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Update


I need to set the record straight. I found out my stupid, crazy family has been telling people that they don’t really have anything to do with me because of “decisions I have made.” So I wanted to clarify those decisions. I decided several years ago to cut them out of my life. MY choice ~ not theirs. I CHOOSE to keep them out of my life and pursue healing. I do not associate with them any more. The last contact I had with them was about a year or so ago when I drove to their house to confront them about the abuse. I then went to the police and filed charges against them for abuse. I have been told by someone that they are telling people that I was stoned or high or something crazy… but I was just angry and emotional. I think they don’t know what to do with my emotions. I think my emotions freak them out and they just want to run away from them and they would rather have me silent and afraid. They don’t know what to do when I am neither silent nor afraid.

There are too many of us out there to stay silent. Our stories matter! #silentnomore

Searching for Words


I have walked through most of my life feeling crazy…not quite trusting my own mind.  I doubted every emotion and tried to gain mastery over it.  All I achieved was a terrible numbness that leached all the color out of my world and left me with the terrible gray nothing… A Nothing which threatened to consume me.  My passion had fled… my desire, my dreams, my daring… my hope… all fled and a terrible emptiness a terrible apathy remained.

Neglect… the rot of the soul.

How, then, does one become healthy again?  For me ~ by feeling…raging, crying, sleeping too much, grieving.  One more step, one more day, then another and another and another… all running into each other… Days of pain and misery and fear and pleasure and dreams… Pain is the pathway that will lead hope back into my heart.

Feelings


I go through most days expressing little or no emotion.  I can pass as human.  I can blend in with the best of them… but I feel like an imposter.  An empty shell.  I just smile at the right times and say the right things so no one notices how broken I am.

I can’t do it any more.  I am so profoundly broken.  Every breath hurts… every heartbeat… they sear my chest and the white-hot pain is such I fear it will kill me.  I walk around with so much bitterness, so much anger… I hide in plain sight.

I am tired.  I am tired of wanting to die.  I am tired of the pain… and I am tired of pretending to be ok.  I am so lonely and so heartbroken.  This is me.


I have been away for far too long…. I have been locked in the dark….in the quet, lonely place where memories reign supreme and where my demons haunt me…where they dog my every step/

Here is what I remember:

I am still in diapers and I am sitting on my mom’s lap. I am leaning against her chest and facing out with her arms around me and I can feel her hands…her soft skin… her thumb rubbing the bottom of my stomach…stroking into my diaper… gentle strokes, caresses….like a lover… all soft and gentle… stroking down and down while rocking and  at the same time making me feel so safe and so warm…. ever stroking downward… caressing me and stroking me… but never holding me down.  Never forcing me.  Always within plain view… always like the ever loving mother…. always letting me up if I squirmed or waned to get away… stroking thumb… stroking fingers… touching me with those soft hands and always being careful not for force me… not to hold me against my will… making me a willing participant in my own molestation… I can’t honestly say I fought you.  I just accepted what you were doing as normal….. or as love

Memory;  I don’t know how old I am … maybe 9… maybe 7… I hear your voice call me into your bedroom…. Mom is at work and Aaron is away… Or maybe at Scouts?  l….. I come to where you call me and I find you there….. shirt unbuttoned… pants unzipped… penis out and erect… and before I have words for this… before I understand what is going on…I am close enough for you to grab me… You grab me by the wrist and force my little girl hands around your penis… You are sticky ad hot and smell like sweat… and I still to this day remember how you felt!! I remember having your rough hands over mine and your penis in between my small little girl hands and you forcing me up and down and feeling the hot sticky explosion of your climax and the salty, sweaty, dirty smell of you….

 

Memory: later that same year… or maybe a year later… I remember your hands roughly grabbing my hair and pulling me to my knees before you… I remember the pain of you pulling my hair and how it felt to have my head so twisted and my hair pulled so violently!  I remember choking on your erection and being forced up and down as I gagged on you…I remember feeling my mouth stretch painfully and feeling as though I would smother or suffocate on you….

 

Memory:  It is my birthday…. I  have rag curls in my hair that i had to sleep in all night…. I am barefoot and wearing a blue dress with a little ruffle at the bottom… It is the kind of dress that flairs when I twirl and I feel so pretty in it…. Mom went out to get the cake or something and for some reason it is just you and I at home and I don’t know if it is my feeling so pretty that set you off or if there is something about my joy that infuriates you… but I remember your hands.. you grabbed me from behind and yelled at me about the mess in my room… you shoved me so hard face down on the bed that it took my breath away and you pulled my panites down and my dress up… you raped me in  be but while I could not even scram … let alone breathe … you “punished” me and made me feel so dirty and so disgusting and like it was all my fault.  So many memories and so much torment…

 

Being slapped in the face, being ridiculed, being tormented…being silenced….

Well::  I am silent no more….

