BY Marissa Hollings
I was about 4-5 years old, I had on a white and pink sweater/jacket it had big "pom-poms" at the end to tighten the hood. (I know this because it was my favorite, that and a red dress with white polka a dot- are the only 2 outfits that I remember as a child.) We just got home from out of town. My mom and I had walked into the house; I have always, for as long as I can remember, had IBS. I had an accident and couldn't hold it. Mom was washing me off. It was at that moment I realized I LOVED her, I truly loved her, not sure why I remember that. My older siblings may describe both much differently, then my sister Consuelo (Cańa) and I. They saw the real struggle, the hunger, the absence from dad, since he had to leave Mexico to earn the almighty American dollar. They experienced cold with no blankets, hunger with no food, life with a lot of despair surprisingly from our paternal grandmother, that only they and mom knew, dad either never noticed, or turned a blind eye- this was after all his mother.
Dad had worked since before he was 10 and being born in the late 30's that was normal, so working long hours there was no time for hurt hearts and family bashing, everyone just put it away deep in their soul. Where in fact before this and all these years later it remained. My father was the bread winner and was much too often not home. When he was, I'm pretty sure he wanted peace and quiet.
My father. I remember at that age, he was always trying to keep my sister and I, laughing. He used to make "burritos" out of freshly made corn tortillas added salt and made donkey noises (burritos mean a baby donkey in Spanish) I remember being much older when I realized I loved my father. To describe him is a little contradicting, he's tough, strict, easy to anger, he's also gentle, easygoing and he has a laugh that will absorb anyone. had to be about 15-16 when I noticed - I LOVED my father going through those "glorious" years. Yes, you know the ones. My father believed in me and always had my back. I realized that I loved him for that, and always taking care of us. Most of my friends were from a one parent household. Watching that I realized just how blessed I was. My mom, on the other hand was always around so she was a lot tougher on Cańa and I. She was very strict and firm with us. She could also see right through my bullshit.
Right around that year I also noticed something I had been missing all my life. My father- the "almighty Reyes" (last name meaning kings) was not a robot, not the strongest man in the world, not a magician, and not unbreakable, my father was human. A family occurrence was going on one day after school, I was in my room planning on how to start living my life as an "only child". I hear a scream so horrific, it sounded so horrific- like a scream from a horror movie. My father was outside in the back yard. I ran out of my room, down the hall, into the kitchen out the back door and into the back yard.
There it was, a site I never imagined I would ever see, A hero in my eyes, my father, Torn, Desperate, Crying, and screaming. How could this be I thought. In most families one would embrace maybe say words of hope, I love you dad! No, this is a Reyes household. I quietly just looked at him, ran back to my room and cried. I cried like I never had before, my father’s screams and cries hit me like a million bricks. Sure, we loved each other know I can speak for me only, but I also knew I was loved. We would embrace each other on special occasions, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Birthdays. We also heard I love you; this would come from my eldest sister Lupe.
I remember mom being on the phone with her, she was in the convent, she was a nun, a sister of the Franciscan order in the Catholic church. Mom would shout, "Mari, Lupe wants to talk to you!" Often, I would pretend to be asleep, or sneak out the back door to avoid the phone call. I must sound like a horrible person, but please understand me, her "I love yous" were like word vomit, they just flew out, I was not physically nor emotionally ready! To me it didn't count, she was supposed to say that. I most definitely loved her I just didn't know how to express it, I felt very forced to say I love you, I felt as if my stomach was getting pulled out and the 3 huge words were getting forced out of my throat and into my tongue, I was about 14 or 15 and I struggled to say I love you?! To go deeper in my soul and why I am the way I am today, Let me explain why those 3 huge words are so conflicting to me.
I was maybe 12 or 13 when one of my sisters, for reasons I am unclear with; to this day just quit speaking to our parents. It was as if she just snapped her fingers and removed herself right out of our lives. I still remember thinking “why is she just gone, why doesn't she speak to us? Could it have something to do with what her significant other did to me years earlier? That was another hard hit that I had to endure at the time. I thought maybe he grew some and told her the bullshit he did to me, and he asked her not to speak to us again. I had no idea, because this household swept and kept on going. I decided to write her a letter since she wasn't taking calls from her former family. I cannot recall details; I wish I made a copy. I do remember something very specific I asked her. I said, "Do you not love me anymore?" I couldn't tell you what the response was to this day. Years went by and she slowly became part of the family again. I remember being confused about that but very excited at the same time. That moment was one those where words should have been spoken, I missed you, I love you, but no - you guessed it, this was a Reyes Duran household.
