Read an Excerpt

Secret Struggles Of A Single Mother

AuthorHouse

Chapter One

God laid it on my heart to complete this section. Before you begin to read, I want you to know that everything written in this book has a purpose; to help someone. This chapter was hard to write, but I must obey. It is sensitive, so read at your own risk. Excuse my inaccuracies. Again, I do not come with the Excellency of speech:

I am sitting in a huge tree, as a little girl, not knowing the ins and outs of life. I expected that the world built itself on love; so therefore, I thought love was the world. I didn't know, at the age of 8; there were evil people in the world. One day, while playing with my Baby-All-Gone, evil knocked at my door. My parents were blind and misled by their own affairs. Mama chased another man, daddy chased women; they never gave it much thought to chase after their little 8 year old girl. House split. I had no one I could go to and talk. Mr. Lonely and Mrs. Meek took me on a ride that I'd like to call "Deceit". He told me that we were going to make a dance routine, in hopes of winning a talent show. When he took me in the room, something wasn't well because he closed and locked the door. It was Mama who enlisted this relative as our new babysitter, so I felt safe and comfortable. It became clear that I had to respect his authority. Back then, I had no say so. It wasn't lawful for a child to speak their mind to an adult, so all my feelings, opinions, and conversations became one-sided and forced into my little red book. When I see that red book today (ll> yea, I still have it), it reminds me of that day. That day he took me in the room, laid me in the closet, and pulled down my shorts and flowered panties. The immaturity of my female body should have spoken to his conscious; saying, "No man, she is too young. If you interfere with her now, you will turn an innocent girl into a Mad Black Woman". He did not take heed. He told me to open my legs. Allow me to dialogue:

Me: I'm scared

Him: Don't be scared I won't hurt you

Me: My mama gon' get me

Him: No she's not that's why they let me keep you (proceeds to pull out his penis)

Me: What is that?

Him: This is what boys have, and it goes right there (pointing at my vagina)

Me: Ok (still thinking that we are dancing) ... What is that coming out of it?

Him: Oh that's pee it won't hurt.... (Tries to put his teenage body in me)

Me: Oh no it hurts

Him: Let me try it another way (tries it another way)

Me: Now that hurt too ... (I don't like this dance routine, so I lie and say I hear my sister coming. He gets off me.)

We came out of the room laughing as if nothing happened (because he told me to). I laughed hysterically. I didn't know what had just transpired. My sister asked to see the dance we created. As I was about to lie on the floor and open my legs, he quickly made up some ole ridiculous dance. Quietly, my mind whispered that was not the routine we just did. I knew then that something wasn't right, but I lacked understanding. I didn't know any better. It wasn't until I got into my teens, and became familiar with the term sex, when I realized what he did to me. My past battered me and left me humiliated. I took this burden to the cemetery, buried it, and never looked upon it again. In the year of 2009, my pain began to resurface. My misery started coming out of the grave. I knew then, that it wasn't okay for him to do what he did. I finally recognized that I wasn't dealing with a dance routine gone wrong; I happened to be a victim of molestation. Still I tried to cover it up; however, it began to emerge all the way out of the grave. We [my past, and I] looked each other face-to-face. It silently stared at me. I tried to pretend I didn't see it. I struggled to carry on as if God had hid my past. Eventually, I couldn't bear the game of hide and seek anymore. There were no places I could run to or hide. By me putting "it" in a grave didn't make the situation better. In the end, that grave became my cave. I isolated myself in my own afflictions. After wrestling with my past for a while, I decided to come out of the cave. I cried and shouted and screamed, "God help me! I did not like how he touched me. Lord, help me to forgive the person who has done this to me and deliver them from my spirit". (ll> This is my first time speaking about it).

Take a Walk With Me:

