Childhood

My Childhood

So these are my childhood stories. I am writing this because I experienced a lot of stuff as a kid, and learned a lot more as an adult than I did as a kid. Overall I had a mild childhood and enjoyed living at home most of the time and being around friends and family.

that's me as a baby, brand new baby

I was born on July 24th, 1987 in Salt Lake City, Utah. Now to the average person there is nothing important about this date, but this date in Utah is a big deal. It's when the pioneers decided "this is the place" where they were going to settle and set up and prosper. I mean bloody hell they have a park that you can go to, to see mormons share their message of how Utah was founded. Most of the time this just meant that it's a state holiday and adults have a three day weekend which meant that adults would take their kids camping to avoid the 100 degree heat that it would usually hit at the end of July in a desert. For me this meant that every year when I would say "it's my birthday this weekend, wanna get together and celebrate?" everyone was camping with their families. Luckily my mom would always try and make it special.

I am the daughter of Catherine K. Breeze and Martin Joe Tuero. This statement alone could be and should be two different posts about who these amazing people are and were. Currently my mom is still alive and lives in Utah, my dad on the other hand has passed away since, but like I said that a different post for a different time. At the tender age of 18 my mom decided to move out of her parents house. She wanted to be independent and free, just like every other teenager dreams of, well back in the 80s that was every teenagers dream. So she moved out, into her boyfriends apartment. Roughly after a year later she found out that she was pregnant with me. She and I are twenty years apart in age a fun and enjoyable relationship we've shared.

So Catherine and Martin were never married. At the time Martin had a bad drinking problem and would abuse Cathy, but sitting on her chest to the point where she couldn't breathe. So she didn't want to commit her life to him and decided to try and raise me on her own.

When I was about two years old my mom found someone that she could seeing being attached to. So she decided to get married to a man by the name of Raphael Bustamante. As they planned out their wedding and what the future lies ahead, they decided that moving to San Jose, California would be a successful venture since Raphael had job lined up. After a short ceremony at Cathy's parents house they moved to California. Life was going well, until Raphael was arrested for molesting a boy in the neighborhood. Raphael was sent to jail for 6 months due to his actions. Upon his release he returned to Cathy and I and we continued with the ways of our life. We all lived in San Jose California for about two to three years before returning to Salt Lake City, Utah

 During the time we lived in San Jose I remember my first memory. My father in law once asked me what is the my earliest memory, at what age are you? Luckily he asked us as a group and I didn't have to answer what my first memory is. The earliest memory I have about my life is a hand going into between my legs and playing in my underwear. I was molested as a child by a roommate that lived with Raphael and Cathy while we were living in San Jose. The guy was a friend of Raphaels and had no place to live, and couldn't speak english, so knowing that Raphael and Cathy were compassionate people wanting to be helpful they allowed him to live with them. In the mornings when I woke up in the morning I would ask anyone who was a awake to turn on cartoons for me, apparently the only one that was awake at the time was the roommate that my family had welcomed into their house. This is what my first memory is. Eventually I went to my mom and spoke to her about what was going on and how it made me feel. Cathy demanded that the roommate leave the apartment immediately. Ralph begged for compassion considering he had no family or other friends to rely on and he couldn't speak any english so he didn't have anywhere else to go. After everything that had happened Cathy thought it would be a good idea to move back to Utah and find work there. So we all returned to Utah.

Sorry for the horrible picture, hard to believe
it this is me and my dad, probably in 1992 or
1993. My mom had this picture on a video
tape and decided to take a picture of it when
it was on the television thus the distortion.
thanks mom at least for the proof that I
saw my dad.

Shortly after moving back to Utah Raphael and Cathy began fighting and arguing over where money should be spent in their home. Cathy wanted to pay bills and be responsible with their money. Raphael wanted to have nice things and new furniture. That was one fight that they would fight about their whole marriage. Upon returning to Utah Martin found out and wanted to keep in contact and send as much as he could to spoil me.  Raphael wasn't happy about that at all. He viewed Martin as a threat and stated that since he was the one raising me and paying for everything that I needed that I couldn't see Martin or his family. Cathy felt bad but knew enough to respect Raphael decision.

This was another traumatic memory for me because I was running around our apartment one morning and didn't realize my parents had been fighting about Martin, so I walked up Raphael and said "I love you daddy" his response in a large yell because he was mad "I'm not your real father" My mom had to have a conversation with me about that because at the time I didn't understand what was happening.

Shortly after this fight Cathy and I moved in with her parents John and Judy Breeze.

Alright I've already gone public with the molestation that happened when I was about 5. Because of this event I believed that men had the right to touch me, and those that didn't touch me I felt had rejected me in some way. That they didn't like me. Which for an only child (who lives off of any attention that given to them) was really hard for me to understand.

I remember sitting on the couch next to my great uncle and stretching out next to him take up the whole couch waiting for him to put his hand on my stomach or something weird like that, but it never happened and at first when he didn't reach out I thought there was something wrong with me. That I had done something wrong. That I was different in some way. I didn't understand that grown men don't touch little children in an inappropriate way. They hug them or are affectionate in other ways.

With my parents going back and forth in their marriage I realized that I could still have a relationship with men where nothing was expected of me besides to have a decent conversation. I learned to speak to my grandpa. A man that I miss everyday speaking with. He has since passed away like many other great men of my life, but that is for another post.

Grandpa John's leading line was let me ask you a question. That was his opening line. It wasn't to offend or anything, it was to get your opinion on certain things that he thought about it as well. I loved sitting with him. He was safe. He never would do anything to hurt me. I grew to learn that this relationship of communication is the most important step in life. If you can't openly communicate with your partner or companion or friends you're not going to get far in this life.