With my sister coming back in our lives, we got to see more of my nieces and nephew. I was going on 16 at this time. I met someone, I thought of course he "loves" me he wants to spend time with me, until I found out that it was me and about 2 other girls. I was 18 when I met the other "man" I thought loved me. We were together a total of 3.5 years. Let me give you a glimpse of those years that seemed a lifetime.
Moving forward to a place of loneliness, depression, heartache, and hunger. I turned 21 and wanted to get myself a drink, because after all I was of legal age. September 25, 1996, I walked across the street got a wine cooler and walked back to the apartment. I had my son's grandmother watching him he was 2 months old. I walk in, drink my cooler- to be met by yells and torture. The signs were there years before, but never did I expect what I was about to encounter. Please recall "I love you” were words I didn't hear at home. I had no Idea those 3 huge words were this powerful. The words would come right after a beating, broken bones, a broken jaw, 5 fractured ribs, arm pulled out of socket, hospital trip after hospital trip.
If you thought I was describing an example, you are incorrect. I am describing what's in my memory bank, those horrible years that haunt me daily. These were just small things I endured. I still recall I was the only one working, having a car but having to walk to work or having to walk to the bus station to get on 2 different buses to get to my low paying job across town, because dare I wake him and ask for something?!
I can hear it now, those readers that haven't the slightest clue of how a manipulate works, JUST LEAVE HIM/HER they shout. She/he must like to get beat or degraded. "I wouldn't put up with that shit!" they say. Let's continue, because those comments are for a time, when we have endless time to discuss. I worked to keep gas in his car, clothes on his back, roof over his head, while I would stand in the kitchen eating my 8 months baby's cereal, yes you know the one, the powder ready to mix with formula one. You know what it wasn't as bad as you may think, mix that shit up with juice and man it kept me full for hours.
My son just had to be special, this fool had the nerve to be allergic to powder milk, you know the FREE one that WIC would provide? I had to purchase something called Alimentum by Similac. The can that was ready to pour, fed him two times a day, it cost $10 at the time and WIC wouldn't cover it, so I had to purchase it. I recall a time when I had to go into the office at the Armada Projects in Corpus Christi, Texas and ask for an extension on my rent. Let me tell you a back story before I continue.
Growing up I seriously thought we were RICH. My parents got us whatever we asked for. Our elder siblings may not agree with this statement, but we had EVERYTHING. Leaving home and going to live in the projects not having food every day or the privilege to buy what I wanted or needed... I was in shock, and disbelief. I had to go in with my head hung low, because not only was I tired, hungry, beat up, broken, but BROKE too I couldn't pay my rent which was $17, no that was not a typo I couldn't pay my $17 a month rent!
I had neighbors on my right and left, if I knew that he would get upset that I was either crunching my cereal to loud or I was walking too fast down the stairs, and he was about to lose his mind -I would go to either the dining area or the living area, so that I can have quick access to my walls. My neighbors were Hispanic, and I learned quickly that we are the type que "no me meto" meaning I'm not getting in the middle of that, but would just let someone fuck you up either. I was advised that as soon as he started in, I was to bang the wall one time, this meant my neighbor's husband would come over to "talk" to him, two bangs meant call the cops and break my door down, this motherfucker is about to kill me.
The system worked because I had a phone, remember this was the late 90's and cell phone service was extremely expensive, but I had to have a way to communicate with mom, and continue the lies, Yes I am doing great, oh, he's not here- he's "working", the baby?, he's fine, he isn't witnessing any that will affect him at some point later in his life, we are doing fantastic! Lies Compiled on top of lies. This became dangerously easy for me.
