knew it would. It's the same way... here.
By Gloria Faye Brown Bates
January 23, 2012
Good morning ________________,
Don't even let my stories make you feel upset. They have already happened and I've already endured the pain and through
the years I learned to put them in perspective in my own mind... I learned forgiveness. I even loved with my very heart all of these
people who mistreated, molested and abused me... as that little girl.
I'm honored that you feel and care so much for that little child who loved you. You were her friend who unknowingly made her
forget just for a short time that she lived in hell ... you, also, danced just as she did... to your own music and rhythm that made one
forget their troubles... gracious... that little girl didn't know what to call the 'bad' things in her life at that time... she just knew 'how
they felt'. _________, you are very, very special to me until the day I die. I love you, you've withstood all the time... and you are
still here. One day I will write something I'll dedicate just to you, how much my ____ _______ means to me. The words haven't come to me.. just yet. What I admire about you is that you continued all through the years to dance to your own music, being your own person and everyone else to their own. You are a real person, one of the most real... I know.
I don't tell my stories to hurt anyone.. I tell them to connect with
people who have been there, been through it ... and to let people 'know'.... hey, this stuff really happens. It happens, I know it for a
fact... I've been on those paths in life. If it entertains, and makes one feel... it's good. It's good to have compassion, empathy for others.
Who knows.. it may stop 'you' from abusing your child, or protect a child who is in a situation and needs someone to protect them. Who
knows? Just who knows?
I keep in mind that some of the younger generation now, are reading what I write. I can say this... some of the younger generation may
wonder 'who' done these things as a younger person, 'before' they were born. I can only say... it could have been your mother, father, brother,
sister, cousin, aunt, uncle, grandfather, grandmother, great-grandmother or great-grandfather... people you might have had opportunity to know
for a short time............ but, never knew the person they were in the past. They became through the years the good and loving people you knew
as a child... I'm happy for you. I had a 'lifetime with them' .... before you were ever thought of, because your parents and the generation before them,
were little children at the same time I was, or some of the ones who were doing those things. It's a fact of life... we have to deal with it.. no one is
I'm not perfect... and since I came from imperfect people, it affected my abilities to raise a child properly, to be a married woman, mother,
person all through my younger years. It affected 'then'.... how I let people walk on me like I was less than a person....... until the day I took a stand.
That was years ago... now, I'll die and go to my grave knowing.... no one will ever have opportunity to mistreat me again, or make me feel less
than.... see, I 'know' everyone now. I know everyone comes from the same 'pattern' and most are afraid to break out of it, and make their own
patterns... be themselves. I did, and no one likes me. :))) I don't miss it.. I never knew how it felt to be liked and loved by anyone in my 'family'...
so, how can I miss it. It doesn't bother me. There are several people.... several 'birds' :))) that I'm like, and I'm proud of being like, in my 'family'.
These 'birds' are my birds of a feather. They dared to be themselves, and through the years as I look back into my memories.... I see hate, scorn, fear,
dislike, ridicule, disbelief for those very people.... all because they were themselves, and they didn't follow the herd to feed. It was no 'monkey see or
monkey do'.... with these people. I admired them. I respected them... so, did the others but, they felt 'threatened' by them. They were leaders, them-
selves. They danced to their own music and rhythm of a different drum. I've always said 'let's dance!' I danced to my own music... I got tired of your
My dance of life is different, I've had to fight
for it in different ways, I had to fight to survive as a child, as a wife of a first failed marriage, as a person.... fight the battle of cancer, battle of depression,
battle of losing everything to a house fire, the deaths of practically everyone I loved in my life, the loss of my only child, my son..... just many such things
in life.... I made it. That is only a fraction of what my life's dance has been about. The worse being the loss of my son, Tommy, my only child.
Aunt Frankie told me as a child.... 'one day I could choose what I wanted in my life'.... thank-you, Frankie. How I loved
and respected you... you were so special. You weren't perfect at all, but... you were the best and you affected my life in the most positive of ways.
