Staying Me!: I’M Still Here, I’M Still Blessed! I’M Still Loved, I’M Still Me!

By Sarah M. Garcia

The old saying goes, The Truth Will Set You Free! I believe that is true.
The time for hiding the truth is over. It is time to clear the air and set
ourselves free from all of the hiding and lying. Those of us who were
victims, whether it be by choice or by circumstance. Its time to let the bad
memories be buried and the good ones come to the service. I feel very free
after writing this book and I hope it will help someone else feel that freedom
too. I hope that I have inspired forgiveness in those that have had a hard time
forgiving. Most of all remember to honor our Father in heaven with the truth!
I made a lot of choices I would not make now as Im sure is true of most. I know
that not everyone is comfortable with the truth. The Truth will set you free!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781462834488

Sarah M. Garcia

As the only girl born to a family of six boys Sarah’s main goal was to survive. She was forced into a marriage at seventeen and again the goal was to survive. When she was forced to make some hard choices to protect her child. Fighting to find a way to raise her son and survive in a world she was never prepared for. Then fighting to keep her child from a mother seeking revenge. Sarah fell in love once more. She married for the second time and after living in a very hard relationship and having two more children she was forced to leave the husband that betrayed her. Raising a teenage daughter alone and life beating her up, Sarah found herself falling in love for a third time. Sarah and Gabe found themselves adopting three children. Sharing the joy that the three boys her daughter brought into there lives Sarah and Gabe felt they were blessed. Gabe and Sarah decided to make a change and moved to The Dalles Oregon where Sarah fought a battle of cancer. The Garcia family is thriving in The Dalles now and feeling very Blessed!

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Copyright © 2010, 2014 by Sarah M. Garcia.

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Rev. date: 12/01/2014

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Dedication

I dedicate this book to my loving husband who has stood by me through so much and has never made one disrespectful or mean comment about my past or our life. The one person I know I can always depend on and who truly loves me in spite of myself!

I also dedicate this book to those I love and hope it gives them a better understanding of who I am and what my goals in life are. Also to all of those who think there life has been unfair.

Introduction

When reading this book, please know that every detail is true and I lived through it all. I didn’t live through it alone, and there were many people involved with the directions my life took. Some of this story will be hard to read as it was hard to write. Please do! Allow yourself to feel and try and be as those are really all there are in this world. Most of all, remember that everyone has a story, and some are worse than others. Don’t be judgmental; you never know when you will be in the middle of stuff and need someone to understand.

I changed the names of everyone so no one person would feel outed. It helps to know that you are not alone when it comes to personal tragedy. That’s what this is. I hope that anyone that reads this will feel less alone in their tragedy!!

Staying Me!

My story starts on July 31, 1954, in Bremerton, Washington. A baby girl was born. She was named Sarah M. Stubbin. She was born to Morgana Riah Zeban and Dontete R. Stubbin Sr. This child, this baby girl that was born with big blue eyes and whose dark-brown hair grew to her shoulders, was named after her older brother, Darious M. Stubbin. The story I was told was, either a relative or a friend had her baby the day before and took my name of Kathrin Anne or something like that. I have always felt like I never really had my own identity because of that story.

I Don’t ever remember feeling close to my mother as a child. I think it’s because I spent so much time with my grandparents from the time I was quite a little baby until I was about thirteen or fourteen. I Don’t remember a lot of hugs and kisses or games of patty-cake. I guess that is why it was so easy for my mother to hate me when things went bad in her life. I know that hate is a harsh word when referring to one’s mother, but that is exactly what it was. You’ll understand better as the story goes on.

