Heartbroken and Helpless

If you’ve been following this blog for any amount of time, you’ll notice that when I sometimes get kind of heavy, like yesterday, I try to follow it up with something lighter the next day. And yesterday, I wrote about something horrific in my life. I was okay with it yesterday, and the out-pouring of support from readers was instrumental to

What an easy, crappy way out of fixing your real one…

my state of mind, but the day ended on such a hard note that I just don’t feel funny today. Instead, I have to write about how I feel about all this stuff, and hopefully, that’ll be enough to get over yet another bump in my road.

I talk about my Dad from time to time, and occasionally, my brother Michael, who turned 40 a few days ago. Both of these people break my heart sometimes, and I thought I’d share why.

To keep this post from becoming a tome, here are some articles you can read to get more of a back story on my history:

Breast Implants and the Sally Jesse Raphael Show – How I found my dad after my mom hid me and Mike from him our whole childhoods.

So, A Child Molester and a Little Kid are Walking in a Forest… – Humor and my dad, brother, and me.

Liar, Liar Pants On Fire – The custody battle.

Don’t Call Me Catherine – childhood sexual abuse

lol…It seems I won’t have much to say today that I haven’t already mentioned before!

In a nut shell, my dad and mom got divorced when I was about 6 – 7 – 8…the age thing is fuzzy for me and my Dad doesn’t remember either…no help there. What I do remember though, is that I was a Daddy’s girl one day, and the next day, he was gone, replaced with a broken man who seemed to not even care about his own kids much less his stepkids. My brother Mike was a toddler during all of this, and thus has no real memories of Dad before Mom left him.

Over the years growing up, my Mom basically hid us from my Dad. Unable to just accept the fact that she had two children from a different marriage, we were saddled with our stepfather, R’s, last name. This was no big thing for Mike, but for me, I had already gone to school with my real last name — Mallicoat, and suddenly I was having to use this other one. It was confusing, and for me, sad, because I was losing yet another link to a person that I had all but worshiped. Mom, during this time, would return to Dad, then leave again, a couple of times, thus keeping him on the hook. When she married R, Dad thought they were getting remarried again soon, and that she was collecting her stuff from the Valley. When she didn’t return, Nonie, my great-grandmother, is the one who told him that she had gotten married to someone else. I was there for the conversation…because that is how I found out she had remarried as well.

During a very long, drawn-out custody battle, my mother and the then-pastor of a now defunct church would tell me these horrible stories of physical abuse that my father had committed against my mother. Each time they would tell me a story, though, the details would be different..more exaggerated, and in the end, totally false. I don’t say any of this to cast aspersions on my mother…she had her issues, but overall, she had her own broken brain stemming from her own abuse, so it was easy for me to forgive her. But, as I told both her and the pastor one time, I remember living at home with my real dad and my mom, and none of this abuse ever happened. I remember us singing to old honky-tonk songs. I remember creating a whole train by baking cakes in coffee cans. I remember the pets, the family dinners, and watching Dennis the Menace every morning with my Dad. I remember mall trips, and my mom sitting in my dad’s lap watching television. In other words, I remember. I also pointed out that my great-grandmother and great-grandfather lived with us for a really long time, especially when Mike was born, and Nonie (that is what I called her) adored Dad. And this woman was a mean Italian woman who would cut your throat and tell God you died if anyone hurt her favorite grandchild — my mom, or great-grandchild — me. In other words, this supposed abuse just had never happened. Dad had loved Mom, me, and Michael. We were happy. Well, except for Mom, I guess.

Mom basically just told me back then that I had just forgotten, but I could even tell from her demeanor that she knew what she was doing was wrong. It wasn’t until about 10 years ago, though, that she finally just told me the truth — she was afraid of losing custody of me and the abuse charges were the only thing that she could think of that would be bad enough that the judge wouldn’t grant custody to my Dad. According to both of them, the judge was more inclined to give me to my Dad than my Mom, specifically because he kept catching her and the pastor in lies on the stand. And Mom and this pastor were how Dad was introduced to Christianity.