That soft, quiet, calming voice... those eyes filled with tears of compassion for a little girl everyone seemed to hate so badly. I love you, Aunt
Frankie, I miss you, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you when you would ask me, too. This does hurt me.. I feel it in my heart now... I know it hurts
because... tears are in my eyes and... I could cry now.
The children either went through alot I went through... or they were the few who never were put in harm's way. Even 'if you were
never put in harm's way'.... I 'know' you still suffered as a child' Not one child of my generation was spared... everyone has scars. I'm going to
write about them... not to hurt anyone ... but, to share with others what happened.... to me. I'll leave the rest for the others 'to write their own
stories'........... these are my stories... I will write them as only I would know them... I was there... I promise you I felt, and heard, and knew every-
thing! My little body was the body 'feeling and hurting' from all those things. Not your body... my body, my mind, my feelings.
If someone takes offense.......... then, everyone can 'wonder why
'you' out of anyone else'......... would choose to feel that way. You are too young to know these things and, if you want to say or do anything....
sit at your keyboard and do like me........... beginning writing your own story and if you want to make it a fairy tale, write a story, a fairy tale. I
noticed one time where one of the younger generation said something about going back to 'the old homeplace'........ I remember I was drinking coffee at
the time... as I read that.... I spit it out not meaning to.... laughing my ...... off! (I notice that some of you do try to make your childhood sound like a fairytale...
I know better... I know where 'we all began').
Why... that's the 'house that sits guarding the portal
of hell'.... it looks so innocent now.... it has been remodeled to look really very pretty.... but, nonetheless.. it didn't look like that when the person who
said that it was their 'old homeplace'... I 'know', I promise you that I 'know'. I 'know' also, 'why' that was said.... it was to make others think they came
from such a 'nice' place. I understand... I was young once... and tried to make my life 'sound perfect' to others who didn't know, to make them think
I was somebody who came from a 'nice' home.
No one in my generation ever called it the 'old homeplace'! That wasn't their homeplace anyway, I know where they lived as little children. My stories
aren't about this... this is something I happened to see.... and I stopped for a time in my mind and 'surrounded that statement' with my mind'....I
'walked around and around'......... I never did see 'the old homeplace' like they described.
We all try to pretend to be things we aren't. I did it as
a younger person... ashamed of being born, ashamed of where I come from, ashamed of not having real 'family' to care about me. They all would
love me for a short time.... nothing important I did matter... but, you can be sure that the ones who stayed in trouble, drank and did drugs.... were
the ones everyone loved and paid attention to. So, did I.... I loved, cared and worried about them... with my heart.
My mother and brother stand out in my mind.... my little brother, Rick-Rick. He never knew how many times I cried over him, afraid something
bad would happen to him... it did. I don't worry about him anymore. My mother...my heart hurts for her whenever I think of her. They both loved me
in their own way.
I know my other siblings love me as I do them... we don't know how to show that love... because that love could be jerked away at
any moment... someone might take offense and get mad, or hurt... the strange thing is I 'know' that not one of us would intentionally hurt the other. Not
one of us is like that toward the other... but, somehow 'we don't know that for sure', so, we'll live out our lives never being close because of that fear of
being hurt... it's the 'fear itself'......... if one could get past that 'fear'..............I can't even imagine what love is on the other side of that. I know that I'm
'here'... and if they do..... then, we all will have grown past whatever is 'born into each of us' to prevent us from forming lasting family relationships.
We are all very sensitive people with very real feelings. Even the slightest thing can make the other feel hurt, never knowing that no one meant to hurt.
No one likes to feel pain, especially when they love and don't know how to show it. But... we all 'know' it's there. I love you my brothers and sister. I'm always 'here' for you.
Rick-Rick was the only one who could meet me on an even playing ground and
say 'I love you' and whether you hurt me or not, I love you anyway. I was the same way with him. No matter what ... we loved each other and if we didn't
feel the best at times toward the other.... no one would turn their back and walk away. I admired that in Rick-Rick. If he loved you, he never took it
back nor stopped loving you... never. He was going to love you... no matter what. I feel like I could cry now.