I have pressed charges and I will not live in fear any longer!  I will fight… and I will survive… I will not be the one cowering in the dark any longer.  This far And No More

Courage in Confrontation


Several weeks ago, my wife and I drove down to High Springs, FL, the city where her two pedophile parents exist, like scum at the bottom of an old drain pipe, eeking out an existence on the refuse of real life human beings.

I haven’t been prouder of her than that night. We drove a long way just for her to finally tell them what pond scum they are.

As far as we can tell, most of her memories have come through. If anyone else out there has gone through the same harrowing experiences of being raped by a parent, or both parents like my wife, once the memories finally come, they seem to come in spurts. One memory triggering another. One road leading down another. One piece of your heart back at a time…one piece of your humanity…

Child molesters are just about the worst pieces of trash in this broken world. Yet, thieves and people addicted to substances usually get more of a hard time and by far more jail time than them. Justice is a dream.

After we arrived, and they finally answered the door, her father’s whiny nasally voice finally assailed our ear drums. He demanded to know what we were doing there and my wife told him. I stood back and let her do what I know only she could, confront the man she was forced to call father, and the man who forced her to blow him, give him hand jobs, and who sodomized her at least once for not doing a chore.

Within two minutes (we recorded the encounter on our phone), he told my wife’s mother to go call the cops while he “handled” this. Two minutes of confrontation and the child molester threatened (though he never followed through) to call the cops on us.

It’s really difficult not to squash someone who not only raped your wife but is still trying to cover his behind (I know, like he’s going to confess? someone this evil just does what the man who made the “Hillary’s America” tape discovered that all con men do…stick to the con…another words “deny, deny, deny”).

He greeted us bare chested, like he was trying to be intimidating with his 60 year old pasty pot belly.

My wife stuck to her guns and for that I’m so proud of her. My favorite line of the nine minute confrontation, was when he accused her of being crazy (that’s an original one, right?…he’s evil as sin, but he doesn’t have one brain cell left in his balding head) If you don’t know how awful it is to be abused by a parent, intimidated since you were born by a monster, beat up, lied to, etc. you won’t know how amazing she was. When he asked her if she was crazy, trying to turn things on her, like oh so many bullies, she replied like butter, “No are you?!”

She has stood up to them a few times over the decades but not about this…not about all the evil things they had done to her…and after remembering the worst possible moments of her life this year, when she finally confronted them, she was able to stick to her integrity in the actual moment, not 10 hours later or several days or weeks, but in the moment, she turned his accusation right back on him, and he didn’t follow that thread anymore. In the moment! That’s huge! I’m so proud!

However, calling her crazy at all, pissed me off and my “in the shadows” bit was harder to hold, and I told him what for, and called him a child molester to his face, which felt really good. Then out of the shadows that he’d been hiding in, he actually steps up and bares his nasty gross blobby chest to me (I’m 6’2″ and he’s like 5’1″ or something) and says “What’d you call me?”

I repeated what i had said, holding back the healthy impulse to plant my fist in his face. I had brought my hiking stick with me, for just such purposes. I squeezed the stick instead of him, and told him off for raping his own children and nephews. Then my wife continued what she had to say through tears only the people who have a monster for a parent know…

The mom eventually returned with a phone but had not called the police. I told them heartily that we’d love to involve the police. Florida is one of the states without a statute of limitations on the crimes committed against my wife, her brother, and at least their two cousins by these creeps. I don’t understand a statute of limitations on child molestation the more I learn about it all. It can take some people many years or even decades to remember what  all of us would fervently want to forget. I volunteered that we all get in our vehicles and continue the discussion at the sheriff’s office. Oddly, they didn’t seem inclined to do this.

After my wife confronted both of them and her dad eventually just ignored us and pretended to be be fooling with the phone, like we’d be afraid of the cops intervening when we’d done nothing illegal, my wife finally had had enough and made her peace that she was only responsible for her actions. She had stood up to the two people who had terrorized and raped and molested her since her earliest memories…the bravest thing that I have ever seen her do…maybe the bravest thing that I have ever witnessed. She had confronted them and they offered only accusations, lies, and omissions. She can’t force them to confess, but she could do what she had done, finally stand face to face and toe to toe with the two demons who had raped her for years, and even let herself cry and bawl in front of them. Which was also incredibly brave to finally show emotion to these monsters…like many of us who grow up with monsters, we learn to kill our hearts in a vain attempt to deprive them of their sustenance…like trying to deprive a shark of the scent of blood. Her parents, like my father, only fed on tears, anger, and hurt. It excited them because they’re sociopaths who show no real emotions of their own but who need to feed off the healthy emotions of those whom they can abuse, torture, and make suffer.

Yet for the first time in a very long time, she reclaimed her tears, knowing now that her emotions are a threat to the people who once devoured them. Healthy emotions drive us to change, to recorrect or redirect our lives and environments. Now as a grown woman and not as the defenseless child, her tears and her anger are a threat to them, as I witnessed how fast he wanted us gone.

