***Readers Beware***
These are true stories that may contain disturbing content and strong language that could trigger individuals.

You can find the complete anthology: Injustice: My Bell Jar Diaries, stories and supporting pieces on the page at the link below.

Injustice: My Bell Jar Diaries

Just as I chose to share, you chose to read. Thank you for continuing to read and comment!

We were supposed to be a family. We were supposed to be brothers and sisters, not fellow enlisted members of a family unit. Along the way, we decided if we must be soldiers, we would be our own Army. See, we didn’t have a Father, we had command. We were raised by Command. Command doesn’t have a family. Command has soldiers. That’s exactly what we were, his little toy soldiers ordered about and expected to follow orders without question or hesitation.

The eldest three of us vowed to protect each other and the younger ones. We would do everything in our power to prevent his outbursts, and — one day, we would all go far and never see them again. We were, in our way, the Three Musketeers. Our vow bound us together in a time where fear was our constant companion, injustice a cornerstone, hopelessness was ordinary, and chaos was our normal. His omnipresence caused each day to be a fight or flight experience. Flight wasn’t an option, so we fought. We fought in secret, knowing: only that which is concealed is protected. We took every precaution because if found out the consequences of our actions would be catastrophic.

Our vow bound us together in a time where fear was our constant companion, injustice a cornerstone, hopelessness was ordinary, and chaos was our normal.

I’ve previously mentioned our secret phrase: Don’t rock the boat, which was said under our breath or silently mouthed to each other. Many of you might have realized my penchant for Latin, as I have used it in several other pieces. My love for Latin began at a young age and one Sunday afternoon I realized it could be useful. We assigned code names and created other code words, each serving a specific purpose, but above all, this helped us communicate when we were in survival mode, which was 99% of the time. Our parents were referred to as the parental unit. His code word was semper fi (always faithful) and it sure as hell didn’t mean we were loyal to him. NO! We used semper fi in remembrance of our vow, a reminder that we would stand together as a secret, but united front, and to always be loyal to one another. It also seemed appropriate to use his sacred motto against him, since he was a former Marine. Here’s a small sampling of our Code Key:

semper fi — Father

fictus (fake) — Mother

vetus (old) — Paternal Grandparents

venator (hunter) — Paternal Grandfather

venatrix (huntress) — Paternal Grandmother

amare (love) — Maternal Grandparents

custos (guardian)— Maternal Grandfather *Papa*

gratia (grace) — Maternal Grandmother

lacuna (pond) — Meeting Place

Rabbit Hole — Dead Drop

salus (safety) — school

Red — Danger Imminent

Yellow — Be Cautious

Green — All Clear

My siblings and I became masters at eye conversations. We created eye and hand signals too. A tug on a ear meant shut up, someone is listening, or can hear. We concocted quite the covert op for furthering communication and Papa aided our endeavors. We buried an old Hiland Dairy ice cream bucket under a fallen tree trunk by the pond. We would leave each other messages on scraps of paper because we never knew when or if we would have a safe opportunity to communicate. Usually they included warnings, reminders, or information we came by. Papa contributed an innovative contraption because he too was fueled by desperation to communicate with us. He fashioned a camouflaged PVC pipe that served as a waterproofed container for a pre-paid cell phone. Just in case.

If there was any deviation from the parental unit’s expectations I would get “the speech.” You are the oldest. Your brothers and sisters all look up to you. You are an example. What you do. What you don’t do. What you say. Everything is a direct reflection upon me and this family. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I can still hear the echo of these words in the halls of my head. That was their way… getting into your head and once inside, there was no shaking them. It wasn’t enough to torture and intimidate in real time, they had to do the same within. BUT — As I would say, I always find a way. That little phrase became my life motto and it is one that has served me well. Both now and then.

As the years went by here’s what skittered across my mind — alcohol or drugs?THAT, that I would understand. Yet, neither played a part, neither was a factor. So, what did that leave? Why was this happening? I thought about this incessantly and at night I would analyze the what, why, when. That’s where I developed my over-analyzing behaviors.

An entry from my diary: Once again, I pray for the courage to be brave. Once again, I ask. Why? What fuels his fire? He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t do drugs. I don’t get it. WHY?! The abuse we endure comes from a darker place where injustice, pain, evil, and hate abide!

At least with substance abuse there was a clear reason behind certain behavior. With him, the rationale could not be defined or explained, but his actions were not influenced by any mind altering substances. No. He made a conscious choice to abuse us, time and time again. Bastard! My mother failed to fulfill her role first and foremost as a mother, which was to protect her children. She never did. She stood idly by without intervention. The lady doth not protest at all! She is just as guilty as him, due to her inaction. Her inaction is called: Failure to Protect and Neglect, but it was also another form of Abandonment.

I am reminded once again of the quote: The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. — Sir Edmund Burke. We were surrounded by people who knew or at the very least suspected abuse but their inaction perpetuated our torment. Some individuals did bear witness to his many outbursts. You saw it, you heard it, you did nothing. To those people, if you are reading this, you know who you are: SHAME ON YOU ALL!

This is why I became a CASA: Court Appointed Special Advocate for Oklahoma County to represent abused and neglected children in the system. A CASA has the ability to be a child’s voice and make recommendations to a judge. To learn more contact your local CASA office today!