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I Feel Too Much

Firstly, I don't believe I honestly have any psychic abilities, but I am a mass of emotions and feelings.I do often "feel" others pain and fear. I always have.  I have tremendous empathy for abused, neglected, mistreated children. I have always assumed  that this moment in my life played a significant role in developing my preoccupation with protecting children.

When I was five years old, my mother walked out  on my father and was living with a sexual deviant, whom we will call "Ronnie" to protect the raping, psychotic SOB.

She made the decision to leave me (an only child) with my maternal grandparents to remove me from the unhealthy situation. During my childhood, my grandparents owned and managed an apartment complex. Shortly after placing me with my grandparents , my mother gave birth to Ronnie's illegitimate child.  Sometime later she moved into one of the apartments that my grandparents owned after having a spat with her predator boyfriend, Ronnie.

Her and my 7-8 month old baby brother lived upstairs in an apartment, just a staircase away from where I was still residing in my grandparents home, because "Ronnie" was fond of showing up unexpectedly in the middle of the night.  It was decided that it would be safer for me to remain with them rather than with my own mother.

At five years old, I quickly adapted and before long I had a morning routine that included running upstairs to see my mother and my baby brother, before I left for the bus stop in the morning.
 It was an ordinary, typical school day for me, so after getting dressed and having breakfast, I scampered up the staircase to say goodbye to my Mom and kiss my baby brother before heading off to school. When I entered the apartment, it was quiet and dark, which was not unusual. My mom had a habit of staying up very late and then sleeping in til the following afternoon.

The apartment was more like one large room, with different areas sanctioned off for the kitchen, bedroom, living room. The only room that a real door was the restroom and , of course, the front entrance. My mother slept on a queen size mattress and box springs that were placed on bed rails, with no headboard or footboard. The bed was pushed up against a wall, partially against an old window . The building was built before the second world war, the ceilings were very high and the windows were enormous and had large 4 inch window sills jutting out out from the wall.  My brother's crib was not far from my mothers bed.

Per usual, I immediately ran over to his bed and began adjusting the blankets, in an attempt to wake him up, but to my surprise,  I couldn't find him.  I began searching around the small, one bedroom apt.. Even looking in the kitchen and restroom, to no avail.

Mystified, I finally went over to the bed and gently shook my mothers leg and asked, " Where is Wade? I can't find him. Where is he?" She mumbled something and rolled over. I don't know what made me think to walk around the bed, perhaps it was because I knew that she sometimes let him sleep in her bed with her when he cried and she didn't feel like getting up.

 I went around the bed and checked under the blankets. Nothing. For some reason, I leaned over the edge of the bed and looked between the mattress and the wall. There was perhaps 3-5 inches of space between the two of them, except ofcourse, where the window sill was, the gap was much wider there.

I will never know what made me look down. Maybe something caught my eye, perhaps , it was a gut feeling.  I can't remember. But there on cold, bare floor,  lying partially hidden beneath the bed, was my baby brother.

He had these strange grayish blue splotches all over his body, I was going to pick him up, but when I reached down to touch him , his skin felt strange to me, cold. He did not move at all when I tried to get my hands around him. That is when I knew something was seriously wrong with him. I panicked and immediately began trying to shake my mom awake. I kept saying, "Why is Wade on the floor?"  I don't know how many times I repeated the question. I just remember that it seemed like it took an eternity for her to really hear what I was saying.  When she finally heard me and it finally sunk in, she jumped out of the bed, grabbed his little body from off the floor and took off running down the stairs to my grandmothers house.

I don't remember much of what happened later, I know my mom had to go away to a hospital and when she returned, some months later, she was very different. She seemed like she didn't want anything to do with me. I didn't understand why at the time, but as an adult, I have wondered if when she looked at me, if she remembered her tragic and fatal mistake.

As for me, I have had the same re-occuring dream for 30+ years. I dream that I am trying to rescue children from danger. Sometimes I am in a war zone, trying to hide a group of children from the enemy, sometimes I am locked in an empty warehouse with several children and there is a serial killer hunting for us. The details vary and the locales often change, but the theme is constant, I am responsible for rescueing a group of kids from some unknown evil.I

OnlyOneChiquita OnlyOneChiquita 41-45, F 20 Responses Mar 12, 2010

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I am not living in the past, I wrote this back when I first joined EP, but thanks to you, I am now regretting that, although at the time, it was very cathartic for me. <br />
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I have moved on, I have been married to the same man for 25+ years, have three children and a rich, happy life now. I haven't murdered the psycho, obviously.<br />
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I do not know how to alter my dreams of this period of my life. If I knew how, trust me, I would! I have channeled my energy in what I would consider "positive directions".<br />
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I have been dealing with this since I was a kid and I didn't have a problem, YOU are my problem.