The mom wanted to have a longer conversation. She wanted to show my wife, things and cards that my wife had made them while growing up, like “proof” of her happy childhood. She loves to play this dopey southern lady act, and while the father was fuming and trying his best to pretend to be intimidating, his wife was doing her best innocent impression. Like my wife loving her parents as all children do, regardless of how monstrous they are, would be proof that them both raping her for years was just a bad dream. Really sandra?! I wrote all those same kind of letters and cards to my parents, especially as projects in school and Sunday school. I loved my dad like crazy, yet, it never once changed how monstrous he was and is still today. That’s part of what makes raping your own children even more demonic…not that all child abuse isn’t demonic, but raping these bright eyed little precious souls who adore you???! God said it’d be better to have one of those great big giant old mill stones tied to your neck and drowned in the sea than what’s coming for those who prey on children!

Despite their different masks that they wear to hide their sins, they both stick together and lied through their teeth. They’ve been hiding each other’s sins for only God knows just how long, but at least around 40 years. The give away was in their “answers” and responses to the situation, and the simple fear in their eyes. It was good to see fear in their eyes…the fear of the guilty. Fear should be in the eyes of everyone who does such evil.

Finally, the dad just started ignoring us and pretended to call the sheriff, after about 8-9 minutes of confrontation (he couldn’t even stand under 10 minutes of reality and in your face simple questions and truthfulness). He’s dumb as a brick, but it was a basic cordless home phone, and the number for 9-1-1 hasn’t changed. Yet, he had the phone on speaker, and was asking some computerized voice something about the sheriff’s office, while he awkwardly sat on a exercise bike on the porch.

I told him, that we’d take him up on the offer and that we’d meet him at the sheriff’s office. We left and went straight there and formally filed charges against both of them. Funny, they never showed up…

It’s in the hands of God and the legal system now, but hopefully these two could face jail time before long. Two more child molesters behind bars, would mean a safer place for the other kids that live on their street, and in their hometown, and who are exposed to them in anyway. All who are believers, I ask for your prayers for justice for the two monsters who paraded as ministers…as parents…and as good neighbors…all as a front to hide the malicious and insidious evil in their pitiless and utterly remorseless hearts.

Whatever happens in this life, they will stand before the Great White Throne of Judgment when no one will be able to lie ever again (much less stand in the face of true Purity and Holiness and Goodness). They may think that they’ve escaped, like so many others, but no one is getting by with anything. The Bible says that even every idle word spoken we’ll give account for on that day.

—It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

Hebrews 10:31

 

 


Ever get an insult so stupid that it makes your day? This is Mark again, Rebecca has decided to leave this blog alone for the time being, and has graciously offered me a place to vent about her crazy family. I know we all have “crazy” families, but do you ever meet one of those families that make your family look like the Cleavers? (from the old old show “Leave it to Beaver” for those of you who didn’t grow up with good old fashioned television shows). And that’s with my own father being extremely abusive and living to hurt others.

Today, I found out that my brother-in-law hates me so much that he’s been inventing incredible stories about me to justify why his sister would leave their wonderful and loving child molesting family.

I’ve never had a fan club before, “and I just want to thank all the little people, who without them, I wouldn’t be here” sniff sniff.

It can really make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside to realize that someone is obsessed with you. Thank you Aaron Perry. My first real fan! If you need letter head for the club, just let me know. Also I can send some 8″ X 10″ head shot glossies (with autograph of course 😉 ), just keep me posted…

Apparently, to justify why his sister wouldn’t want to be around their “wonderful” family (who he can’t tolerate as well…at least no longer than necessary 😉 ), this wonderful beautiful family who shares everything…and I do mean everything,…well to justify why his actually beautiful and actually charming and actually good sister wouldn’t want to hang out with their fag of a father and lezbo of mother, (I mean they’re completely heterosexual…unless it’s with their own kids. Just your typical loving all american family. ), to justify why my wife wouldn’t want to hang out with the sick, twisted, demon-loving, hypocritical pedophiles…apparently he says that I”m a cult leader like Jim Jones and that my brilliant smart as a whip wife has been brain washed by me personally.

Wow!! I”m not even a small time cult leader to my brother-in-law, not even one like Joseph Smith or Charles Taze Russell and I’m not one of the many countless nameless faces of the millions of long forgotten cults of history, like followers of Ann Lee,…love and hate flow in the same stream and to my brother-in-law, i’m not some petty conman or just anybody. I’m up there with the biggies, Jim Jones. I guess it’d be something like if you were hated by someone you loved and they were going around behind your back and saying that you stole stuff from them and that you were a thief…but not like any thief… you were like Al Capone!, They didn’t invent a story of you being a common petty thief, a regular Joe Smoe burglar… no you are the stuff of legends.