Discreetly tortured by those earlier events didn't open one door, but several. I was naive. I didn't have the full understanding as to what my female parts were, so imagine me trying to figure out the male parts. His actions birthed some harsh things in me that I still deal with to this day. I can remember him touching a part of my vagina and immediately I felt stimulated. (ll> Because of my Human Sexuality class, I now know that part was the clitoris). I became intrigued by the awakening of this stimulation. The feeling I received when he touched me could not be explained with words, so I tried to find ways to revisit that sensation. In my youth, I began to self-stimulate. This became a part of my daily routine. The more I tried to stop, the more I connected to it. Self-stimulation then grew into watching pornography. My parents did not teach me about sex. The only sexual teachings I'd gotten was through sexual abuse. Also, my older girl cousins were schooling me on sex. During my adolescence, two things I could associate sex with were molestation and my cousins' sex promotions. They told me to have sex, "It hurts at first, but then it will start to feel good". They drilled this myth into my mind; that the only way a woman could keep her partner was if she had sexual intercourse with him. One day I heard a knock on my door; it was fornication. This would be the day my world started spiraling. I was a wreck. I took my pain and allowed fornication to turn into my god. I evolved into a sex-a-holic. I thought it was what I needed to fill the voids in my life. If the truth be told, I hated sex. It hurt, and I didn't want anyone touching me. I got angry, during the act, and cry. But because he robbed me of my innocence, I had to have it. Instead of learning to release my pain, to make me better, it taught me bitterness. I battled with low-self esteem. My mind convinced me that all the girls were pretty, except me. I turned into a mean bully. This was the only way I thought I could defend myself. I was the smallest person walking, but I bullied many people out of grief and humiliation. If I felt you would try and dig up my problem, I'd bully you; you'd be my target. If you reminded me of something that corresponded to that time he took advantage of me, I'd bullied you. I remember my school assigned me to a Pine Belt Mental Health counselor. They stated that I was psychologically mental. The moment she began to discover my problem, I attacked her. I grew to be a cruel and angry adolescent. I began to smoke weed, to avoid the reminder of my sorrow. Getting high helped me remove the harshness of my childhood. It temporarily blocked the memories; from my parents divorcing to the sexual abuse. My parents divorced right after he molested me. Certainly, I thought I was to blame for their break up. I, repeatedly, asked questions in my mind; "I didn't tell anyone what he did, so why are my parents so upset? Did my sister happen to see us? Did she tell my parents?" These thoughts sent me on a wild goose chase. I chased after acceptance, love, and support in all the wrong places. I tried to get and keep a boyfriend, to fill voids in my life.

Also, because of what he did, I've lived with my guards up all of my life; especially when I had Jordan. I thought everyone he came in contact with, would touch him inappropriately. At 9 months, I told him that he should never let anyone touch his penis or anus. I openly expressed this as if he understood me. Every time I gave him baths, I reiterated that no one should feel on his private areas. I'm always schooling him on good touch and bad touch. I taught him the rules on how to inform me if someone touched him. I have even lied about being a police officer. I promised him that I would take anyone, who harms him, to jail. My relative's immoral actions had me in a box. (ll> My heart is beating fast now just thinking about it. I think some residue is still in me, but I've got to relieve myself entirely). I expressed interest towards people with Obsessive Compulsive Disorders, but I have a secret OCD. I am always checking my son's bottom. I don't care who he's been with, mama, daddy, sister, etc.; I will pull down his clothes, when he gets back to me, and check his cheeks. I check to make sure there are no signs that someone has tampered with him. I understand that my son will have his own trials; however, I will prevent him from becoming a victim of molestation. I don't want him to face hardships because someone stole his innocence.

Message from Betty:

If you can relate to this chapter; remember, do not hold-on to anything that someone has done to you. A small seed will eventually produce a tree. I have battled miserably in my mind. I've had suicidal thoughts, and I've cried myself to sleep so many nights. Mothers, it is time to grab hold of your children and pray for them. Stop allowing your children to stay with everybody. I am not speaking from trauma; I'm speaking because of what I know. We encourage our kids to be around people that we trust, with the naked eye, but we fail to see what lies beneath. If you or your kids are victims of rape and/or molestation, you should tell someone. I don't care about putting my business out if it's going to help someone. I am an open book. When God tells me to do something, no matter how hard it is, I try to obey.

Molest means to agitate, interfere with, annoy, to make inappropriate sexual advances towards, or to assault sexually. My relative did not go all the way in me, but by him fondling me, he molested me. A person doesn't have to penetrate you in order for you to be a victim of molestation. Inappropriately playing with someone in a sexual nature is molestation. I'm not going to lie by saying I'm all the way delivered, because I'm not. I'm taking it easy; one day at a time. God is available to restore you and me. The damage did not occur overnight and the process to recovery will not happen overnight. Don't get me wrong, God can touch us one time and heal us in an instant. However, He's allowing us to go through the process of healing so we'll be able to help someone else. I'm smiling now because I know I have obeyed God, my heart is free. (ll> I have a young girls group called Young Sisterhood. Daily, I have them writing in journals expressing various problems they're facing. You'd be surprised how many of those girls have been molested. I feel like I owed them this chapter. Somebody's life will never be the same after reading this).

