NB: Please read part 1 and 2 before reading this conclusion. I have been trying to put this last piece of Gwen's story in same page as part 2 but its not working out.
Mum to seek professional help by seeing a therapist. That was how I found out that I was a product of rape. That right there killed my fantasy of finding a loving father. What became of me and mum is story for another day. I didnot let my past define who iam. Today Iam a successful business woman. Glad to see a blog like this where I can tell my story. GWEN
Monday, January 26, 2015
IAM A PRODUCT OF RAPE ( PART 2)
NB: You have to read part one first of this compelling story sent in by Gwen before reading part 2......
I had a darker skin than her and my brothers. That really got me thinking; who was my dad then. Whenever they came back you could see the joy on their faces as they had been spoilt with gifts and vacations to different countries during the holidays. He rarely came by the house. Later in life I got to understand that he and mum were married for four years before they got divorced but they remained on good terms. I yearned to know who my dad was but I dared not ask mum because I would be shouted down. I went to a teacher and asked her why my skin was darker than my siblings and she explained to me that my father must be a black man and that I was bi- racial. At least that was a first step in knowing who my father was. Since I could not talk to mum about it I swore to find out about my dad when I was a little older. Little did I Know that the truth about my paternity was going to come out sooner than I had anticipated.
Mum had these group of female best friends who she went out with on some weekends. My mum was a great pretender; anytime these women came around the house; she was at her best behaviour; so they never really saw her calling me names. I always loved it when they came around to visit mum; they always complimented me on how I was gowing into a beautiful lady and you need to see mum smiling that fake smile from ear to ear.
One saturday; one of mum's best friends. Maria came to see mum and both of them went for grocery shopping. When they came back; I came outside to help bring in the groceries. As I was bringing out the bag with apples, the bag tore and all the apples fell on the floor. Mum forgot to pretend. She was livid. Any unprintable name she could remember she called me that day; worthless; lazy; good for nothing; ugly. Her friend; Maria after initially being shocked tried to stop her but she was having none of it; "You are as worthless as your father" she continued. I just quietly picked the apples from the floor put in the bag and carried to the kitchen while I still heard Maria reprimanding her for her choice of words. As I was coming back from the kitchen to carry more things from the car, that was when I heard Maria admonishing Mum that everybody everybody advised her to terminate the pregnancy and she said she would not do it; that it was against her religion as a catholic. She wondered why mum would take out the offence of a father on an innocent child. She should deal with the consequence of her decision. I leaned forward to hear more; what could my father have done. It was then my mum who was now sobbing said that she feels deep anger at being raped by a man she barely knew; someone she just met at the club and didnot even know his name and that the little she remembers of him that Iam growing to look like him and that brings a lot of resentment. Maria advised
I had a darker skin than her and my brothers. That really got me thinking; who was my dad then. Whenever they came back you could see the joy on their faces as they had been spoilt with gifts and vacations to different countries during the holidays. He rarely came by the house. Later in life I got to understand that he and mum were married for four years before they got divorced but they remained on good terms. I yearned to know who my dad was but I dared not ask mum because I would be shouted down. I went to a teacher and asked her why my skin was darker than my siblings and she explained to me that my father must be a black man and that I was bi- racial. At least that was a first step in knowing who my father was. Since I could not talk to mum about it I swore to find out about my dad when I was a little older. Little did I Know that the truth about my paternity was going to come out sooner than I had anticipated.
Mum had these group of female best friends who she went out with on some weekends. My mum was a great pretender; anytime these women came around the house; she was at her best behaviour; so they never really saw her calling me names. I always loved it when they came around to visit mum; they always complimented me on how I was gowing into a beautiful lady and you need to see mum smiling that fake smile from ear to ear.
One saturday; one of mum's best friends. Maria came to see mum and both of them went for grocery shopping. When they came back; I came outside to help bring in the groceries. As I was bringing out the bag with apples, the bag tore and all the apples fell on the floor. Mum forgot to pretend. She was livid. Any unprintable name she could remember she called me that day; worthless; lazy; good for nothing; ugly. Her friend; Maria after initially being shocked tried to stop her but she was having none of it; "You are as worthless as your father" she continued. I just quietly picked the apples from the floor put in the bag and carried to the kitchen while I still heard Maria reprimanding her for her choice of words. As I was coming back from the kitchen to carry more things from the car, that was when I heard Maria admonishing Mum that everybody everybody advised her to terminate the pregnancy and she said she would not do it; that it was against her religion as a catholic. She wondered why mum would take out the offence of a father on an innocent child. She should deal with the consequence of her decision. I leaned forward to hear more; what could my father have done. It was then my mum who was now sobbing said that she feels deep anger at being raped by a man she barely knew; someone she just met at the club and didnot even know his name and that the little she remembers of him that Iam growing to look like him and that brings a lot of resentment. Maria advised
IAM A PRODUCT OF RAPE ( PART 1)
Gwen; an accomplished business woman with a networth of 5 million dollars sent in this story; read on.