I just don’t know what to say Aaron. Your hate for someone you’ve had barely 4 or 5 conversations with (and they were so minimal because your head was so far up your butt that classifying them as conversations is a real stretch…maybe that’s why they seemed more like you were grunting). And we had one sort of argument because you were literally harassing your sister and she didn’t want to talk with your nappy hateful tail… but to receive all this obsession, well I’m just humbly flattered.

 


For those of you who follow this blog to hear the words and poetry of my wife, I just want to let you know that this is her husband once again.

My wife has been through the most devilish and diabolical crimes at the expense of her innocence.

Unfortunately, I know she is one of many who have suffered sexual predation at the hands of parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents and other trusted people whom God Himself entrusted them to…only to be raped, molested, sodomized, and terrorized.

After writing my last post, “Angry Husband”, it gave me some breathing room. Those of us who are husbands and wives of sexual abuse victims know an acute pain that only other spouses whose beloved have been the victims and targets of sick perverted sexual encounters with parents, relatives and even “friends” of the family.

I just want to tell the story in my own words… just to get it out of my system. This may just be one or two more posts, or it may be several, so for any who just read to hear my wife speak or write, I apologize, as I am not her equal at all in wordsmithing. I only long for a place to tell my story and I find that by writing many pent up emotions and feelings can be put to words and made to feel more real and less threatening. Especially, we men tend to bottle up words until we are like a Coca Cola that has been thoroughly shaken, or we sadly, men and women just choose to kill our hearts altogether, or find one of thousands of addictions to numb the soul…

This is some of my story…

My wife cut her parents out of her life by her choice… somewhere around 9 years ago. Like so many trauma survivors, she had repressed almost all the memories of the rape out of her mind (but never the heart, no matter what we do in life to try to forget, our hearts always point to the truth, especially as believers and followers of Christ, because as it’s often quoted in Ezekiel, he takes our old stony sinful heart out and replaces it with a heart with a strong heartbeat of warm, vibrant, and alive flesh when we give our lives to Jesus). Some people don’t understand why people repress memories. The simplest answer is a question, “Would you want to remember being raped even once by your mother or father…much less years of being used by both parents for their own sexual gratification?”. Of course not! None of us would want to remember! Still some query…”How do you forget an event so unforgettable in the the worst way?” To that, the simple answer for most victims is, “SURVIVAL” and “SANITY”.

When you are living as a child with the people who consistently abuse you and have sex with you, threatening to kill you, having almost complete power over you, you must make a choice! What are you going to do with this devastation, especially when you aren’t even old enough to support yourself? Do you as a 3 or 4 year old child all the way to around 12 (the general age of my wife’s memories when most of the abuse happened), choose to remember and go toe to toe with your parents? Of course not! Not one of us has that kind of capacity. Our parents have almost complete power over us as children, and unless someone else sees what’s going on, so many children, like my wife, continue to get violently raped, molested, and so on. It’s not safe to “remember” when you are living with your tormentors and captives. Who needs to buy a child out of the sex trade industry when you can just have one born to you??

So when it’s your parents doing the raping, and especially BOTH parents, for almost a decade (my wife’s earliest memories of being raped start out with her earliest memories, remembering her mom penetrating her while in diapers). Sandra, her mother, did that until around the time she was 10-12. As my wife got older, it wasn’t “natural” for her to sit or be held in her mother’s lap, so late at night after she went to bed, she’d hear the  sound of footsteps approaching her door. Her mother would enter the room, my wife could feel her presence as she stood over her, and  then she would lay down in bed behind her and slip her fingers beneath her underwear, where she would penetrate and rape her with her fingers until we assume, Sandra would achieve orgasm.

Gary, her father, was much more violent in his sexual abuse. She was viciously and forcibly held down and sodomized for not doing a chore, and he chose to anally rape his daughter to “punish” her for forgetting the chore. Mostly, she was forcibly orally raped by her Gary forcing her to perform fellatio until he reached orgasm, then he would forcibly grab her face in a death grip and force his tongue down her throat. He would change this routine up sometimes and violently hold her wrists together with his vice grip like hands and use her hands to achieve sexual gratification.

All this time, his parents were not only raping their precious daughter, but were allowing her to stay with her aunt and uncle, Stella and Eddie, whom Gary had helped conceal the fact his entire life to this day, that Eddie raped all five of their sisters growing up, Shirley, Wanda, Phyllis, Diane, and one whom I can’t remember her name.

