Defining Moments
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It was a cold, harsh night outside with temperatures of 60 degrees and below as I was locked up in a six foot by six foot brown, cold, wooden box located in the dog kennels. I can barely see the stars in the sky as I peaked through the cracks of the box. The night is cold as death itself. I can hear the sounds of the dogs outside the box. Their howls begging for food, and whimpering in agony almost to the point of overwhelming what little I had of my hearing. I am barely clothed with brown shorts, yellow tank top, no underwear and no shoes. My clothes are putrid with urine stains, the smell of dog fecal matter and my blood dripping down the inside of my legs. My mother just raped me with a wooden horse crop for her pleasure. I am still gagging as my mother had placed a stainless steel chain collar attached with a brown leash around my small neck, locking me inside the box, outside for the night. My mother wanted to remind me that I am nothing more than a slave, worse than a dog. In her eyes, I am property to be beaten, tortured, raped and sold on a daily basis for her profit and gratification. It was a harsh reality for an eight year old that they were nothing. All I want is play yet I know this will never happen. Tomorrow night I am to be sold once again during a ceremony to one her friends for their pleasure and profit. It was the weekend and rent was due soon. Inside this cold, wooden, dark box, I pray to God a simple prayer, “My father who art in heaven, if I live, please allow me to find love. I promise that I’ll never be dark like my mother. Please God, let me find a family that will love me and not hurt me. I pray that one day I can find love and they will not hurt me as I am hurting now. I’m scared and don’t know what she has planned. Please don’t let me die. I want to live to be an adult. I promise to be your loyal servant.” I always prayed to live, to be an adult and to find love. Every day I was afraid that I would die at the hands of my mother. I have personally witnessed her cruelty, and killing of my sister and others which not limited to just dogs however other children like me. My mind didn’t understand why she was cruel and I always thought if I prayed hard enough that she might stop. The hope of someone rescuing me was not possible in my situation. I witnessed firsthand what happens to someone that has tried to rescue me or any of the other children in the house. Those that have tried to rescue us have faced death, blood and horror for their attempts. All I could do was pray that I would live to someday tell my story. My mother was a beautiful woman physically, with dark hazel eyes, long blonde, curly hair, and a skinny build. Men were always attracted to her because of her charm. She always had a way of getting whatever she wanted. She was popular in the community only because of her help with disabled children. I still remember people whispering that they were afraid of her and that she was dark. Yet no one stood up to her or spoke their mind out of that fear. No one really saw or could comprehend the cruel woman that my mother really was behind closed doors. I always imagined that my mother was cruel because she hated life. I thought that if I could love her enough that she would be nice, and my torture would end. I imagined that she would apologize and it would be all over. Every day would pass and the horror continued. My imagination of hope that this cruelty would end was a dream of a child that wanted a mother that did not rape her every day, sell her or torture her. I wanted to play like other children and have toys. My dream never came true because it was a truth far from normalcy as one could imagine. Thirty Three years would pass when at the age of 41; I would realize that my mother was a victim herself that perpetrated a horrific cycle of abuse and torture. The lives that she affected had no measurement. Just a few years ago, at the age of 39, I had locked away all those memories of abuse in what I thought was the deepest regions of my body, my heart. My mind remembered certain key events of trauma that I had endured, however I did not give a voice to them for fear of rejection by other people based on my own experience, and conditioning. In the past, when I told people about what I went through, I was laughed at and made a laughing stock. In those moments of rejection, I learned and perceived that people could not be trusted. In response, my whole being continued to block a lot of the trauma. There were things I could not remember. In many ways, I hoped my memory would never return. The horror of my childhood traumatized my adult being. Sometimes I would get flash backs of events however I would tell myself don’t go there for people will reject me. In response to what I learned, my life became one of people pleasing. I thought that if I did what people wanted me to do that I wouldn’t be hurt. Instead, this ideology and mythology of myself opened a pathway to people taking advantage of me. Every day in my mind, I searched for a fragment of a good family in other people. When I turned 39, I thought that if I could find a relationship that I would be free of my ghosts of the past. In my soul, I vowed to myself that I would never speak of the horrific evils that I witnessed and endured as a child. I was in a state of denial. My mind thought that by hiding what I went through that I would have a chance at being considered normal.