At an early age probably around five years of age; I realised that I was the but of jokes and abuse in my house. My mum, Christina would use such words as "useless"; "good for nothing"; "worthless"; "ugly" to describe me. The names were endless. She normally called me these names if I didnot do a chore to her satisfaction or fast enough.
I had a sister named Janet and two brothers; James and John. Janet was two years older than I was and John and James who were twins were four years older than I was. I never actually saw or heard my mom using any derogatory words on them and they were so lazy they hardly did any chores.I knew I was being treated differently but in my mind as at that time I felt it was because I was the youngest and was supposed to treat everyone with so much respect. Trust my sister and brothers; they capitalised on it and treated me as servant to them.Though I felt angered by this; I had come to see it as way of life.
The other thing that puzzled me at that young age was that if I did all the chores I was supposed to be rewarded and commended since others did nothing. That was wishful thinking; the more I worked to impress them and get their approval; the more insults I got. My mom often came home with chocolates, toys for my siblings but I hardly got any. I was never allowed to go shopping with my mom; rather she took every other person and left me with different nannies she hired for the particular days they went on vacations; outings or shopping spree. I only got essentials. Anytime Janet; James and John came back from these shopping trips; they didnot fail to flaunt what they got in front of my face. Their treatment of me subconciously made me to begin to doubt myself and I began to feel that something was absolutely wrong with me.
In School; I found it very difficult to mingle with other students. I didnot want everybody to treat me same way I was treated at home. So I kept to myself and I spent my time reading and reading. It was my escape from my reality. My teachers were extremely nice to me but that got me confused. I was so used to being mistreated that I could not receive the kindness from the teachers and some students. It looked all so weird to me. I basically kept to myself and concentrated on my studies. People felt I was an unfriendly and arrogant child. I was knowledgeable of things my peers didnot know academically.
Often on weekends; my brothers and sister went to stay with their father and I was left at home. Anytime they went to see their father; I always wanted to join them. In my heart; I longed to be daddy's little girl and dreamt of him spoiling me silly like mum and their dad did to my siblings. I remember asking Janet when I was six years old why I never went with them to see Dad. I can still remember her face as she laughed at me and said that Dad could not be my father since I was
At an early age probably around five years of age; I realised that I was the but of jokes and abuse in my house. My mum, Christina would use such words as "useless"; "good for nothing"; "worthless"; "ugly" to describe me. The names were endless. She normally called me these names if I didnot do a chore to her satisfaction or fast enough.
I had a sister named Janet and two brothers; James and John. Janet was two years older than I was and John and James who were twins were four years older than I was. I never actually saw or heard my mom using any derogatory words on them and they were so lazy they hardly did any chores.I knew I was being treated differently but in my mind as at that time I felt it was because I was the youngest and was supposed to treat everyone with so much respect. Trust my sister and brothers; they capitalised on it and treated me as servant to them.Though I felt angered by this; I had come to see it as way of life.
The other thing that puzzled me at that young age was that if I did all the chores I was supposed to be rewarded and commended since others did nothing. That was wishful thinking; the more I worked to impress them and get their approval; the more insults I got. My mom often came home with chocolates, toys for my siblings but I hardly got any. I was never allowed to go shopping with my mom; rather she took every other person and left me with different nannies she hired for the particular days they went on vacations; outings or shopping spree. I only got essentials. Anytime Janet; James and John came back from these shopping trips; they didnot fail to flaunt what they got in front of my face. Their treatment of me subconciously made me to begin to doubt myself and I began to feel that something was absolutely wrong with me.
In School; I found it very difficult to mingle with other students. I didnot want everybody to treat me same way I was treated at home. So I kept to myself and I spent my time reading and reading. It was my escape from my reality. My teachers were extremely nice to me but that got me confused. I was so used to being mistreated that I could not receive the kindness from the teachers and some students. It looked all so weird to me. I basically kept to myself and concentrated on my studies. People felt I was an unfriendly and arrogant child. I was knowledgeable of things my peers didnot know academically.