I don’t know what got into him on a  particular day, but years ago, before the memories started resurfacing, and we had a relationship of sorts with her parents, Gary, told me while we driving somewhere. (He was driving because he had to be “in control” at all times.) Anyway, he told me casually, that Eddie had raped every single one of his sisters and his mother, this nasty crone of a woman, named Geneva Perry, had told him not to tell on Eddie because the police would take him away from them…

At the time I met Rebecca, Eddie has already been tried, convicted and sentenced for three life sentences for raping Diane’s daughter, Krystal, and also for raping both his oldest daughters, Kathy and Annette, (forgive me if I don’t spell the names correctly for the few of you who actually love these innocent girls, that some of you call cousin, daughter, niece, or even friend), and also another girl who was 16 and to my knowledge mentally incapacitated, whom Eddie had convinced that he was her “boyfriend”. His family, (i’m not sure which ones, except I’m pretty sure the aunt whose name that I can’t remember was the one who dragged her brother off this young girl), actually found them in the backseat of a car and drug him off her in the middle of him taking advantage of this mentally handicapped girl, and then my wife’s aunt screamed at the girl telling her that she was a slut and a whore, and adulterer. Once again, another nauseating example of the Perry family blaming the victims for the crimes of the perverts and perpetrators.

Rebecca had also been raped by Eddie on several occasions, but her parents wouldn’t allow her to testify at the trial or even go on record that he had raped her. They told her that they were protecting her. This, among many things, made much more sense years later as Rebecca’s memories came back…trickling at first for several years, then cascading like a waterfall this year, as she’s worked with a very intelligent and gifted psychologist and as she and i have talked countless hours over each grueling detail as the flashbacks come.

As a spouse of a sexual abuse survivor it can be very lonely. Obviously, there are many signs and symptoms that something  is very very wrong…long before these memories came trickling and then rushing back. There has been an emotional dam between us since dating, and it has caused her to refrain from most things emotional, especially things that trigger flash backs, which due to the extensive abuse has covered most areas of our lives…even conversations.

She had to watch every word around her parents for fear of being attacked, belittled, ridiculed, silenced, made fun of, etc. One day joking with her dad would elicit a laugh and the next it would elicit a slap in the face, usually in front of company. Somehow apparently, he felt most like “a man” by slapping or ridiculing his daughter in front of others. Sometimes, his friends, particularly his own personal disciple, Larry, would ridicule her so much until she cried, and that really made them laugh. I can’t imagine anyone enjoying making a child cry, much less their own daughter, but that’s one of the many ways Gary got his kicks.

Aaron, whom Rebecca remembers as she was climbing up into their treehouse, and witnessed Gary molesting Aaron, as well as the two sons (so Gary’s two nephews) of the other brother of Gary and Eddie, whom I can’t remember his name either. Gary and Sandra had two children, my wife, and her brother, Aaron. And Aaron didn’t escape the hell either, from the sexual abuse to the severe emotional and spiritual abuse. Aaron was chronically emasculated by his father, sexually, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Gary liked to imagine himself some kind of preacher or prophet of God, and used the Bible, the Word of the God regularly to abuse anyone who would listen, but of course his  children got the brunt of it. He regularly took the Bible out of context and cut and pasted it to his liking. He’d use the parts about children obeying their parents, but somehow leave out the bit about ” fathersdon’t provoke your children to anger, otherwise they might lose heart.”, or the parts about love. Apparently, he just made fun of people using “love” as a way to present God. Love was a cuss word to him and it offended him, so there weren’t any of his mock “sermons” that preached about the verse that tells us that it’s the kindness of God that leads us to repentance. Even David, the mighty warrior poet, speaks of God in Psalm 18 I believe and says, “Thy gentleness hath made me great.”.

He and Larry even revised one of the most touching and intimate stories in the Bible, in Jesus’s final moments on the cross, where one of the two thieves who had been mocking Jesus along with everyone else had a change of heart when he saw how Jesus was praying “Father…forgive them for they know not what they do.” This thief was convicted and basically told the other  thief to shut it, saying that they both deserved their punishment, but that Jesus was guiltless, and asked Jesus to remember him when He comes into His Kingdom. Jesus, who is love incarnate, forgave the repentant thief right then and there and comforted the one who had been mocking him only moments ago, by saying “Today, you’ll be with me in paradise”.

Gary and his cohort, Larry, revised the story, removing the heart of the story, “love”. They, (and using this word with them is laughable, but anyway,) they “preached” the story with a question mark at the end of Jesus’s precious words, so “Today you’ll be with me in paradise?” Even in this beautiful story the love of God which is much more powerful than all their nastiness and hate and perversion, is offensive to them and they preach Jesus using sarcasm and mocking the thief, like “yea right! like you’ll be with me in paradise today?”

Besides the complete lack of context, or even the nonexistence of a simple question mark at the end of this sentence, and going against the Love of Almighty God, they perverted and distorted this simple and beautiful example of God’s perfect love. But Gary has “preached”  and twisted this Bible verse along with countless others to suit his idol, himself.

I just use this example of what kind of environment, my wife and her brother, grew up in. Their parents weren’t content with even sexually abusing them, they had to master and distort each part of their world. Constant ridicule! Aaron who was born with dyslexia, was beaten cruelly because he didn’t do well enough in school, and was being “disobedient”, which of course was reinforced by Bible verses taken out of context (which I doubt Gary even knows what context is) and beaten over the head (as well as mercilessly whipped) to make him feel like a spiritual failure as well.

