Painful Victories: How to Overcome Pain and Get To The Victory

By Jennifer Sheehan

My name is Jennifer Sheehan. I was born and raised in Southern California to a bipolar, alcoholic, pill-popping mother who was married six times. I was the oldest of four children and we were mentally and physically abused our whole life. We got free lunches, food stamps, clothes from garage sales, and even went dumpster diving be

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Sheehan Ministries
• Release date: Apr 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780976381549

Book preview

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Jennifer

Looking at my life today, I am filled with gratitude! Hearing the story of how I grew up and where I came from, no one can imagine. I see the look of shock on their faces when I tell them. My life is unexplainable and so is the amazing love I feel for others and the desire to help them. I feel loved, full of joy, and happy most days. We all have bad days, but I usually only have a few a year—honestly!

With a big smile on my face, I can say I have an incredible husband of twenty years. I have a handsome, sweet, smart son who is now seventeen. I wake up every morning with peace and joy. I have had my marketing business for over fifteen years, a TV show, a magazine for five years, a radio show for two years, and now this book. I have been able to go on vacations I had only dreamed about as a little girl—Hawaii, Spain, Italy, France, Saint Thomas, Bahamas, Mexico, Destin, New York, and other adventures. I drive my dream car and live in my dream house. I have every desire of my heart and much more! Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, and I look around at my beautiful home and family and thank God for how truly blessed I am.

I remember my childhood and feel thankful to be where I am today, finally able to share my story to inspire others. I want to share my story to show the miracles of God's love and grace. Without the momentous decision to receive Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior and guide me every day, I don't know how else I could be living my best life today. God did not make us average, and He wants all of us to not miss out on our blessings. All of us have the power to overcome a painful past with God's guidance.

I was born and raised in Southern California to a bipolar, alcoholic, pill-popping mother who got married six times—yes, six! I was the oldest of four children. The police came to our house so many times to arrest my mother for various reasons. As a child, I remember thinking it was normal to have the police at our house so often. Being the oldest of four children, I was always the one that had to get my siblings to safety when my mother went crazy.

Bipolar is a terrifying mental illness, but when you mix a ton of alcohol with it, I can't even explain what it does to a person. I don't think my mother remembered half of what she did or said most of the time. Unfortunately, I do. For my mother to afford to be a single parent most of the time and raise four children, she performed in-home childcare. This type of work gave her the flexibility to stay home with us and make money. It also gave her the opportunity to go in her bedroom, lock the door, blast her music, and drink a box of wine. Oh yes, only the best boxed wine.

My mother once told me that she got mad, took a knife to cut her legs up, and then let it bleed everywhere before calling the police on her husband. Of course, they arrested him and locked him up. When she started appearing in front of the same judge many times, that judge started seeing things were not adding up and said, if I see you again, I'm going to keep you in jail. The judge kept true to his promise and sentenced her to almost a year. My mother yelled so much and so often the neighbors would call the police on her. Maybe that is why she wanted to move all of the time. I don't remember staying in one house longer than two years.

We were poor, lived in some sketchy neighborhoods in Southern California, and were neighbors with some dangerous people growing up. We even went to school with gang members. Free lunches, food stamps, powdered milk, and government cheese were staples on our daily menu. We rarely went to the doctor, dentist, and don't even imagine our dogs went to the vet. We got most of what we owned from garage sales or opportunities for free stuff. The worst I remember on at least a few occasions was scrounging for food behind grocery stores (what you call dumpster diving) once they were closed and had thrown out the trash. If there was anything free from the state of California, or anywhere else, my mother was always in.

At the age of ten, I wanted to earn money so I could purchase things from the store that I wanted. like hair spray, shoes and clothes. I started babysitting, washing cars, cleaning houses, and anything else I could do. Do you know how embarrassing it is to go into a grocery store where you know everyone, and the bagger is a boy you crush on, and your mom makes you use food stamps? As a teenager, it was embarrassing! I did reward myself by including candy and coke that we were not allowed to have, and somehow my mother never found out; thank goodness.

I'm grateful no one ever saw us dumpster diving for the food they threw out. My mother would cut off all the bad parts of the fruits and vegetables and then can or freeze everything she could. I will admit my mother was resourceful; I will give her that. Yes, we got a ton of free stuff, but I didn't tell you about her spending and shopping problem.

I remember her running up all of her credit cards at Christmas. She loved Christmas gifts under the tree to celebrate and a closet full of clothes and shoes—but it was mostly for her. She would come home with huge bags full of clothes and shoes in many different colors. It was all for her, and little for her children. She loved to spend her boyfriends' and husbands' money until it was all gone and then move on to the next guy.

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First Memories

My first memory was living on a small farm in Altadena, California. We had chickens, goats, ducks, and a horse named Cherry. We got our eggs out of the hen house. Feeding and playing with all of the animals was fun as a child. Riding the horse was one of my favorite activities. When we needed chicken, my grandmother would hang the poor chicken upside down from the big tree in the back yard and then cut off its neck. The chicken would run around the back yard with no head. I guess that’s where they get the expression running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Then my grandma would stick it in a big pot of boiling water and pluck all the feathers off. I was four or five years old, and I can still remember that vividly. I’m not sure if that was a good thing or bad thing to witness as a child.

One of my pets was a goat named Pumpkin. I loved my goat! We drank goat’s milk and Pumpkin even had babies. I still remember how amazing that was to see. One day, I went behind my goat for some reason, and she kicked me, and that kick knocked me out. A few weeks later at dinner, my dad mentioned how good Pumpkin tasted and, of course, all of us kids started crying. I have fond memories of that time in our life, despite my family eating my pet goat for dinner.