As I look through my photo album, almost all the photos of me were taken at my grandparents’ house. Most of my happy childhood memories were with my grandparents. I spent a lot of time with them before I was school-age and during most summers when school would be over. The thought of going to stay with my grandparents for four to six weeks is what kept me going. I can remember that when I was little, my grandmother would make me some of the nicest dresses to wear. She would buy me shiny patent-leather shoes and lacy socks and take me to the Meier & Frank store. Sometimes we would sit at the soda fountain and have ice cream. She always treated me with such love, and I always felt so safe and loved by both my grandparents. My grandfather always treated me like a china doll. He could be so gruff at times, and most people didn’t see the soft side of him. It seemed to me that he was very rough on my brothers. Maybe he felt he had to be.

I was the second to be born. As I mentioned, I had an older brother named Homer, as we called him. One week before I turned one year old, my mother had a baby boy. My parents named him Reginald P. Stubbin. He had dark hair and big brown eyes. Not a month after Reggie (as we called him) turned one year old; another baby boy was born to my parents. They named him Preston L. Stubbin. Preston was a sickly baby, and for a while, the doctors thought he might have had a serious blood condition. It turned out that he was just seriously anemic. He recovered from this and didn’t seem to have any ill effects from the illness.

I’m not sure how much time had elapsed between Preston and the next baby boy that was born. My mother decided to name the baby Dontete R. Stubbin Jr. mostly to spite my dad as he claimed the baby wasn’t his. I didn’t see my dad again until I was about eight years old.

So here we were, the five of us, all together in this family. As far as I can remember, we were happy enough. I was told we were. I Don’t remember much about that time. I do remember my mother used to sing all the time. She had a lovely voice. She often sang us to sleep. This, however, was a short-lived happiness.

My mother met a man named Anton B. Bowden. He was nice enough. He was a little rigid about some things and not so much about others. One thing I remember is how he made us eat in a certain pattern. We would have to start at the right side and go clockwise until every bite was done. We weren’t allowed to speak while we were eating at all. Mom and Anton (what they called him for short) seemed to fight all the time. It seemed all of a sudden that Anton started being nice to us. He started putting me on his lap and hugging me a lot. Then he started to put his hands where they didn’t belong. Then he would put them inside my pants. This accelerated to a whole lot worse. During this time, my mother had another baby, another boy they named Lenard Anton Bowden. Very cute!

I don’t think it’s important to tell you the details about what Anton did to me. It really would serve no purpose for you to read it and have no purpose for me to have to read it. Quite frankly, it’s just too hard to rehash all that stuff over and over again. The one thing I will tell you is he did things that most married people won’t even do. I was so scared every time my mother would go next door or even leave the room as he would use it as an opportunity to touch me. One time in particular that I remember he was the worst is when my mother had to go to the dentist. I was home, sick from school, and in my bed. Anton called me downstairs for some lunch. I sat down at the table, expecting he would bring me some soup or something. I remember thinking it was awfully dark in the house, and then I noticed all the curtains were drawn. I was only six at the time, so I didn’t think much of it. Then Anton came out of the bedroom with no clothes on and told me I had to earn my lunch. He grabbed me by the hand, and for the entire day, I was in hell. He sent me to my room without offering me lunch, by the way. Not long after that, my mom came home.

Anton had told me that if I told anyone of this, he would kill my mother and my new baby brother. I was too scared to say anything.

Then one night as my mom and my five brothers and I were all eating dinner, my brother Reggie told my mom that Anton had been touching him on his privates. I must have lost the color in my face or something as my mom turned right to me and asked if he had been touching me too. All I could do was nod my head. I was crying, and I remember my mom asking me why I was crying. I told her that Anton was going to kill her and Lenard. When I told her that was what Anton had said, she started to cry. Mom went over to my brother Reggie and kissed him on the forehead, and I expected her to do the same to me. She walked right past me and gave me a dirty look. I remember just sobbing and really needing a hug from my mommy. It was obvious that wasn’t going to happen. From that moment on, it was like there was an invisible wall between us.

