Lost Innocence: A Stolen Childhood

By Geraldine Cool

Lost Innocence is the unforgettable account of a childs life, who was sexually, physically and mentally abused. Through her struggles you will feel her pain, her loneliness and fighting for her life.
Imagine a young girl forced into submission and ordered to perform adult acts. Her own possession: loneliness and fear.
Im still here after years of you trying to break me. One day youll see, I will make something of myself.
Geraldine Cool tells of the courageous and moving story of her abusive childhood. Here is a horrifying glimpse of what went on behind closed doors. It is her touching account and testament to the strength of the human heart and its capacity to triumph over unimaginable trauma. She had nothing and no one to turn to but her dreams kept her alive. Dreams of one day being loved, honored and cherished by a special angel.
Experiencing the instability of three foster homes, a detention home and a mental hospital. People thought foster kids were nothing but trouble and unworthy of being loved just because she wasnt part of a Real Family". Forced to suffer shame.
Devastation, tears and hope create the journey of this severely abused child.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 20, 2009
• ISBN: 9781465327802

Geraldine Cool

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Copyright © 2009 by Geraldine Cool.

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Contents

Forward

F Child ( Foster Child )

Out of the Ashes

Violent Abuse

Suicide Attempts—Self Infliction

The Unknown

Giving, Giving, Giving

Forward

I wrote this book in hopes my experiences would spare others the pain and cost of my experiences. Not only are strangers abusive or commit these horrific crimes. A lot comes from family or close friends.

Taking pen to paper was a safe way for me to start the healing process. A story of victory and celebration. I was a young woman full of dreams and aspirations, waiting for a new form of life. This book is definitely going to change peoples lives. It will open their eyes to the abuse that still exist. The experiences I suffered do not need to be experienced by others, if only they will open up and tell someone of the abuse they are experiencing.

Child abuse causes rebellion and causes isolation. Lack of trust!! Feelings of terror and rage, Hypervigilance. Depression, mood swings, a lack of emotions all result from the abuse. I am a struggling survivor of rape, domestic abuse and childhood sexual and physical abuse. These are scars that will be a part of my life. I will always have these demons in my life, But they are under control. Not 100% cured but on the right track. Now I don’t have to hide the experiences anymore. I became more able to deal with the lies I was taught and the lies I believed. Some of the people I thought were supportive were not and actually blamed me for what happened. The triumph in all of this is that I let go of believing that I am weak and worthless. I realize that I am strong and made it through without compromising who I am—I am still the loving, compassionate and affectionate person I was born to be. I can allow them a place in my heart. Never allowing them to ruin my life as they had done in the past. The past has a way of controlling a person, if there is no inner desire to overcome it. It is a long road but very rewarding when you can stand on the top of the mountain and shout I have overcome, I have overcome. The weight, the overbearing feeling, the obsessions have floated away and left a peaceful, serene feeling.

Child abuse has lifelong effects on the victims. As I grow, the experiences dim somewhat but are never fully gone. The magic is about to begin. The skies are ready to burn with brilliance as it turns from a soft blue to a bright orange. As I watch the hypnotic changes it stills my soul. The value of one soul is greater than any single thing upon this earth. Jesus is the being that is entrusted by God to ensure that our soul evolves. Loving one another is what souls need to do in order for peace and harmony.

For there can be nothing greater than raising a child in preparation for that journey back to where she came from. A place where her immortal father lives, a place called Heaven, a place called "Home". Eventual survival and triumph of the human spirit over seemingly insurmountable odds can be overcome. My dark past is behind me. As bad as it was I knew that the final analysis would be mine and only mine. My way of life would be up to me. I had to make something of my life. Had to be the best person I could be. I could not leave this earth knowing that I was a "Nobody". I have accepted the past was only a fraction of my life. The Black Hole is still out there ready to suck me in and to control my destiny, BUT only if I let it. I have taken positive control over my life. I’m so Blessed!!!! The challenges of my past has made me immensely strong within. An inner strength was within me all the time. Back then I did not realize this but as I look back, there had to be something.

My experiences gave me a different outlook on life that others may never know. The good Lord was always over my shoulder, giving me quiet encouragement and strength when I needed it. I turned to God and trusted him to bring me Prince Charming which he did. One who would never leave me, hurt me and one who showed unconditional love like my Heavenly Father. I still have big issues to work on. Fear and inability that the ones closest to me will keep me physically and emotionally safe. It is my sincere hope that this story will help others with an abused past to become productive, responsible and fulfilled adults. I have my happiness and life back because I would not give up. My goal is to live, love and laugh. I owe it all to God and my husband, who means the world to me.

F Child ( Foster Child )

There is nothing like being called a F child. The humiliation, the mark branded upon my forehead, the degradation. Experiencing the feelings of confusion, fear, apprehension of the unknown, loss, sadness, anxiety and stress. Branded as a Nobody!! Shunned by everyone.

Once it is known you are a F child, the people around you think horrible thoughts. Is she a bad girl? What has she done? Their demeanor, their attitudes, change dramatically. Distaste, Fear !! Constantly stared at. It as if their minds had been programmed to believe I was some kind of monster. No matter whether it is classmates, or teachers they all reacted in the same way. Wonderment, Questioning etched on their faces.

For some reason a great deal of individuals look down on foster children. These people believe that the children have done something real bad, otherwise they wouldn’t be in foster care. I never did anything bad but still people seen me as a bad child. That’s not true!! That’s not true!!!! What have I done?

Being removed from my family and home wasn’t traumatic enough, I had to suffer through changing foster care placement every few months. The idea of being in foster care is that it is a placement where you should be safe, especially when a child comes from an abusive background, such as I. I wanted to be assured that things wouldn’t continue. The abuse I suffered in foster care was worse than if I had stayed with my natural parents. The abuse progressively grew worse with each home.

