This I Believe: The Autobiography of Ellen Beacham

This I Believe: The Autobiography of Ellen Beacham This I Believe: The Autobiography of Ellen Beacham

Status: Finished

Genre: Memoir

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Memoir

Summary

My name is Ellen Elizabeth Beacham (El for short) and this is, obviously, my story. While it may not be fully considered as rated X, this autobiography may not be appropriate for some. Mine is not a pretty story, though it is completely true to my memory. Critique is most welcome.

Summary

My name is Ellen Elizabeth Beacham (El for short) and this is, obviously, my story. While it may not be fully considered as rated X, this autobiography may not be appropriate for some. Mine is not a pretty story, though it is completely true to my memory. Critique is most welcome.

Chapter9 (v.1) - Come, Little Children

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 20, 2013

Reads: 277

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: January 20, 2013

A A A

A A A

With the odds stacked against us, it’s not terribly surprising how my siblings and I turned out. Barry and Alma spent the majority of my childhood in jail and have yet to get to anything close to success and happiness. Cassie never quite got pass elementary level math, and still lives next door to our mom. Karen dropped out of Job Corp to marry the first psychopath to say “I love you”. Sam is stuck in a perpetual pity party. Timmy disappeared to New Mexico and seems to have opted out of the family. I, to this day, struggle with anger and depression and borderline psychotic issues. Joseph managed to pull away from our mom for a few months, but went back when he realized responsibility was required to live in the real world. As for Hannah, she'll always need to be taken care of, and our mom is the most likely candidate for that job. Everyday it seems like more drama appears, of which only gets magnified by the family rumor mill and inability to respect each other. It truly feels like we stopped being a family a long time ago, though I still have hope for us.

When I was approximately six or seven years old, Barry allegedly robbed two people at gun point. He also, allegedly, sexually abused Karen and/or Cassie. Alma, too, went to jail for allegedly sexually abusing Cassie and/or Karen, among other things. It's highly difficult to attempt to find out the truth as every member of the family seems to have a different story and most are not easily trusted. Barry was released about eight years later and Alma ten years. Both were in and out fairly often, but the result was the same.

Cassie was often, according to her, the object of the affections belonging to many older men of the church. Eventually she fell in love with Phil Savage, the church patriarch. The patriarch was in charge of giving “blessings” to members of the church once they were deemed ready. Phil was also over 50 years older than Cassie when they married.

Karen decided to enter Job Corp, where, as I said earlier, she met her current husband. She has two little girls, though the girls are now living with Rose. She lets her husband, Nick, tell her what to do under the guise that he’s just trying to boost her self-confidence. When they visited for Christmas one year, it was obvious that they hadn’t taken a shower for at least a week or two and Karen was the largest I had ever seen her be. I’m guessing the mixture of marijuana and alcohol makes it easy to eat unhealthily.

I haven’t seen Sam since I moved up here, though I used to talk to him occasionally. He’s always depressed, it seems, though I’m sure he thinks he is. The only things I ever really hear from him are negative and tend to hint to the desire to end his life. I gave up trying to communicate with him, especially trying to help him. It seems unfair that my favorite brother is the one I can’t talk to anymore.

I haven’t really heard much about how Timmy is getting along. He moved to New Mexico, and seemed to be doing well. Stepping away from all things family related probably helped. Mom would often brag about how he worked at Wal-Mart, got promoted, found a girl, and so on. Barry and Timmy are the only two kids in our family that my mom seems proud of despite not being in the church.

As for the rest of the kids? Well I cannot say I know much about how they’ve been doing, but they’re alive, so that counts for something.

It amazes me to this day how ignorant my mother seems to be regarding the harm she’s caused. Yet, all of us have wanted to make her proud. Yet, again, when you look at whom she’s proud of her pride obviously isn’t worth much. She’s often been extremely confident in her parenting skills and beliefs. So confident, and so wrong, that everyone seemed to hate her. Especially those who have never met her. Mother is the evil step-mother you see in fairy tales, except in this story, she’s only the step-mother of four of the children, and there’s no knight to save the children. They’re on their own.

Despite my mother’s hope for all of us, we were never terribly great kids. The air was almost always filled with tension or mischief. When we weren’t tormenting each other, we tended to torment Mom by running off to unknown places or creating so much chaos that even leave Denise the Menace in awe. We were the wild children, and attracted the handful of other wild children in the church. Between all of us, the adventures were limitless.

If it were possible, I would love to recount all of our adventures; from making booby traps in the fields, to breaking into a neighbors unused shed and finding butchering tools, and from there to stockpiling blankets for camping out on our trampoline at night. There were so many great times, but they combined with the terrible times, making it difficult to separate the memories. There are thing I can swear happened, but my siblings don’t, and vice versa. At this point, there are few such memories I cannot vouch for. Regarding the recalling of our lives, we only fully agree on three things: how terrible the church was/is, how terrible our parents were/are, and how terrible but loving we were/are to each other.

It’s difficult to imagine that our mother did not realize how insanely horrible she was to us, and others. With so many kids afflicted with problems ranging from physical misgivings to obvious mental obstructions (such as learning disabilities), one would think she would have at least questioned whether she was deserving of being a mother. While it’s true that there is no such thing as a perfect parent, there were too many things she must have realized yet ignored or handled poorly. We never expected her to be perfect, but we all knew, and probably still know, that she gave up the right to be forgiven a long time ago.

Due to all this, many other parents in the church were often uncomfortable at the thought of their children being around our influences, or, worse, our mother. Since the community was small, and the church, smaller, there were never many options for friends. Each kid entered automatic friendship with whoever was in their grade. Every little mishap or flaw in any of the “friendships” was quickly known to practically everyone else. If you were anything less than wonderful, it became everyone’s problem. In other words, it was a problematic place for my siblings and me.

It was a rare week if one of us didn’t do something, at the very least, alarming. Although, sometimes the adults were not persistent regarding what was bothersome and what was not. There were times when I got in trouble for bringing pudding cups to lunch and ate without sharing, never mind the fact I had purchased them with parental permission. Sam often got in trouble for asking his classmates for food due to our lunches being less that sustaining. It was not uncommon for any of us in my family to get some sort of talking to, for whatever reason. Nothing was ever good enough for the adults when it came to my family.


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