Wounded Butterfly

By Wendi Frye

Like a caterpillar in the cocoon waiting to be released out in the world as a butterfly, she waits for her transformation, she does so in a tight dark place. A victim of abuse feels the same exact way, but the victim, (mostly) lives in a home with people around or sometimes they are left alone to suffer or survive. One person's way of handling the deep dark depression in a cloud that you can't seem to get out of, all the while trying to maintain a family, school, a job, and being friendly without showing any injuries or wounds. Fearing the repercussions of no one believing them of the abuse so they continue on with life almost normal (at least in their minds). Abused people who keep things to themselves get stuck in their own heads with the thoughts of despair and disbelief that anyone will help them or even believe them. The negative thoughts usually take over their way of doing things, and sometimes, it is hard to figure out who is in control at that point. Seeking to tell someone is crucial for them so that they can get into some counseling that can really open up with them and help them sort things out. Show you how to deal with, not only the abuse, but help you maintain a daily routine of some kind of normalcy of the day-to-day things that they have to do. Counseling also helps with putting your emotions, feelings, actions in a way you, the victim, can manage daily. It is easier said than done. I know it took two counselors before I found the one who really could get me opened up, talking, and telling my story; and getting the help to stand another day and fight for me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643493046

Book preview

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Wounded Butterfly

Wendi Frye

ISBN 978-1-64349-303-9 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64349-304-6 (Digital)

Copyright © 2018 by Wendi Frye

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

This is not a Once Upon a Time kind of book, nor is it a self-help book that only talks about what you need to do.

My story, it is not glamorous, but it will not be dull either. There is drama, laughter, and tears both of sorrow and of joy. It will make you angry, you may even put the book down for it will feel too real for you, that is fine. Hey, when I was writing it, I had to walk away from it for days so, I understand. You will read about a freedom that is so beautiful and exhilarating. You might even find out how to have freedom for yourself.

My goal is for any reader that picks up my book will not only be open-minded, but finish the book. I am encouraged to help at least one person who has or is going through what you read. I hope that you too can go from victim to victor, and have an everlasting freedom and a normal life from a wounded butterfly!

Prelude

To whom it may concern:

This is not a once upon a time kind of book. It is a true story about love, hate, and compassion. It also talks about the consequences and actions of an abuser to an abused person. We will show how to come from a victim to a victor. This book is entitled, Wounded Butterfly.

My story starts from a young girl to an adult and how I overcame the obstacle of abuse. The issues of abuse are more common than back when I was growing up. It was swept under the rug to avoid embarrassment. The problems that arise with being abused as a young girl can be so significant to how one raises her child without counseling.

People looking from the outside only see what the abused person or child shows. On the inside, we are screaming, throwing fits, just shut down, and don’t know how to function in the society without help! Counseling can help put things into the proper perspective.

I am here to prove that we can be mom or dad and work out in the world and live a productive life. This story will show how valuable an impact can make on many.

Chapter 1

Setting the Tone of the Book

My story starts about forty years ago so, here we go. Growing up a military child was not all that bad; it had its perks of seeing different states. All of us, siblings, were born in different states. My Brother (the oldest brother) was born in New York. I was born in California. My younger sister was born in Virginia, and our youngest brother (who has passed away) was born in North Carolina, so we have a variety of places.

Dad finally settled down in North Carolina at Camp Le Jeune, which was the last base we had to move to. Dad had the decision to retire after serving twenty years in the Marine Corps. Mom was working on base, and dad was trying to figure out civilian life and still be in the reserves for a few years. He had a few jobs. He filled vending machines at one point. He would bring home boxes and boxes of outdated chips, snacks, and fruit pies home every other week. It was as if we had a snack store in our home. Our parents would tell us that we could have a snack a day if we asked for them, but being kids, we would tempt the fates by seeing what we could sneak from the boxes. We were not smart enough to throw our trash away, we would leave it under our bed or pillow. Either way, we were caught every time by being punished with spankings and having to clean our room. It had to be clean it was almost as if we were in the barracks with him because that is how clean our rooms had to be.

