Conquering the Beast: The Battle to Find Dignity After Abuse

By Diane Fogyle

It was March 23, 1956, at six thirty-four in the morning, a baby girl was bornall of six pounds. She was perfectsoft pink skin, big blue eyes, and barely enough blond hair to say she had hair. She did not cry but was very content, just needed the basics: milk, a diaper change, and someone to love her and tell her she was special. She was born to loveless parentshe was twenty-five, and she was twenty. Her name is Diane, and she shared life with her four-year-old brother, Scott. What should have been a beautiful day and a beautiful life was not to be.

I was sired by a monstera beasta person who only thought of himself, and whatever he thought he needed, he took. He ravaged my mother every nine months, and she had a baby every year or two up to the time she committed herself to an institution. Now it is 2015, and my story will be told. I am fifty-nine years old and have all the scars from being born by chance to these people. I live in the South and have three children. There are five grandchildren. This is my story, and it is written not to terrify the reader but to let you know the dangerous beasts that are out there waiting to destroy pieces of you. My journey now is to heal and focus on myself. I have loved my children too much, and I can no longer fix a husband. Today is my day. The story passed to me about my personality is that a simple piece of bubble gum would make me happy, that faithful and happy disposition has gotten me through many yesterdays. There is a higher plan; I must be patient to hear it revealed. I will understand one day. Please read this book and share it. There are many victims. You will never know them until you talk about sexual abuse. Be kind. Spread the joy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514467374

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Diane Fogyle.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2016902508

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5144-6739-8

                Softcover        978-1-5144-6738-1

                eBook             978-1-5144-6737-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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Rev. date: 03/09/2016

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Table of Contents

Preface

Introduction

Chapter One: A Beast Is Born

Chapter Two: Through a Child's Eyes

Chapter Three: The Substitute Mommy

Chapter Four: Off to Grandmother's House We Go

Chapter Five: Lifestyles of the Abused and Oppressed

Chapter Six: Gone but Not Forgotten

Chapter Seven: The Myth of Normal

Chapter Eight: Ugly, Dirty Acts

Chapter Nine: When Home and Hell Are One

Chapter Ten: Protecting the Weak

Chapter Eleven: She's Come Undone

Chapter Twelve: Finding Love

Chapter Thirteen: Teenage Wife

Chapter Fourteen: Blind Ambition

Chapter Fifteen: Forever Forgotten

Chapter Sixteen: A Missing Piece of the Puzzle

Chapter Seventeen: The Beast Fades Away

Chapter Eighteen: Justification and Denial

Epilogue

References

Based on true events. Names of persons and places are changed to protect the privacy of individuals involved.

This story is dedicated to my children. It's my greatest hope that I've made a difference in your lives. I've tried and given everything I had. You three are the ones who have motivated me to work hard at changing myself. I have tried so hard to take care of you, love you, and protect you.

Preface

Abuse has to end with you, so no more children have pain during their childhood.

To the man that has only a hammer, everything he encounters begins to look like a nail.

---Maslow

The family I was raised in wasn't one of my own choosing, but it was the one life dealt me for whatever reason. Horrific things happened when I was growing up, and there are no doubts that those events are disturbing---even to those of you who don't have a weak disposition.

This book is motivated by an effort to heal, like the revelation of most disgusting stories; however, its driving force is much greater than that alone. Despite all the years that have passed since my abuse started, I still haven't escaped it. That's why I am sending out a plea to every person who reads this story or hears about it to take action. No more sitting by the wayside silently while young innocent lives are destroyed at the hands of an abuser, a rapist, a molester---a beast.

The beast is frightening and hard to imagine for most adults, much less a child. That man I called my father. He was a beast---someone who did not seem to regret his actions. Why would he? No one tried to stop him, his reputation preceded him. Many people enabled him..

Well, even the vilest of people eventually fade away, leaving this earth and going to a hell that doesn't seem like it could be as harsh as they made the world they leave behind. Then all that remains are the victims.

Yes, I'm someone who has remained left behind; and even when I'm not physically next to the beasts in my life, they are never out of my mind. They've made a home there, and every day is a struggle to make it a good day. I'm not asking for great---just good.

My heart, my mind, and my soul are filled with scars of what my father did to me for my entire life. I've fought it, and most of the time, I fail miserably. You see, the scars are daily reminders that I am not normal. No one who has endured mental, emotional, and physical abuse is. No one who has been molested at the hands of someone who was supposed to love and protect them is either.