During one of the off times in my parents marriage we had chosen to go on have a date night with my parents. Which meant that my mother and step dad were in the works of moving back in together to try and be a family unit again. I was hopeful because there was something nice around the holidays with my step dad. He always went above and beyond for them, whether we could afford it or not.

But this one night we all decided to go to the drive in movie theater. At the time my step dad had to decided to rent out my bedroom to a room mate named Domingo. A guy in his twenties that had just been laid off that day. I was about twelve so my recollection of earlier that day are fuzzy. I remember my step dad talking about he wanted to go the movies and how we should invite Domingo since he was having a really bad day. I remember seeing Domingo in my room. He was sitting in my room smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer or two. His eye were so white and blood shot against his tanner skin tone.

I wasn't scared of Domingo growing up. He had started to come around Ralph my step dad a few weeks prior and we had communicated through picking on each other (a.k.a. tickling one another) in reflection this was a dangerous situation that I probably couldn't avoid no matter who it was. I really wanted people's attention and I loved getting smiles out of people back then in the form of tickling. I never thought about the consequences of my actions. I was twelve what can you expect?

So there we were Domingo and I hiding in the back of a flat bed truck so that we can sneak into the theater and save on money because even back then money was tight. So as soon as Domingo and I were situated hiding under pillows and blankets he began groping me and touching me. I would stop it, but nothing stopped those hands. I couldn't control it. Upon driving through the gate we all got situated to watch the movie. Domingo and I in the front by the tail and Ralph and my mom Cathy by the cab of the truck. I was hoping that with the movie being on that Domingo would focus on something other than me, but that didn't happen all through the movie I was molested.

Upon the end of the movie I quickly moved to be next to my mom. Nothing could have moved me from that spot once I had decided to move. After moving to the new spot everyone encouraged me to move back, but I just stayed there and fell asleep because I wasn't interested in viewing the next movie.

The next day I told my mom what had happened and she in turn relayed the information onto Ralph. Ralph felt bad about the situation, but ultimately decided that distance between me and Domingo was the correct approach to the situation. I was to keep my hands to myself i.e. no more tickling and Domingo was not to touch me again.

My mom and Ralph eventually joined together one last time to give it a go and make their marriage a success story. Ralph was still friends with Domingo and would invite him to join us on Holidays or to the movies on the weekend. I never felt any ill will towards Domingo, but I kept my distance. When I was about 15 Domingo gave it another go for me.

He came over to visit Ralph, but Ralph was busy playing on his computer, don't ask me what I can't recall even what he would do on the computer (knowing my luck Porn because that's what the internet is for right?). So Domingo slipped into my room. I was watching some Disney movie and when Domingo came in I was quickly set on edge as to his presence. I told him that I was watching a movie and that he should leave, but he came and sat next to me on my bed, of course it had to be my bed I could have some chair in their. As we watched the movie in silence he put his arm around me and placed my head in his lap. For whatever reason I went along with it, I kick myself in the head now about it, but at 15 I was too naive  to figure anything out. At the end of the movie Domingo leaned down and kissed my forehead. I freaked out and told him to get out of my room and made a big scene about the fact that he was in room to begin with. I just remember trying to force my door to close so that he couldn't get back in.

Later that night after he had left I told Ralph and my mom what had happened. Ralph's reaction has been my favorite. It was my fault. If I hadn't been in my room then Domingo never would have been in there in the first place. It was all my fault. I couldn't believe it. I hated Ralph at that moment. To even think of blaming the teenager for a man in his 20s is doing and knows is wrong or at least illegal. I heard a few years back that Domingo had finally found a teenagers bed that was willing to accept him. A friend of a friend of Ralphs. Some girl that I had actually known once and played with on several occasions. I felt bad for her, but I was happy that it wasn't my bed that I he had landed in.

So that's my molestations stories all in one entry. I have tried very hard to not let the series of events that have happened in my past not affect how I react to people now a days. It's a struggle for sure. To this day I don't understand fully how to react to some people. Some times I get along better with men than I do women and women just look at me as if I am going to cause some affair with their husbands. Other times my hubby tells me that guys are checking me out and I'm completely oblivious to it. I don't understand most human interactions.

I never did get counseling for the things that have happened to me, but I would encourage anyone at any time that has been faced with the same situation to seek help. Find someone to talk to. Surprisingly enough I found myself talking about with boys that were interested in dating me. I knew I had to warn them that touching me could be an explosive moment for me because of the trauma that I had faced in my past. Luckily with me divulging this information I was actually able to help a friend when his wife was rapped. I wish him and her all the best of luck with the trials, but I know that they have what it takes to make their marriage last through the test of time.

I have two pieces of advice

First to women - to those that have been taken advantage of it is not your fault. Please seek counseling. Find someone to talk to about what is going on your head. You don't have to go through this alone. Someone will always want to be there for you, to listen to you, to help you cope and to talk you off that ledge of total disaster. Be patient with yourself. You'll want to act like nothing happened, but something did happen to you, something that will trigger when you least expect it. Be open and patient with your partner.

To men - Something that I have been grateful for all these years is the patience that my husband had with me. It's taken us 10 years for me to relax and enjoy snu snu. There have been times where my brain puts flashes into my brain of the past and I immediately tense up, not because of what Zaq has done to me, but because those scars that are invisible are irreversible I can't undo them. All I can do is warn him where my body triggers those flashes and hope that when he does touch me that I can remain calm. Please be patient with your women folk it's not easy for them to open up and relive those moments to explain what's going on with her. There have been many times that I have pushed Zaq away for the flashes in my brain there is nothing I can do about them they are apart of me. But I think I am getting closer to being free.