We lived in this three-bedroom, two-bathroom (huge to us back then) trailer with a kitchen, dining room, and living room that connected which made that feel so huge. It was on a half-acre lot with a long driveway, great for riding our bikes so we didn’t have to ride on the road. Mom loved the trailer, but wanted a front porch to be able to sit outside and get fresh air and watch the sun set. So dad took his weekends for a month to build this massive porch for her. It was somewhat inconvenient to have to enter and leave from the backdoor, but we did it until dad got the porch finished and painted and mom was the first one to see it completed. Mom was elated to be able to sit outside that first day. We didn’t like having to come in when it was time, but once the outside light came on, we knew we had to be in or else we would get spanked or even not allowed to go side the next day.

Well, school was around the corner, which meant that summer was almost ending and the days lasting longer would be over as well. Since we were raised Catholic, we were attending the Catholic school to our church. I remember out his duty with the Marine Corps. Dad made the decision to retire after serving twenty years active and stayed in the fleet reserves for another ten years. Mom was working on base working with money that is all I remember. We would come up to her work from time to time and we would see all the coins in the counting machine and thought that mom had the coolest job ever.

We had this awesome trailer that we lived in with a long driveway in this cool trailer park back then. The driveway was long enough for us to ride our bikes up and down, and get better to ride on the road. Dad had this one job that he filled vending machines and he would bring these boxes home of outdated snacks that we got to enjoy. We kids would sneak a bag of chips from time to time, or a fruit pie to our rooms and enjoy them until we got caught with all the trash from the snacks under our pillows or under our beds. Our parents would come in our rooms and see the trash, and would have to clean up our messes and get punished after we were done. We knew when the room got done being cleaned we were in for a spanking. Ouch! My sister and I shared a room, and we hated to have to clean the room. We would play, while we were supposed to be cleaning, it got us in so much trouble sometimes; and sometimes, we would be fighting about a toy or where something should go and that would get us into trouble as well.

Mom loved our home, but she wanted this huge front porch and she wanted dad to make for her. On the weekends, dad would buy the lumber and build mom her front porch. It took him about a month to get it done. He built it and the he painted it a forest green that mom loved; and the day after he painted it and it was completely dry to walk on, dad took mom out the front door and she was so happy she brought chairs out to sit on her new porch and watch the sunset. We were outside playing until the sunset. Even then, we didn’t want to come in from playing. Back then, we were able to be outside until the streetlights came on.

Well, school was around the corner. Summer was coming to an end. The days lasting longer were just about to be over. Since we were Catholic, we were attending Catholic school. I remember kindergarten, it was in this small little house on the property just past the big field all by itself; the smells of the garden all around the building along with the huge trees. I have a flashback when people are cutting the grass in the summertime or I drive by a field of wild flowers or strawberries growing it rushes memories back to the kindergarten days. I loved kindergarten. I loved getting to dress up in dresses and going to school, it was a fond memory for me. I tried to make my girls have some of those fond memories of their kindergarten days as well. Some of my fondest memories of school are getting up and going to daycare and catching the school bus to school, and returning back to the daycare for mom to pick us up. Mrs. Nancy would make the best breakfast for the bus kids and I loved her cooking. Mrs. Nancy would make scrambled eggs grits and cheese toast most days, and I can still remember the smell of that cheese toast.

The ladies of the daycare all knew their parents by name, that was just how they took care of business back then. These ladies were stern, but loving with lots of compassion. Mom took us to daycare on her way to work on base. Mom’s job dealt with money most days. Mom had to drive on base, and a few times, she had just missed hitting deer darting in front of her car. This one morning, she ended up smacking this eight-point buck; it scared her so bad that she could not drive from being shaken up. Well, after the police took her statement and the deer was removed from the grill of our car, the man told her that he would split the meat from the deer if he could have the head; and of course, my mother told the man he could have it. That was our first encounter with deer meat that year.

