Memories and Pain

As I get older, I can finally talk of some of my past. So, what should I do when many had listened to me and could not believe how dangerous and painful many things were to my sister, brothers, and me? Finally, I have decided to try and write them. The memories were painful but now can be written, maybe I had stopped 2 hours after I started because of the pain flooding in. My sister Mary asked me if I had come to terms with my past and I said yes, but the more I recall I have not come to terms with any of my shattered life. Now 10 months into my project, I have only made notes and a few lines (I do not know if I can do this).
The more I study myself just writing is not the real story. The more I do on this project the more I must tell what happened. What I learned may change your life. For most of my life I could see good and evil sort of like black and white and I kept asking myself, what is the meaning. Yes, the killer is bad but if you do not kill or do anything like that are you still good? This question almost drove me up a wall. What I was asking myself could not be defined. So I decided to look at it in a different way. I should look at actions and then determine if they were evil or good.
Before I was in first grade, I had a favorite place to go. My older Sister Mary took me across the highway and up the trail where the grass and alfalfa was growing and smelled good. The field was one section or 640 acres and all of it was in soil bank. A soil bank is where the government pays the farmer to let the land lay idle and where health of the land is improved. There were beautiful flowers everywhere from sunflowers, alfalfa blossoms, and all kinds of other plants and blossoms. The next thing that made it so beautiful was the birds. There were all kinds of birds from sparrows to blackbirds to pheasants and quail and many others. After finding the path with my sister, I started to go down the lane almost every day. Since I was not in school, I could spend hours walking and finding different things to look at. It was absolutely my favorite place. During the day, my mother would be busy, and I would slip away for 3 or 4 hours almost daily. Sometimes, I would find ducks and geese in the slough which was about a mile from my house. I loved it so much that I often had a dream about it.
After being abused many times the pain stopped, and I was walking down my trail with the son warm on my face and the cool breeze coming at me. The birds were all around me. I was happy it was such a beautiful day and I just kept walking all the way to the sloughs to see all the big birds swimming and splashing. Suddenly, I could hear a voice that said can you see me. It was my big Sister Mary who had come home from school. I could not figure out where the whole afternoon went.
I knew they were going to beat me and take my shirt and pants off. But I could not remember what happened, but I remember going for a long walk, but I do not know if I had gone for a walk. I was happy that I did not remember getting hit or the worst part being nude and getting slapped on my butt or back and being rubbed so hard the pain would almost make me pass out. I knew the people that would abuse me and after a few minutes with them I always ended up walking on my favorite path. Each time I went down my path, I would be happy. When the other kids came from school, I would run to them and hug one of my sisters. I knew I was safe.
When I finally got to fourth grade the sexual assaults stopped but the physical abuse continued. When the physical abuse started and got bad, I would end up on my walk to the big trees and big cottonwood trees. As time went on,I would go onmy path and have a good time. The pain would send me away to a world of no pain and after time I would come back from my walk and my sister would be there and I had no memory of what happened, but I would be bruised and cut but no memory. As time went on, I went to my place with no abuse.
I was in first grade when I saw other kids playing some were genuinely nice and some mean. I would ask myself I guess some people are mean but what does that mean. I asked this question for years. Finally,in my junior year the answer came to me. I must write down every behavior. I must look at this behavior and decide is that good or is it evil. I finally had answers for the boys who hurt the child with polio. They were not mean because that does not have a meaning. No, they are evil as evil as Satan. You must look at every action and decide what evil is. Start by defining good. For example, a child must be nurtured by teaching them about spiritual meanings, reading and writing, family values and how to act around other people. In other words, it is your responsibility to see that the child grows in knowledge, love and all the good attributes are learned. To yell and scream, take drugs and alcohol in front of the child is evil. Say the word and define the word and actions.