It's pretty uncomfortable to think about, and honestly, I want everyone to be uncomfortable in their skin when they think about the hands of a sexual and physical abuser touching a child. What I don't want is for them to turn away, brushing it off as someone else's problem. This does exist, and it is every person's problem. It's the neighbor next door who appears friendly and harmless on the outside but unleashes their inner beast to an unsuspecting child. It's the trusted adult, the one a child should rely on to serve their best interests and be their voice of reason, showing that they desire nothing more than to manipulate and mess with the impressionable mind of a child. The beast is also the man who may marry your daughter who you've loved and protected your entire lives, turning on her and targeting those grandchildren who you've dreamt of. Yes, women are beasts too, and we hear more about them daily, but my experiences are based on my father, and that is the perspective of this book.

Let's start by you asking yourself this question: is it possible for a child to endure such hardships in their younger years---the years where their impressions of life are formed and their ideas of healthy relationships---and live life as an adult unaffected? No, it's not possible. No one knows this better than I do.

I went overboard protecting all my children. I trusted few people including my children's fathers.

You may wonder, why be this way? It hardly gives a marriage a sound chance; marriage is tough enough as it is. The reason that I am possessive is simple to me, one of the most uncomplicated aspects of my life. I believed if my father molested me, it is possible that any man, whoever he is and wherever he is, could molest my children. I've never known any other way to ensure that does not happen aside from being overly protective and sheltering them as much as possible. I do acknowledge that this approach has been hard for them and made living life on a daily basis considerably more challenging. Still, it has never stopped me. If it was (and is) something that is within my control, I will not allow anything bad to happen to them as a result of the people around me. I try and I do fail at this.

Every aspect of my children's life has been a constant effort for me. I have an insatiable, driving desire inside of me to have it be better than my life was growing up. I wanted them to be better cared for, better educated, more loved, and have more material things in their lives. Basically, I cannot accept that they might ever have a moment in their day, a thought in their minds, where they may wonder if they are loved. Those thoughts are paralyzing to me and ones that I deal with daily. I know my children love me.

By attempting to give my children more, I've always hoped that they would never have a need for anything in life that I couldn't offer them. I'm nearing sixty years old, and that is as true today as it was when my eldest daughter was born. Yes, it was extreme and it was all meant with a good heart, but it consumed me.

They came before their fathers in my life. My husbands were always men who were psychologically distant from me. I tried to provide everything for the family. I thought these men could not complain about me, but they did, each having their own dysfunctional perspectives. Dysfunction attracts dysfunction.

It makes me seem so stupid, and who knows, maybe I am, but I am also smart. You see, I did go to college but I never went too far away from my children, wanting to be the protective mother there to make sure that no beast snuck up on them. The separation from them would have caused me so much anxiety.

Through my overprotective nature, I did manage to become a successful businesswoman and entrepreneur, owning a profitable real estate and mortgage companies. However, when they were young, I always kept my children with me as much as possible to alleviate the guilt of having to leave them to work. That was my obligation as their protector. There was a day care at my office, so they would always be near me. I did not trust outside day cares and carefully selected each nanny that was to be near my children. Sooner or later, I would either let these people go or they would raise the surrender flag, not meeting my demanding expectations, and quit because I was so possessive about my children.

As you can see, it was not only me who suffered the consequences of the abuse of the beast. My children have also suffered, although it wasn't physical. Were my actions fair to them? No. My actions certainly weren't fair to my ex-husbands either, although our marriages were clearly not sound.

Look, life will never be fair, but what goes way beyond unfair is having someone who can help you escape violence and abuse, and they choose to feign ignorance or turn a blind eye to a child being abused. If you suspect it, you should not hesitate to draw strength from your moral compass and act on it. Not every sexually, mentally, or physically abused child wears their despair on their sleeves. Many are like I was, still finding joy in life in whatever didn't lash out at me and striving for a way to feel as normal as possible.

As you read my story, which contains only a fraction of the sum of the harrowing details of the pain I have endured, think about every child that you know. If they asked you, Why didn't you help me if you knew I was being abused? what would you say? Is there an answer that would make sense and make you feel good about yourself as a person? I don't think so, and if you try to say I didn't know and think that'll appease you, you are lying to yourself and trying to con yourself. It's embarrassing, I'm sure, and I understand why. However, every day provides a new opportunity for impactful differences of the positive kind. Make that commitment from this moment forward.

As a warning, some of the events in this book may make you want to retch. Hell, I have wanted to many times just reliving the memories. I'm a fifty- nine-year-old woman, and it has messed with me emotionally since I tapped into the vault of these disparaging events of my life. Yet I knew it must be done. And if I can find the courage to write