The big ass cell phone I had of course he kept it all day while I was working, so he can pretend to be the shit he never was. The banging on the wall, would have to do. I owe those 4 people my LIFE and that is no joke. Trips to the hospital became the normal and doctors started noticing, I fell more times than they could count. I finally lost my mind, I moved in with his cousin, after all I was completely alone that far from home. I had not ONE blood relative. She took me in, knowing everything I was going through. I must say, his sister was also on my side. Imagine you having a sibling that beats the shit out of their girlfriend/boyfriend? Now imagine what you would do. If that's not a rock and a hard place?! Nonetheless I moved in.
His cousin's husband that we will call Charley, was an ANGEL! This man worked graveyard shift, came home, took me to work- across town and went back with to watch my 8 months old baby, while his wife and I worked. That Man, (God have him in his mercy) did so much for me. I owe him so much; I hate we lost him. Charley's death was and is still really hard for me to think about.
Sitting in the kitchen one night, I was waiting for his cousin we will call her Lucy to get off work. Lucy and I would go out every chance we could get while his sister we'll call her Sonya watched my baby. Sonya had 5 kids of her own, and she rarely went out. Lucy would normally come home about 8:00 PM, so by 7:45 I would walk my baby to Sonya's apartment, which was in the same complex about 3 buildings over. It would take me about 4 minuets to get there walking.
I got back to Lucy's apartment, closed the door. I would say about 5 minutes later, a knock, “did you forget your key again Lucy" giggling I opened the door.
IT WAS HIM! I knew he was unsteady This man NEVER drank, didn't use any type of drug, not even headache medicine, He was unsteady mentally. He begins to shout, understand that at this point, I had announced that I was tired of getting beat, tired of the broken bones, my jaw was wired SHUT for 8 weeks for God's sake!
He didn't take this announcement too well, He didn't say much- He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, opened his mouth to say, "if I can't have you, no one will." Those words have never left that stored memory in my mind. He took the knife, inserted it right through my stomach.
I witnessed plenty of miracles in my lifetime, if I told you, some you wouldn't believe me, so I'll go on without those parts of my life. As I watched and felt that knife in my belly, I fully believed a miracle would happen, I just didn't know how. There we were, he with his rage and I with that life flashing before my eyes feeling. I never had an idea where it would come from, and the worst part... WHEN?!
I want to take the time first, not to make excuses but explain a glimpse of his rage. I can't say that was love, the only love I really knew was how I loved my parents and how the miracles I had witnessed - that had to be true love. This is mental illness the illness that goes undiagnosed, that goes unspoken the "crazy" illness. This is schizophrenia, a thought disorder that impairs judgment, behavior, and the ability to misinterpret reality. This horrible illness attacks those with high levels of dopamine and abnormal levels of serotonin.
I was literally living in a bubble before all of this. You cannot begin to imagine what a 20- year -old feels with this much change and trauma is a span of 2 years. I share this because we are so quick to judge without fully knowing the core of the problem again, I say no excuse, but when you're not mentally stable change will come. Change did and it came with a roar like a starving lion. I knew nothing about mental illness and less about domestic violence. I was embarrassed, I knew I wasn't me or anything I did, and the fucked- up part is that at the same time, I felt like it was me. I don't know what happened all I knew is that his illness was affecting me, my mind, body, and soul. I was done!
The knife (my right hand to heaven) bent as if it was a soft plastic object. I looked at him he looked at me and the rage in his mind began to seep through his eyes, I ducked and ran to the door, how I wished to see Lucy or Charlie just walking up to the apartment- but no one was there. I ran to his sister's Sonya's apartment, which was in the same complex old Cliff Maus Village Apartments on West Point and Greenwood in Corpus Christi, Texas.
Fun fact that's where the scene from Selena was filmed at Greenwood Park the one where everyone is holding the signs ad candles? Yes, that one! No one believes me when I say I was in the Selena movie; I still have not seen me, but I was there holding a candle very pregnant. I got to Sonya's damn near kicked the door in. She had to call the police on her own brother, to this day I keep in contact with her because that had to be a tough call to make. He was hospitalized in the mental ward of the hospital. I made my final escape, my first true love was there to pick up my soul, my mother.
I was married August 26, 2000, to an incredible human being. This person kissed and touched me, like in public and in front of my parents?! I felt extremely uneasy about it, but I went with it. It was about 6 months in when I hear those 3 little, huge words... "I love you", he had the nerve to tell me, my heart sank, and I couldn't say it back.