Unfortunately, by the time I came along, Aaron had went from being known as a kind young man, to a very bitter person. He’s been full of hate since I’ve known him. He hates me for no reason. We had an argument once, when he was hounding my wife, when she first chose to separate from her family. I tried talking with him, or texting with him, because he mainly chose to text his venom at me.

He can hate me all he wants. I don’t hate him back. And it’s not because he’s such a swell guy…he’s been a real stinker. He’s become a bully like many children of abusive parents and chosen to align himself with the people who tormented him since birth. Though it’s not from the heart, word is, he’s simply waiting for his parents to die so he can collect the inheritance. So he plays the “good” and “loyal” son right now. He’s so full of hate, I pity him, and I love him, because love is a choice.

My wife has a good chunk of pictures from her childhood. She’s exorcised the ones of her parents, but whenever I see the little boy that is Aaron, all the way to young man, sometimes looking serious, sometimes goofing off, my heart breaks for all he’s endured and I pray for him. Jesus, the real Jesus, not the weird golden calf version whom his cultist father and mother created and worship, but the real loving Jesus died for him. He died for every sin he’d ever commit, just because God wants to spend eternity with Aaron in Heaven…

I know it’s really difficult to separate, especially, when your parents were part of a small time cult of churches simply known as “The Church of Jesus Christ” located in North Central, Florida, where many many instances of child abuse have happened. God works in weird ways, but my first and only sister in law, my brother’s first wife, was raised in the exact same “church”, except it was the one in Horseshoe Beach, Florida…”The Church of Jesus Christ”. My wife’s parents ran their own in Lake City, Florida, and there were at least 3 or 4 other “churches” with the same name who formed a loose alliance. Anyway, there was rampant child sexual predation in my sister-in-laws part of the cult in Horseshoe Beach and there was rampant sexual predation in the one ran by my wife’s parents and aunt and uncle (Stella and Eddie), and there was another one, in another of the cultist “churches” whose granddaughter had accused her grandfather “the pastor”, of sexual abuse.

I think since it’s a loose confederation, most think that they are the only ones who are sexually abused (as well as physically, verbally, emotionally, and spiritually), and the people in this cult aggressively attack the victims by saying that they are “coming against a man of god”. Nothing could be further from the truth. These are not men and women of Jesus. They serve a god but it’s not Jesus, it’s their own caricature of Jesus, just like the children of Israel claimed that the golden calf WAS the same god who had freed them from Egypt and parted the Red Sea. They weren’t claiming it was another god, they were saying it was Jesus (though he wasn’t known by that name for another 1440 years).

Anyway, having all these horrific details and pictures in my head, makes my heart very sad and sick and broken. I know there are other survivors of abuse and other husbands and wives of those survivors. It’s a shame we most all suffer in silence. You feel like the spouse of a deadly disease when people do find out. And you desperately desire your spouse to receive warmth and compassion and justice, but you want to be able to tell your story as well.

So my wife is graciously allowing me to use her blog to tell my story. If I continue to write on here, some of my posts may be pure anger (which is healthy, if any crime deserves anger, it’s child molestation), and some may be sorrow. For those of you who took the time to read this longer post, I thank you. For anyone who wants to share your thoughts, I invite you to. It’s haunting and infuriating to have such repulsive images in your head and in your heart (I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be the victim…). I can understand why even if some victims weren’t mortally threatened like my wife was, why they might try to forget and or suppress such terrible acts by horrible people. This is a terrible world…I look forward to the day when God makes all things new (Revelation 21-22). It won’t always be this way. God has a plan, and even though it’s difficult to discern during times of terror and tragedy…I believe, because I choose to believe His Word, that it’s a good plan…one day, the night of mourning will be over, and then only Joy for all those who chose to align themselves with Him, the source of all Goodness, and not with the evil one, who is the one behind every tragedy and terror in this world right now. One day, he’ll get what’s coming to him and according to the Bible, when we see him, we’ll even all laugh at satan, and question “is this he who decieved the nations?”

Apparently when all the saints see satan, it will be much like when i see my paltry diminutive father in law, his bearing and looks and personality and demeanor are all very comical. He’s just a little piss ant. My mother in law, is the same. It must be the effect of such soul evil and ugliness. They were only a terror to children. Seeing them as adults, my father in law resembles a pot bellied pig that talks, except with loose skin and sagging eyes that droop with years of evil. If  he ever had any strength, it has long since dried and withered like a fruit left too long on the vine or limb.

I think evil has a physical effect on you. My mother in law, Sandra Perry, is like a hag who tries her best to appear non threatening like a witch in a story book. Her skin is sallow. She could be a creature from Guillermo Del Toro’s stories, like Babayaega from Hellboy (the new one), children’s bones litter her countertops and table, and if she ever possessed any beauty it has long since abandoned her and nothing but ugliness remains.