My partner Danielle intoxicated me with the reality of true love and family. Danielle was a beautiful Hispanic woman with long black hair, a voluperous body and gorgeous dark brown eyes. Her eyes always seemed to light up the room when she entered. The way that she would look at me gave me an inner peace. I felt valued for the first time. In her presence I felt that I could have the things that I was deprived of in childhood. Danielle and I use to speak of our future together with her three children. There were nights that we role played how our future would look and how beautiful it was. We had discussions of our jobs, and financial wealth. Danielle and I often commented on how we had finally found true love through our challenging lives. I never knew that she had a secret that would destroy the very foundation of my happiness, and who we were, would be shattered. Danielle broke my heart opening a pandora’s box into my past. It has taken almost two years to finally give voice to my memoir of grief and healing that occurred during this time period. The process of writing this memoir has been very painful, filled with anger, sorrow, sadness and finally a reconciliation with my past providing an inner peace. The greatest trial of my soul/spirit/self was finally accepting, embracing and letting go of the chains of grief that held me captive for over 20 years. It was my paralysis of hiding in the shadows so that no one could see my true tears. I didn’t feel or recognize emotion until I experienced my heartbreak with Danielle. The pain of my broken heart in January 2012 triggered all the memories of a horrific childhood of trauma that I had kept buried. My mind released all the blocks of trauma as I began to remember. I tried so hard to block the memories however my sadness took over. The journey into my grief shattered the veil that was masking a child that had hoped of being loved. My decades of grief/emotional trauma led to my greatest discovery: myself. At one point, I stopped writing this memoir because I was afraid of speaking my truth. There were times that when I tried to write it that I broke down crying over the loss. I knew subconsciously by writing this memoir that I would be reliving my trauma and bringing it to reality as a survivor. The very nature of my soul is a writer. I have been writing since I was a child. One would ever think that I had a problem in communicating my thoughts or words to paper especially with pronunciation, grammar, or spelling. The truth is that I get lost in trying to clearly communicate. It is a process that I am still learning and growing from. My memoir documents the process of my healing journey. All events and people are factual. Every ones name except mine have been changed in the memoir for privacy. The locations of events have not been changed. My memoir is filled with moments of desperation, rawness and extreme emotion. Honestly, when I first started this memoir it was written out of anger. I wanted to say look, look at what she did. Look, once again I was rejected and I stood up. However my approach to the memoir with anger was really about my loss of love. Two years later, I have come to the realization it was never about me. It was about the experience of healing, and how in the process I found myself. I began rewriting the memoir with insights, and kindness not only to myself however to the process. Truth be told, I would’ve never gone down this path of healing had not been for Danielle breaking my heart. I believe in my heart of hearts, that my story is a living testimony of strength that can help other people so that they know that they are not alone. Victims of abuse and/or those that have encountered loss think that they are alone and there is no one else that has been on that journey. I learned for the first time in my life that I didn’t another woman’s or person’s love to be accepted as a woman. In the healing process, I learned to stand up moving forward as the phoenix that rises from the ashes of a destructive fire. Today, I own my own company, produce my own self empowerment shows/video productions/radio show and am a self empowerment personal coach to others. I am still continuing my journey of healing. It is a life long process of remembering that I am a woman of substance and value. My hope is that through my experience that I tell you in this memoir, that others realize that they are not alone when they had lost their first true love. My memoir is a living testimony of the horrific trauma childhood abuse that I survived and how I began the reconcilation process of healing. Today I am sharing with you my journey to that self discovery. The process is life changing and evolutionary. I will make mistakes, have made mistakes and yet I grow from them. I am no longer hiding from myself or my truth within. I have learned to speak my truth authentically. It has been scary at some points especially writing this memoir that I am sharing with you. My story is not just about me; however an experience to share because there are others out there that might not have a voice. I stand now and say take my hand for you are alone. The experience taught me what genuine friendship means, what is love, faith and what it means to be me. I was fortunate to have