The whole time that I was growing up, and being molested, and being labelled a liar to protect the molester and my mom, in order to keep the adults in my life from having to face the responsibilities in this hell that they themselves were partly to blame for, the other children in my family were all witnessing what was being said and done. Mike was one of those people. Mike heard only Mom’s lies about Dad, and the couple of times he had to go on visitations, he was terrified of him. Dad was heartbroken. Yes, the best memories of my childhood were with my Dad, but Mike had none but the ones painted by people who had lied to him.

Eventually, Mom was able to break Dad, and when I was about 11, she succeeded in ridding my father out of my life, and out of Mike’s. Mike changed his last name to R’s last name, and I took my real name back. I left home, started my life, and Mike and I never really got a chance to discuss Dad…he just didn’t want to hear it. I found a letter one time that Mike had written to my Mom that said that we had never been close, so it was no big deal to him that we weren’t now. I remember crying over that letter because that was never how I had remembered it. I blamed my mom and R for tearing away from me not only my Dad, but my brother, and my other half-siblings as well…all in the name of maintaining an image. Even now, I can’t get Mike to talk to me. In the last decade, I’ve heard from him once. Satan has stolen my family from me, just as surely as he stole Job’s away from him.

Not one conversation I have with my Dad these days, this subject doesn’t come up. My Dad lost all of his auto part stores after Mom divorced him. Mom got everything…home, furnishings, money..She left him with nothing. He would never have any other children again because he never wanted me or Michael to feel like we were disposable to him. He eventually used drugs to numb the pain, got arrested, and lived a majority of his life bitter at God for taking his family away, bitter at Mom for making sure he never even got to see us, and bitter that his own son chose to believe other people’s stories instead of finding out the truth for himself. He blames Mom, that creepy pastor, and God. Never me or Michael…

Yesterday, I talked to my father, who is so afraid he will die of cancer before he gets one more chance to talk to his son, that he cried a little on the phone. My father does not cry. I can’t fix any of this, because I can’t get my own brother to even really talk to me, and he knows what happened to me. There doesn’t seem to be any room in his life anymore for us. So, helpless, I just had to listen to this heart-breaking diatribe from my Dad, try to swing him away from the bitterness against Mom, re-forgive her myself for this pain that, unfortunately, she caused. Again, Lord, what am I to do?? You are the God of Restoration…I’m begging you to Restore to me, and to my father, what Satan took away!!

I guess there is a part of me that hopes one day Mike will read this and understand that while yes, I understand to some degree what growing up in the family we grew up in did to all of us, I still hate that one of the innocent victims in all of this, Dad, is still being tortured by it. I want Mike to know that he did love us, the stories that were told to us were never true, and that while R never loved either of us like a real father should, we always had one waiting for us in the wings. The original one, that God deemed to actually give us. Dad thinks that Mike will think he’s mad at him because he got his name changed, but Dad doesn’t care about that at all. He understands, because he, too, was raised with step-fathers and he knows Mike never knew who he was. Dad is somewhat agoraphobic these days, but wants me to drive him to Colorado so he can go to Mike’s church just once. I don’t want to because I have no assurance that Mike would even speak to Dad, and I can’t watch Dad hurt all over again by all of this.  I suggested he write a letter, but his limited education makes him embarrassed that his grammar and spelling will only humiliate Mike. I suggested that I write it for him, with him, but he wants his own relationship with Mike.  All of this is just hurting my heart to no end. I can barely type from the crying…

The worst part of the conversation last night, though, was when Dad asked that if Mike was a pastor, how come he didn’t care about trying to help Dad make peace with God? I’m not laying that one on Mike. But as a man who life severely kicked in the teeth, I want to help introduce my Dad and the real Savior, and I can’t help but feel unable to do that without Mike, who, in Dad’s mind, is a representative of that same God. I have, however, informed my father that I need him to make peace with God because if he dies as a non-Christian, I don’t know that I will ever recover from that. 😦

I’m sorry this is such a sad post today, but that is how heavy my heart is. Broken for the family I once had so many years ago….Today, I really, really hate the devil.