Often on weekends; my brothers and sister went to stay with their father and I was left at home. Anytime they went to see their father; I always wanted to join them. In my heart; I longed to be daddy's little girl and dreamt of him spoiling me silly like mum and their dad did to my siblings. I remember asking Janet when I was six years old why I never went with them to see Dad. I can still remember her face as she laughed at me and said that Dad could not be my father since I was
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
I SAW MY WIFE IN MY DREAM (PART 2)
NB. READ PART 1 first in order to make sense Part 2.
We got a gig in South Africa and thought it would be good exposure for our band.
We arrived South Africa; our show was in Johannesburg. The preparations and arrangements they had for us were superb; from the pick up at the airport to the hotel; to the playground; everything was on point. We saw our posters in several places.
On the night of the show while waiting in our dressing room; I was surprised at how nervous I was. Iam not one to be nervous on stage I always wanted to get out there and do my thing. The stage was my life. This particular day was different; I was anxious. I calmed my self into believing that it was because we were playing in a different country for the first time.
The show was jam packed; didnot know our band was that popular in South Africa or the show promoters had done a superb job of publicising it.
Once we were on stage; the fears left me; the crowd was awesome; singing the lyrics of our songs as we performed. The feeling was idescribable; camera phones everywhere; I was having the time of my life.
During one of the performances; I decided to mingle with the crowd; As I was walking and singing; touching the crowd; in the fourth row; there she was. I took a double take to be sure of what I was seeing; there was my Maddie; My Maddie that appeared constantly my dreams. She was smiling from ear to ear as if she already knew what I was thinking. I brought her out from the crowd unto the stage. The crowd went wild. I sang to her and tears welled up in her eyes. I too was overwhelmed. The crowd roared and roared but they had no clue what was going on. As I finished singing to her; I lean towards her; gave her a kiss on both cheeks and said " I finally meet you" and she said " Iam glad its over"
We got a gig in South Africa and thought it would be good exposure for our band.
We arrived South Africa; our show was in Johannesburg. The preparations and arrangements they had for us were superb; from the pick up at the airport to the hotel; to the playground; everything was on point. We saw our posters in several places.
On the night of the show while waiting in our dressing room; I was surprised at how nervous I was. Iam not one to be nervous on stage I always wanted to get out there and do my thing. The stage was my life. This particular day was different; I was anxious. I calmed my self into believing that it was because we were playing in a different country for the first time.
The show was jam packed; didnot know our band was that popular in South Africa or the show promoters had done a superb job of publicising it.
Once we were on stage; the fears left me; the crowd was awesome; singing the lyrics of our songs as we performed. The feeling was idescribable; camera phones everywhere; I was having the time of my life.
During one of the performances; I decided to mingle with the crowd; As I was walking and singing; touching the crowd; in the fourth row; there she was. I took a double take to be sure of what I was seeing; there was my Maddie; My Maddie that appeared constantly my dreams. She was smiling from ear to ear as if she already knew what I was thinking. I brought her out from the crowd unto the stage. The crowd went wild. I sang to her and tears welled up in her eyes. I too was overwhelmed. The crowd roared and roared but they had no clue what was going on. As I finished singing to her; I lean towards her; gave her a kiss on both cheeks and said " I finally meet you" and she said " Iam glad its over"
I SAW MY WIFE IN MY DREAM (PART 1)
As crazy as this story sounds; this is what happened to me.
Iam a known R and B singer in my country. iam a local celebrity. My band and I have made money from singing. I live in a beautiful home; have several porsche cars. I was a magnet to women; apart from the trappings of a celebrity; I was actually a good looking guy and kept my dressing very classy.
Being in my early thirties; have had my fair share of women; one night stands; twosomes; threesomes; whatever; I have done it all. None of my relationships lasted more than 3 months. I wanted to taste all kinds of women; black; white; latinos; tall; short; models; actresses; corporate women. I was insatiable. My life was like a party everyday. My manager always worried about keeping up with appointments with all the party that was going on. I never missed any appointment though. I took my work very seriously; drank moderately; never did any drugs but partied a lot.
However; when turned 30 years old; I started to have these dreams. In the dream I met a girl at one of my concerts and she was one of those standing in the front row and when I was doing one of the very romantic songs, I went and sang to her. In the second dream I took her out on a lunch date and we talked and talked like we had known each other forever. She ended up sleeping in my house that day but we didnot have any sex. In the dream I respected her to much to do that.
