My book Rita Remembers by Margaret Ludick is at the Publishers. It should hit the shelves in about 4 weeks plus the e book should be ready sooner. Watch this space for more information.

I talked about my Dad, and wrote, in child Rita’s defence that I didn’t want the child Rita’s Dad to hurt her in the cellar;

 Hurt her in the cellar, Dad to hurt her mom in bed at night;  Hurt her mom in bed at night,  to hurt her sister and break her bones; hurt her sister and break her bones, to hurt her brother, and beat him until he almost lost consciousness.

My view of punishing Father, transferred in part to my view of my Heavenly Father. Also for example, dickhead (my father) and the budgie showed him to be a punishing father. He killed the budgie, and said it was our fault because we forgot to feed the budgie. Why did I pray and ask God to help me love my Dad?

Because I didn’t love him. He was cruel. He was a bully. He kept beating up on helpless, defenceless women and children. He couldn’t keep a job. He got drunk, became aggressive, hurt us. He nagged my mom, verbally abused her endlessly repeating himself. I hated the way we had to humour him to avoid upsetting him, and then having to face the consequences of his anger.

He shouldn’t have used his hands like hammers – my poor brother was mentally retarded and got beatings for the slightest thing – my Dad lashed out in uncontrollable fits of rage and anger, he was incredibly violent.  He showed remorse, promised never to do it again and broke his promises every time.

He couldn’t help himself, he was an alcoholic and when he was drunk he became very violent. He blamed us for his actions, said that we drove him to drink, we were somehow lacking, hence his unhappiness and anger.

He especially blamed my mom, her affairs, her character, the fact that she was not good. I got a call from Barbie about Daddy beating Albie.  My Aunt Barbie witnessed one of the beatings Albie received, and she had to go for therapy as an adult to deal with what she had witnessed. It gave her a fear of men.

They all said, I was the lucky one, I was Dad’s favourite, and I had it easy. He said, I was the only one who loved him, I was the only one who understood him, and I was his blue-eyed little girl. I have mixed feelings.

I feel guilty that I wasn’t beaten. I feel guilty because I couldn’t make things better for them. There was a cost to being his blue-eyed girl. At his funeral and afterwards I recognised that I loved him in part. I see that I loved him and felt compassion for him, but also hated many things he did and said. I had ambivalent feelings towards him. While having my quiet time in the bath, I complained to God why did he choose the Dad he gave me and not another? Why did He command me to honour and obey my Dad?

God’s quick answer:

God did not create my Father as he had become, He is not responsible for my Dad’s choices. Monica said I was also not responsible for my Dad’s choices. So neither God nor I are responsible, he himself is responsible for his own choices. I can’t blame myself.  I can’t blame God. I must look afresh at my Dad and the choices he made. I have the picture presented by my Aunt. Celia was not doing anything wrong. Mommy chose not to protect Celia. Dad chose to beat helpless defenceless children and woman, without restraint or concern for their well being. 

Extract from book "Rita Remembers"

Monica was amazing while I was going to Sarah for therapy.  She gave of her time and love and friendship unstintingly. She supported me and loved me even when I presented with the effects of therapy on me like bouts of sadness, periods of intense anger, frustration and insecurity. 

Our relationship was complex and stormy. Having been sexually abused by both men and women as a child, I found myself struggling with a confusing sexual response to Monica. It was a time when I selfishly needed to use people to help me and support me.

Despite the great cost to her personally, she remained my friend, my confidant and my fellow companion on the rough, rocky road of facing the demons of my past. She stood by me as I experienced a series of breakdowns for which I had to be hospitalized. Many times the intense trauma I experienced facing the harsh reality of the horrors of my past, caused me to breakdown physically, emotionally and mentally. I was hospitalized several times and began treatment under a Psychiatrist, Rick Sharp. I experienced periods of depression so deep and all encompassing that for weeks I would be unable to function at all. 

