In the Shadows of Angels: Breaking the Chains (Victim to Survivor)

By Marilyn D. Bellamy

I perceive angels to be special messengers of God that are always surrounding us along our life's journey, and those of us who believe in God or a Higher Power would like to see them as protectors of our spiritual or mental well-being. They intervene in our life to help soothe our pain and to pick and carry us up and out of bad situations that may lead to devastation to our well-being.Angels sometimes carried me in their arms when my body was too exhausted from living and I felt I could not go on. When I felt I was unable to walk, I believe that angels were right beside me or would surround me as I walked in there shadows for comfort and relief from my abusers.See I believe that we indeed have specials angels (physical and spiritual beings) here on earth at all times that come into our lives to help us get through life's trials and tribulations. The angels are there to help us move forward in each level of our lives as we live from day to day, sharing a strong healing light that radiates throughout our minds, souls, and bodies, enabling us to continue in a more optimistic manner. For some readers, it may seem difficult to believe or understand my whole philosophy around angels, but throughout your reading you will have a better understanding where my beliefs comes from. As Ta'Mara shares her story, you will see that she has amazing inner strength as she faces her abusers from day to day. In addition, you may end up thinking that we all do in fact have angels that intervene on many different occasions, which we cannot even imagine.12

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098062248

Book preview

Early Childhood Experiences

Hey, there! My name is Ta’Mara Summers. I was born on a cold winter day in October. I have three older brothers: Larry, Alex, and Tyler. After my birth my mother had two more girls: Holly, born a year and a half later, and Dana, two years younger than me. My two oldest brothers, Larry and Alex, were from my mother’s first marriage when she married at age sixteen to get away from a strict religious upbringing and to become independent. She did not have her first baby until she was eighteen years old. My mother, Leah, was a very strong and intelligent woman; and although she did not complete high school (because she dropped out in the eleventh grade), she was always the one to handle family affairs. My father, Nelson, dropped out of school in the third grade because he quit helping his mom take care of my aunts when my grandfather walked out on the family. Both of my parents were born in the south, and they both worked in farmers’ fields as children and adults. When they arrived in the north while awaiting new job positions, we children and my father helped pick beans, potatoes, and apples on the farms in the country to make money to provide for the family. We were more than delighted to go because we would run in the fields gathering as many apples or potatoes on the ground to place in the basket to earn our own money to spend. In the family tree I was the eldest girl and the fourth oldest child, so therefore I was the one who helped my mom with most of the household chores. In addition to chores, I also helped with watching my two younger sisters and two nieces, Bobbie and Wendy (my mom took care of Larry’s two daughters when Larry joined the army). When my mom needed respite, it was the best time for me because the rapes had stopped.

Although I had to play mother in my younger years, it was okay because I was able to watch over the female children in the family to try and keep them away from all forms of abuse; so it was what I lived for—even up to this day. I knew little boys too could be abused, but I could see and know the signs among the females in their behavior. I did not want to have anything to do with anyone who had a penis. I did not want to see their penis or touch them or even have them near my body at all.

So, when Larry returned home from the Vietnam War, he met this young lady, Nicole, who lived downstairs of our apartment; and I was so thankful for their common-law marriage. The reason I was happy for their living situation because it allowed me to have more freedom. I was able to do more things for myself instead of protecting the children from child molesters and abusers who might be waiting to rob them of their innocence and childhood the way my life was robbed. Nicole seemed to love them very much and spent a lot of quality time with Bobbie and Wendy. She did not allow Larry to take all of her time and exclude the girls; it was a joint activity. My nieces respected her a lot, and till this day they still call her Mother. The girls bonded with Nicole, and she was truly their mother figure. They referred to their birth mother, Barb, as Mom since she bore them into this world. Barb sometimes snubbed her nose up at their relationship with Nicole. Barb became pregnant with Bobbie at thirteen and had her at fourteen although she lied to Larry and told him she was seventeen. Then Barb had Wendy at sixteen. When Larry joined the army, she told our mother she was sick of taking care of kids; and before we knew it my mother, Leah, was there acting mom and they were under her supervision.

In my early years we children spent a lot of time around our parents watching television shows and singing and dancing at home. My mother and father used to give us children money to perform dance routines as we sang to the record player for them and their friends sometimes, because they were very proud of us. We knew all the songs that came on the radio or whatever they played on the record player. I was the one who used to get the most money because when I danced and sang, it put me in my own world where I was the happiest, and that made me the best dancer out of all the children. When we children were together doing dance steps and singing, I did not feel like the black sheep of the family because I was making them happy and I felt like I did not have a care in the world. We would go outside and play when they had too many adult friends in the house or when the grown-ups would start their social drinking and adult conversations. My mother and father would not let us run the streets without them knowing our whereabouts, and on top of that, we had to be home before the sun went down. My father would not hesitate to come looking for us with a belt or switch from a tree if we missed that curfew and let the sun come down on us. I remember we were down the street at the backyard of one of our little girl friends pretending to play house by cooking for our husbands while they were at work. The sun was coming down, and before I knew it someone told me my dad was coming down the street with a belt in his hand. My sister started making a mad dash for home. Then we saw our father, and we had to get past him to get to the house. My two sisters ran past him. When I had to run past my father, I ran real fast; but his arm came up, and he swung the belt, and it caught the tail end of my skirt. And the next thing I knew, my safety pin I was holding my skirt up with popped loose; so I had to run holding up my skirt because if anyone saw my panties, I would really get a whipping. That incident stayed with me a long time because the neighborhood kids teased me for the longest saying my father caught me with my panties down doing the nasty with some boy. It was so untrue because it was only us five girls in the little clubhouse we put together and the boys were off pretending to work. Also, there was no way in hell was I going to be around any boy. In fact I did not want to play, but our little bully in the neighborhood made me, or else she would beat me up.