He asked me not 2, but 3 times, "Will you marry me?" Sure, I saw many people in my family stay married that was very common to me. This came with I love yous and affection, I had a hard time processing. He 13 years my senior was patient, kind, and loving. He allowed me to grow as a person, I made mistakes that hurt him, I was not patient or kind, but I am finding my way.
THE END.
Dad had worked since before he was 10 and being born in the late 30's that was normal, so working long hours there was no time for hurt hearts and family bashing, everyone just put it away deep in their soul. Where in fact before this and all these years later it remained. My father was the bread winner and was much too often not home. When he was, I'm pretty sure he wanted peace and quiet.
My father. I remember at that age, he was always trying to keep my sister and I, laughing. He used to make "burritos" out of freshly made corn tortillas added salt and made donkey noises (burritos mean a baby donkey in Spanish) I remember being much older when I realized I loved my father. To describe him is a little contradicting, he's tough, strict, easy to anger, he's also gentle, easygoing and he has a laugh that will absorb anyone. had to be about 15-16 when I noticed - I LOVED my father going through those "glorious" years. Yes, you know the ones. My father believed in me and always had my back. I realized that I loved him for that, and always taking care of us. Most of my friends were from a one parent household. Watching that I realized just how blessed I was. My mom, on the other hand was always around so she was a lot tougher on Cańa and I. She was very strict and firm with us. She could also see right through my bullshit.
Right around that year I also noticed something I had been missing all my life. My father- the "almighty Reyes" (last name meaning kings) was not a robot, not the strongest man in the world, not a magician, and not unbreakable, my father was human. A family occurrence was going on one day after school, I was in my room planning on how to start living my life as an "only child". I hear a scream so horrific, it sounded so horrific- like a scream from a horror movie. My father was outside in the back yard. I ran out of my room, down the hall, into the kitchen out the back door and into the back yard.
There it was, a site I never imagined I would ever see, A hero in my eyes, my father, Torn, Desperate, Crying, and screaming. How could this be I thought. In most families one would embrace maybe say words of hope, I love you dad! No, this is a Reyes household. I quietly just looked at him, ran back to my room and cried. I cried like I never had before, my father’s screams and cries hit me like a million bricks. Sure, we loved each other know I can speak for me only, but I also knew I was loved. We would embrace each other on special occasions, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Birthdays. We also heard I love you; this would come from my eldest sister Lupe.
I remember mom being on the phone with her, she was in the convent, she was a nun, a sister of the Franciscan order in the Catholic church. Mom would shout, "Mari, Lupe wants to talk to you!" Often, I would pretend to be asleep, or sneak out the back door to avoid the phone call. I must sound like a horrible person, but please understand me, her "I love yous" were like word vomit, they just flew out, I was not physically nor emotionally ready! To me it didn't count, she was supposed to say that. I most definitely loved her I just didn't know how to express it, I felt very forced to say I love you, I felt as if my stomach was getting pulled out and the 3 huge words were getting forced out of my throat and into my tongue, I was about 14 or 15 and I struggled to say I love you?! To go deeper in my soul and why I am the way I am today, Let me explain why those 3 huge words are so conflicting to me.
I was maybe 12 or 13 when one of my sisters, for reasons I am unclear with; to this day just quit speaking to our parents. It was as if she just snapped her fingers and removed herself right out of our lives. I still remember thinking “why is she just gone, why doesn't she speak to us? Could it have something to do with what her significant other did to me years earlier? That was another hard hit that I had to endure at the time. I thought maybe he grew some and told her the bullshit he did to me, and he asked her not to speak to us again. I had no idea, because this household swept and kept on going. I decided to write her a letter since she wasn't taking calls from her former family. I cannot recall details; I wish I made a copy. I do remember something very specific I asked her. I said, "Do you not love me anymore?" I couldn't tell you what the response was to this day. Years went by and she slowly became part of the family again. I remember being confused about that but very excited at the same time. That moment was one those where words should have been spoken, I missed you, I love you, but no - you guessed it, this was a Reyes Duran household.