a great support system now in my latter years and to have great best friends. Some people do not have a support system. In my process of healing I found my best friends, Saundra and Lucky. Their endearing friendship opened the door to a ray of sunshine. I credit them for saving my life as you will discover why in my memoir. I know that there were times that were frustrating to my best friends as they helped me, and supported me in my healing process. There were times that I cried because I knew that I had frustrated them. Our friendship grew and through their love, I knew I was not alone and I was safe. Saundra and Lucky’s friendship with me, showed me compassion and love of a great support system. I am honored to have them as best friends. The moments of processing were challenging however, loving. I was shown that life is a blessing. My friends have been a true gift and blessing. For the first time in my life, I can say that I am a woman of value and substance. There are still echoes of my past however everyday is the process of remembering my value of my life. Everyone has a journey. This memoir documents my journey and the ongoing process of healing. I hope everyday that people do not have to go through what I have experienced. Unfortanetly, sorrow exists and people feel it. It is my hope that my story, my life experience in this memoir helps others to realize that they are not alone. In the darkness I found the most valuable gift of all time: my genuine self. Namaste! -Katherine Symthe THE LOVE STORY
In late June 2011, I was sitting outside my patio at my table outside of my one bedroom apartment. The patio table was a small round black, glass table with two blue chairs. The night was young and the stars were so bright outside. People bustled about their own business in the apartment complex. Everyone in the apartment complex generally stayed to themselves. The neighbors upstairs would come and go as they pleased. They never paid attention to me on my patio. Looking around, sipping on brandy, I felt that that I was beginning to have an identity crisis. I kept thinking about what I had not done yet in my life. It scared me because what do I have compared to others. I felt empty inside. I didn’t understand why I was feeling this way. My 39th birthday was just around the corner in July. Every night I kept wondering what have I really done with my life. If I died today, what legacy would be left behind? My answer was nothing. When I was 25 years old, I told the universe that I wanted to become a workaholic. Workaholics seemed to never experience emotional pain. I deeply feared intimacy due to my own trust issues with people and my own family. My childhood trauma taught me to never trust anyone. I had this mythology/belief inside of myself that at the end of the day people only sought to hurt you for their own profit. It was something that my own mother taught me. Almost twenty years has passed and yet I feel like that I have done nothing to show for it? Whenever I began to really doubt things I would go to my journals and write. Writing allowed me to go inside my heart and gain a balance within myself. Perhaps if I embraced my writing then I will find my true calling, my destiny and perhaps learn to truly be alive. July 7, 2011-Journal Entry: Today I am 39 years old. I sit here on my patio alone as usual. No one has remembered that it was my birthday. It doesn’t really matter at this point. It’s not like I am with any woman right now. I have met a few women however it was just to say to other people, that I did go out on a date. It becomes old after a while with others telling me that I’ll wind up alone and that no one will remember me. My spiritual dreams have returned. I have no thought on that really. I don’t know if this is a good thing that these dreams have returned. I have always been afraid of my dreams and my spiritual gifts. They always seem to come true in some spooky fashion. My mother had the same gift. Damn her for passing on this gift to me. When I try to tell others of this ability they instantly want to know if I have dreamt of them becoming rich. So I have given up asking others regarding my dream time. They just seem like a selfish lot to me. Usually the dreams are premonitions of things to come. The dream from last night was very odd in nature. There was a silver truck with a beautiful Hispanic woman. She had long black hair. Her eyes were brown and piercing. The way she looked at me was amazing. She was filled with desire for me. She opened the passenger door to the truck, “You must remember who you are. The journey that you are about to take will go straight to your heart.” Spiders began to crawl out of the passenger side. I backed up in fear. Spiders are messengers of spirit. I’m deeply afraid of spiders because of all the spiders of the house I grew up in. Something is coming and I do not know what it is. I fear that what is coming will somehow break the walls around my heart. I don’t understand why I am sensing this. Spirit, if you can hear me, please be with me. July 12, 2011-Journal Entry: Today I have been a restaurant manager for the I restaurant for two months. I love that I have my own apartment. I even have a cat that I have called Mr. Sky. It has cost me dearly