 

Angry Husband


Any regular subscribers to this blog, you may want to pass this one, because it’s meant for a very specific audience, namely all the child molesting perverts, small time cult leaders (the Perry Family Child Molester Religious Hypocrite Ring that’s actually part of a loosely connected cult of similar “churches” who preach the same message in North Central, FL…my sister in law is from Horseshoe Beach and her parents were part of the same kind of cult there. Her and her siblings have all been sexually molested too) and cowards that sexually abused my wife.

My name is Mark Henry, this is my wife’s blog, and I know certain snakes still peruse this blog changing names and identities to get access, like a snake sheds one skin and grows another, Aaron Perry.

Maybe you bunch of sick twisted devils think you have gotten away with it all, but thanks to the real Jesus (not the child molesting narcissistic idol that Gary and Sandra and Eddie created and preached while they raped their owned children), the Holy God of the Bible, there are at least three witnesses to every crime, The Father, The Son and the Holy Ghost whom you blaspheme daily with your lifestyle.

The Lord Jesus Rebuke You! From the perverted Perry’s to the cowardly Christie’s (except for Becky’s Aunt Lynn, who’s been a champion for Rebecca since she heard about it), no one’s getting by with anything. It’s a fearful thing to fall into the Hands of the Living God. Your day is coming, you sick twisted demons.

Today also, we have this thing called Psychology, and repressed memories, and Rebecca is working with an excellent Doctor helping her process all the wicked nasty things each of you are guilty of in one way or another, from hiding it, to doing it, to looking the other way, and the Christies from hearing about it but doing nothing, Cowards!

You all make me sick and you stink in the nostrils of a Holy God! You dance with demons and think you’ll come away the better for it??

The only one with any sense, Mary Martha Christie, warned her son Donnie long ago, not to have anything to do with those Perry’s. She saw that there was something off about them, but since she’s not here to ask, we’ll never know exactly what she was trying to save her family from.

If she did warn her daughter too (who is nothing like her mother), Sandra obviously didn’t listen. Why?? Because she likes  little girls just like her nasty husband! Sandra Perry molested and raped her daughter for years, often right in the presence of Gary and Aaron. While Gary and Aaron were busy doing whatever or  watching television, she  sat with Becky in her lap in that ugly wooden chair with the 70’s style cushions that rocked back and forth, playing with her daughter’s vagina, since Rebecca’s earliest memories. Always looking like she just had her hands sitting between her babies legs, while she rocked back and forth, playfully touching and penetrating her little precious girl’s vagina. You nasty hag! Do you think to escape the fires of Hell???

You’ve played on everyone’s sympathy for years, acting like a innocent country bumkin, and soaking up all the pity for the way the man you willingly chose treated you. You are a sick twisted pervert! Your good mother would be utterly ashamed of you and disown you. She was concerned for Becky when all the crap hit the fan with Eddie, but when she asked you if Eddie had molested Becky… to her face you lied with your forked tongue and told  her that Eddie did not, even though you KNEW that he did not only molest your own daughter Becky, but also Krystal (your niece) and Kathy and Annette (his oldest daughters). You’ve protected child molesters at every turn, you Godless hypocrite! How dare you?? You have no love in your wretched and shriveled heart, only cold pride and false pretenses! You and Gary wouldn’t even let Becky testify  when Eddie was brought to trial! You were too afraid that everyone was getting too close to the truth and would find out your dirty secret! And when she asked for help after she and the other girls remembered what Eddie had done to them, she wanted to get therapy, you flat refused! You didn’t want her exploring and digging up those repressed memories did you?? You witch!

Did you think the truth would never get out? You lied straight to the only person involved in Becky’s life who actually gave a crap about her (or any of the kids)! You abomination of a mother! Always protecting yourself. Always covering up!! Good mother’s will fight or die for their children, and especially anyone trying to hurt or rape or molest their little girl and little boy! But you are a wicked vile coward, and a nasty pervert! You cruel selfish arrogant manipulative crone! You deserve no pity, but only humiliation and fear for God’s righteous judgment to come!

Gary, when Rebecca climbed up into the treehouse, and caught you molesting Aaron, Mackie and Johnny, you freaked out!! You not only were molesting your own son and nephews, but you slammed your 5-7 year old little girl in the chest, knocking her all the way to the ground from the top of a treehouse!! You sick freak! You could have killed her?! But that wasn’t enough, in the sight of all 4 children, you drove a freaking truck over your little girl, straddling her tiny body with your vehicle to let all 4 know that if they told, you would kill them!

