Day 03- A Few Missing Details (Introduction Part 3)

Through the course of my life, I have been through so much. From being taken by the state from my birth parents for what they thought was for my own safety to going through many foster homes. From the foster homes and the one incident I described in my first post to being adopted by the Bordelons, my first feelings of being a girl in a boy's body, and the abuse I suffered at the hands of George. From there to having spent time in jail and living on the streets. Reading through my previous posts, I feel that there are a few incidents of the abuse suffered by the hands of George Vincent Bordelon, whom I have already said was the man who had adopted me with my mom Cheryl Ann Guidry Bordelon (now Cheryl Ann Guidry Cunningham) that need to be filled in.
The first incident happened when I was 11 years old. I had just come out of my room from playing my video games. George was sitting in his chair in the living room and my mom (Cheryl) was sitting on the floor beside him and they were watching TV. George heard me come out and turned around. "Hit your mom in the back of the head for me," he said to me. Of course, I at first refused. "She's going to punish me if I do that," I had replied. His response to that was, "No she won't. What are you chicken?" I figured with him saying that he was joking with her in his usual way and wanting me to participate, so I did it. I gave her a light smack in the back of her head. To my surprise, George got furious and told me to go on my knees. I was stunned and began crying as I did what he asked because I knew what would happen if I didn't. Still, while on my knees, I kept crying and screaming how unfair it was. George then got up, told me to pull down my pants as he was going for his belt, and shouted, "I'm going to give you something to cry about!" Let me fill you readers in on something before I continue. When he would whip me, I had to pull down my pants, and he would take that belt and just swing it wildly not caring where he hit. I have had to feel the wrath of his belt many times. All but one of those times I did in fact deserve it, but I was not about to let this be the second time I did not deserve getting whipped with his belt. I refused to pull my pants down no matter how much he threatened to make it worse for me when I finally would cooperate. He finally gave up threatening me and proceeded to attempt to pull my pants down himself. We struggled back and forth finally working our way from the dinning area where I was kneeling to the kitchen and next to the built in dishwasher. That was when he finally managed to get my pants down but also had pulled me down in the process. As I fell, I first hit the back of my head on the dishwasher handle and then again on the hard cement tiled floor. After that, I began to blackout, but I remember him getting two licks in with the belt, my mom holding me down as he had ordered her to do, and me saying, "You had better watch your back dad. One of these days you might find a gun to your head." Those were my last words before my complete blackout. I woke up in my room the next morning not sure if it had all been a dream until I touched the back of my head and felt pain.
After that incident, we both distanced ourselves from each other and refused to have anything to do with each other. There was only one time before this next big incident that he had ever laid hands on me again. That was while on vacation in South Carolina. My sister and I had been talking about our day and all the excitement we had had. He came into the room, and told us to be quiet. Then, because he felt I was disrespecting him for not speaking loud enough for him to hear, he hit me in my temple. That was the end of that and the end of our vacation, but it still does not compare to what happened when I was 17.
You see, he had told me never to sit in his chair. Everyone else was allowed to, and I thought it very unfair, so one day when I came home from school and he was at work, I sat in it just to spite him. Well, he came home early that day and caught me in it. He ran at me like he was going to hit me, so I got up and ran into the bathroom slamming the door behind me. I didn't have time to lock it before he kicked it open and had my back against the wall. His hands were around my throat, and my feet were just a few inches off the ground. I didn't know what else to do, so I balled up my fist and was getting ready to strike him in an attempt to get him off of me. He saw my fists and taunted, "What? Are you going to hit me? Go ahead! Give me a reason to kill you."
He then threw me in the hallway and put his foot on my chest. He was a very big man, so I feared he would crack my ribcage. Luckily my sister came out of her room and begged him to stop. When he did, my sister hugged me close to her as I began to cry. She kept saying how sorry she was as she and I cried together.
Well, soon after that George moved out. I had found out later, even though he and my mom had blamed me for it, that it was because she had caught him cheating on her with a woman he met online. they got divorced, and now my mom is re-married to an awesome guy that I am proud to call dad. His name is Eric Cunningham, and even though he only wishes to be called Eric, I call him dad because he is more of a father than George ever was.
With that all now said, I will close this entry for today. Tune in tomorrow where I will talk about my friends, relationships, and the missing details of my first encounter with the girl who had left me homeless in Michigan. I can't promise it will be my last installment of my introduction because there is so much to tell all those who read or will read this blog for them to fully know me. I also am hopeful that anyone reading all of this will grow to understand me completely, accept me for who and what I am, and possibly even be able to relate to some of the things I have been through to know that they are not alone.