You gotta have friends??

How many friends have I really got?

You can count them on one hand.

How many friends have I really got?

How many friends have I really got?

That love me, that want me, that'll take me as I am?

How Many Friends -- by Pete Townshend

Oh this is a tough subject for me. Over the years I have come to realize that the people I called friends when I was young never really were. That's a tough thing to admit but what I looked like was always, always a problem except for one girlfriend who never cared. So in fact along with my husband and my best buddy Paul I can count the friends I've had in my life on one hand ans still have fingers left.

I wonder is that normal. I've known people who seemed to know everyone, but was that fake? I had a best friend (I thought) in high school. We did everything together (or so it seemed) and when I took the time to realize what really was going on I figured out we did everything together if she was at my house - not when we were at hers. She never invited me to parties I always invited her. I always invited her to school functions - she invited me - umm - never. I've realized until I was an adult I never had a real friend.

In my 20's there was Linda. Probably the best girlfriend I've ever had. We dd do everything together. We were inseparable. She was a gorgeous thin redhead. I was a fat brunette with no self esteem. Being around her so much gave me self esteem. She stuck up for me, would fight with anyone who said anything about my weight. She was a true friend. Somehow, over the years we lost touch. On those days when I need a shoulder I still miss her. I miss her terribly.

Sometimes a real friend comes out of the blue someone you never expected to like. In 1996 Wayne and I went to Houston to attend a size-acceptance conference. I was persuaded to attend by a woman I knew online, DR. Now DR told me I had to come to Houston and so we went. When we got to the Hotel there was an excited message waiting on our room phone from DR telling us to meet her in the lobby as soon as we got there. So we went to the lobby and there she was sitting on a couch with a man I did not know.

After hugging DR she introduced the man next to her as a well known artist of big women. When I looked at him I felt a lightening bolt of attraction like I had never felt before. The weekend was difficult for me, this gentleman spent a lot of time staring at me, and it made me uncomfortable. I left feeling relief that I never had to see him again. But after getting home he and I started chatting online and I learned what a wonderful man he was and is. We became fast friends and we are still close today. So close in fact, I call him family. DR has since passed away but she introduced me to one of the most important people of my life and I will always be grateful for that.

I'm not easy to get to know - I know that but sometimes people persevere until I open up. I am always grateful when that happens. I am most grateful that my wonderful husband decided I was worth the effort.

I love you honey, and thank you for loving me.

My sister - the one I have - not the one I wanted.

"I've had enough of bein' trodden on

My passive days are gonna be long gone

If you slap one cheek, well,

I ain't gonna turn the other

Life is for the living

Takers never giving"

Had Enough -- by Pete Townshend

You want to talk about 2 sisters from the same parents who are diametrically apposed to each other? Yup, that's me and my sister. It's been so long since we've talked I feel like an only child and maybe that's a good thing.

According to my mother, the day I was born was the day my sister decided she hated me. When they brought me home from the hospital she wouldn't even look at me for weeks. My first memory of her is her yelling at me. My most vivid childhood memory involves her. She tried to kill me when I was about 8 or so. She put a pillow over my head and held it firmly while she laughed and I tried to breath. I felt myself passing out when she finally lifted the pillow. I left the room crying while she continued to laugh. To this day she denies it - but I know it;s true.

As I am writing this so many memories are filling my head - none of them happy. I just want to get them out and make peace with this. I used to hate my sister. I used to miss her terribly. Now, I feel nothing, which is a very calm yet bizarre way to feel about a sister.

Our fighting never stopped. As long as we lived in the same house we fought. It was horrible. My sister is a vicious person. She not only will rip your heart out but she will also have a need to throw it on the ground in front of you while she stomps on it over and over until she is satisfied she's hurt you enough. Have that done a few hundred times in your life and you stop caring about the person doing it - in self defense.

I was always in *protective* mode when my sister was around. I knew I was going to be humiliated, or hurt or hit by her at some point everyday. What made it worse was the fact that we were "latchkey" kids. Our parents were always working and my sister and I were alone a lot. I was her doormat, her punching bag, her scapegoat. She had free reign over me most of our teenage years and I spent a lot of those years battered and bruised by my sister. She abused me whenever she felt like it and took great pleasure in doing so. The longer it went on the more numb I became, I was just trying to survive.