No one wonders why all these random Perry’s are turning gay??? Well when your dad or uncle rapes you repeatedly, it tends to really jumble things up inside, because any person with a Bible and a thimble of common sense knows something is off or wrong when a man desires another man or a woman desires another woman. But no one is looking any closer???!!! You don’t care about the men in your family who are gay, you’d rather pat them on the back and congratulate them (and congratulate yourself for being so open minded [when you’re really just covering your own tail] instead of actually wondering what happened that would have wounded them and confused them so much, instead of looking at the heart. You don’t want to look at the heart, because your hearts are vile and nasty and full of all kinds of God hating wickedness. God is sick of it, His mercy has an expiration date! I’m sick of it, you nasty vile demons!

People go gay, because they’ve been severely sexually wounded (molested, abused, raped) and have to bury those memories to survive a demonic family. It’s not rocket science! But all you would rather look the other way, than look deeper at the 3 men Perrys who are gay. Why??? Because you’ll have to face up to your own sin and wickedness! But God sees and nobody is getting by with anything! Self righteous people on the “left” and “right” use gay people for their own arrogant agenda, but God wants to save them and heal their hearts, just like God wants to save all of us from our sins and heal all our hearts! No one deserves to be sexually abused!

Gary raped not only his son, and his two nephews (as far as we know now), but he raped his daughter many many times! Anally raping her around when she was 12 and telling her it was her fault and punishment for not doing some  chore! What vile wickedness! You nasty wretch! You insult to masculinity and fatherhood! You’ve been a vile hypocrite all your life! Did you think, that God didn’t see? You make me sick! To think that I ever shook your hand or ugggh hugged you, treating you as a father-in-law, when you raped my wife you sick turd! God is a God of justice, and your false gospel you’ve preached, making God into your own image instead of being conformed into His image, is nauseating in the nostrils of a Holy and Loving God!

You’ve both had a lifetime to repent. You have the Bible. The truth is been right there in front of you all this time, but you’ve spit on the cross. You talked about the “love of God” with a sneer, because you don’t know Him at all. Your whole lifestyle mocks God. And in Galatians 6:7,8 “Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting. !”

You’ve both sown to your fleshly lusts, and God is pissed!

Been a while…


Some days I feel like I don’t exist anymore… and in some ways I suppose I don’t.  I am not the girl I was  years ago… I am not the woman I was a few months ago.  I am changing all the time.  For the longest time I fought that tooth and nail…I thought that was a bad thing.  I thought that changing meant I was losing a piece of myself ~or worse ~ all of myself.  I thought I would not be me anymore.  Turns out – I wasn’t.  But that is ok.  I began this blog to journal my healing journey.  I have been runnin’ a lot lately.  I have been hidin’.  I have been sneakin’ around hidin’ behind syntax and proper grammar.  I have been flowerin’ up my language and tryin’ to be proper.  Truth is, I am so angry.  I am so dang mad I could scream…and have!  I have screamed, cried, prayed… I have felt lost and confused and abandoned.  I have felt needy and weak.   It feels like the deeper I dig the more junk I find and I feel like I will never be ‘done’.  Like I will always find more junk to dig out and toss away.  My current list – well, it’s loooong – but I am working on it.

I found someone in my family decided to throw away a 20 year marriage, he has just thrown it away and utterly failed his wife and son.  He has been cruel and abusive and I am so disappointed in him.  He hurls insults and he is so hateful.  I doubt I would even recognize him anymore.  Not that we are close.  Those days are long over.

I am still working on my trauma therapy, having been beaten, raped, molested, abused…I just want to live, you know?  To really live.  I find myself tiptoeing around – literally.  I find myself trying to make myself small and not to be a bother.  I find myself waiting on the pain to rain down on me.  It is killing me.  It is killing my marriage.  My husband married me, but got this docile, hiding, timid woman instead.  I don’t even know who I am some days.

I am … well, not thriving… but hoping to thrive.  I am tired of living on bread and water when there is steak and wine.  I am ready to have my heart feast instead of hide.  I want to swim in the ocean of emotion … swim, and possibly, drown.  But I am ok with that.  I don’t want control anymore.  I want to be lost.DSC_0167

Codependence


Hi, my name is Becka and I am codependent.  I got a chip at my first CoDA meeting and I am taking things one day at a time.  I am step by step journeying back into my life ~ breaking free of this disease and learning to be healthy and whole.   I know I have a long uphill battle ahead.  I know this won’t be easy.  This codependency has seeped its way into nearly every aspect of my life and the depths of my mental illness has permeated me to my very core.  I go days, sometimes, feeling nothing at all.

Numb…such a hateful four-letter word.  I used to think it equated to safety but now I see it for what it is.  The destroyer of all my humanity.  My empathy, compassion, warmth, silliness, passion, anger… all faded to apathy and numbness until my world was all grey and I forgot what color looked like… what color felt like.  I forgot what love felt like, what warmth felt like… I even forgot the fierce red heat of anger, I forgot the beautiful blues of sadness and all the vibrant hues of desire.

I found the stair-case…now I am climbing out… Becka-Dragon Girl… hear me roar…