With my sister coming back in our lives, we got to see more of my nieces and nephew. I was going on 16 at this time. I met someone, I thought of course he "loves" me he wants to spend time with me, until I found out that it was me and about 2 other girls. I was 18 when I met the other "man" I thought loved me. We were together a total of 3.5 years. Let me give you a glimpse of those years that seemed a lifetime.
Moving forward to a place of loneliness, depression, heartache, and hunger. I turned 21 and wanted to get myself a drink, because after all I was of legal age. September 25, 1996, I walked across the street got a wine cooler and walked back to the apartment. I had my son's grandmother watching him he was 2 months old. I walk in, drink my cooler- to be met by yells and torture. The signs were there years before, but never did I expect what I was about to encounter. Please recall "I love you” were words I didn't hear at home. I had no Idea those 3 huge words were this powerful. The words would come right after a beating, broken bones, a broken jaw, 5 fractured ribs, arm pulled out of socket, hospital trip after hospital trip.
If you thought I was describing an example, you are incorrect. I am describing what's in my memory bank, those horrible years that haunt me daily. These were just small things I endured. I still recall I was the only one working, having a car but having to walk to work or having to walk to the bus station to get on 2 different buses to get to my low paying job across town, because dare I wake him and ask for something?!
I can hear it now, those readers that haven't the slightest clue of how a manipulate works, JUST LEAVE HIM/HER they shout. She/he must like to get beat or degraded. "I wouldn't put up with that shit!" they say. Let's continue, because those comments are for a time, when we have endless time to discuss. I worked to keep gas in his car, clothes on his back, roof over his head, while I would stand in the kitchen eating my 8 months baby's cereal, yes you know the one, the powder ready to mix with formula one. You know what it wasn't as bad as you may think, mix that shit up with juice and man it kept me full for hours.
My son just had to be special, this fool had the nerve to be allergic to powder milk, you know the FREE one that WIC would provide? I had to purchase something called Alimentum by Similac. The can that was ready to pour, fed him two times a day, it cost $10 at the time and WIC wouldn't cover it, so I had to purchase it. I recall a time when I had to go into the office at the Armada Projects in Corpus Christi, Texas and ask for an extension on my rent. Let me tell you a back story before I continue.
Growing up I seriously thought we were RICH. My parents got us whatever we asked for. Our elder siblings may not agree with this statement, but we had EVERYTHING. Leaving home and going to live in the projects not having food every day or the privilege to buy what I wanted or needed... I was in shock, and disbelief. I had to go in with my head hung low, because not only was I tired, hungry, beat up, broken, but BROKE too I couldn't pay my rent which was $17, no that was not a typo I couldn't pay my $17 a month rent!
I had neighbors on my right and left, if I knew that he would get upset that I was either crunching my cereal to loud or I was walking too fast down the stairs, and he was about to lose his mind -I would go to either the dining area or the living area, so that I can have quick access to my walls. My neighbors were Hispanic, and I learned quickly that we are the type que "no me meto" meaning I'm not getting in the middle of that, but would just let someone fuck you up either. I was advised that as soon as he started in, I was to bang the wall one time, this meant my neighbor's husband would come over to "talk" to him, two bangs meant call the cops and break my door down, this motherfucker is about to kill me.
The system worked because I had a phone, remember this was the late 90's and cell phone service was extremely expensive, but I had to have a way to communicate with mom, and continue the lies, Yes I am doing great, oh, he's not here- he's "working", the baby?, he's fine, he isn't witnessing any that will affect him at some point later in his life, we are doing fantastic! Lies Compiled on top of lies. This became dangerously easy for me.
The big ass cell phone I had of course he kept it all day while I was working, so he can pretend to be the shit he never was. The banging on the wall, would have to do. I owe those 4 people my LIFE and that is no joke. Trips to the hospital became the normal and doctors started noticing, I fell more times than they could count. I finally lost my mind, I moved in with his cousin, after all I was completely alone that far from home. I had not ONE blood relative. She took me in, knowing everything I was going through. I must say, his sister was also on my side. Imagine you having a sibling that beats the shit out of their girlfriend/boyfriend? Now imagine what you would do. If that's not a rock and a hard place?! Nonetheless I moved in.