— Bird


30 responses to “Heartbroken and Helpless”

  1. Oh Bird..Its true..the devil is really throwing rocks!
    It makes me so angry that he’d even dare mess with us..like he doesn’t know who we are! I mean..really?!
    As much as we like to fix situations such as this..I think we need to keep praying against the seeds of the enemy that have been planted in the lives of the people that we love..I’m going to continue to pray for you and your family and hope that this situation gets better soon xx


  2. Such an outpour from your heart. I wish there was some physical way any of us could help you and your family in this, but the good news is-we have prayer! I’ll pray that everyone involved makes peace with the sources of their pain and takes time to atleast really listen to each other once. ({})


  3. Bird, I feel for you and your dad. I truly believe that God is a God of healing, and that where two or more are gathered in his name, there he is also. I believe even when we don’t see it, God is at work to answer our prayers. So you have my prayers. Just because someone is a Christian, even a pastor, doesn’t mean they can’t hold hardness in their hearts, and are clearly not holding to what the Bible says about needing to forgive to be forgiven. To that end, you have my prayers for your family. Maybe it is time to write a letter to your brother and using the scriptures “admonish” him on his unforgiveness. Even pastors need to seek forgiveness from the Lord at times. If that isn’t a viable option…don’t worry, God isn’t a slacker, and no matter what he will see this through for His glory. God says when we love him and believe that he will do anything we ask. So I will be asking for the healing of your family. Remember God didn’t take your family away…Satan did. It was the lieing and personal choices that Satan put on hearts that destroyed your family. God will turn this around for his glory and praise, because of his love for you, and the prayers that are being poured out before his throne for you and your family.


    • I appreciate this very much. I don’t want to paint Michael out to be insensitive or harsh…he was equally hurt by our childhood, and our stepfather was a very painful lesson for Mike about fathers…He has done his best to leave behind his childhood and focus entirely on his future. I don’t want to rip open any of his hurts, either. I just wish I could make my Dad’s pain stop…That’s all…I don’t write Mike letters of admonishment..he hasn’t really done anything sinful or wrong. He doesn’t know his father, which wasn’t his fault at all. I really don’t know what to do at this point. It may be that God only wants me to pray…Whatever He wants me to do, He’s usually pretty clear about it, so I’m just in waiting mode. Thank you so much for your prayers and words of healing. I really do appreciate you!!