Do not be afraid to tell people about what you've gone through. Talking about it (no matter how hard it is) helps you to heal. Every time you talk about it, you are applying Neosporin to your wounds. If you saw yourself in this section, it is time to let go of the past and forgive the person who has harmed you. I wrote a chapter that you'll read soon, on forgiveness. I encourage you to continue to the next chapter.

"The worst mistake you could ever make is running from your problems. Face them suckers head-on. [Demolish and Defeat], so you'll never have to worry about "that" problem again! If not, you will repeat! Do you remember how it was on those Nintendo games we use to play as kids? (Think about it)"—Betty Mayfield

      You Knew Better

    A small seed produced a tree
    All because you molested me
    Now I don't know
    Who I'm supposed be
    You striped me of my identity
    Trying to fit your big penis
    Inside of me
    Only a little girl
    Invading my world
    Now I can't trust
    Or get rid of this lust
    Every man comes in my path
    I got to have
    My sexual desire runs on an impulse
    Because you touched me
    My innocence have been set free
    Set free
    To be caught again
    Now my blood is upon your hand
    Every time I fornicated
    You were charged for that
    So don't be elated
    Claiming to be Immaculate
    Nope!
    You're just a coward
    Afraid of being rejected
    So you tried
    To inject
    Yourself inside of me
    An Eight year old?
    Slap yourself
    For stooping so low
    You looking real slow
    As if you have a problem
    You're in good luck
    Because I am the problem solver
    Next time you decide
    To put your penis
    Inside another
    Make sure the young lady is of age
    And still not in her 1st stage
    Of life
    Better yet
    Be careful
    I shouda made ya penis disappear
    With a knife
    And put you in jail
    25 to Life
    You knew better
    But that's okay
    Because
    You'll forever be my debtor

Chapter Two

      My Outlet

    I take my anger
    And put it on paper
    So if anything goes down
    I won't regret it later
    Cause I'm smooth as a butterfly
    But can sting like a bee
    Will call all devils out
    DARE them to mess with me
    I'm a warrior,
    I'm a soldier,
    I'm a fighter
    By nature
    I stand to make the enemy flee....
    As I count to three
    He better agree
    To get up out my face
    This anger of mine
    Can take out a whole human race
    The race which isn't given
    To the swift
    He threatens to sift me
    As wheat
    When anger is upon me
    I know no defeat
    Open up
    And speak
    To my adversary
    Defeating him is so necessary
    No time for Hail Mary
    My anger gets scary
    Rwaaaaar ...
    Lord help me
    I'm trying to hold on
    I know being angry is wrong
    But it's my way
    To remain strong
    Please
    Don't let the sun go down on my wrath
    Cleanse me
    Oh Lord
    Give my angry soul a bath


      Because I'm Angry

    I'm angry because
    My life isn't what I want it to be
    Years ago,
    Someone beat this anger inside of me
    Anger is taking over me swiftly
    My heart beats fast
    My palms become sweaty
    I know it's an onset
    And things are about to get heavy
    I'm bout to slap someone
    And push 'em through a table
    Somebody bout to see
    That the stereotypes about small people
    Are only just a fable
    I'm angry because
    You size me up with a label
    "She aint gon' do nothing with her life,
    She's too unstable"
    I rebuke this anger
    That wants me to hate my mother
    I rebuke this anger
    That has me distant from my brother
    I'm angry because
    My mom and dad did not stick together
    Sometimes I think it's my fault,
    But oh well
    Whatever
    See this anger could careless
    I have to put it under subjection
    To keep my heart from being emotionless
    I'm angry because
    I did not choose to raise my son on my own
    I'm angry because
    I let myself down
    In areas unknown
    When I'm angry
    I have to count to 10
    And seek to make peace with all men
    I'm angry because
    My heart won't mend
    From men
    Who branded me as their girlfriend
    Stepping on my heart
    Like it was the hottest trend
    Yeah I'm angry
    Mad
    And sad
    When this anger finally flees
    My days will be opposite
    From being bad
    Because I'm angry

(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from Secret Struggles Of A Single Mother by Betty Mayfield Copyright © 2011 by Betty Mayfield. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---