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Lily of Lough Neagh a.k.a C. Dennis-Woosley

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Determination Part III
By Lily of Lough Neagh a.k.a C. Dennis-Woosley
Sunday, August 19, 2012

Rated "PG13" by the Author.

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Recent stories by Lily of Lough Neagh a.k.a C. Dennis-Woosley
· The Gift
· Akashic Hall
· Determination Part II
· Determination V
· Determination Part IV
· Determination
· The Light on the Wall
           >> View all 9

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do. ~Eleanor Roosevelt~

          Norman promptly loaded up my bedroom set, all my clothes and dumped it in the driveway of the T's. Norman would not even look at me when I tried to apologize for being disrespectful. I wanted to make amends, but it was clear he did not want to hear of it.  With a deep sigh I started moving my things into the T’s home. I hoped for better days to come.

All went well for a while; I happily spent time with the girls and come September school started.  All but Judy went onto school and they had a neighbor watch her.  I had to go back to school as it was my 11th year of high school at F.E. Warren High in Downey, Calif. I also worked part-time at an Orange Julius and had been since I was 15 ½, Norman refused to give me money for food and I had to work for it if I wanted to eat.

Routines were normal every day at the T's.  I would come home and help Dot make meals and after dinner I would rush off to the Orange Julius to work.  Every night one of the girls would take their turn snuggling up with me in my bed.  I would read a story to them and they looked forward to it.  But Ellen had a little problem, she was a bed wetter so every night that it was her turn, the next morning one side of my bed would be wet.  I didn’t get upset I would just change my sheets and wash them.

It was November and getting cold, as cold as it can be for California. Sunday night, the girls all tucked away in bed and Dack made drinks and asked me to join him and Dot.  Mind you now I was not accustomed to drinking.

I had one bad experience at Dave’s going away party into the Green Beret’s. Dave was the oldest of Dale and Carrie’s and Sandy and I mixed sloe gin and seven up.  It tasted great, a sweet syrupy drink and in short order I was drunk. I was also very sick the next day and spent that night at Dale and Carries.  Carrie didn’t want Norman to know what happened and also didn’t know Sandy and I were experimenting with alcohol.  I was 16 at the time and my first try at this stuff. After that experience I swore never again.  I couldn’t understand why people enjoyed feeling this bad the next day.

I reluctantly said ok, recalling a prior experience.  Dack assured me I would not get ill and wanted me to enjoy that night with him and Dots. He mixed orange juice and Vodka and added some red stuff to it and cherries and it looked appealing. My first sip I nearly gagged, the vodka was so strong but he encouraged me to finish it that I would grow to like the taste. I listened and adhered because he was the man of the household and I was fortunate to be allowed to live there and surely blessed they wanted to take me in.

The Telly was on and I don’t even recall what was playing.  I leaned my head back on the couch while I was sitting on the floor. The room was spinning and I didn’t feel very good.  I glanced to the right and Dot was passed out on the couch. I think Dack must not have had much booze in his because he promptly carried her off to bed.  When he came back he laid me flat on the floor.  I felt nearly paralyzed and could hardly move. He pulled my clothes off and I had no power to resist, but tried to scream. He positioned himself over me covering my mouth and cautioned me not to make a noise.

It was my 16th birthday and I was over at my best friend’s house, Dean. His mother named Doris made me a cake and Mark, Dean and a few friends were spinning records.  The first song they played for me was, Sweet 16 by Neil Sedaka.  Before my 16th birthday I was a true tomboy, short cropped hair looking like one of the boys myself.  My mother used to keep my hair cropped short; I think she thought it was easier to care for. After she died in 1969 I started to let my hair grow. My hair was now nearly down to my waist and I wore the stylish clothes of the hippie era.  Hip huggers, flared stove pipe style pants, and long sleeved flower tie dyed tops.  Although I was still a very shy teen and I had never even kissed a boy.  I was not a young teen who was interested in any sort of sexual revolution at that time I had better things to do like have fun with my friends.  I didn’t know the first thing about sex other than that 6th grade movie all girls had to watch on becoming a woman.  Something I did not look forward to, having a monthly cycle was not appealing to me.

The deed was done and all I could do was lie there, shocked and terrified hurting and betrayed. I couldn’t move, just laid there for what seemed hours alone.

The sun’s first morning rays were beginning to come through the living room window.  The household would be up shortly; I gathered my clothes and ran to my bedroom.  I couldn’t let the girls find me like I was naked and bleeding, still trembling with fear.  I grabbed a robe and my school clothes for the day and showered.  I felt sick and wanted to vomit, my head hurt and what was left of my dignity and something cherished to give the man you love was gone.  Gone forever, taken away from me.