My sister was the "pretty one". To this day I feel ugly in comparison to her. She was thin, blond and outgoing. I was fat, dark and depressed. It was easy to see who was the star in our family - she was. And even tho I was seriously abused by her I still wanted to be her for many. many years. She was fun - I was depressed, she was pretty - I was fat, she had talent -I was painfully shy, people loved her - I was hard to love. She did everything in her power to make me go away and she almost succeeded. I was invisible.

As adults, I hated her. I hated the way she manipulated men, my parents even her friends. When she got married it was one of the happiest days of my life. The abuse was over - I was 21. I no longer felt any family obligation to her and I never went to see her if I didn't have to, which infuriated her. I on the other hand had started my own path to recovery and I was no longer going to be her punching bag. I finally had enough.

Her first husband never really knew who she was. He only met the person she showed the outside world. I always felt sorry for him, she ruled him like a tyrant. Then after 10 years and 3 children she left him. She took up with some asshole who turned out to be a drug addict and an abuser. I figured in a very real sense she got what she deserved but her idiotic irresponsible behavior caused her first husband to jump into the bottle because he was devastated. And her second husband foisted sexual and physical abuse on her children. I'm not sure I will ever forgive her for that.

Her third husband I don't even know and I don't care. I don't believe a leopard ever changes his spots and I think this man is just another poor choice in a long series of them. We don't speak anymore and I'm OK with that. I made peace with that a long time ago. I just wish she would stop hurting my parents, but perhaps that's deserved too.

So, at 47 I still long for the sister I never had. I still wish I had family of my own but I also have made peace with the fact that I may never have that. I dream about the loving caring families others have and I wonder how that feels. I wonder what mutual respect in healthy familial relationships feel like. And I wonder - why? Just - why? It's all I can muster up as a question when I think about my family history. Why? But we all know there is no answer to that.

I sometimes think I am to jaded to really develop loving relationships with people anymore. I go into them fully expecting to be hurt at some point and so protective of myself that they usually fade away long before anything can really develop. I don't know how to change that and I understand if it's too hard for most. It's just as hard for me to even think about trying to chip away at that hard shell I built around myself.

Yes, I am lonely, more lonely than I will admit to anyone. I don't know how to fix it. I feel broken in so many ways.

It only takes a moment to change a person's life - forever.

"Somebody saved me, it happened again

Somebody saved me, I thank you my friend"

"I don't know about guardian angels

All I know abouts staying alive"

Lyrics to Somebody Saved Me - by Pete Townshend

There are moments is your life that are profound, ones that change you forever and help you heal very dark places in your soul. I had one of those moments this weekend, and by the grace of God and the love of a dear blessed friend the deepest, darkest pain of my life was lanced from my being by a few simple words.

I am humbled, again.

It was so simple, and so loving an act I'm not sure I can ever thank him enough. He has the biggest heart I have ever known and he and I are twin souls I truly believe. We read each others minds, know when things are going badly for the other and we have a deep, abiding love for each other that I know nothing will ever break.

He is the kind of friend most people never have. He is kind to a fault and I know if he could reach in and pull all the pain out of me - he would do it. This weekend he did just that - he pulled out the pain of my childhood abuse with one sentence. One thought, a few simple words. He allowed himself to be used to help me heal. How could I ever ask for more? How could I ever tell anyone how it felt? How do I ever repay him?

When he said it - I went into shock - I think. I couldn't hear anything but his voice, the rest of the world went dark. I was stunned into silence, then as usual, the tears came. I know he was confused - so was I. But before I left he looked me in the eyes, and in a very soft, sweet, tender voice said, "I love you." For the first time in all the years I have known him and all the times we have said, "I love you", I felt how deeply he loves me.

And again I was humbled.

Later that night, I figured out why what he said affected me so. I had - had a genuine flashback to some of the abuse I suffered as a child. And at the moment I realized what had happened, I believe that scar was healed. I had been given a gift by my dear friend. A gift no one else could give me.

Today, I am still a bit overwhelmed by it all. I'm not sure I will ever really understand what happened but I'm glad it did and I'm glad it was him.

My life is different today. In a split second you changed my life. I am blessed to have you in my life. I love you with all my heart. :)

Thank you, Paulie.

Christmas Songs I plan to write someday.

"Silver Cuffs"
(they're taking dad back to prison)

"Rudolph the Nasty Drunk Reindeer"
(Likes kickin'fat guy ass all year...)

"White Knucklin"
(I'm dreaming there won't be christmas....)