His cousin's husband that we will call Charley, was an ANGEL! This man worked graveyard shift, came home, took me to work- across town and went back with to watch my 8 months old baby, while his wife and I worked. That Man, (God have him in his mercy) did so much for me. I owe him so much; I hate we lost him. Charley's death was and is still really hard for me to think about.
Sitting in the kitchen one night, I was waiting for his cousin we will call her Lucy to get off work. Lucy and I would go out every chance we could get while his sister we'll call her Sonya watched my baby. Sonya had 5 kids of her own, and she rarely went out. Lucy would normally come home about 8:00 PM, so by 7:45 I would walk my baby to Sonya's apartment, which was in the same complex about 3 buildings over. It would take me about 4 minuets to get there walking.
I got back to Lucy's apartment, closed the door. I would say about 5 minutes later, a knock, “did you forget your key again Lucy" giggling I opened the door.
IT WAS HIM! I knew he was unsteady This man NEVER drank, didn't use any type of drug, not even headache medicine, He was unsteady mentally. He begins to shout, understand that at this point, I had announced that I was tired of getting beat, tired of the broken bones, my jaw was wired SHUT for 8 weeks for God's sake!
He didn't take this announcement too well, He didn't say much- He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, opened his mouth to say, "if I can't have you, no one will." Those words have never left that stored memory in my mind. He took the knife, inserted it right through my stomach.
I witnessed plenty of miracles in my lifetime, if I told you, some you wouldn't believe me, so I'll go on without those parts of my life. As I watched and felt that knife in my belly, I fully believed a miracle would happen, I just didn't know how. There we were, he with his rage and I with that life flashing before my eyes feeling. I never had an idea where it would come from, and the worst part... WHEN?!
I want to take the time first, not to make excuses but explain a glimpse of his rage. I can't say that was love, the only love I really knew was how I loved my parents and how the miracles I had witnessed - that had to be true love. This is mental illness the illness that goes undiagnosed, that goes unspoken the "crazy" illness. This is schizophrenia, a thought disorder that impairs judgment, behavior, and the ability to misinterpret reality. This horrible illness attacks those with high levels of dopamine and abnormal levels of serotonin.
I was literally living in a bubble before all of this. You cannot begin to imagine what a 20- year -old feels with this much change and trauma is a span of 2 years. I share this because we are so quick to judge without fully knowing the core of the problem again, I say no excuse, but when you're not mentally stable change will come. Change did and it came with a roar like a starving lion. I knew nothing about mental illness and less about domestic violence. I was embarrassed, I knew I wasn't me or anything I did, and the fucked- up part is that at the same time, I felt like it was me. I don't know what happened all I knew is that his illness was affecting me, my mind, body, and soul. I was done!
The knife (my right hand to heaven) bent as if it was a soft plastic object. I looked at him he looked at me and the rage in his mind began to seep through his eyes, I ducked and ran to the door, how I wished to see Lucy or Charlie just walking up to the apartment- but no one was there. I ran to his sister's Sonya's apartment, which was in the same complex old Cliff Maus Village Apartments on West Point and Greenwood in Corpus Christi, Texas.
Fun fact that's where the scene from Selena was filmed at Greenwood Park the one where everyone is holding the signs ad candles? Yes, that one! No one believes me when I say I was in the Selena movie; I still have not seen me, but I was there holding a candle very pregnant. I got to Sonya's damn near kicked the door in. She had to call the police on her own brother, to this day I keep in contact with her because that had to be a tough call to make. He was hospitalized in the mental ward of the hospital. I made my final escape, my first true love was there to pick up my soul, my mother.
I was married August 26, 2000, to an incredible human being. This person kissed and touched me, like in public and in front of my parents?! I felt extremely uneasy about it, but I went with it. It was about 6 months in when I hear those 3 little, huge words... "I love you", he had the nerve to tell me, my heart sank, and I couldn't say it back.
He asked me not 2, but 3 times, "Will you marry me?" Sure, I saw many people in my family stay married that was very common to me. This came with I love yous and affection, I had a hard time processing. He 13 years my senior was patient, kind, and loving. He allowed me to grow as a person, I made mistakes that hurt him, I was not patient or kind, but I am finding my way.
THE END.
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