I have my brother, Rick-Rick's ashes.... they sit in a place of honor in my
artroom, as does my mother's ashes, and my cousin's ashes. They sit in a room of happycolors, and sunshine... they sit where happy and creative
thoughts are at. Love is in that room for them... for Tommy and for Lena. I have special chests for each one...excepting I still have to get a special
little chest for Jimmy, my cousin.
I am not happy that these things happened to me and pretend those things are 'hunky-dory' and wonderful now
..... I still look back... but, I don't let all that emotion affect me when I do... only...when I'm writing... I 'go into myself to feel again to
reach in there, in the past ....to bring things back to... 'now'............. so, people can see, feel and understand what happened, walk around
it in their minds to see, study, know how it feels. They can 'feel' when I hurt, when I was angry, when I cried, when I was happy.... my readers
will care more ...now... than anyone did 'back then'. I'm amazed at the emails I get... I'm 'pure' amazed.
When I'm through with looking at something of the past.... I go back in my mind and carry these things right back to
where they belong......... The Past. There they stay until.... I... decide to bring them out and.... use them again. Each time I bring them out
to 'now'... and I put them back into place...they lose alittle more power to hurt me.
All of that helped to shape me as the person I am,
now (I started to joke, ha!). I don't let it hurt me now... maybe once in a while I'll feel a twinge of pain... I have to put it back in its
place and leave it alone, or........ find a way to sneak up on it... so, I can write about it!
I want to write about the things I know best... everything that was inflicted on me as a child. I've read and heard long enough
that if you write to sound sincere to your readers.......... only write about what you as a person knows best. Well, I'm writing what I
know best and most all is true... I may put the wrong color or describe something alittle differently... that's where I've forgotten, or have
a mental block...so,I can go on with my story... it's not important. I'll put what comes naturally to my mind and keep on writing to tell my story.
What is important is the story I have to tell... so, I don't have time to stop and dwell on the pain, or if something was blue when in reality,
it was green. What matters is the story being told. Just when reading... keep that in mind
that when I'm writing... I'm going back 'in deep enough for the moment to feel and see again' what was happening back in time... I write
what I'm 'feeling and seeing and sensing'. It can be emotional... but, it's not happening now.. so, it's alright. That adds to my stories... 'real
emotions, real words'..... and guess what?
If you 'feel, see in your mind, and sense'........ then, I'm telling my story in the right way. You
are appreciating the story I have to tell and it makes you 'feel' emotions. You are getting to imagine something if you've not ever experienced it... to
see, feel.... then, you can come back to reality all the more thankful you were spared that as a little child.... you were spared all that pain on
your little child's body... mind.
If you are recognizing what I write, you may have experienced even worse, or just as much, or alittle less.....it doesn't matter... pain is pain. Pain
hurts.. and for a little helpless child... they can't fight back. They can only look up at the person inflicting that pain... with their little wide, innocent
eyes not knowing 'why' you are hurting them... 'why?'
For just a brief moment.... look down at a little, precious child and while they stand there looking
back at you with little loving, smiling eyes, faces..... for a brief moment, think how it would feel to slap that child because it looked like its father, or
mother! In your mind 'slap them hard'! In that brief moment.... just imagine that child's face, just imagine the tears that come quickly to their eyes and
they look at you in shock... just imagine how that little precious child feels.
In your mind... 'begin screaming at that little innocent child, maybe slap it
some more in anger!' Watch that baby's face... you have done the most awful thing you could possibly do to a child ... and then, say you love it. You
have devastated that child, you have taken any security or love it may have felt... completely away from its world... that little child is 'stripped naked', no
protection of any kind... leaving it 'at the mercy of the world'. Everyone will now... take advantage of this little, unloved child and rape, molest, beat,
scream at it... and 'God knows what else'....... because they know no one is 'there to protect it or care, or whip their ass for harming that child'. Hey, no one
loves this kid.. I'll do as I please... no one is there to make me answer for my actions.
