My name is Diana, but most people call me Di. I guess my life started out on a bit of a rough note: when I was a little girl I grew up in a household where I was abused (sexual/verbal). For many years I remember going to bed at night and envisioning myself crawling into some secret hiding place in my closet, a place where I could disappear from the world and no one would ever notice I was gone. I was a very small child as well, and in having to deal with issues that a child should never have to deal with, I wound up lonely, frightened, embarrassingly shy. Even though I was fairly intelligent, I barely skimmed through school, getting below average marks in every subject except one: writing. Unfortunately, back in those days writing was never given much focus, with math and science (blech!
) taking precedence, and so I was never encouraged, nor did we have too many classes on the subject.
When I was nine I had to go into the hospital for emergency exploratory surgery. That was a very frightening experience for me, especially when no one told me I was going to have an operation. I remember being wheeled into the OR, everyone there in caps, gowns and face masks, and I was too frightened to move. Recovery time was long and I was in the hospital for a few weeks. All of this kept me from school for quite a while and of course, did nothing to help with my shyness...when I returned several weeks later I was even more shy, and my classmates tended to keep away from me. I was a designated 'loner', and felt alienated both there and at home.
Then when I was 10 my mother died. This event sent me into a complete tailspin, as she was the only one who I felt loved me. For years afterward I gravitated back and forth between two beliefs; first that of not being loved by her, and second, I pretended that she had simply 'gone away'. And tending to be self-abusive emotionally, I believed that she went away because I was a horrible child and she could not stand me. I also believed that she blamed me for the abuse that was taking place, even though I don't know that she ever even knew about it. So needless to say, I spent all of my childhood - and many of my adult years - hating myself.
My two saving graces during this period of my life were my best friend and my pets. My best friend was actually my only friend, and she and I related to one another very well, as she also lived in an abusive household...not to the same degree as mine, but she was verbally abused by her dad, and she too, grew up hating herself. So we were like two peas in a pod (as Forrest Gump would say), and many times people mistook us for sisters. My pets were my best friends at home; many nights when I lay in bed crying silently, a furry nose would gently nudge me, or a small body would curl up next to mine and tell me with unspoken words that I was loved. We had a dog back then, the family pet named Charlie, and he wound up being much more my dog than the family's. He followed me everywhere, I told him my innermost secrets (and not once did he ever divulge them!), and he and I were inseparable. He was a comical little beagle mix with the heart of a lion and the love of an angel, and many times I do believe he was the one who kept me from disappearing completely into myself.
When I turned 21 I married a man I'd met at my best friend's wedding. He was a nice guy and he taught me a lot, but, as with me, he had a lot of self-issues, which led to his having affairs. When I became pregnant he walked out, deciding he didn't really want to have a child after all. I wound up back at my dad's house, and while I won't go into the emotional toll the separation took on me, I will say that it reinforced all of the negative thoughts I'd carried - and been told - since childhood: that I was unloveable, that no man would ever want me, that wasn't capable of doing anything right...on and on. I was also terrified of becoming a mother, much less a single parent, as I wasn't sure I even wanted to have a child, and so for most of the pregnancy I felt my life was over.
Then along came my son. And he turned out to be the greatest single blessing of my life. I wanted to raise him in a way that he wouldn't grow up shy or without friends, so I constantly encouraged him to do things, I welcomed any chance he had to play and laugh, and I watched him blossom from a sweet, loving little boy into a wonderful, caring, and very loving young man. He turned out to be my confidante, and we more or less grew up together, me teaching him and him, in turn, teaching me. And while every parent wishes to shield their children from pain and harm, unfortunately I could not protect my son from the pain his dad's actions inflicted upon him. My son wound up dealing with his own set of demons, issues of abandonment by his dad, of not being loved by him, and ultimately, of self-hate because of it. Yet in the end I saw that his having to deal with all of these issues changed him, made him stronger, wiser...just as my own issues did with me so many years ago.
And of course, in the midst of all this were the pets. I had many, from dogs to cats to rabbits to mice to gerbils to hamsters, even to a horse...though she wasn't mine, she was a horse I fell in love with at a campground my friend and I went to in the summertime. I used to pretend she was my horse, seeing myself riding her through open fields, keeping her in a barn in my own home in the country. She was a beauty, herself neglected and abandoned as well by her owners, and we formed a strong bond. When the owner's son would go to saddle her, she would turn her head, bare her teeth and bite him on the shoulder, to which his response was to punch her back. She learned to bite anyone who approached her if they were attempting to saddle or bridle her, yet whenever I did she would stop, then simply stand and watch me. Not once did she ever show me her teeth or lunge; she'd put her head down so I could scratch beneath her mane. How many times I wished I could take her away from her life and give her a better home, but it was not to be...when I turned 17 the owners sold her along with most of their other horses, and I never saw her again.
Charlie, as I'd mentioned previously, was a savior in my young life. I was also surrounded by other pets - my love of animals coming from my mom, who had adored her cat Peter - and rabbits were no exception. They entered my life quietly, but the impact they had was enormous. Thumper was the first rabbit I bonded to completely, and she spent much of her life in my bedroom, sleeping with me in my bed, or running laps in the backyard and digging holes beneath the lawn in the hot dog days of summer. I somehow wound up, when I got older, with some Polish, and suddenly I got into the wonderful world of breeding. My knowledge of breeding rabbits was not vast, but I did have a friend - the man who'd sold me my first Polish - who was a walking encyclopedia of everything lagomorph. And in introducing me to rabbits and the world of breeding...and ultimately, rabbit shows...this man opened up a whold new world to me; one where people could be nice to one another, where adults really did take an interest in animals as more than just passing fancies. I'd found an element where I excelled, and was so grateful for it all.
Then when I divorced I was forced to sell the bunnies...something that broke my heart. However, my entire life changed in the coming years: I gained some self-confidence, found jobs that I actually could do, and, five years after having my son, he and I moved over 1000 miles away to start over. My sister - whom I haven't even mentioned, yet has been my best friend forever - had moved to go to college, met a man and decided to stay. When she began planning her wedding a couple of years later, that's when I opted to take my son and move closer to her...and that decision was the single best - yet hardest - in my life. But despite the struggles, doors opened for me, I 'found myself', and I ultimately discovered that there actually can be life after abuse, and after years of hating onesself. In the midst of all this I did have deal with some setbacks, including unemployment and a bout of cancer, but again, I also came to realize that these too, served a purpose. I strongly believe in the power of attraction, as well as there being a reason for everything that comes into our lives; it's all a matter of what we choose to do with it that decides how our lives will turn out.
And I guess I've really written nothing about my actual interests, so will list them very briefly here: I love to read. I love to write, and wish I did more of it. I love animals of all kinds. I love nature and the countryside. I love fireplaces on cold winter nights. I love movies. I love people who are kind, generous, trusting. Heck, I love people who aren't that either...as everyone who crosses our path has something to teach or show us about ourselves.
And I love life.