"Into the River and through the front Door"
(Dad's had too much wine again)

"Oh Shut Your Mouth"
(Oh shut your mouth, Oh shut your mouth, I heard enough out of you this year)

"I Won't be Home for Christmas:
(you can kiss my ass)

"All I Want for Christmas"
(is for you to leave me the fuck alone)

"Have a Lousy Stinkin' Christmas"
(you poor excuse for a husband)

"I Saw Mommy Fuckin' the Electric Guy"
(so we could have christmas lights this year)

"I Never Liked You Anyway"
(Bahrumpapumpum)

"Oh Little Bastard Who Calls Me Mom"
(I don't know who your father is)

"Wretching Mom"
(drunkin mom, worshiping, porceline Bob)

And my all time favorite --

"Get Out of My House, You Drunken Whore"
(and take that bastard with you)

Christmas (AKA holidays)

Did you ever see the faces

Of the children, they get so excited.

Waking up on Christmas morning

Hours before the winter sun's ignited.

They believe in dreams and all they mean,

Including Heaven's generosity.

Peeping 'round the door to see what

Parcels are for free in curiosity.

CHRISTMAS -- by Pete Townshend

I hate the holidays.

I have for many, many years. I can't even remember when was the last time I wasn't depressed through November and December. I remember as a child - well no, I don't have many happy memories of my childhood. But, I have been told I loved Christmas and Thanksgiving as a kid. Now? My memories revolve around sadness. Maybe as a kid you never really know how bad you feel until you grow up and realize you've been sad all your life. I don't know. The only thing I do know is I have only a scant few happy memories of the holidays and so - here I am - depressed again - just wishing the next month would fly by unnoticed by me.

This song I quoted above has a very strange feeling to it - almost surreal, for me anyway. There's Tommy on Christmas morning with all the happy children around him, and yet he feels nothing, sees nothing and says nothing. That was me. I was the invisible child. My sister got all the attention - she demanded it. I just didn't have the strength to stand up for what I needed - I still don't in a lot of ways.

Family holiday gatherings were my worst nightmare. I was a fat kid (I'm still fat, but one thing at a time here). I chose food for comfort. I got none from anyone else. My parents are very cold people. It's only now as they are getting closer to death that they want the comfort of a hug from me. I have none to give, that well dried up years ago. I sometimes feel badly that I feel such distance from my parents but, I just had to survive.

Back to family gatherings. I hated them. I was the fat kid, and my weight was the topic of discussion and ridicule at all family gatherings. My parents were grilled, "When are you going to do something about *her* weight?" I was made fun of by my cousins. I couldn't even enjoy my meal. Every single bite was watched and scrutinized. I was usually in tears by the time we left.

I remember one particular Thanksgiving at our home. The kids table was in a different room. My cousins picked on me viciously until I cried. I couldn't eat my meal and my father came in to pick up the plates. I remember vividly my father seeing my plate with food still on it grinned from ear to ear and said to me with all the pride he could summon up, "I'm so proud of you honey, you didn't finish this plate of food!" Then I heard him go into the kitchen where the rest of the grown ups were and told everyone that I had not finished my plate. I was humiliated, and to this day that incident is only one of two times my father ever told me he was proud of me. I know there is one more - but I don't remember what it was about.

We were also very poor when I was a child. We never had much for Christmas and one year my mother decided putting coal in our stockings was really funny. Also, one Christmas my sister tried to kill me by putting a pillow over my head and trying to smother me. She almost did too - but she is a subject for her own blog entry.

I hate the holidays. I just wish..................I don't know what I wish, except for peace, for me.

I'm your wicked Uncle Ernie....

(Me at 9 year of age)

"I'm your wicked Uncle Ernie

I'm glad you won't see or hear me

As I fiddle about

Fiddle about

Fiddle about!"

--Fiddle About by John Entwistle

The first time I heard this song I went numb.

I had no idea others went through the same thing I did. And I knew you didn't talk about it - let alone write a song about it. But John Entwistle was a genious! This song in Tommy was a turning point in the Opera itself and in my life.

How do you write a song about childhood sexual abuse? You write it just like this. You write it bluntly and openly and in terms even a child will get. I listened to this song and all the things that had been done to me came back from where I had buried them.

I had an Uncle who liked to "Fiddle About" with little girls. He was also an Elder in the church we attended. Which made me hate religion with more venom than I ever thought possible. MyUncle was a pervert, yet he would stand in church and read scripture like a saint - and everyone said, "What a wonderful man!" But I knew better. He was a pig.