You can't imagine the pain, lack of love, lack of support, lack of kindness, mental abuse, and physical abuse. What I've seen and had to endure growing up, no child should have to go through! Again, it is with God's grace that I have triumphed over my painful memories and experiences and live now with a healthy self-image to serve the Lord.

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My Mother

My mom was 5'10" with blonde hair and blue eyes, curvy and gorgeous. She had one of those magnetic personalities that everyone wanted to be around. Always the life of the party! Unfortunately, when people got to know her and they found out that she was mentally insane, they would run for the hills. I don't remember staying in a house or school for more than two years. Mom thrived on drama and change. Heide, our German shepherd, was the babysitter.

My mother always bragged about how clever she was for not having to pay a babysitter. Mother would have us all get in our pajamas, get in the white Volkswagen bus with Heide, park in the South Forty Club parking lot, and she would go party all night and get drunk. I was eight or nine years old and the oldest child. To have all of your young children in a car while you go party in a club all night is just unthinkable.

That is how my mother's mind worked. Everyone knew it, but no one ever did anything about it. When you are a child, you have no voice, and nothing you can do but what your parents tell you to do. The club she went to was not only in a dangerous part of the town but think of all the crazy drunks going in and out of that parking lot with three little girls in the car. It had to be the grace of God that nothing ever happened to us when our mother placed us in seriously dangerous situations like that. Can you imagine what would happen if she did that these days?

Heide was a ferocious, protective German shepherd who bit many people. But how scary was that for us at such a young age! I don't remember ever having a babysitter, and I guess, if she didn't have the money for the doctor or the dentist, why pay for a babysitter? It was hard being the oldest of the children because I had to be the strong one for the others. Sometimes, I got scared as well. I can't imagine leaving my young children without any adult supervision. I would be scared something would happen to them, but I don't think my mother was ever afraid for us. Maybe it had to do with her disorder. I don't think we realized how crazy our life was until we became adults and figured out this was crazy.

I suffered abuse, mentally and physically, by a woman who I believe was mentally insane. She was eventually diagnosed as bipolar after we were all grown. I wish someone would have realized that when we were younger and stopped her from abusing us. You never knew what would set my mother off when she was drunk. We were always walking on eggshells around her to not make her mad. No matter how perfect we tried to be, she would go off. If one child made her mad, then we all got a beating. We had to pick our belt from her closet and bend over her bed with our hands-on top of the bed. If we moved them, she would add on to how many times she would hit us with all of her anger and strength for a woman that was 5'10" and big boned. I can't tell you how many times I had welts on my butt, back, and back of my legs that made it too painful to sit down.

I told her one time, when I was fourteen, that I was going to call the police. She said, good. One less mouth to feed. Let me help you dial. She was not kidding; she would have sent us away in a heartbeat. I have always wondered why she even had children and why none of her six husbands, countless boyfriends, or even friends and neighbors didn't help us. I know back then things stayed secret and behind closed doors, but many people knew she was crazy. I know now my mother was not capable of loving anyone. But for a five-year-old girl to hear the words, you're smothering me, get away— this, stays with you for life. It made me feel unloved, unwanted, and unworthy.

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Daycare

My mother operated a daycare in our house for as long as I can remember, so she could make money while staying home with us. She made some money, didn't need a degree and never paid taxes (it’s ironic that my father was a tax collector for the State of California). She was paid mostly in cash that she would hide in different places around the house. She already had four children of her own, so she was limited if she didn't want to pay for daycare for us.

I can still remember the message she had on the machine: Hello and, how are you? You have reached Auntie Laura's Daycare. I'm not available right now, but I will get back to you just as soon as I can, and you have a nice day. Every time I heard it, I wanted to vomit because it could not be more fake. She would greet the parents with a big smile in the morning and talk about how she was going to make homemade baby food and do arts and crafts.

Then, when the door shut, she took out the diapers from the bag, put the babies in a crib, closed the door and let them scream while she blasted the radio or TV. She was clever enough to let all the kids show up first before she shut herself off from the reality of caring for others. I don't know how my mother never got caught, never got in serious trouble, and managed to only stay in jail for under a year—and not until she was much older.

If you met her, you would think she loved children, but I think having all of those children in our house made her even crazier and sometimes she couldn't handle it. Her innocent looks fooled people because she looked like the all-American girl next door. Sometimes she would have about ten or more kids from babies to school age in her care. My sister and I had to change their diapers, feed them, and take care of them when we were not at school. Mother encouraged us to stay home from school and could care less about our grades or even graduating high school.

I remember my mother's temper when the babies would not stop crying. She would yell and shake them, hit them, and shut them in a room for many hours. Her favorite thing to do was get a big box of wine, blast her music, lock her bedroom door and get drunk. I still don't know why those parents were comfortable letting us accept the children and say my mother was not there. Being the oldest in a dysfunctional household, you learn quickly to be responsible at a young age.

I was cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, and taking care of babies at eight years old. I thought all babies always have diaper rash, but it was just my mom not changing their diapers and then having us take the diapers out of the bags to make it look like she did. We were doing what our mother made us do. And since no one ever questioned my mother, we thought everything we

Reviews for Painful Victories

[CHRISTOPHER ELSAESSER · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Excellent book and I love your show on CW33. Thank you for the inspiration! With God ALL things are possible and you have wrote that so eloquently. A must read for anyone who is broken and need our ultimate healer, God, to repair our souls.