Claudine Gaston - Rage of the Unloved

Rage

of the

Unloved

Claudine Gaston

Rage of the Unloved

Trilogy Christian Publishers

A Wholly Owned Subsidiary of Trinity Broadcasting Network

2442 Michelle Drive, Tustin, CA 92780

Copyright 2022 by Claudine Gaston

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the Christian Standard Bible, Copyright 2017 by Holman Bible Publishers. Used by permission. Christian Standard Bible, and CSB , are federally registered trademarks of Holman Bible Publishers.

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Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

ISBN: 978-1-68556-242-7

E-ISBN: 978-1-68556-243-4

Dedication

This book is dedicated to every woman and child fearing for their life in unsafe situations.

All my inspiration comes from a deep place of gratitude filled with the people that have poured into my life all of these years. There are too many people to list in any kind of order. I promise your name would be on the list if our paths have crossed in a meaningful way.

My children gave me life in this cold world. I will forever owe my everything to them. They taught me to dig deep and keep searching for meaning in this world.

Table of Contents

Preface

In the process of becoming all God has designed for me to become, I have uncovered some serious truths about myself and various issues that will need to be handled in order to fulfill my destiny. I will walk you through my journey as a way of healing. The things I need to work on are primarily dealing with inward emotions concerning my mom and dad. I have evolved into a person with the realistic view that my mother and father were not capable of loving me as they should have; they did not love themselves. However, this does not, in any way, give them a free pass to bring unloved children into the world and let the wolves raise them. The wolves of the drugs, alcohol, poverty, disease, etc. Children have no place down there with the bottom feeders of society. Their own misconceptions of what it means to have and raise children really mean getting married and having children being a part of each persons destiny, as it was painted by Leave it to Beaver or The Waltons ; however, it did not take into account the extremely messed up individuals that do not have the mental or physical capacity to take care of themselves, let alone children, making those television shows a fantasy. Therefore, walking this long, unloved road has become my personal journey, and I would like to share it with you.

Let us start. I met my dad when I was eighteen years old, after I hunted him down like a bloodhound to find some sort of justice for the injustice of abandonment. I was four years old when he left, never appearing in my life again until I made an effort to find him. So, to say I was devasted would understate the depth of my pain. I will give more details in the following chapters.

However, jumping ahead, he passed away in 2008. The last memory I have of my father, I was standing over his casket wanting to punch him in the face for all the things he never did when he was alive! He was never there he wasnt a dad to me I really wanted a daddy, and he was a disappointment! My biological father was a person who went through life tearing hearts out of little girls and little boys, whom he was supposed to be a father to. I wanted a daddy, but no , he died without being what God designed him to be to the five children he donated sperm for, or at least that is all he did for the four out of the five siblings I know of, there could be more, who knows!

The tremendous disappointment was the only reason I cried at his funeral on that rainy, cold fall day. I stood over his casket as a broken little girl with an enormous broken heart, wondering how any rational or logical human being could have lived a life so reckless and carefree. I was searching the depth of my soul, trying to make sense of the whole situation and its abrupt ending. When he died, I was thirty-five years old. I was lost and wondering why I was so ripped off when it came to the parental department. When I look back, in hindsight, I can physically see a small child on a step stool looking into that casket, wishing he would have loved mewishing, wanting him to wake up and hold me, feeling so empty and lost and infuriated! I didnt cry because my father was dead. I cried because all hope for the relationship I had always longed for was dead.

So, with that being said, I dont want to have the same feeling for my mom when she passes, and at the current state, sadly, I will feel the exact same way when she dies.

I want to meet her where she is; I want to forgive her for my childhood and move on from this day. While watching The Oprah Winfrey Show one day, I saw she was interviewing the family of Elizabeth Smarts abductors. According to The Elizabeth Smart Story , fourteen-year-old Elizabeth Smart was part of a large and loving Mormon family. Her father, Ed, hired a handyman, a self-styled prophet named Immanuel, to help him with a remodeling job. Months later, Immanuel returns and kidnaps Elizabeth one night at knifepoint. For the next nine months, Smart was raped and tortured by her captor and his wife. Oprah proceeds with her interview, asking the children of this supposed prophet, Can you forgive your mother and accept her for who she is and put the past behind you? The grown children of this monster were not ready to put the past behind them. They were not ready to face their abuser as a person. As an individual who God loved as much as He loved them, or me, or you. I had to ask myself the same question. Was I ready to meet my mother where she is currently in my life? In her life? Was I ready to forgive? Did I even have the capability to forgive?

When I think of my parents, I see monsters from a childs perspective. I see myself terrified, trying to go to sleep at night and just lying there awake. I see my dad in my imagination, sitting in a chair, chain-smoking cigarettes, not soothing me or reading books to me. Because hes not there; its all in my imagination. My mom, however, is there and irate, yelling at me, Go to sleep! Dont you know I have to work tomorrow? I dont care if youre scared; just go to sleep. She was broken, relying on alcohol and drugs to get her by day-to-day. I dont think it ever mattered what kind of drug she was taking as long as she was numb. To say the least, I have had a dysfunctional relationship with both of them as an adult, so when I look at my mom, still to this day, its generally through the eyes the traumatized child wanting her to be normal so badly that I would go to any length to fix her. Then, my codependency kicks in, and I am truly a thirteen-year-old girl again. What can I do, Momma? How can I help you? How can I make everything better so you wont be mad at me?