Talk about the worse guardians to have, I was all alone and even with all the officials around me, I had no guidance. I look around and grab bits and pieces from everyone, learning to improve all the important parts on how to survive. It’s funny how I was in pain, but the world didn’t stop for me. The pain of separation from family which caused a stubborn resiliency of hope for the future. I was ripped from my four brothers and three sisters. To this day we do not have the relationship siblings should have. All I wanted was LOVE!! Whose fault is it? The foster child, the parents, Who? What have I done to deserve such treatment? I did not ask to be put into the System. If I could have foreseen the horrors that awaited me in the system I would have killed myself. With the torture I went through in the system it would have been better if I had. Someone else’s faults got me placed in foster homes. As a foster child I was always blamed. Society did not want to put the blame where it belonged. Circumstances beyond my control necessitated the need to be placed in foster homes. This did not mean that I still didn’t crave friendship, love, and being cared for. Through most of my life I would walk around like an ostrich with my head in the sand. Ashamed !!! Could not show my face. Foster homes, BLAH!!! Nothing but a hoax.

My caseworker told me that foster care was to punish bad parents, but it really punishes me and all the other foster children. Some of these caseworkers are given so much power they develop god syndrome’. It sickens me to know how many children are abused, neglected and even killed at the hands of child protection service. I believe by my own experience that there are hundreds, maybe thousands of us that were or still are being abused in foster care, sexually, emotionally, and physically. The very agency that is supposed to protect us has let us down. How many more have to suffer and die before foster children are protected? How many more times are we going to let a bunch of social workers remove children from safe homes? When will judges wake up and see that they are sending children to their death and life of abuse? When a child, regardless of age, is apprehended from a parent, anger and betrayal can only begin to explain how the child feels. Compound this with being placed in a strangers home". Having to attend a new school can result in a manifestation of negative behavior. When we are placed in foster care it should be adequate and safe. We are more likely to be abused in foster homes than in our natural homes.

Making foster parents mad is bad news. Beaten, neglected and forced to sit for hours, and more times than not being verbally harassed. At times I was forced to sleep naked on the floor for a small infraction. At other times I was forced into closets and left there. Going without food and water for long periods of time was also another punishment. Sodomized was the worse punishment I suffered.

Even after the Department of children and family protection was notified I was left in the environment. How could this happen? How could you let this happen? You talk about protecting children, Where is that protection? They lie to us much more than our parents. A lot of folks do not like our kind. An F child is always treated differently. In a little under a year I endured three foster homes, a detention home and a mental hospital. Never having a chance to adjust to any of the environments. Through most of it I was never visited by family members. My wounds will never heal. Time does not change anything it just alters one’s perception of it. Amazing enough I had the power of the human spirit to prevail.

School was torture, always afraid to answer any question ask of me. The chalkboard seemed to scream out, Cricket’s a F child, Cricket’s an F child. This message screaming from the chalkboard must have penetrated through to the class. Once one or two people knew the whole school then knew. Passing through the hallways the sneers felt like hot iron piercing my body. The raising of the eyebrows, the glances up and down were constant reminder of what I was. Even when I tried to stay inconspicuous but there was always someone wanting to dig the knife in deeper. As much as I wanted to strike back with superhuman strength, I knew the capabilities of a scarecrow would prevent me from doing so. Always stating the wrong thing at the wrong time. Realization came that it wasn’t what I said, but rather how I said it. How different I was.

Even before entering kindergarten I realized I was different, that I didn’t fit in. Always feeling as if I didn’t belong. Before entering foster care, as a form of humiliation, I was degraded to scrubbing poop filled diapers. Oh! The stench that remained on my hands. It wouldn’t even wash off.

In the core of my soul, all I ever wanted, all I crave, was to belong. If a child is lucky enough to find a foster home that is loving and caring, that child has hit the jackpot. My experience was one of unkindness, meanness and very emotionally draining. Foster homes sucked. Always under scrutiny. Walking on eggshells wondering when they would be crushed. Never allowed a life.

Keep your nose clean and we will get along fine was a remark made at each foster home. We do not make enough money to care for brats like you. Ridicule was a constant reminder of the circumstances that life had thrust me in. Living with natural parents was an important factor to most, foster homes were for the worst. Remarks were made that cut deeper than a two-edged sword. My heart and soul were hardened from these remarks, but never once did I cry out from the hurt and humiliation I felt. Day by day this was my way of life.

During the summer months was pure Hell Forced to sit in chair from morning until night, only allowed to use the restroom. Never allowed to wear shoes or socks unless they went somewhere. Eating from a TV tray placed in front of me, often with food that made me sick. Whenever she came into the room I would be called worthless, no good and a failure. Allowed outside only when Mrs. Moore said so. You can not be trusted to be outside on your own.

An F child, what a ordeal! Never being accepted into groups, never being chosen on a team. I became self-absorbed—from my changing body to my ever changing homes. I felt sorry for myself and built a wall around my heart to keep out the fear and pain. I had been let down so many times that I couldn’t see any reason to believe anyone. Being a teenage foster child was tough. I would have memories, called suppressed memory flashbacks. This caused me anxiety, which sent me further into depression. I was hurt, angry and disappointed.

As other children were laughing and playing in groups sitting alone, shunned as an outcast. No friends!! The hurt cutting deeply. Deeper and Deeper into depression and despair. I was terrified of my own shadow. Life was unfulfilling, worthless and I didn’t want to find the strength to keep fighting. It just wasn’t worth it. She felt it would be better if she had never been born. As a small child my older brother and sister, Dave and Esther always