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Blondie Clayton

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An Abused Child's World

Conversations With God Part 16

(An excerpt from my book There in the Midst the Mysterious Exposed at

The Voice: “Now you know.”

 I wasn’t willing to let anything or anyone distract me. I knew I could reach back and give them all the help they needed, but I had to continue on my journey. I failed to get through to Armstrong. That day his life changed. He started using drugs. He stole from mother. His behavior was disappointing. My hurt was such that I felt a need to confront mother about her behavior and the affect it was having on her children. She didn’t welcome my comments. Instead she responded with a slap to my face: “You whore!”

I was out of line so I decided to get back in my place and whatever happened, those were her kids.
Armstrong’s stealing was out of control. He didn’t come home anymore. Mother had enough. She put him out. He was 15. His visits were few and far between. He got more involved with the business of selling drugs. Rumor had it that he was selling drugs to kids. That information drove me to confront him. I asked him to stop selling to kids. I reminded him that one day it could be his kid. I left it up to him to stop. The rumors stopped.

We lost contact with each other. I was disappointed that he had chosen that path. Our family was crumbling. Terry followed in Armstrong’s footsteps. I thought, “How could they be so weak, bring such shame on the family.”

I made an excuse for them. I blamed their sexual abuse for their problems. It hurt me that they were not like me, strong, and determined to beat the odds. I remained obedient to my mother. I respected her house rules, so did Vanessa, the youngest. My goal was to hurry up and grow up. I was going to show my parents that I could succeed without their nurturing and love.

The Voice: “That day you were reminded again that the responsibility for rearing the children was no longer yours.”

That day I grew to another level of awareness. I learned to hate my mother’s behavior but not her.


The Voice: “Do you remember how you wouldn’t undress in front of girls your age? It was the most dreaded thing you faced from time to time.”

“Yeah,” I thought.

I was always trying to hide myself, afraid of exposing myself nude to females. I didn’t feel comfortable looking at other girls’ bodies. I didn’t like being touched or kissed by girls or adult females.
I can’t remember having an interest in boys. I liked them because they liked me. I accepted the boy-girl thing as normal.

The Voice: “You were haunted by this physical attraction for women but I wouldn’t allow it to take root. My word had been placed in you so that you rejected the thought and refused to conceive it.”

It was this truth that kept me. Society frowned upon same sex relationships, and I feared being singled out in public or rejected by friends and family.

The Voice: “Your sexual gender had been confused by this time but you remained faithful to what was right.”

Being interested in boys was acceptable as normal behavior. Boys always found me attractive. I knew the day would come when I would have a boyfriend. That was what girls and boys were expected to do.
David and I met in the Laundromat. He was a nice, mannerly boy. I tried to overlook his feminine gestures. He took interest in me. After we finished doing our laundry, he asked me out to the movies. I told him he would have to ask my parents.

Carlton had moved back in, so I pretended David would have to ask him. David walked me home, together Carlton and my mother consented, provided we were back by 11:00 p.m.

On the way to and from the movie David talked about his family. He was from a big family. I admired anyone from a large family. I always compared everyone’s family to mine. Other families seemed to have it together. I didn’t see my family that way. I wanted what I thought other families had. I took the positive examples of what I saw as a guide to shape my own family values.

David and I got to be best friends. We became close enough to exchange a few hugs and kisses. He lived in a different part of town so we only saw each other on the weekends. He respected my mother’s wishes. Something about being around him aroused conflicting feelings. I was puzzled. I wanted to be closer than just a few kisses, but he kept his distance.

The Voice: “You were feeling that you didn’t deserve him to treat you with respect, that he should have tried something…like the rest.”

I didn’t press the issue. Instead I came away from the relationship with a more positive image of sex. David taught me that relationships between boys and girls can be good without the pressure of sex. We dated for awhile but I grew tired of his niceness. I lost interest in David’s non-threatening treatment.

We moved into a different neighborhood, rougher people. In this area people hung out most of the night drinking and doing drugs. I met this new boy. His name was Mack. Mack’s sister lived across the street from us. He was not very good looking. My mother reminded me of that every time she saw us talking together. I told Mack about David but he didn’t care. Mack looked like he had been pumping iron. He was likeable and aggressive in pursuing me. My mother always teased me about him looking like a gorilla, and if we got married, we would have little gorillas for kids.

The possibility worried my mother. She was always concerned with how people looked and what they had to offer. She never seemed to like any of the boys who took an interest in me, and she voiced those opinions. Her critical attitude reminded me of Grandma Ethel. We differed on what value to place on relationships. To me, financial gain and relationships didn’t mix. I didn’t want to be involved with a person for material gain. They had to have qualities that I liked.

I forced myself to get more emotional about boys because that was normal. I never broke off with David. He continued to come around. Mother gave David permission to visit but not Mack. Mack and I began to sneak around to spend time with each other.

The Voice: “The multi-relationships started to evidence itself here. You didn’t see anything wrong with being involved with the two of them at the same time. To you it was harmless.”

That’s right. I had no boundaries. There was no place to end with one and begin with another. They each served a different need.

My mother had begun to make new friends. This older guy had made his way into her circle of friends. He was related to my mother’s friend, Ms. Brannon. His name was Harvey. He was ten years older. Rumor surfaced that he had his eye on me. Mother was encouraging it. I didn’t like mother’s matchmaking. She started saying things like, “He is older, more mature, and has a job.” At 16 I didn’t care about what he had. He was too old.

Because mother was so set on this guy, in order to please her, I decided to go out with him. My heart was not in it. I remembered thinking, “But please don’t make me do anything with him.”

The weekend was coming up. He wanted to take me to the movie. He was clean, but a peculiar smell of his body triggered unpleasant memories…panic. I got through the movie. The whole time I was thinking, “He should feel good about this privilege. I’m doing this for my mother. He better not try anything.”

After the movie he wanted to go to his apartment. At that point I knew I was in trouble. All kinds of things went through my head, but I couldn’t say “No.” Ugly thoughts appeared, “Had my own mother set me up?” If he tried anything, I was going to defend myself. For the next few hours at his apartment, I wrestled with him, trying to deter him from going all the way.

The Voice: “Your prayer was, ‘Lord, what shall I do? My mother sent me here. What am I supposed to do? I don’t want to do this. Help me.’ ”

Right after my prayer, I got the idea to let him relieve himself on my legs instead of penetrating me. He never asked if I had done this before. There was never any question on his part about whether I was on any type of birth control—nothing.

I left him that night feeling unclean. I blamed myself for what had happened. I couldn’t understand why this was happening. What was it about me that caused these things to happen to me? That night brought back memories of events I had tried to forget.

Hate surfaced. I suppressed my anger as long as everyone kept their distance from me, but now I found it hard to hold back. Something changed on the inside of me. I felt resentful. My own mother appeared to be against me, putting me in a position to be preyed upon. It was happening again. I hated that mother did this. I buried my hurt and disappointment."

(Check out Part 17- click here)

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