I dressed for school and left before anyone was up.  I couldn’t face anyone I was so ashamed. I sat on the school bleachers waiting for school to open. Still I couldn’t cry, but the pain was real. I felt nothing but emptiness now, just a shell of once was. Blaming myself and not others, I must have done something wrong. It was my fault, although I couldn’t rationalize why.

When administration started to arrive, I walked to my counselor’s office.  Mr. Bleu he was my counselor and had been since 8th grade.

I was so naïve and can still laugh about this experience.  I was 13 years old and had spent the weekend with my Mother’s best friend. My mother was ill during this time and had not yet passed away.  Adele was a wonderful person and I enjoyed going to Los Angeles and spending time with her and her husband Les and their children Scott and Kim. 

Adele was running behind and was rushing to get me back to Downey and to junior high.  I was stressed and asked what should I tell the office if I’m late?  She told me, “Just tell them you weren’t feeling well.”  Sounded good to me, so arriving late for class I went to the front office and proceeded to tell the ladies up front I had morning sickness. 

There is a saying, if a picture can say a thousand words; their stunned faces had me very perplexed. I was told to sit and they contacted my counselor Mr. Bleu.  He walked out smiling knowing me very well and ushered me into his office and sat me down.  “How are you Carol? He asked.  Well I’m ok I guess, am I in trouble?  Still smiling he said, well I don’t think so why don’t you tell me what you told Mrs. Hoffman.  I told her I was sick, you know sick this morning but I feel better now. I just had morning sickness and it went away.  He laughed and asked do you know what morning sickness is Carol? I said, well sure it’s when you’re sick in the morning.  He smiled and chuckled and said no Carol, it’s what pregnant women have. It’s a part of pregnancy for some.” I recall the heat rising in my face, I was never so embarrassed in my life… even though I knew how the birds and bees worked (unlike swallowing watermelon seeds like my Mom’s friend Adele told me) that was the last thing I would be involved in.

I asked to see my counselor Mr. Bleu; I trusted him and knew he had always been there for me.  He ushered me into his office and I told him the details of what happened.  He promptly called the police and two detectives showed up and off to the Downey Police Department we went.

1971 was an era before sensitivity to women and circumstances was exercised and the grueling interrogation I was put through was not for the weak of heart. I was still a naïve young teen not experienced in worldly matters. Yet, I still did not breakdown and cry.  Perhaps that’s why they didn’t believe me other than my refusal to go to the hospital to be examined.  To me that was a horrible thought and for me, my personal privacy in that area was very strong. I was raised by people who were very puritanical in thought and action and that sort of examination to me was unbearable. Why would I lie? I was not in the habit of lying.

After hours of grueling embarrassing examination, much to my horror in walks Dack.  Again, I had been betrayed.  He informed the detectives I was a troubled teen whom they took in that was wild and uncontrollable and slept around. The ride back to Dack and Dot’s house was quiet and terrifying. Once back, Dack and Dot stood in front of me shouting how bad I was and why would I want to ruin their family when they gave me a place to stay with love and care. All I could do was stand there and take it. Dot ordered me to my room and I went. But not before grabbing a bottle of aspirin out of the bathroom, Bayer aspirin and a glass of water. 

I sat on the floor in my bedroom and opened the top of the container; there were 500 little aspirin in the bottle. One by one I chewed them up, and swallowed them with a water chaser.  I couldn’t face life anymore it was too painful all I wanted to do was die and go where others loved me.  I thought that would do the trick.  I was one-third way through the bottle when a voice came to me. “Carol… Carol…” I swung towards the bedroom door, but it was still closed and locked. No one was outside of it and I sat back down to continue my pill swallowing. “CAROL… CAROL…” it was loud now.  I stopped and listened. “It’s not your time, you have work to do” the voice said. I stopped, I had no idea what had just happened but stopped.  I didn’t know what it meant, but calm came over me.

Dack knocked on my door until I opened it, next to him stood Aunt Cloyd. He called her to come get me and explained what happened (lied of course) and off I went with her. The entire way to their mobile home I was chastised by my Aunt asking how I could do such a thing to such wonderful people who took me in.  She exclaimed I needed psychiatric help.