The next time she appeared in my dream; we were already dating and I went to meet her family. She came from an average background; neither rich nor poor. What happened was that as I began to dream about this mysterious girl; I lost interest in having girls around me in the real world. My friends and bandmates all noticed and wondered what was amiss. They teased me that I was finally growing up but that the change was sudden. These dreams continued and I ended up marrying this girl in my dreams and we had two kids. Funny enough I looked forward to having these deams as I woke up happy and at peace.
Let me describe the girl I have come to know as Maddie in my dreams. She was around 25 years of age; 5 feet 7 inches tall with dimples on both sides of her face; she was of mixed blood and was a curvy lady. She was gorgeous.
After several months of having these dreams and my life completely changing as I focused only on my career; the party days were gone; it was then I opened up to one of my bandmates who was also one of my best friends about my dreams. He laughed it off and just said I was growing up. We continued our tours and I continued to have these dreams. By now Maddie had become a regular feature in my life as I yearned to miraculously meet her.
Seven months passed; we were invited to play in South Africa; our band was becoming more popular outside our own country. The contract for the Gig was nothing to write home about
Iam a known R and B singer in my country. iam a local celebrity. My band and I have made money from singing. I live in a beautiful home; have several porsche cars. I was a magnet to women; apart from the trappings of a celebrity; I was actually a good looking guy and kept my dressing very classy.
Being in my early thirties; have had my fair share of women; one night stands; twosomes; threesomes; whatever; I have done it all. None of my relationships lasted more than 3 months. I wanted to taste all kinds of women; black; white; latinos; tall; short; models; actresses; corporate women. I was insatiable. My life was like a party everyday. My manager always worried about keeping up with appointments with all the party that was going on. I never missed any appointment though. I took my work very seriously; drank moderately; never did any drugs but partied a lot.
However; when turned 30 years old; I started to have these dreams. In the dream I met a girl at one of my concerts and she was one of those standing in the front row and when I was doing one of the very romantic songs, I went and sang to her. In the second dream I took her out on a lunch date and we talked and talked like we had known each other forever. She ended up sleeping in my house that day but we didnot have any sex. In the dream I respected her to much to do that.
The next time she appeared in my dream; we were already dating and I went to meet her family. She came from an average background; neither rich nor poor. What happened was that as I began to dream about this mysterious girl; I lost interest in having girls around me in the real world. My friends and bandmates all noticed and wondered what was amiss. They teased me that I was finally growing up but that the change was sudden. These dreams continued and I ended up marrying this girl in my dreams and we had two kids. Funny enough I looked forward to having these deams as I woke up happy and at peace.
Let me describe the girl I have come to know as Maddie in my dreams. She was around 25 years of age; 5 feet 7 inches tall with dimples on both sides of her face; she was of mixed blood and was a curvy lady. She was gorgeous.
After several months of having these dreams and my life completely changing as I focused only on my career; the party days were gone; it was then I opened up to one of my bandmates who was also one of my best friends about my dreams. He laughed it off and just said I was growing up. We continued our tours and I continued to have these dreams. By now Maddie had become a regular feature in my life as I yearned to miraculously meet her.
Seven months passed; we were invited to play in South Africa; our band was becoming more popular outside our own country. The contract for the Gig was nothing to write home about
Saturday, January 17, 2015
BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU READ AT A YOUNG AGE
This Story was sent to me by a friend name Yewande; its as compelling as its chilling.
My name is Yewande; i would leave out my surname because i do not want many friends to know what i have been through. While i was in secondary school i was referred to as a genius ; all i did was read; read and read; i had no friends; they could not keep up with my reading habits. What they did not realise was that I read so much because i didnot know how to make friends; mix with people as at that early age I already had anxiety issues where any crowd formed. My reading habits paid off because I won a scholarship to complete my secondary school education. That at least reduced the burden for my parents who had seven children all going to school at once as the age gap between a child and the next was not more than 2 years. .
When I was twelve years old and starting class 3 in secondary school; we were forced to read a book titled 'The Gods Have Come Again'. This book changed my life forever and till this day; I still struggle with reading with
books or articles that have anything to do with any form of atrocity. In the book;
The Gods Have Come Again; a book hailed as a master piece all over the world; in one of the scenes of the book; the main character killed his father and killed himself. Immediately after reading the book; I began to hear a voice asking me to take a knife and kill myself. The force with which this voice or feeling was coming at me I would not wish even my worst enemy. i thank my parents for introducing me to the Holy Rosary at an early age because that was all i knew to do to keep this feeling off which tormented me from morning till night everyday.
