These memories I share today are deeply personal and not meant to dishonor my mother and father. I write about them with the hope of helping anyone who is being abused or someone who is the abuser. This story is about generational trauma and being an entrepreneur at 12.
I dearly loved my parents and wish this story wasn’t the truth of my memories from childhood. Apparently, Mom and Dad weren’t hearing the same words I heard while in the Baptist church.
I wish my memories were how much fun Mom and I had reading books together, or Dad playing catch with me, or how proud they were of me. I wish I remembered being hugged by my parents and laughing with them.
Volleyball And Orchestra
Everything was changing. My accordion teacher retired-no more Saturday visits with Gramma Marek. The band split up-no more backyard concerts. The baseball players were busy trying out new sports and hobbies-no more Granville Ave World Series. As Deb and I grew older, keeping us in the closet so Mom could get a break didn’t work for her anymore. She was changing too.
During this time, Roosevelt Junior High was my safe haven. I tried out for the volleyball team and made it. I also decided to try out for the orchestra. Being a drummer (percussionist in the orchestra world) was the position I wanted. Of course, all those possibilities were already filled. Then the orchestra leader asked me to “purse” my lips. I didn’t know what that meant, so he demonstrated how to purse them. I cursed the day I was successful at pursing my lips because my only choice was to play the oboe. How did I know the oboe is one of the most difficult instruments to learn because of the highly delicate reed you have to constantly keep moist and not splinter. Leftovers again!
The good news about the volleyball team and the oboe was time away from home. I also appreciated the feeling of belonging to a team and group of musicians. Keeping a reed moistened and squeaking through rehearsals was more fun than hearing my mom’s constant put-downs: “You’re no better than the whore across the street. You can’t do anything right. You’ll never amount to anything. You’re nothing more than jail bait.” Whatever painful world she lived in, she still didn’t see me.
The Anger Escalation
Her mystery had reached a new level of harm. Years ago, dry cleaning services included hangars with a cardboard section rolled tight and as firm as a stick. Blows from that cardboard followed the stabbing words. If a cardboard roll wasn’t handy, she would grab the skin underneath my upper arm, then twist and squeeze as hard as she could. My mom carefully picked a part of my body she felt would be hidden to keep her secret safe. And there were also slapping episodes.
Of the two targets, me or my sister, I was the prime one. I think Mom knew I wouldn’t hit back but possibly considered there was a chance Deb might. While I was crying and trying to protect myself from her blows, I pleaded with her: “Why would you treat someone you love like this?” She never answered that question, and my tearful questions never stopped her. I was still trying to be a good Baptist.
The Proof
Perhaps, as you read this story, you are thinking-where was her dad? Where was her older brother? If you did, that is precisely what I was thinking too many times during my youth.
In my teens, I got the courage to show Dad what his wife was doing to her children. It wasn’t just me that I worried about but also about my sister. I lifted up my arms and showed him the large black and blue marks. I shared the other details about the hell Deb and I were trying to survive in his emotional absence and high functioning alcoholism. His only comment was: “Your mother is doing the best she can.” Case closed-another crushing blow to our safety and self-esteem.
Were you doing your best too, Dad? This is the question I never got to ask him.
When the two people you love and trust the most in the world hold you captive in their unhealthy relationship that involves abuse, it is simply wrong and illegal.
In my personal situation, the emotional abuse took longer to work through because it shreds up your trust in people and your self-worth until you meet that unspeakable loss head-on. The bruises and pain from the physical abuse eventually disappear if you survive the attack.
Babysitting Service
I had to figure a way out. Since I was tired of working for no money from Paul, I decided to start my own babysitting service. It worked. All the neighbors knew me because of the many times I asked permission to go into their backyards to shag baseballs. Word of mouth established a decent amount of work, and I saved for my freedom.
Worked All Through High School
All through my sophomore year at Proviso West High School, I worked 20 hours a week after school from 5-9 PM, Monday-Friday, babysitting for the same family. When I reached the age for a workers permit, I ended my babysitting business. Through my junior and senior years of high school, I worked 32 hours per week at a department store in Hillside Shopping Center, Monday-Thursday after school from 5-9 PM; Saturdays and Sundays for 8 hours each day.
My daily routine was up at 7 AM, all day at Proviso West, walking to work after school, getting home around 9:30 PM, beginning homework, and hoping homework was finished before my eyes could no longer stay open.
National Honor Society
Even with my grueling school and work schedule, I made it into The National Honor Society. To become a member you must excel, serve, lead, and succeed. Were my parents proud, and did they go to the ceremony? It was getting close to the time I had to leave, so I asked Mom if she and Dad were going. I do not know why that question triggered such a violent response. Paul chose to start slapping me around and neither of them attended.
Two more major accomplishments I worked hard for went uncelebrated by the parents I tried so hard to please. The most lasting takeaway is I was proud of myself. I knew where I had been and remain grateful for my survival and success.
Have you noticed that the people who need the help the most never think they are the ones with the problem?
Many parents and adults in their relationships do not realize how emotional neglect turns into emotional abuse that escalates into physical abuse. No human being deserves to be treated with such robotic disregard. Too many adults get away with it because the people who should speak up and report the problems happening behind closed doors do not. Too many choose remaining stuck instead of meeting their secrets head on in order to heal.
If you read one of my earlier posts, Blended Abandonment, you might recall the question I asked: Would Deb and I be victims #4 and #5 of what’s not taken care of falls apart? Sadly, yes we were.
Before I graduated from Proviso, not only had I saved enough to buy my own car but also to get my own place. All that hard work prepared me for the strength and resilience I would need down the road. Sometimes we are led to where we are meant to be through dark, narrow passages. My childhood became the training ground for my adulthood as a human rights advocate. I always felt fortunate to be able to do meaningful work on behalf of people. So, you see, this post did have a happy ending.
I am writing this on Easter Sunday but had to stop for an hour to watch a Zoom Service by a local church I’ve wanted to check out. Interesting that one of the presenter’s remarks at the end was: “You can kill humans but you can’t kill human rights. Live wisely and love courageously.” Message received. I’ll do my best.
For more information, check out and search the Child Welfare Information Gateway https://www.childwelfare.gov
Mitch Albom is one of my favorite authors and below are two examples of his wisdom.
If you keep reading my posts, all the mysteries I mention will be revealed and tie the stories together. And, Mom and Dad, I forgive you. The picture below is how I choose to remember my parents.
Tough Cookie Tip: Love makes you feel good about yourself. Another person’s anger and irresponsibility do not define your value or success in this life. Your choices for whatever problem is before you determine your now and your future. As hard as it can be at times, my suggestion is to choose peace and passion and keep moving forward.
Copyright © 2022-2025 Marilyn K Fuller. All Rights Reserved.
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Nobody should have to grow up with that kind of abuse. Glad to see you and your sister not letting that define you.