My mom called the police so they would pick Anton up at the bar where he often sat and drank his paycheck away. The police came and took us all to the station in a patrol car. I was so scared as I didn’t really understand what we were doing there. One by one, the police officer took us into a room to question us. My oldest brother, Homer, was only in there for a couple of minutes. Then it was my turn. They sat me down in a big wooden chair, and my mom and a woman officer and a man officer were all asking me questions. I was so confused and scared. I looked to my mother for some kind of comfort, and all I saw was this angry face. The officers asked me why I didn’t tell anyone about it. I told them of Anton’s threat to my mom and my baby brother. When they were finally Done, I felt sick to my stomach and alone. They told me to send Reggie in to see them next. He was in there for a while too. I don’t remember if they had Preston or Donte go in. They were awfully little, and I doubt it. The police officer took us home, and from that moment on, my mother treated me like I didn’t belong. Mom told us, It’s over now, and you are not to speak of this to anyone. It’s over, and I don’t want to hear about it. She looked right at me and said that if I said anything, I would be punished severely. I couldn’t talk about it, but it consumed my every thought. I would dream of Anton coming in the middle of the night and killing my mom and Lenard. I would dream of him putting his hands on me. I remember waking up in the middle of the night, crying and calling out. My mom would come into the room and tell me to shut up and quit being such a baby. After that, I tried very hard to not cry out.

I didn’t sleep much as I was afraid I would have a bad dream. I was afraid all the time. I found it strange that she treated me like that and not the boys. It was as if she was blaming me for the whole thing and they weren’t involved. It was not something that I ever understood. Every night, it was the same thing. I remember talking to God and asking him to help me. I’m not sure if you would call it praying in the traditional way, but I would talk to him. It often made me feel better, and I would fall asleep. The worst part of all of this is that Anton only spent eighteen months in a Walla Walla mental institution for what he did. I know this because I heard my mom telling someone that the bastard only got eighteen months for what he did to me. Not even in prison but in a mental institution.

The dust hadn’t even settled from all of this when Dontete R. Stubbin Sr. came to live with us. I didn’t know this man at all. The last time I saw him, I was only five. Not only did our dad move in with us, but he also brought his two daughters with him from a marriage he was in before he met my mom. Sharon and Patricia were their names. I had never met them before, nor had I heard of them. So here is a man I Don’t remember, and now there are two girls, who are much older than me, whom I have never met before, and they are moving into my room. So much was going on, and I was feeling very fragile. The first night, my dad came into the room and hugged and kissed me good night. Then he would go over to my half-sister’s beds, and I could hear him kissing and making moaning sounds for a long time. The sounds were familiar to me, and it made me feel sick to my stomach and so very scared. This went on every night for weeks. I wanted to tell my mom, but I didn’t feel like she would believe me. There wasn’t a lot of trust there. Every night, it was the same routine; he would say good night to me then spend a long time with Sharon and Patricia. One night, he did inform me that it wouldn’t be long before he and I would have a special relationship too. Until then, I was just to turn over and go to sleep and mind my own business. I was so scared of him and tried to avoid him. My mother didn’t like how I would avoid him and would make me sit on his lap. At night, I would pray to God to protect me and make all of this stop. I would just put the pillow over my ears and cry myself asleep.

One day, my mom and dad had to go somewhere and left Sharon and Patricia in charge. I don’t remember exactly what happened during this time, but I do remember that my parents were very mad and we were in trouble. One by one, we were sent into the bedroom, supposedly to get a spanking.

