Cry Out!

By Dr. Cynthia D. Cole

Dr. Cole writes to share about what it's like to grow-up with an abusive father and no one else knows about it. Connect and understand her journey as she shares, learns, connects with others, and finally accepts and grow to an independent adult. It's a world that finally knows what's it like to finally understand that God has a purpose and loves all of his children. Learning to love oneself, family, friends, with the guidance of God's love, faith, trust, and confidence is a major accomplishment for Dr. Cole. She feels and knows there are many like herself, now, past and future that she needs to share her personal experience to help others to cry out with faith, love, confidence, and trust in God that she will overcome the inequities of abuse to a Christian life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 16, 2012
• ISBN: 9781468540154

Dr. Cynthia D. Cole

I am qualitfied to write this book because it is about my life. It is about my life experience and the journeys that have created the woman that I am today. Writing this book about my life has facilitated my overcoming many personal obstacles that I felt were preventing me from realizing my fullest potential in my life to myself and others. I was abused as a child and it took many years for me to overcome and understand that I am important, meaningful, and great as I exist at this time. I now understand the importance of family, friends, and God's presence in my life. My personal accomplishments have facilitated my ability to write this book. I have completed educational milestones to a PHD in Psychology which has also provided clarity to my personal well-being and health. I have come to understand myself, family and others on a higher level of learning. I currently reside in Pensacola, Florida after retiring from the U.S. Navy for 20 years.

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© 2012 by Dr. Cynthia D. Cole. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 01/04/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4685-4016-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-4015-4 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 1

Growing Pains

Brewton, Alabama is a small town where I was born in an area called Pea Ridge, Alabama on Aug 27, 1960. When I was born I had two brothers, Otis and Ozzie. They are both seven years older than me. Ozzie and I have the same mother, Daisy, and Otis and I have the same father, Ruel. My mother and father, Daisy and Ruel Floyd, were married in 1958 and we had bought a very small house where we all lived. My brother, Ozzie, always looked out for me and when I turned three, he started to take me places with him and his friends, on my mother’s orders, of course.

My sister, Edwina, was born in 1962, and I don’t remember much about her except for what my parents and family told me. My parents say that she was very different from me, she was very aggressive. My brother, Ozzie, says that she was very sweet and always wanted to sleep with him. At a year and a half, she became very sick. My parents say that she had an enlarged heart. She was admitted to McMillan Hospital which was the only hospital in Brewton, which at the time wasn’t very good. After several months of being there, my parents decided to take her to Pensacola, Fl. A physician stated that they wanted to give her a shot before she was discharged from McMillan, and when my father was taking her to the car and was placing her in the back seat to rest, she collapsed and died. I don’t remember her except for her being in an incubator at the hospital and my time standing at the coffin during the funeral.

During the 60’s, racism existed, however, I was too small to realize it. My family seemed frustrated by it sometime, but I don’t remember them saying that it was as serious as it was maybe twenty years ago from the 60’s. My mother’s family, the Thomas’s and Griffins, visited us a lot from Evergreen, Alabama which was only an hour away from our house. We would always attend church where my father was raised with his great-aunt Big Mama; her real name was Julia, and the rest of his family. My father’s family was huge; there were three to four generations.

When we went to church on Sunday, it was an all-day event, typical of most church’s routine. I loved going to church and visiting my family, because I got so much attention from my great aunts and uncles. I was my Big Mama’s favorite, I know because she never hit me like she did the others and I never did anything to make her want to hit me. Basically, I was afraid so I always made sure I didn’t make the same mistakes they did to make Big Mama upset with them.

My brother Otis lived with mostly with my Big Mama and sometimes he would stay with us. Ozzie and Otis didn’t really like each other; I think they were jealous of each other. So Otis would not visit too often. I would miss him when he left and I wanted all of us to be together. Ozzie did not get along that well with my dad either he would always get in trouble because of skipping school or fighting. My dad was very controlling so he was very strict on me too.

I had a lot of friends during my middle and high school year and my dad would not allow me to be with them. He would always accuse me of boys and say that I was not to have my girlfriends call me because he knew that they were calling me to connect with boys. However, this wasn’t true but I could not convince him otherwise. I wish he had trusted me more.

My mother was somewhat passive when it came to discipline. She was always working with two or more jobs trying to make life better for us. She was always saying that she did not want to be poor like her parents and did not want any more kids. She was always buying new things like furniture, cars and clothes. My mother worked out of town in Andalusia, Al. at a shirt factory. My father worked in Brewton, Alabama, at a wood mill during the day in which he was able to take care of me while my mother wasn’t home. She also worked at Gleaton Cleaners during the day. Sometime after school or during the summer, I would go with her to work.

My mother was not very good at punishment. She whipped me once when I was kid, I don’t remember what it was about but I screamed at her that I hated her and she never whipped me again. However, she was very good at slapping me whenever I did or said something she didn’t like. Sometimes we would be out shopping and she would just turn and slap me and I would ask why she did that and she would say, You know why, but I didn’t most of the time.

During my elementary school years, we purchased a house in Brewton, Al which was very small. My father was a carpenter too so he built two more bedrooms, a den and carport onto the house. We were the typical family; we would have school, work during the week. On Saturdays, we would go to Pensacola, Fl, which is only about an hour from our house.

We would always go and visit my grandfather (on my father’s side) and his sisters while we were there. If we didn’t go I would always beg to see my grandfather. I loved him so much and he would always have a dollar for me whenever I came to visit him. I would have visited him anyway even if he did not have any money. He was so funny and he could always make me laugh. Occasionally, my parents would let me spend the night with him and I would have so much fun.

We didn’t really do anything that much, just sitting around talking and playing. I remember one night, he was drinking and he asked his wife, Jesse, to fix him another drink. When he lifted the glass to drink, the bottom fell out of it, and his face was hilarious. I laughed so hard at him but his wife didn’t think so because she