I wouldn’t bath or change my clothes for days. I struggled to get through the day, painful hour by painful hour. I went through a period where I would allow no visitors to enter – periods of total seclusion while I tried to process all that I was dealing with. 

The depression I suffered from was totally debilitating. It was an effort to bath and change. It was too much of an effort to read. I tried to break up the hours into twenty minute periods. I would struggle to get through the twenty minutes. I spent a lot of time just lying on my bed. I couldn't function as a person. I felt overwhelmingly sad. I felt there was no hope. I managed to read short passages of encouraging words dropped off by friends. The days were very long. It took six weeks for the anti depressants to start working. Slowly I came out of this deep depression.

Many times, after uncovering yet another painful memory, Sarah would seem to think that was the end of it.  All was laid bare and now I could move out from under the dark clouds of the past. Monica, too, warned against wallowing in self pity and the dangers of becoming too introspective and too focused on myself, my past hurt and my pain. Both tried, during that three year period of therapy, to help me overcome my past rather than allow myself to be overcome by it but the effect on me of my past was just too overwhelmingly traumatic.  

My book recounts a childhood spent with an alcoholic father who became violent when he was drunk. He physically abused us, his children,  breaking our bones and beating us until we nearly lost consciousness. I never received many beatings. I was his blue eyed girl. I would rather have had the beatings!!!
My mother used to cower in a corner while the beatings took place. She feared for her life. Once he had beaten a man to death in an hotel car park. He had killed once and had not been caught and he could kill again.
My mother found relief by having affairs with many different men. At times she abandoned us and went off with one of her men. We, as her children, got dumped off at aunts or uncles homes, or got put into Institutions like Convents or Children's homes. When she abandoned me, it was a fate worse than death. I felt that everything was broken and that nothing could be fixed. I felt absolutely desolate.
My book tells of my journey, through therapy with two psychologists, to wholeness. Therapy was awful at times. I felt as though I was on an emotional roller coaster. I experienced a series of highs and lows. When I was low, I struggled with suicidal urges. My family had me diagnosed as a Bi Polar Manic Depressive, the lows and the breakdowns I had, were caused by the trauma of facing my past or medication related breakdowns. The prolonged trauma I experienced going for therapy, caused the mental illness in the form of becoming a Bi Polar Manic Depressive.
Read more about how I overcame and survived a childhood filled with trauma and abuse. There is hope for the most broken, damaged person. I am living proof of that.

Prologue

My whole life changed when I heard the words, “You must have a right view of yourself.” It was August 1995 and I was 42 years old. Those words led to a twelve year journey dealing with my past and overcoming the damage caused by that past.

I was married to Jeff and had four beautiful children. I was a head of department at Bruma Primary  School where I taught grade ones. I was well educated and functioned as a completely normal, healthy, competent adult.

In fact, I strove to be the perfect wife, mother and teacher. Everyone who knew me described me as a competent, well functioning adult.

I was a devoted, loving mother to my four beloved children. Parents fought to have their children in my class. I was a loving, supportive wife who met Jeff’s every need.

I heard these words at a Bible Study group run by Nick and Monica. Jeff and I had recently joined Edenvale Presbyterian Church and had started attending their Bible Study. I had been going to church for years but Jeff had only started attending when we joined Edenvale Presbyterian church.

The words unsettled me. I had left home at the age of seventeen. I decided then to shut the door to the past. I would begin a new life. No-one need ever know anything about my past. 

Welcome!

My name is Margaret Ludick. I have written a book called Rita Remembers. It is a chronicle of my journey through therapy dealing with childhood abuse. The goal of this blog is for me to post portions of my book and share anecdotes of my journey. You are welcome to reach out to me if you have been the victim of abuse in your childhood. I would love the opportunity to share my wisdom and experience with you. Through the process of therapy, I was able to overcome the damage done to me by my abusers and I want to be able to share my insights with fellow victims.

God bless,
Margaret.
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