It came to my turn, and I was told by my dad to pretend to cry when he hit the bed. I did what I was told. I wasn’t quite sure what this was about. He was about to send me out of the room like he had actually spanked me, then he grabbed me and kissed me on the mouth. Not like a father kissing a daughter but like a man kissing a woman. Then he sent me out of the room like nothing had happened. That night after my dad had left the room, my two stepsisters came over to my bed and told me that I was to stay away from their dad or they would hurt me. Believe me, they didn’t have to threaten me, and I did continue to stay as far from him as I could. That evening, we were all downstairs watching TV. I went upstairs to go to the bathroom. Wouldn’t you know it, someone was in there! We had only the one bathroom for the ten of us. It was always busy. The thing to do was stand in line and wait. Soon the door opened, and out came my dad. Before I even knew what was happening, he grabbed me and started kissing me and touching me all over. I couldn’t even breathe. Then I heard my mother stomping up the stairs and yelling. My mother was a big woman, and I feared her. She grabbed me and practically threw me down the stairs. My heart was pounding, and I was so scared. I could hear my dad say that I was the one that instigated the whole thing! I was eight years old; she couldn’t really think it was my idea, could she? They yelled and screamed at each other for a long time. Then my dad left. I went to my mother for comforting, and she pushed me away and called me a horny little bitch. The next day, we went to school as if nothing had happened. When we came home, we could hear my mom and dad screaming at each other from outside. My brother Darious went in and found my dad was choking my mother. My brother ran next door and called the police. They came and arrested my dad and took him away and my two stepsisters too. I know he spent a small amount of time in jail or a mental institution for his crimes. We were living in a place that was called the projects at the time, and of course, everyone knew our business. So now there have been two men hauled off to jail from our house. Day after day went by, and there was no speaking of this. We would go to school and come home, and all I can remember is there was a lot of silence. I continued to pray and cry and have bad dreams and wet the bed every night. This was my life, and at that time, I thought this was going to be my life forever.

The day came when my mother met another man. He was a sailor and very nice. His name was Randy.

His last name was so long and hard to pronounce I don’t remember it. My mother seemed to be truly in love with this man, and he with her. He was very kind and very respectful, and most of all, he never made me feel like I was unsafe. Randy would come over whenever his ship was in port. My mother was very happy, and it seemed like what had passed was finally going to be just that, like a bad dream. Just a blur or a bad memory! Then Randy had to go out on his ship again, and Mom said she would wait for him. The USS Missouri was the name of the ship. That ship now has been decommissioned since then. I had the privilege of going on a tour of it just before they decommissioned it. Anyway, my mother started seeing another man while Randy was gone. His name was William P. Sanders. They dated quite a bit, and then they ended up being together all the time. We never saw Randy again. Will (as he liked to be called) was all nice and did everything he could to win all of us (me and my brothers) over. In the beginning, everything was okay. Will seemed nice and seemed to really care for my mother. One day, my brother Darious and I were going to the library, which was only a few blocks from our house. We had to cross a busy street to get there though. Homer was nine, and I was eight. My mom instructed Homer to hold my hand while crossing the street and to look both ways. When we got to the street, Homer ran across the street without me. I was afraid to cross alone and waited, begging my brother to come get me.

Darious just told me to run across the street. He said it was clear, so I just started to run across the street. At that very moment, a car went speeding out of the cemetery right off the road. The speeding car hit me and threw me into the air. I hit a telephone pole and then the ground with a thud! The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. They took x-rays and tests, and nothing was broken. I had a minor concussion, and I was sore for several days. They let my mom and Will take me home, where I lay on the sofa during the day and in my bed at night. My mother allowed the drunken man that hit me to come in and apologize to me. I was allowed to be hurt for a week. I went back to school while still in pain and still shook up over my ordeal. Now I had something else to have bad dreams about. As usual, it turned around to be all about her—how she was at the head of the crowd when running to see me, coming to save her daughter. This was a big deal as she was so heavy.

Things were almost back to normal. Of course, she was acting like it didn’t happen.

My brother didn’t even get into trouble or scolded or anything. This told me that it didn’t matter to her. My mother continued to be with Will, and they both got pretty chummy with the people across the street. Will became real chummy with the wife. Darious and I saw him kissing the wife of their new friend. Darious and I told our mom about it, but she didn’t say much. She and Will did have a fight about it, and he left for a while. During their courtship, Will had left a couple of times. This time, he went back to Massachusetts, where he was from. Will wrote to Mom and asked her to marry him. My mother said yes as