Frog: An Inspirational Memoir [Fully Rely on God Everyday]

Copyright © 2012 Silvia Sommer

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-4525-5708-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-5709-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012915585

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Balboa Press rev. date:09/19/2012

Written in memory of the people that gave me life on earth, my parents. Without my mom and dad, I wouldn’t have become the loving and beautiful spirit I am today.

Forgiveness is an act of love that has set me free.

I love you Mom and Dad, and miss you both very much.

I would like to thank my dearest and best friend. Without your love, support and expertise, this book wouldn’t be as beautiful as it is. Only a best friend would spend hours on something without a complaint or expectations. I love you E.

Thank you to my sponsors. Without your unconditional love and patience I wouldn’t be where I am today. I am very grateful for the many hours you allowed me to bounce things off of you and reason things out while you listened. I needed all your amazing hugs when I thought I wouldn’t be able to pull myself off the floor yet one more time.

Thank you to my two beautiful children for understanding their mom and the reasons for making the choices I made.

Thank you for loving me anyway. I love being your mom…

Contents

Introduction

Preface

Chapter One – Frog Eggs

Chapter Two – Pollywog

Chapter Three – Froglet

Chapter Four – Starting to Breathe

Chapter Five - Young Frog

Chapter Six – Adult Frog

Resources

Introduction

Life is an adventure in which we find ourselves. Not knowing what challenges are ahead, we do our best. In an attempt to stay out of danger, we maneuver towards the treasure our heart has imagined. Often, we lose ourselves until we finally realize that the treasure is and has been within us, around us, there all of the time.

Preface

I’m not addicted to drugs or alcohol and never have been. I’m healing from codependency and love addiction. What I discovered is that many of my behaviors were not that different than a person who is addicted to drugs or alcohol. I put myself in danger, sold my soul, and abandoned myself emotionally again and again.

I knew I was on a path to self-destruction, and didn’t know how to stop. Nobody showed me how to take care of myself. I grew up in a home with alcoholism, codependency and sex addiction. This was normal to me.

I found my way to the Twelve Step groups, (CODA, ACOA, and Al-Anon) but didn’t stay until I was ready to do something different.

Without living through what I did, I wouldn’t be where I am today. I am grateful for all the experiences. I found a power greater than me, whom I choose to call God. I am sharing my experience, strength and hope with you, in hopes that it may help you or someone you know that doesn’t believe that help exists. Sharing my story reminds me of where I came from, what happened and who I am today.

I wanted to end my life, and I am glad I didn’t.

All the names and locations have been changed to protect the privacy of others.

The Author is using a pen name.

Chapter One – Frog Eggs

My personal story began on June 6 th , 1960, the day I was born. I actually believe that I was trying to put off being born or wanted to change my mind. I was due May 13 th . When I was 38, this date became significant after all. My dad took a nap and never woke up.

My parents were born and raised in Germany, living through the horrors of World War II. My father never met his biological father and lived with alcoholic foster parents. He visited his mother on weekends when she was available. Perhaps he struggled finding some kind of identity for himself due to his being a bastard, as such children were labeled in those days. His mother, he said, liked married men, and went from one to another, having several bastard children. Too young at 16 to be drafted, he nonetheless was forced to work for the German Army, identifying dead bodies. He stood and watched his Mother being raped by Russian Soldiers, as they shot his dog in the belly for Luxie’s attempt to protect his family. I believe his anxiety and excessive drinking were direct results of this horrendous upbringing.

My mother was born and raised amidst severe poverty in East Berlin. She shared a one-bedroom apartment with her parents and four siblings. My mother confided to me that she and her sisters and brother had endured severe abuse at the hands of their mother – they had been hit, thrown down stairs, and God knows what else. I am almost sure my mother was sexually abused. Although she never talked about it in detail, she alluded to it on several occasions.

The impact of the War during my mother’s young teen years did further damage to her already fragile psyche. She and my aunt were out playing when they heard the sirens and knew the bombing would begin. Getting to a basement immediately was important. My mother kept telling her sister Come on! We have to go! It was then that a grenade came through the window and my aunt literally lost her arm. Horrified, my mom ran down the hallway without her sister, and later returned to take her home. There were no doctors or nurses available, and it became my mother’s job to care for her sister and dress her stub. My mom searched for the arm, since a ring on one of the fingers was something special. The arm was found too late to be reattached, and the ring was gone. My mother also helped this sister at a later time abort a baby with a coat hanger. The outcome was much worse than expected. This baby was born alive, struggling for air as he was put in a shoebox to die.

My mother’s family suffered horribly, and was constantly hungry. They lived on potato soup, and loaves of bread traded for other items on the streets. My uncle had a disability that he endured as an infant. He had suffered a lack of oxygen due to the umbilical cord being wrapped around his neck at birth. My grandfather was in an English prison camp during the last stages of the war. My grandmother was left, pregnant with her 6th child, to fend for herself and her children. The 6th child was miscarried while my grandmother, and her other children were fleeing from Berlin to Poland because the city was being taken over and completely destroyed. Their return to bombed out Berlin was shocking and frightful. With mom’s severe upbringing and the horrors of war, it is no wonder she suffered from mental instability.

Years later my mother and father met at a carnival in East Berlin. They lived on opposite sides of the Berlin Wall. My father, who had work clearance to cross between both sides, had 24 hours to take my mother from East Berlin with the promise of marriage. She was to never return. They had only met once before, and wrote letters back and forth for 8 months while my father was granted permission to care for her. They migrated to the United States in 1952, where they worked hard to learn the English language. They struggled to have a baby and my mother miscarried several times prior to my birth. They tried to have more children later, but she never got pregnant again. I used to think that there must not have been any other souls that were willing to take them on as parents!

Growing up with these parents was the foundation upon which my life was built. How could my childhood have been anything other than terrifying? Chaos and drama were daily occurrences. My parents constantly fought over sex – loud enough for me to overhear. My mother told me she hated it when my father came home late at night, drunk and slobbery, and demanded sex. Every Tuesday, when my mom went to art class, my dad and I would bond over his Penthouse and Playboy magazines. He would confide in me that he knew my mother was having an affair with the Art Instructor. This was how I was taught by example to accept unacceptable behavior. At the time I didn’t see much wrong with this – I was told Americans were too uptight about their bodies, and in Europe nudity was no big deal. It is no wonder that I had recurring dreams of falling between the cracks on the wooden planked pier and drowning in the ocean. I was caught in the middle of my parents’ sexual dysfunction. . Another recurrent dream was one in which I was sent to the store, only to come back and find that everyone had gone and left me behind. This is the closest I can figure to the time my abandonment issues began.

Today, while sponsoring the teenagers in Alateen, I am amazed at the wisdom of these children. Having them in my life has helped me heal the broken little girl inside. Somehow I felt guilty about living with my parents, until one night one of the teens said something profound, When you’re a kid, it’s like being tied to a tree. I never saw it as though I had NO choice as a child until that night. I thought I was a bad little girl and somehow brought on this bad behavior from my parents. The Alateens are a gift I will cherish forever.

My dad was the first man I loved. This was the building blocks of denial as I swept his bad behavior into my subconscious. As a little girl, I thought he was the most handsome man in the world and, in my eyes, he could