Men Are Pigs

“Tears are words that need to be written.”
~ Paulo Coelho

I don’t come to this conclusion lightly. I was raised to know no better where men are concerned. Had I had one positive influential man in my life maybe I wouldn’t have formed this harsh position.From a very young age men treated me like their toy.

My mother used to meet my dad at a bar after work on occasions, occasions meaning two or three times a week. In one instance I wanted to play the pinball machine but the age limit was sixteen and I was about nine.

A man my father worked with said I could play with him. Little did I know that he meant literally. As I watched my mother and father smoking, laughing and drinking from their barstools, I approached Ken at the pinball machine not five feet away. I just wanted not to be bored in the bar!

I stood at the pinball machine and Ken stood straddling behind me readying himself to show me how to play. My hands on the buttons right and left, Ken’s hands on top of mine. I felt something hard in my back like a pool stick jabbing me, I wriggled and squirmed but thought it was just a pain in my back. It wasn’t.

I lost the game and Ken offered me another quarter, if I reached in his pocket to get it out. I thought nothing strange by that request so I went fishing. I couldn’t find a quarter; he pressed my hand firmly into him and the pool stick that was in my back, surfaced in his pocket.

I tried pulling my hand out immediately upon feeling flesh, but he was bigger and stronger pressing harder and harder my hand into his penis. He whispered, “Get the quarter baby, get the quarter.”

My eyes of fear darted to my mother and father, laughing, singing and my mother’s eyes caught mine. I looked at her as if to scream, HELP ME! Something wet was now in his pocket with a hole and my hand was released and I ran to the stool behind my mother.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like pinball?”

Tears were welling in my eyes and I said I had to go to the bathroom. She wouldn’t let me walk all the way in the back, through beer drinking drunks, so she said she’d go too.

“Don’t tell your father! He’ll kill him.” That’s what I was told after I told my mother when she kept insisting something was wrong after many days of my feeling violated. I saw the man many times after that but never again did I play pinball when he was in the bar. She knew something was wrong, knew something had happened that night, and after I finally broke down and told her, she said, ‘don’t tell’!!!

Isa.27: 11 When the boughs thereof are withered, they shall be broken off: the women come, and set them on fire: for it is a people of no understanding: therefore he that made them will not have mercy on them, and he that formed them will shew them no favour.

I wanted him dead but I remained silent. Tell no one. That is what I learned when men were abusive pigs to me, even if the pig was my own brother throwing me on the bed demanding me to ‘rub his balls.’ Don’t tell!

Man after man relentlessly tried, none was ever again going to be successful in breaking me; that is until… I would never see men as the upstanding pillar of strength. That bond was broken after years and years of immoral behavior being displayed by men. Porn is what men were about. My brothers loved looking at naked women, they loved masturbating and being self-fulfilled. Men thought of women as whores who belonged in bondage and enjoyed seeing them in bondage too. This was my childhood shaping of men.

How many times had my brother stood at the foot of my bed, playing with himself as I lay sleeping? Waking up and being yelled at was not an option. Tell no one!

Isa.32:9 Rise up, ye women that are at ease; hear my voice, ye careless daughters; give ear unto my speech.

After the advent of the internet, men could now feed their lusts more easily. But I’ve noticed men don’t stop at ogling women, they’re pigs and a naked girl of sixteen, eighteen, or twenty is just as satisfying as a woman with falsified breast. I think of the GROWN men who make comments about a very young and undefiled child like LeeAnn Rimes or Taylor Swift saying, “Man, she’s hot! I’d like to…” You get my meaning, right?

Nowadays, the media feeds us the degradation of women, and children being raised now feel this is how women are. Women are whores waiting to be taken by men and shown who’s boss.

Rom. 1: 26 For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature:

Magazine cover after magazine cover, airbrushed women after airbrushed women, tv shows, cheerleaders and scantily clad children are being forced in our face and no one, not even the President is doing one thing about it. Man has lost my respect.

Titus 2: [3] The aged women likewise, that they be in behaviour as becometh holiness, not false accusers, not given to much wine, teachers of good things;[4] That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children,

Women need attention and man has showed them that if you’re half naked, you’ll get their attention. Do you wonder why I trust no one? Even after I became a born again Christian, I asked God to show me men who could be respected and trusted, just as recently as four or five years ago, He’s showed me a few.

Thank you Jesus! Now come and wipe the leftovers off the face of the earth. They are not here for me to judge! Their sin is not MY sin. (my new mantra)

Luke 18: 43 And immediately he received his sight, and followed him, glorifying God: and all the people, when they saw it, gave praise unto God.

Trust No One

Pss. 25:2 O my God, I trust in thee: let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me.

Yeah, this was said numerous times on X-Files, but this was my motto years before X-Files came along! I just don’t trust very easy because I have been fed lies all of my life, never allowing me to open up and place trust in anyone.

I couldn’t trust the Catholic Church, they denied me my confirmation; a confirmation that I was the first in my family ever to be denied. I couldn’t trust my brothers and sister; they were too busy feeding me cigarettes and pot to keep the baby blabber-mouth quiet. I couldn’t trust my mother and father; they were too busy dragging me, the baby of the family, from bar to bar while they filled their need. (Wonder where I picked up the habits?) I couldn’t trust the very few friends that I had because they were too busy stabbing me in the back.

So who did I have to trust as a child? I’ll tell you quite frankly, it was God! He was the only one that I could put my trust in and not once did He ever let me down. Not once! This is why my faith became solidified. I had found that I could trust no one but I could always trust Him.