The torment was so severe that even till this day; how i survived i cannot say; I only pride myself that i was an appointed Child of God if not how could i have resisted such a force at that tender age that was so compelling th
at it is impossible to describe. My school work suffered; I started dropping subjects in school for no reason and started also dodging some tests because I was busy fighting for my life and could not cope with the rigorous r
outine of school work. I was so ashamed of what was going on i could not tell anyone. I resorted to writing letters to the televangelists we watched on television; got no reply ; even though cannot say if they got my letters.
When the holidays came I was so excited to go home and be with my family; What I didnot know was that the story that I read in the book was supposed to play out. My parents bedroom was next to mine . They always left their room open; never locked it. In the mddle of the night; this spirit will wake me up to go and kill my parents; the force or feeling pushing me to do this was unimaginable; it was sheer miracle that i didnot commit these murders; they only weapon used was to continue to pray and pray and pray with the rosary until the feeling leaves me. Sometimes th
is would take between 1 to 4 hours everyday. That had become my life till left secondary school. i would conclude this story by Yewande on another day; but be careful what your little child is reading being exposed to at a tender age
My name is Yewande; i would leave out my surname because i do not want many friends to know what i have been through. While i was in secondary school i was referred to as a genius ; all i did was read; read and read; i had no friends; they could not keep up with my reading habits. What they did not realise was that I read so much because i didnot know how to make friends; mix with people as at that early age I already had anxiety issues where any crowd formed. My reading habits paid off because I won a scholarship to complete my secondary school education. That at least reduced the burden for my parents who had seven children all going to school at once as the age gap between a child and the next was not more than 2 years. .
When I was twelve years old and starting class 3 in secondary school; we were forced to read a book titled 'The Gods Have Come Again'. This book changed my life forever and till this day; I still struggle with reading with
books or articles that have anything to do with any form of atrocity. In the book;
The Gods Have Come Again; a book hailed as a master piece all over the world; in one of the scenes of the book; the main character killed his father and killed himself. Immediately after reading the book; I began to hear a voice asking me to take a knife and kill myself. The force with which this voice or feeling was coming at me I would not wish even my worst enemy. i thank my parents for introducing me to the Holy Rosary at an early age because that was all i knew to do to keep this feeling off which tormented me from morning till night everyday.
The torment was so severe that even till this day; how i survived i cannot say; I only pride myself that i was an appointed Child of God if not how could i have resisted such a force at that tender age that was so compelling th
at it is impossible to describe. My school work suffered; I started dropping subjects in school for no reason and started also dodging some tests because I was busy fighting for my life and could not cope with the rigorous r
outine of school work. I was so ashamed of what was going on i could not tell anyone. I resorted to writing letters to the televangelists we watched on television; got no reply ; even though cannot say if they got my letters.
When the holidays came I was so excited to go home and be with my family; What I didnot know was that the story that I read in the book was supposed to play out. My parents bedroom was next to mine . They always left their room open; never locked it. In the mddle of the night; this spirit will wake me up to go and kill my parents; the force or feeling pushing me to do this was unimaginable; it was sheer miracle that i didnot commit these murders; they only weapon used was to continue to pray and pray and pray with the rosary until the feeling leaves me. Sometimes th
is would take between 1 to 4 hours everyday. That had become my life till left secondary school. i would conclude this story by Yewande on another day; but be careful what your little child is reading being exposed to at a tender age
WELCOME ONCE AGAIN TO MY BLOG
Once again welcome to my blog; Diaries of an Innocent heart; all the stories in this blog are true life stories; however we have changed the names of people; location in order to protect their identity; Come with me on this journey as we tell our stories. Send your stories to rosemarie.ukairo@gmail.com. I would like active participation on this blog; if you know someone going through similar situations let us hear it. Also recommend this blog to your friends; colleagues and family and your network. Expecting you all to come on board. Let us tell how stories!
Welcome to My Blog
Welcome to my blog; in this blog we will share genuine thoughts of what the heart is feeling; its an interactive blog to air what you are feeling right now or telling your story. Someone somewhere might relate to your story; that is the goal of this blog; once again welcome aboard
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