to get my own place. My ex roommate bailed on the lease. She said that I needed to know what it was like to be alone. She was a coward as I already knew what it was like to be alone. I have been alone all my life. I thought that I could trust people yet time after time I am seeing that I can’t trust people. I often wonder what I am doing wrong. Is it really that hard spirit to be loved, and needed? Spirit seems to be quiet on this matter. I call God Spirit. At least I was allowed to live through my childhood and not die like Sarah. Anyway, I stayed behind so that none of us would face credit charges. It was the right thing to do yet now I am suffering by sleeping on a floor, and no food in the house. I make sure that I have cat food for Mr. Sky. Oh yeah I ate some cat food today because I was hungry. Disgusting is the word that I have to say. I feel like writing a little piece that I am sensing in my life. The passing of change Become the journey of discovery, The words from the moments I live, As breath vitalizes the steps I take. I have come to realize that I am alone in my life. Spirit I want you to know that I did not really expect that one from you. I thought by trusting no one that I would be safe. The truth is I am alone due to my lack of trust. At one time I loved being single. That is no longer the case. I would love to have a sexual female companion. All my sexual relationships have been a failure including my marriage to my ex wife. I don’t know if that counts really because she was abusive. Three years into the relationship she had began hitting me and claimed it was her thyroid making her do it. There are still things that I do not talk about that she did to me. To this day I distrust Reiki Masters. My ex wife claimed to be a Reiki master and one night she hit me with a frying pan. Her claim to fame was that she was using Reiki energy to force me to remember my abusive childhood. What have I done? I married my mother really. What have I done? I am glad that I ran away from my ex wife in the middle of the night. To be with a woman would be wonderful. I want a woman that wants to be intimate with me. I am tired of always being the giver. I want to feel what it means to have an orgasm. Oye, I hope when people read this journal, if they ever do that I am not laughed at. People would cringe if they found out that I have never had an orgasm. I want to feel what it is like to be the receiver for the first time in my life. Spirit, I would love to a true love that will change my life forever. I ask this in the name of spirit. So shall it be done. My luck I will have my true love run over me. It’s now 4 am of July 13, 2011. I was startled awake by the fierce storm outside. There is lighting. Something is coming. I don’t know what it is. My soul tells me that it’s intense. This thing that is coming will change my life. Oh my god…Someone is coming onto my path. It’s a woman. She looks like the one in my dream with the spiders. That doesn’t make sense. I am afraid of spiders. Why …She is a firestorm. Spirit if this is the true love that I have asked for than let her be the true love that will change my life. Fourteen months later, the dream I wrote about in my journal on this date, was in fact an omen of Danielle’s arrival into my life. There was a time that I had wished that I had paid more attention however it wouldn’t have helped. I was so lost in being different and alone.
My life was getting frantic and my writing stopped momentarily. In the beginning of August 2011, I started texting a woman online from a dating site. There were many similarities in our life that I had come to enjoy. There seemed to be a connection that was hard for me to explain. A part of me was getting excited at the idea of finally having a long term girlfriend. My issue of trust needed to seriously go away. I thought perhaps I was lonely and that is why the connection was strong. She was sweet in her words to me and very respectful. Her name was Danielle. We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to have a coffee date on August 16th, 2011. I have always been a very analytical person when it came to dates and alignment of events. I chose a small, quaint coffee shop on the main strip downtown, San Antonio, Texas. People always say that you should have a blind date at a public place for safety. On August 15, 2011, Danielle asked me where I worked and I told her. I didn’t think there was any harm in sharing where I worked. It wasn’t like she was going to show up out of the blue. That has never happened to me. It was about 9 pm on August 15, 2011. The I restaurant, a casual dine restaurant was filled with the dinner rush. We are cooking steaks as we looked through the galley watching the rush of people that keep coming into the restaurant. The restaurant is popular because of its location between two major clubs off the 281. I look up and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. Danielle enters the restaurant, who sees me in the kitchen and begins to smile at me. Our restaurant had an open window galley to the dining room so the guests could see us cooking. She is more beautiful than her picture. The way her eyes caught mine was right out of a romance movie. Danielle has long black hair and a very