      • I understand. Your brother is still hurt. I have shared some of what I went through in the past. But to understand more, I was molested by two brothers growing up, physically and emotionally abused by my father, physically abused by my first husband, emotionally abused and neglected by my second husband, and then physically abused by one of my adopted daughters. I lived with anger and hurt for years, not only at them, but at God. When I finally gave my heart to the Lord, it was at a time when I was going through some of the greatest emotional pain of my life, not knowing the years of abuse I would still go through. I “worked” at trying to forgive the people who had physically hurt me, but the emotional hurt was still buried deep behind a wall. I tried to move on in life, live for Christ, deal with my life at that moment, without dealing with that hurt. It didn’t work. My fears from the past, my mistrust, my hurt often came bubbling up in other ways, bouts of depression, fear of going outside of my home except to church. I closed myself off to other people, and often even at home closed myself in my room. It wasn’t until I lost my father that all that changed. When my mother died I screamed at my father that I would never forgive him, and that I wished it had been him that God took instead, and that when he died I wouldn’t even come to his funeral. But years later, almost 10 to be exact, I got call from my sister saying Dad was in the hospital, and was asking for me. That in itself was amazing because my father never wanted me around, in fact called me the “Bastard” child, even though I look so much more like him then he or I wanted to admit. So for him to want to see me, was strange to say the least. I asked my 2nd husband if I could go, and he said no, that we couldn’t afford it, and besides why would I want to if my dad had really been that bad. He refused, yet in the same week he took $500 out of our account to give to a buddy of his who we later found out was a coke addict. Yep, his friend went on a binge with that money. Anyway, I didn’t get to go, and by the end of that week, my father was gone. I didn’t get to go to his funeral either, but I’m telling you it was at that moment I realized how wrong I had been, because I hadn’t really forgiven my dad, all those years, and now it was too late to tell him that I had forgiven him.Since then, no matter what I’ve gone through, I’ve have kept that moment in my heart to remind me that we are not guarenteed a day, and that because of my lack of true forgiveness I had lost a lot of time with my father that could have been used for healing our relationship, and I had lost it in a way that could never be made up for. So when I faced abuse by my daughter, I found that it only hurt me to hold onto that anger and unforgiveness. It doesn’t mean I just took the abuse, because I actually had to have her arrested when it got so bad that she left me with the injuries I have now, and I had no one to protect me and Jklyn if it didn’t stop. That was when Don came into my life to, and he put an end to the abuse completely. He sent her off to Boot Camp, to learn to control her temper, and teach her some real discipline, but he let her know at every turn that she was still his step daughter and so he hoped that one day she would change her behavior enough to be part of the family again. During this time I realized how much God loved me, and that through forgiveness I would heal emotionally, but also my daughter would heal and start changing.
        I know I’ve written a lot here in reply, but you see I understand your brother, and I’m not saying he is a bad guy, terrible Christian, but I know as a pastor that he knows God’s Word and maybe the simplest verses from God’s Word would keep him from feeling the loss I felt at not having forgiven my father before he died.
        I know you know your family though, so just know that you will have my prayers for healing for you all.


  4. Bird, it seems when God is involved with our lives, Satan works even harder to destroy. I hate Satan with a passion. He uses anyone, anything he can. I will send prayers to you and your family and ask God to take this burden off of you and deal with it in his perfect way. We are all here praying and standing by your side……………


  5. Bird, Thank you so much for sharing. I was completly drawn into every word you said and how you allowed your heart to expose the depths of the pain of abuse and the loss of the relationship with your Dad. Your story gives me strength and your Faith is tremendous! Thank you for your testimony and your encouragement! Hugs!!


    • Thank you so much for this beautiful comment!! I am amazed at how much better I feel sometimes when I just share the pain I’m wrestling with in writing. Of course, encouragement like this is very healing, too, lol… Thank you for checking out my site, and for your wonderful encouragement!


  6. Families and relationships can be so hard. Oh Bird, praying with you. This is a heart breaking situation for sure. I’m going to try to concentrate on the One who is bigger than all of this as I pray! God bless you and comfort you as He works this out!


    • I appreciate every single prayer. I’m convinced that it was all my internet friend’s prayers that gave me my cat Sebastian back….And I imagine God cares a lot more about the welfare of my father and my brother. I know He will answer me, but patience is always the thing I struggle with most. Especially when the problem seems so easily fixed. But of course, I’m only seeing this from my perspective. I know that. I believe God is healing all sorts of things in my life, and I know His timing is perfect. I’ll praise Him, and wait. 🙂 Thank you so much for praying for me, and for your kind words!


  7. thank you so much for sharing your story. those of us who speak about our sexual abuse are so incredibly brave. i relate to many of the effects you’ve mentioned. it’s something i am working on writing about as well. thank you again.


  8. I am glad to have stopped by to visit your blog. Not because I enjoy tragedies or heartache. But because I have found a new sister for whom to intercede. I am very sorry for this brokenness. God is the restorer of lives. He redeems even the time. I am praying. Love, Cristal


  9. Oh Bird…I’m so, SO sorry. It all seems such a tragic waste of love and time and energy. Your mother must be the saddest person. My heart really goes out to your dad, and for all your sakes, especially his, I hope he finds God, and peace, soon.


    • Oh, Katharine! I am woefully behind on mine, too! I wrote this one after a sad phone call with my dad. Now, I have an army of Christians praying for him…Thank you, Lord!!


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