As far as my father was concerned, it was alright to be out in front of the house or in the backyard playing, but my sisters and I had to be in calling distance. The boys had a little more leeway because they could not get pregnant if they were sneaking around trying to have sex. While we were outside we would go climbing trees and jumping on rooftops to reach the cherries and pears. We would pick blueberries to eat as we ran around playing hide-and-seek, dodgeball, and kickball. There was this particular game that I truly hated, and that was hide and go get it. This game’s purpose was that the girls would hide and when the boys found them, they could do whatever they wanted to them, as far as kissing, touching, and feeling our body parts. One thing was for sure: I ran away the farthest, and the boys never found me. I did not want the boys to be kissing or feeling me, so when I heard them call my name, I would come out. I really had a problem with people touching me outside of dancing because as a young girl I had a lot of abusers touching me without my permission.

First of all, as a young girl of six or seven years old, I did not think I had the right to tell someone older than me to stop his or her behavior, out of fear of punishment. I look at my great-nieces and great-nephews now, and I feel they have old souls. They would tell or speak out on everything and put their sentences together to protest any unwanted touching without an adult telling them. I really admire them for their strong spirits, because that means a little less energy and work for me in protecting them against different forms of abuse from anyone, including family members. Second, in addition to me not feeling comfortable with telling adults what to do at that young age, I also had a low self-esteem and inferiority complex because when I was born my eyes was crossed. It took a little while for me to get my surgery to correct this matter; so one of the nicknames my brother Tyler and sisters gave me was Clarence, the Cross-Eyed Lion, a show that came on the television. This show portrayed a lion that saw double and sometimes ran into things or people. As a child, they felt it was hilarious to see this portrayed on television, but to be compared to this character was not a happy feeling. Since I was tall and skinny with light complexion and cross-eyed, my brother and sisters felt that was a perfect name for me. Many tears were shed silently over that name-calling because I had no control over it, and my brother and sisters used it when they really wanted to punk me and put me down in front of others. When the surgery took place, it was very scary and difficult. I remember having my eyes bandaged and not being able to move too far. I sat on the bed waiting and wondering who might be in the room with me. Being alone and not being able to move out of fear of falling and causing more harm to my eyes was terrifying. Darkness was one of my worst enemies because it meant that was the time when I was vulnerable. I would be fearful of people touching me as well as of animals crawling on me. My sister Holly would use furry things to scare me, and she would tell me it was a rat; and some days she might have one in a mousetrap, and some days it was just a furry cloth or clothing.

This was where my bad phobia of animals came from. Some days when I am insecure, I will keep my bedroom light on for comfort thinking I will be able to fight off my offender or the animal as I live alone. My fear is one of the realities in my life, and I deal with it the best way I know how. I knew my angels were there with me during those dark moments. I can remember calling out to see if anyone was there to help me go to the bathroom, and a couple of times I had to do it myself. I was truly happy that my temporary blindness only lasted for a short period of time because I felt that experience was enough to seem it to have lasted a lifetime. My strong compassion for others came from some of my experiences as well as my love for people because I feel every person deserves safety and respect, no matter what.

This book is based on truth and honesty, so at this time I must admit to you that it is getting very difficult for me to continue sharing my life story. I must take a break from it all. Sometimes a lot of the feelings come with reliving my life in black and white, as clear as the letters on this paper; but also it is seeing, reading, and feeling what has taken place in my life over the years. But, in my heart, I know my story needs to be shared because I am a strong, educated, independent young woman who fought and won in parts of my life to get to the place I am at today.

This would also be an appropriate time to share with you that it is very important to not judge a person by what you see, because only God and that individual know why they do the things they do, as well as what fears and phobias they have and their true coping mechanism to get past that present nightmare they may have been living with in the moment. In other words, we never know what a person may have or is going through to survive in this world during their unfortunate experience unless they share it with you.

Recovering, especially from a sexual abuse, is a lifelong battle. The reason it is a lifelong battle is because you never know when something may trigger a flashback, and the only thing different about it is the way we cope with it. I will continue on with Ta’Mara’s story after sharing that impulsive insight from my soul. As well, I feel my childhood was robbed and taken away from me at a very young age because I went from a little girl to a sex toy, mostly by boys and men.

Ta’Mara’s Third-Grade Nightmare

In the third grade was when I remember I experienced the first abuse. I used to be bullied and molested by a little boy in my classroom. I would tell him, Ta’Mara does not do those nasty things. Every time Ms. Lebman would play