vulperous body. The way she moves and walks through the restaurant with her body seems flawless. The way she stares at me pierces the very essence of my soul. All I can think of is how this beautiful woman is looking at me. I keep thinking, “Oh shit, what do I do?” My cook smiles, “She is hot boss and I would do her in a pancake flip moment.” I turn to my cook, “Aye, Curamba, behave you!” I couldn’t pay attention in the kitchen as I kept burning the customer’s steak by accident. My cook looks at me and tells me to leave the kitchen. I walk into the dining room sitting down next to Danielle. The booth is lucky because it was number three, next to the door. The smell of her perfume has a sweet aroma of lavender. Her low cut shirt shows off her breasts that are very revealing to the eye. The way Danielle smiles fills me with such joy and passion. Danielle’s piercing brown eyes gave new definition to bedroom eyes. Her smile radiates an essence of sexuality that could turn on even the softest of the male species into hardcore warriors. I could tell that she was a mixed Hispanic woman with Native American heritage. She is more beautiful in person than the picture that she had sent to me. Spirit has sent me this beautiful woman. I didn’t know what to do or say. Danielle seems to know the right words to ease my nervousness. Danielle tells me that she was floored when she saw me. Danielle smiles, whispering, “You are so gorgeous. All I thought was oh my god, my prayers have been answered.” I didn’t know how to respond to her comment. It caught me off guard. My perception was that I was ugly and that no one wanted to be with me sexually. Suddenly, this gorgeous woman had told me that I was the one that was gorgeous and that I was someone that she had prayed for. What has this world come to? There was a loss of words in my brain. This sexy Hispanic, femme, was telling me that I was the answer to her prayers. She thought I was gorgeous. I felt mixed up like a scrambled egg. We talked for an hour. Danielle shares with me how great it was to find a woman that wanted to be with her knowing that she had children. There seems to be such great easiness in talking with her. I was not timid or shy. It was like talking to a long lost friend and we were catching up. We agree to see each other the next night on an official coffee drink date. The next night I waited for Danielle at the wine and pub on the strip. I am nervous while waiting for her. What will I say or do? Oh no! What do I do if Danielle wants to go home with me? What does this all mean? Slowly, I look up across the parking lot. Be still my heart as Danielle closes the door to her silver truck. Oh sweet Lord. Danielle’s truck was the same truck that I had seen in my dreams. Wait that means that I had a premonition of Danielle coming into my life. I look around to make sure that there are no spiders. The bartender comes up to me asking, “Is everything okay?” I smile, “I’m just making sure there are no spiders.” “No Ma’am the exterminator came last week.” Danielle is wearing this tight, silky white blouse that glimmers in the light. Her blouse accentuates her breasts and curvatures of her body. Her make up highlights her beauty even more. I feel like a goddess had just sat down next to me. Her perfume intoxicates me. Heaven on earth just visited me. My fantasy has true. We laugh talking about life and sharing drinks. Her eyes pierce into mine telling a story of a great woman. The way Danielle holds my hand in her hand makes my heart jump. A beautiful woman is holding my hand. Yet I feel like a school girl in many ways. Anxiety sets in after an hour of Danielle showing me this kind of attention. I wasn’t prepared for this at all. Holy shit I asked spirit for a beautiful woman and poof there she was. My thoughts spin my insides around. Where was the escape route because this is not happening? Quickly I make an excuse that I was tired and needed to leave. Two hours later, I send a text message to Danielle. My guilt made me think about how I had bailed on her. It wasn’t right that I just ditched her. My anxiety overwhelmed me in the moment. Now the one woman that I wanted to know would probably laugh. Danielle responded that she understood. She asked me if I had been afraid. I tell her the truth. We text one another for the next five hours. Danielle and I texted about our desires to find that perfect soul mate. Somewhere along the way the text messaging had become very sexual in nature. At one point, I was ready to get in my vehicle and go to her house. Danielle’s words of how she wanted to come home with me filled me with such passion. Danielle told me that she wanted me to take her home with me. She used words to turn me on sexually in the text messaging. Danielle finally texted, “Tomorrow night I am coming to your house. You can’t run if you are in your own house.” I agreed to the date. Now this beautiful woman was going to be in my apartment. There was no excuse of me being tired and running home as I was in my own apartment. One could easily say that my instinct of running away was an omen. There is a reason for every season. I would often wonder what would my life be like had I not texted Danielle back?
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