I only wish I had words for you that would make a difference.. but I do not.<br />
This thing in your life isin the past and that is not where the rest of your life is..We all have tragities to overcome and it is something that must be done.

His name was Ronald Younger. I'm sorry if I misunderstood, it's quite possible. This is not one of my favorite subjects to discuss. For years, I fantasized about growing up and killing this man. You know, he doesn't know what I look like as an adult, so I would imagine introducing myself (not using my real name) and when the opportunity arose I would take him somewhere and torture him too death. <br />
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I hope he laid awake , worrying that I might follow through with that threat I made when I was little.

This isn't a made up story, LOU. It happened. You really need to shut the fuckk up, unless you were there. My baby brother is buried in a cemetary in Elderado, Illinois. <br />
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Some time before this, the ***** left me in the apartment alone while she ran down the hall and found refuge in a neighboring apartment. Yeah, she made sure that she was safe. Fuckk her 5 yr old daughter. I guess that is another "story" that I dreamt up....or how about me waking up in the middle of the night, standing in front of her door, banging on it and when pscho man opened it, I told him to stop hitting my mommy, because the whole apt complex could hear her screaming....another story, LOU? <br />
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Is Lou short for LOSER??? How dare you!!!! For all I know you are RONNIE YOUNGER!!!! Shall I tell them what you did to me, you perverted son of a *****!!!!???

I don't consider myself to be psychic. I do however, have an ability to "feel" what others are feeling at times. Especially children...I can "imagine" their fear and their sadness. I identify strongly with their feelings of isolation and distress. My other empath story provides some insight into the possible origin of this phenomena in my case.

Aww, thank you, sweet Abbeyrhode, that means so much coming from you. Thank you for reading and for commenting, hon.

What a heartbreaking story, but how inspiring that you took that horror and turned it into compassion and caring for others. You have a beautiful spirit. *Hug*

I'm sorry that you endured a difficult childhood, Eric. I am always stunned by how many of us have survived neglect or some kind of abuse as a child, no wonder most if grow up to become damaged adults. Thank you for taking the time to read and comment, sweet....I do appreciate it.

Wow! I am sorry for the heartache you had to face. You're absolutly right no six year old should have to deal with such a thing. If you look at it this way it may help. It has made you who you are, be proud of that. It has made you stronger, strength others won't have. You have gained knowledge, that you will always have and hopefully utilize, and you hold such sympathy for others especially children. That can become of great use in many situations. Thanks for sharing your story, I'm sure you have touched many. Continue to tell your story so history has a better chance of not repeating.

Aww, thank you, Merily. You have become such a good friend to me, in such a short period of time<br />
I appreciate you reading this and leaving such a kind comment. <br />
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I think about him often and I wish he had the opportunity to grow up, so that I could have really been able to know him, but I am positive that his birth/ his short life contributed to the kind of person that I am today and specifically, the kind of mother I have become. <br />
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His life mattered, made a difference in the world. I believe that.

Thank you, sweet Pamster, I'm sorry to hear that we share this experience. This is one I was hoping that we would not have in common. <br />
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Thank you for reading and leaving such a kind comment.

Thank you for reading, and for leaving such a kind and generous comment, whatnowwhatnext.

Thank you for reading and commenting, Faucon. I appreciate it.

Aww, thank you for that, FKA. Trust me, I didn't volunteer, I was a victim of circumstances far beyond my control.<br />
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Children are often the victims of the bad choices that their parents make, as I was.<br />
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Thank you for reading and your kind comment.

You renew my waning faith in humanity. {{{hugs}}}

You are so sweet, I can't read it without becoming emotional and I lived it, thank you for caring enough about me to read it again. You are a treasure, Pix.

I want to thank all of you for your kindness. This was difficult for me to share in such an open forum, but the warmth and generosity you have shown me has confirmed to me that it was the right decision.<br />
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Thank you all for reading and commenting and mostly, for allowing me to honor my brother.

wow!!! i know what you are felling i have a heavy heart and anytime i read,hear,see or talk about abused children i feel like im going to die. the pain in my heart is so overwhelming. iam so sorry for what u had to see and feel i feel your pain.

That is a most terrible experience to have gone through,i can empathise entirely with you as i too was one of the many who were abused as a child,and it has stayed with me all my life,in fact the whole damn thing has destroyed me,i try to forget but i cant.My thoughts are with you,Garvan,

everytime i read an abused child story i think i must have heard them all,but each time is an emotional roller coaster for me as a survivor of sexual abuse.the trauma never diminshes it always simmers.thankyou for sharing