Ragdoll Redeemed (excerpts) Chapter 1

curtain on stage


I guess it isn’t really all that great of a surprise that Marilyn and I had  such  similar  childhood  stories.  Plenty  of emotionally  unstable, fragile women like our mothers  got themselves “in trouble”  with men who had no permanent thought of the woman or her child. And just like many other fatherless children, Marilyn and I were plagued by uncertainty and lifelong obsession about our biological fathers, even though in both cases they denied paternity  until their respective deaths.

Apparently, Marilyn’s father abandoned her mother after being told of the pregnancy, just as my father did.

From the day that I finally coerced my grandmother into revealing the truth  about my real father, until the day I met him at twenty-nine, I was consumed with thoughts of what he would be like. I was sure he’d want me if he could just see how eager I was to have him in my life. In my imagination,  my father held the key to my legitimacy. He was my beginning,  the very essence from which I was made. My mother  and grandmother had told me many times that I was conceived in love. But I knew if I could just meet him, touch him, and see him with my own eyes, I would somehow become complete.

I also thought that just by meeting  my father, I would be set free from the burden—at least in my own heart—of being a bastard. I would be able to laugh in the face of the religious bigotry that declared me for- ever shut out from God’s favor. Thanks  to scathing words in the Old Testament, I had spent  my life believing  that  as a bastard  I did not deserve to belong  anywhere,  that  I had no legitimate  claim on even being a real person. All through my life, I thought,  “If only my father could  approve  of me, I would no longer  be an outsider;  I would be known  and  therefore   made  authentic.”   From  the  quotes  below,  it appears that Marilyn felt similar feelings:

“Old Charles Stanley would never acknowledge me as his daughter  let alone marry  my mother!”  . . . “All I really wanted from him was to let me call him father.” . . “He  didn’t want the world to know I was his love child, his mistake.” . . . “Oh, how I wished I had a Dad.” —Marilyn

Perhaps this is where Marilyn and I both became convinced that we were not full human beings unless a man’s attention made us real. We were daughters  of women who were trashed  by the men who should have appreciated and honored  them as full, equal, and honorable  part- ners. We, too, were cast off as ragdolls, apparently not made of the right stuff anymore  than  our mothers  had been. The  legacy of a mother’s emotions  has a way of imprinting into the very DNA  of a child even before birth. It left us indelibly stamped with our mothers’ shame. (P.g. 2-3) To be continued………



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Ragdoll Redeemed (excerpts) Chapter 1
Ragdoll Redeemed:Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe (excerpts) Chapter 1 cont..