Once in a while, we were allowed to come to mom’s work to see her when dad had the time too. It was fun to see where mom worked watching all the machines move all those coins around, it was so loud. I still remember the machines how they were counting the coins as they went through the process. We knew all too well that dad brought the military home with him. It was not easy to break free from the day-to-day things when it was being drilled into you to be a better soldier. The third grade was a fun time and a scary time too. The Sunday before we were to start the school year, we had this huge storm come through our town. It was loud and violent with the winds rushing through so wildly; rain, lightning, and thunder it were so bad. Anyone who has or is living in a trailer knows that a storm like that feels like you are in the middle of the storm with no shelter. You feel every shake rattle and roll of thunder. This storm felt like our trailer was going to fly away that night. Our electric and water went out (hot water), so we had to bathe in the same water all of us kids. So the first kid which, was the baby, got the hot clean water. By the time it came to me and Bubby, we had not so clean water.

I received a treat from mom, she put my hair in pin curls that night so that when I got up in the morning, I would have curly hair. I was excited about the curly hair, but not the process of putting the pin curls in my hair. It took mom an hour to get all my hair in the bobby pins (the things we, women, do for beauty). It was a rough night of no sleeping during all the lightning and thunder, it sounded like it was hitting the trees and splitting them apart. It was well after midnight before things calmed down with the weather, but that was my defining moment of not like storms.

The next morning, we woke up from what little sleep anyone got. We all were getting dressed for school and work, we all left at the same time and as we were traveling to school that day and seeing all the debris form the storm, it wreaked havoc in our town that night. Big dumpsters were swept across the street with the wind that would normally take two or maybe three people to move sideways. Glass was shattered from windows of businesses, it was messy at best, but we made it to school in time for the bell to ring. I walked into class and I looked like Shirley Temple with my curly hair. This was the year I found out what paste tasted like, not just any paste; it was Elmer’s paste. We would get it on our hands and I licked it one time, and I was hooked with the liquid glue. We would put it on hands and rub it in, let it dry and peeled it off. It made the impression of all our veins and wrinkles in our skin, and our skin was so soft afterwards. Good times were had by all kids. I know people reading this will be going, oh gross. I never knew how glue was made until I was in my late twenties or early thirties. Where and how it was made, it made me sick to my stomach even then as an adult. You live and learn.

Friday nights were so much fun. We would all eat dinner after coming home from both school and work, get changed, and would watch the Conway Twitty show along with the Donny and Marie show. Then get on out to the Bowling alley for Friday Bowling league. Mom and dad belonged to the league with all their friends, and the owners were my sister’s godparents, so we knew just about everyone there.

Bubby didn’t have to go to the nursery, but the rest of us did, it was fun most of the time, but I liked being able to leave the nursery and roam the bowling alley most Friday nights. I was able to be in the hallway of the nursery and dance with some of the other kids that came, we had so much fun. Our disco days and the music were perfect. Us, kids, had a bowling league on Saturdays, which was fun. I loved to bowl. I didn’t last doing it because I got into the Brownies and just about got into girl scouts, so that took most of my Saturday mornings. It was fun, but we loved the bowling alley. Seeing everyone there and the few people that knew us kids very well would give us money to get candy from the vending machine or get something from the bubble gum machines. It was a treat for me and I enjoyed it. I also was a bowler on Saturday mornings. It was fun. I also joined the Brownies and got promoted the Girl scouts for a brief moment.

I loved going to the meetings. I wasn’t the best bowler, but I had fun doing it. I loved to watch my parents bowl; they were so good at it. They have won trophies for bowling a lot. I remember Friday nights were exciting, we would watch the Marty Robbins show just before we left for the bowling alley. We would watch the bowling tournaments on Saturdays to get pointers, at least that is how I thought of it. The He Haw show was on Saturday nights; it was the highlight of the night. The televisions programs back then were much cleaner and family oriented. Life was so different back then. That is why, from a kid’s state of mind, why would you leave the very life that was good to move somewhere we would have to start all over, and have to take your family from the life they know and love? I have wondered that my entire life until I had children of my own.

Now, Sunday mornings, we went to church with mom, but once in a while, dad would attend church with us (like if it was a holiday or if we were