Interview with Barbara Jean Wilson
Crimson Flower Reviews Welcomes Non-Fiction Author Barbara Jean Wilson…
If you haven’t read “Mute But Now I Speak“, you can purchase a copy of my book through: Amazon Kindle; Barnes and Noble Nook; and Xulonpress.com. You can learn more about my story on my Website and Facebook Fan Page.
What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books?
Where did you get ideas for your books?
I guess you can say the ideas for the book is based on my life and being a survivor
What do you think makes a good story?
The voice and body that once belonged to a sweet innocent girl was forced to become an adult at the tender age of eight. A voice and body that were forced to endure the abuse, threats and pain that defiled the very essence of my existence. A voice that was stifled and cries not heard by anyone, nor my sorrows felt by anyone.
While I should have been playing with dolls in my earlier years, at the age of eight I became the doll for everyone to play with starting with my stepfather, who actually was my mother’s boyfriend since they never married and who my two sisters and I referred to as “Uncle Bob”. He began by saying that what he was doing to me would make me grow up to become a beautiful young woman and he warned me that I was not to tell anyone. Once the novelty of abusing me wore off for Uncle Bob, he began bringing other men over to the house to play with “his” doll, which was how I was introduced. I was so afraid. For the next five years, they would all have their way with me and pay Uncle Bob once they were done.
Things in me began to change. I started eating more, biting my fingernails down to the skin until they would bleed. At one point, I began to lose control of my bladder and wetting the bed every night. The most embarrassing part about losing control of my bladder is that it could happen anytime or anywhere. Sometimes while sitting in my classroom I would become filled with dread of the abuse I would face when I returned home. I would come out of this trance-like state to see one of the children pointing out the puddle under my chair to my teacher or I. The first time this happened, I was in the third grade.
I began to lose focus, nothing seemed important anymore, not school, not being around people for any length of time. I did not isolate myself from anyone, I would just make my visits as brief as possible.
The innocent life and body of a little girl was battered and destroyed by the evilness of a person my mother trusted in the beginning, but unfortunately, for me, this person did not care and had no conscious. Because of this experience it would take many years and a miracle to restore all that was lost.