Ruth 2:12 The LORD recompense thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the LORD God of Israel, under whose wings thou art come to trust.

Now if any of my family members were to read this blog, they’d sit in shame of all my tales but they know them to be true, but yes, they are ashamed. They are like the ostrich sticking their heads in the sand, struggling through life but never getting it off their chest harboring ill feelings to each and every family member left surviving.

I am the baby of six children. I have four brothers and a sister and only one of us made it out somewhat sane, but he too has his own issues, his own view of the truth. They all say I was spoiled and given everything. I was the baby, I was taken everywhere because I was too young to stay home alone and have parties.

By the time I was ten my oldest brother was turning 20, served in the marines, married and out and about in life. The next in line brother was 19 hanging out at the house smoking pot and greens that permeated the entire house drawing a blind eye from my drunken parents who were in bed. My next two brothers all suffered their own delusion and couldn’t wait to get out, but the youngest of the brothers wanted to molest his sisters first before becoming a sofa sleeping lazy bum. He went on to a better life with marriage an illegitimate daughter and a nice house, but all my family is about possessions.

Pss. 16: 1 Preserve me, O God: for in thee do I put my trust.

They let me down. Trust was broken and even in my twenty-year marriage, where I trusted my husband; he too let me down and still does to this day with the neglecting of his now almost 18 year-old son.

Gee, I can’t figure out why I trust no one, can you?

I looked out at the intimidating world wanting to be out there and that is what I did, left my hometown, my husband, and shacked up with a man living in Texas. Granted my parents have been married almost 60 sixty years, two of my brothers have long marriages, my two eldest brothers both have failed marriages and one is a squatter living home to home drug addict, while my eldest brother is in Tennessee somewhere trying to look normal.

And still, I go on after ten years with this man and still, trust no one but my Lord and Savior.

Pss.18: 2 The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.

REVIVAL

Job 8: 19 Behold, this is the joy of his way, and out of the earth shall others grow.

I’ve decided to open this blog back up and share my stories and journey with you. It may not be in the ‘story of my life’ style, but take note, they are stories of my life and where the journey is leading me.

A friend said something on her FB (facebook) wall that got me to thinking. She said:

“When you concentrate on others and reach out to help them, your own problems get smaller. Think outward toward others not inward toward self. God will take care of you if you are His child.” ~ Debbie (last name to remain hidden for privacy matters)

I replied that this was my life’s mission. Then the writing muse in me attacked! I felt compelled to write! (Thanks Deb!)

I thought back to a time when I was young; I was about 18, when this ‘caring for others’ took over my psyche and changed me for the better. “God will take care of you if you are His child.” Those words rang in my head like a morning Church bell. It called me to write and explain how it became my ‘life mission’ to think of others and not myself.

I had lost my one grandparent (Grandmom Z to lung cancer) three days before my eighth birthday and two months later her husband slipped away in a silent slumber of grief for the wife he had lost. Not easy to take for an eight yr. old kid.

About ten years later my living grandfather had rented my husband and I an apartment, and not long after, he passed away. (Yes I was married at seventeen.) Anyway, it left behind my one living grandparent, so I felt compelled to be close to her. She was my only living grandmother! And although she wasn’t the endearing type of ‘let’s make cookies’ or ‘let me shower you in love’, she was my only living grandmother and it was overwhelming me to help her.

John 12: 29 The people therefore, that stood by, and heard it, said that it thundered: others said, An angel spake to him.

This is where my journey began in helping others. I would go down to my grandmothers house once a week and clean for her, and in God fashion, He sent me others to help. Now keep in mind I was almost penniless. My husband rarely liked to work, we were selling weed to make money to pay bills, and I was trying to ward off my enemy, the bottle, at the same time.

 Yes, I began drinking at an extremely young age and by twenty I was a full-blown alcoholic and drug addict. My life didn’t change until I put others before my self-serving self!

1 Thes. 5: 6 Therefore let us not sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober.

I quit drinking and doing drugs at 21. An odd age since that was when I became a child who could legally drink. My duties for my grandmother would pay me twenty dollars to clean, and for two hours I would work my butt off washing windows, scrubbing the floor, tub and toilet. I was putting her before myself.

Then Ms. Gerdy happened. A 100 yr. old woman who lived alone and had no one to really care for her. I would clean her house, in 100 degree heat and be sent home with a dollar for my efforts. It was the best dollar I ever made. She had no money, unlike my grandmother who had hundreds of thousands, and Ms. Gerdy would hand me that dollar and I felt like I had accomplished something in that day with her. She never went behind me saying, “You missed a spot, you missed a spot,” like my grandmother did weekly!

Prov. 21: 20 There is treasure to be desired and oil in the dwelling of the wise; but a foolish man spendeth it up.

Ms. Gerdy, an honest to goodness Christian woman who had nothing, made me feel like I had made a million bucks! I now had the mindset that helping others, BEFORE myself, had its rewards. Not monetary rewards either! God would step in and take care of me, if I thought of others rather than being a selfish woman.

The years passed, my grandmother passed, Ms. Gerdy passed and what did I get out of it, an immense hug from the Lord who watched over me and blessed me daily. Year after year my life was filled with blessings that no one understood (except me) where they came from.

I had now made it a mission to put others before myself, never seeking a reward but being blessed along the journey. What one man sees as worthless treasure, I see immense blessings from the Lord. That is my life to this day!

Luke 12: 34 For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.