Part III



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Reviewed by Regis Auffray 1/13/2014
Heartwrenching honesty; clearly, you are helping others by your sharing, Carol. I have spent well over an hour reading this one. Love and best wishes,

Reviewed by Antoine Raphael 9/5/2012
You do tell the truth when you state that you are special. Your style betrays a deep sense of sincerity and the union of your heart and reason.
Antoine Archange Raphael
Reviewed by T Jett 8/24/2012
Lily, I've experienced similar, ugly and evil events in my life such as you did. It takes a strong woman to write about it having to relive the pain and agony on paper. I know you know that none of it was your fault. You were just the victim in this whole disheartening ordeal you've endured at such an early age. By your experiences you've shared, I know you will help many woman whom have gone through the same ... Thank you for sharing this story ...
Reviewed by John Domino 8/23/2012
I been exactly. But let's face it, we are living in hell here on earth. Still, our mission is to bring our earth up to Godly standards. One by one we can rise above. The devil rules this planet like the serpent that he is and no doubt he wants to destroy you, me and every one else on the planet. The choice is simple, we can do nothing and live a dark life with the serpents or rise above and be closer to the Lord. It's easy just to do nothing and live a life of pain and blame.

Been there, done that, don't care to EVER go back.


Peace, love and blessings,

John Michael Domino
Reviewed by Diana Legun 8/20/2012
Dear Lily,

Just as quiet in the background allows sound to be heard, the Dark in the background makes the Light show up. You spoke of these two elements in your posting "The Light on the Wall" excerpt: "Snuggled in I always enjoyed the car lights coursing across the bedroom wall from the cars passing down the road. I was 8 years old at the time. I often watched them move along the wall like a small beam of light from a flashlight only bigger and a pair. I would watch them dissipate and wait for second pair to come along. Some were brighter than others. Staring at them move along my wall often helped me to go to sleep along with the soft sound of a distant car motor." Neither of these perceptions (sound and light) exist without beings to receive them. We are the beings.

Encountering betrayal, enduring betrayal, expressing betrayal in carefully-selected words, and others knowing about another's betrayal, all are reshaping a happening from one dimension (the violation), to three dimensions (violation, revelation, and conveyance). It is that third dimension (conveyance) that can provide the transfer of dark energy into the light of "being seen." These two words 'light' and 'seeing' you use often in the Den, to define yourself.

Writing from both healthy and wounded Spirit connects people much like rings from a rain drop hitting the smooth water surface. Without other rain drops, the rings just go out unchanged and unchanging. When encountering other rain drop rings, intersection after intersection connects them all. That is what 'our reading' of your 'story' does, Lily. It connects us. I can see it in your reader comments. Betrayal in the form of physical harm, emotional harm, or being burglarized, these all don't 'unhappen,' but they can be conveyed as you have done, and 'interchanged' (to put each in the place of another: Merriam Webster), and thereby shared, which to me means 'lightened', Lily of the Light.

Thank you for entrusting us with your story. I hope it helps you -- to see your story read by us. I know it would and does help me. ~~ Love, Diana
Reviewed by Jane Noponen Perinacci 8/19/2012
Did he have another name perhaps? Perhaps,......................Rudy?

Love ya!~

Reviewed by Karen McKeever 8/19/2012

Right now, I would really like to beat the hell out of Darrell!!!!

Love and Dreams,
Reviewed by Mark Huntsman 8/19/2012
WOW, this is a horrible story Lilly, bad, worse, and straight into the fire! My wife cried.

Hugs from both of us

Reviewed by Jerry Bolton 8/19/2012
Except for the morning sicking situation this whole chapter was gruesome to the nth. I expected that you would be raped. What a trying time for you, and in your frame of voice I don't blame you for grabbing the Bayer's. To be thrown back into another household, although I am sure you were happy to leave Darrell's, was just one more crisis in your young life.
Reviewed by D. Vegas 8/19/2012
Carol, You were quite strong back then and even
stronger now...

Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger 8/19/2012
Lily ~
The calm that came to you. Angel whispers of grace.

Lady Mary Ann
Reviewed by Gail Delaney 8/19/2012
What desperation when something turned on the light in your head. I don't believe I could have made it this far. I was lucky, I have two loving parents that are still alive and with me.

Prayers to you Carol

Reviewed by Budd Nelson 8/19/2012
i hope some read this that it can help because you have shared much that is painful for you to speak about. i wish that i could believe it is any better now for you or others, but doubt that much has really changed. you are a brave and overly kind soul.
Reviewed by Gert van Weenen 8/19/2012
You have been through hell and just at the moment you would give up, at the threshold of the gates of hell you were called back. It gives me shivers at the moment I read it and now I write the review I feel the shivers again.
I've said it in my previous review as well, you are an Angel, called by the light to bring love and light in this world.

Hugs sweetheart
Reviewed by Ed J. 8/19/2012
A shame such things happen to the innocent and trusting, but even sadder when nothing is believed or done. Hugs

Stay well and keep writing

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