I wasn't the only one - he fiddled about with my sister, all my female cousins on my father's side of the family, and he even got handy with my mother. But not one of us ever said a word. He died and the secret went with him. He fucking ruined my life, changed who I would be forever and went to his grave keeping the secret. It makes me want to vomit that to this day no one has said a word about it. My sister and I have talked about it. My mother knows what happened - but no one else.

I desperately want to "OUT" him to my family - but then I wonder is it worth it? Who will believe me? 2 of my female cousins have had breast cancer - one lost her life to it. Since that was Uncle's favorite spot on a woman's body I can't help thinking that the guilt and the shame are what created the cancer. Maybe putting it down here will be enough.

I'm not sure anything will ever be enough.

You didn't hear it, You didn't see it.........

You didn't hear it

You didn't see it.

You won't say nothing

to no one ever in your life.

You never heard it

Oh how absurd it all seems without any proof.

-- You Didn't Hear It - by Pete Townshend

Secrets

Everything was a secret in my childhood home. "Shhhhhhhh don't tell - what will the neighbors say?" "Keep your mouth shut your father has a reputation in this town!" "You don't know what you saw, you're just a kid."

I never saw my mother flirt with the truckers that came into our family store. I never saw the men who would look at my sister and me with lust. I never saw my grandfather make passes at women. I never heard the whispers about my Uncle Bill and him doing stuff to my cousin Linda. I never heard the grown ups getting drunk and telling dirty jokes in the other room. I also never knew that my cousins were playing doctor in the basement while the adults were drunk. And I certainly never was abused by my Uncle. (secrets) No - no, I came from a good family, one that was in reality so dark that to this day I wonder how I got out alive.

My mother grew up in a big yet poor farm family. I never knew anything about them until I was a teenager and started asking questions. My grandfather was (as my mother put it "a mean and nasty SOB who I am glad is dead and I hope he is burning in hell") Mom has a way with words. My grandfather was, by all accounts, a monster. He would beat my grandmother unmercifully. He would beat the girls in the family until grandma stepped in and took the beating for them. He also would beat the boys so severely that he almost kill one of them one time I am aware of. And then there was the time he sat in the living room with his shotgun and he was going to kill the first one of his sons that walked through the door. It didn't happen but my mother can remember it like it happened yesterday.

But, to look at our family from the outside - you would never know. (secrets)I never knew the depth of the abuse until I was in my late 20's when I could get someone to tell me some of the stories. It wasn't easy. I still only know a bit - my instincts tell me there is so much more I will never know, especially since so many of my Aunts and Uncles are dead now.

We were kept away from most of my mother's family when we were kids. I would ask why and the standard answer was "Never mind why!". (secrets) Over the years I found out why. The abuse that was heaped on my mother and her brother's and sister's (there were 9 of them) they in turn heaped on us - the cousins. We all knew it was happening, you could see it in each others eyes, but not a word was said. (secrets) Some of my Uncles became physical abusers, one sexual (he actually had sex with one of his sisters) and several emotional.

My mother and her sisters married men who were abusers. Emotional and physical. Even my mother who prided herself on ending the abuse in her family, married a man (my father) who was emotionally and physically abusive to my sister and I. (other strange fact - yes she protected us from her family - however - the man who sexually abused my sister and I was married to my father's oldest sister - how's that for a slap in the face?) My father was mean - most of the time.. But to people on the outside they would all tell you what a great guy he was. (secrets) No one knew how much abuse we all took in the privacy of our home behind closed doors. My father liked to yell and hit. And another one of his favorite ways to discipline us was to kick us with his steel toe work shoes. How many times can you be called stupid and ignorant by your father before you believe it? But we never told - you don't talk about those things, (secrets) you just learn to live with it.

When I was 23 I wanted to see a therapist. I had been so depressed most of my life I was actually sure I was going to take my own life - soon. I tried to talk to my mother about it. She got so angry. (secrets) She screamed at me that "You don't talk to strangers about what goes on in the family!" (secrets). I told her I was going. Then she did something I have yet to forgive her for. She took my to our family physician and somehow got him to tell me to talk about my problems around the dinner table - not with a stranger! I was dunb founded and it only succeeded in making my depression deeper.