What they don't realize... is this child never forgets, this child grows
up.... and when it does... she notices ...you won't look her in the eyes and have to turn away.... why 'she could tell some things on you'. What you don't
realize is that she loved all the while you harmed her mind, harmed her body.... because you were her uncle, cousin, aunt, her 'family'. What you don't realize
is that she forgave you... and even at that time.. she would choose to forget just to feel a 'family's' love. But, no.... in your shame you have to look and turn
away...you 'know' you did wrong.
She forgave and loved you... anyway. She just couldn't forget... those scars that still hurt from time to time... make her
remember 'where they came from'. You may have grown old, some of you may have already died.... but, she still remembers each scar from 'each' of you.
When that scar hurts ... each scar has your name on it. My scars of many.... have many of my 'family's' names on them. I can name them off and it would
be like a classroom of people............. the classroom of life and life's experiences. Scars...... with names. My scars.... have real names... each one is a
memory of one of my 'family' members, and people in my life. No, I'll never forget you... but, I do love and forgive you. I've never-ever wished bad for
you and your life. Never. I............... almost did, though.
In that brief moment, imagine how that child will quickly forgive you and
still love you, though you've just slapped them for something they don't understand'. Imagine doing that to a child... plus, the rest of your family doing
that, also.... to that same child. That same child has become a 'scapegoat' to inflict physical, mental pain on... when you are angry at the world, or you
can't beat someone up because they'll whip your ass instead.... for a brief moment... think about what you are doing to that little precious child when you
take it out on them.
Now... in your mind, become that little precious child.... imagine people you respect and look up to, out of the blue... slaps or knocks you down, screaming
at you all the while until they become weak from exhausting themselves, and their tempers.... 'feel' that pain on your body, your mind and even see a little
blood on your legs or your arms to make it more real. How does it feel? Just how does it feel?
For a moment..... feelings from the past came back to my
mind just now... and I quickly had to close that door. I'm not ready just yet... to let them surface. I have to admit... just for this moment, I did feel anger at
how a little girl was treated.....either she was so innocent of all.... or maybe this little girl was too stupid for not knowing to look like her father, her mother
.....just maybe ...she should have hidden her face all the time. Little, stupid child... shame on you! You had the nerve to be born... shame on you. See......
for a moment 'I let you 'see' some anger that I thought was gone many years ago'.... for a moment you shared and read what 'for-real' went through my mind.
I 'chose' to share honestly for a moment ... what went through my mind ...just now. It's being 'put back up where it belongs.... in the past'...now. I'll bring
alittle at a time out... through time to write about.
Maybe this little girl should have been as mature as an adult... than to be innocent like the
little child she was. Maybe ...as a little girl.. there came times that she tried to leave this world.. and somehow, she'd wake back up... and hell was still there.
Maybe as a little girl.... she grew so tired of battling... it was a wonder anyone let her breathe. All made this little girl strong enough to endure her many battles
ahead in her life... she is still 'here'.... she is writing at this very moment. :))))) Everything is going to be alright.
Most everyone is dead now that I write about... most people don't even 'know where I come from' or where I've been or what I've done... so,
people who've wondered and have been curious... who like to be entertained... want to know... will have it 'all', ha! Not 'all', it stands to reason
we all have things we'll never talk about.. I'm no exception.
Anyway... I know this sounds strange... but, today.... I can look back and 'see why' some of the people did as they did.... there are some others that
I know 'were really sick in their mind'.... but, to everyone else... they were .... normal. Weird, isn't it? It's strange how 'weird' people appear so 'normal'.
I've seen people at their 'strangest'... no one would even believe they could 'possibly be like that'. One day... I'll tell you... you won't believe!
_________, I am going to copy and paste what I've written to you... I will take your name out... so, others who are wondering and thinking the same things
(I get emails from them, too) can read this, and know the same things I just wrote to you. I don't dwell or live in the past.... but, to be able to tell my
stories with the truth in them........... I have to 'go into myself' ... to connect long enough to 'be there again'. Sometimes, it takes alittle time to feel better
when I'm back to ....now. But... then... everything is alright... again.
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