I didn't seek out help for another year and by then I was so depressed I could hardly get out of bed. My mother would rather I lay in bed unable to do anything except cry - then to go to a therapist and try to get better. That's how deep the secrets were. When I finally went to a clinic - my mother wouldn't talk to me for weeks. (secrets) But I found the beginning of my life in that clinic with that student therapist, who laughed with me and cried with me. I will never forget her - she gave me a lifeline when I was going under for the last time.

As I grew older and became an adult I found I didn't know how to relate to "normal" people. I had no idea how to be in a healthy relationship. My first real relationship with a man was an abusive one. To this day the only person who knows the whole story of what happened in that relationship - is me. (secrets) I stayed with that alcoholic drug using abuser for far too long. I remember begging him to take me back on more than one occasion. I didn't think I deserved anything better. And I never told anyone what was going on, (secrets)

To this day I have trouble with truth. I was a compulsive liar for a while in my 20's. Now I don't lie - I just don't tell the full story. It's just more secrets. Always secrets.

But I never saw or hear any of it. Right?

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me.............

I was 9 years old the first time I heard Tommy. I heard "See Me, Feel Me" on the radio my mother always had on. I never really listened to what was on but those words caught my attention:

See me,

feel me,

touch me

heal me

--See me, Feel me by Pete Townshend

That's pretty heavy stuff for a 9 year old littel girl who had no idea what she was hearing - except that those words resonated with my spirit in a way nothing before or since ever has.

I was lost - from the moment I was born. I was alone - in a family of people who only thought about themselves and their own pain. In some that meant they were drunks, some drug addicts, some abusers, some child molesters - some - like me were just lost souls. I was molested by my Uncle when I was 7. At that moment I lost something very precious - my innocense and my ability to see the world as safe. At that moment I became someone who would never trust easily or would ever feel good enough, smart enough or pretty enough. My childhood was taken away from me with the touch of an adult man's hands.

I spent way too much time alone as a child. My sister had been molested as well - but she became more outgoing - looking for love from everybody but in the wrong way. Me, I closed up my heart and thought I would die never knowing what real love meant - because I would never - EVER - trust anyone again. I didn't believe love even existed - I thought it was just a weakness in people that they needed someone else in their lives. Not me. I would never need anyone.

So at 9 years old in our old - small kitchen - I fell in love - but I had no idea what that was. But I fell in love with Tommy. I knew what he felt. I knew how he was being abused and I knew that I had to know more. I had to know more of this story.

I didn't get the album until I was 14. Those 5 years had not been good to me. It seemed like the whole world wanted to destroy me. My shell got harder and harder to get through and my parents added to this by being angry and abusive with both my sister and I.

My sister was stronger than me - but I closed down even more over those years. By the time I heard the whole album Tommy - I sobbed through the whole thing. I sat in my little bedroom and just broke down. It was safe to do that there. No one could see me - no one could hear me - I could be vulnerable to the music. It lifted me for just a while, into a different world. My world was filled with so much pain, I willingly went along for the ride.

I felt the abuse, in a very real way, that Tommy suffered. I knew that pain very well. I felt joy when he triumphed, but I had no idea how that felt but somewhere in my mind it gave me hope I had never had before. Maybe someday I can be happy? No. That's not the way it works in my life. Besides I was never gonna let anyone in - so the only happiness I ever felt for a long time was when I listened to a Who album.

God, it was like Pete reached into my soul and pulled out my pain and read my mind and wrote about ME in so many, many songs. How did he know what it felt like to want to die? How did he know I was in so much pain that death seemed more attractive then going on with this miserable life? It wasn't until much later in life that I figured out that these are things all human's go through - but as a child - he was a God in my eyes.

There was one more thing about the See me - feel me - line that really touched me. When I was a kid I used to write all over things. It was my way of letting people know I was around. Tissue boxes, newspapers, books, magazines - they all got my handwriting on them. I got beat a lot for doing that but one of the things I wrote all the time on everything was this:

"Sandie was here."

It was my own plea of - See me, feel me..............

Yes - Pete saved my life with his music

When I was 15 I wanted to die. The reasons I will try to understand with this blog. The fact is because of Pete Townshends music I am here. I'm 47 - happily married and happy in general - for the first time in my life. My childhood was miserable - riddled with abuse I sought solice in music - yes, more to the point - Pete Townshend's music. It touched me somewhere deep. The longing for acceptance and the pain of being different - I found a kindred spirit in a total stranger. Over the years his music has actually saved me many times, and in this blog I hope to pour out my heart and share some of my words. I could never thank him enough - but I could tell the world. :)