Fighting for one life 1995-2003

I continued with my life and lived for my son; even with the constant physical and verbal abuse from my son’s father all the time I got up and did what I had to do for my son. I worked very hard as a contractor or consultant through out the years. I started in Real Estate and was a leasing agent at a small company for an apartment complex in the East Bay. I have project managed for some real big companies and small companies over the years, mainly real estate and construction. Most of my jobs where like my life temporary, however they suited the need for me to pick up my son from school or take time off when needed. I didn’t always make a ton of money but we had enough.

My son was always an amazing child he grew fast by the time he was 8 months old he was running through my house always into everything and so sweet but just like his mother curious about everything. He was always thinking and trying new things. As he grew I found if I talked to him and explained things to him when he needed to learn something he responded well. I took the time as a parent to answer the why when he needed to know and understand the world or rules in my home.
I spent hours reading to him at night even when he was very little. If he had a tantrum I would let him be angry then say “are you ready to huge” if not I would wait till he was done. It must have been hard for him going back and forth between houses. I would have been mad too. He would break down cry eventually from the anger and I would talk to him about why he was angry to try and help him deal with the reasons for his anger. He was always the smartest and tallest kid in his classes. He just kept growing, reading and eating. But so sweet and gentle. We did everything together, dinner in the City, musicals, plays, art festivals movies, just the two of us.

At an early age he loved and feared his father, I refused to fuel the issues by ever saying anything negative. I just always told him he should love his father even when he doesn’t like him. My son would get so angry when his father would yell and scream at him or me. He saw his father become violent a couple times with me and at 6 years old my son would be so hurt when he saw me get hurt. I tried so hard to never allow it around him and made sure to be strong in front of him or at least make sure he knew he didn’t need to protect me, he needed to be a child.

With his fathers constant harassment I would attempt to call the police and file restraining orders, but BJ had more friends and money than I did and they would do anything for him even testify to save him.

I spent 8 years the first time in and out of court with BJ fighting for my son I wasn’t always right and was always emotional. My son was my life and BJ wanted my life. I fought for it every day BJ would hit me and I would get blamed. BJ was good at turning everything into my issue or my fault. I was not always right and I was very emotional about having my son ripped out of my house every time BJ got remarried. I am sure that never helped the court battles and came across very badly in front of the judge. I had no one but my son most the time, I was working going to college and raising a child. It was very emotional for me, I am sure I reacted badly most the time to the threats and in the court hearings. It was me against them and they had more money and more friends.

I had a few love interests along my way and was married for about 9 months when Jacob was 1 years old. I always kept trying to find a family or the stability of a family for my son and myself. It just never really worked out with all the anger and fighting going on between my son’s father and myself, it was hard enough to live my own life.

The best way to describe it is in a paper I wrote for English class one year using my life experiences….
I will save the details of the court battles for my next entry they are painful to write.

If I gave my heart would they remember where it came from, if I gave away my smile would they remember the face it belonged to? I wonder every time I see someone new why I am still here, why the world stops when you appear. Confusion without a reason, tolerance of everything that comes with knowing someone I am attracted to, I could stand beside them and they will never realize I am on their side. I could speak and agree but they never want to know why. Security without consistency makes the realization set in, that my fear is what draws me here. Cold places I once forgot, and explanations without logical reason I am left comprehend. What we learn to accept, time soon will make us blind too. Loneliness will allow us to tolerate the intolerable without question. And our emotions or feelings for hope in the moment will make us forget the pain we inflict on each other that has ripped a whole in our hearts. Is that love or the desire to find the meaning of vulnerability?

There once was an innocent girl who existed long ago her secrets, dreams desires, and hopes no one will ever know. She did not want them to hurt her anymore so she keeps herself shut down and closed. She wrote her words down she could not say everyday to hopefully someday remember who she was and how she changed. She lived in a place where she survived just by believing someday she would find love and peace. She wanted peace from the anger, the pain, and abuse the beatings and drugs she was forced to be a victim to. The lies and confusion she was forced to endure made her build walls so high that no one could hurt her anymore. She protected everyone and was brave when she needed to be. She would not let anyone be hurt by anything. She even was strong as they strapped her down and exposed her so everyone could see. She lived only to die and continually tried to feel anything else by making herself bleed. Three times she tried and yet they kept her alive only at thirteen. Her only belief was that she would survive and someday find peace. The years went by and she finally left after being drugged raped and beaten. She said good-bye to everything, her family her childhood the people she was supposed to love yet she felt nothing. She stayed up at night and begged stars, for the strength to survive and find what was missing. It was time to change and let go of blame so she just focused on her only belief. That every day she would try even if she did not love who she is or sees. She tried and tried so hard sometimes she would not eat or sleep. She worked two jobs to pay the bills so young and yet grown up in a way, then along came a man who gave her a place to stay. Soon after that he would leave, never giving her anything. He left her behind with a broken face and a new baby on the way only at seventeen. She had to be brave for him and put her needs aside even though still something was missing. The baby needed her more than she needed her dreams. She changes again and begins a new life for him and gives him what he needs. Then four jobs three apartments and another man has left her again taking everything. She looks at the baby and smiles instead knowing they will survive if she tries to find what is missing. After five more jobs four hospital visits and a fourth cars is totaled, she still gets up and changes once again she is tired and wonders when it will end. With a troubled past and no desire to explain, with memories she has no one left to blame. Change has come so quickly and once again all she can see all that is left is her without anything. She opens her heart and shuts her eyes letting go of everything. She wants more than her life, but cannot find what is missing. She wants understanding. The dust clears and her time of peace is finally here. She finds safety in knowing how to feel, knowing who she is and loving who she has become. This time she says it’s all about me this time she knows who she is and wants to be. She is strong and fearless she does not worry about the rest of them, just her son and the love she found in the last place she was looking. She is complete and free to change with grace and charm. She is finally free to be in love with herself, she is complete. Yet she can’t wait to grow and change in order to find love within herself again.

This young girl looked in every place and in every person creating changes and tragedy in order to experience what she thought was love. When in reality where she should have started looking was inside her. When she finally found and experienced love for herself everything else became easy. Every day she began to recognize the feeling of love around her and instead of giving love away she embraced it and discovered she loved by being loved herself. I was this little girl and I realized after years of suffering that love is not something you automatically receive or give away to another person. It is not owed to you by your family it is not given to you by anyone. I found love through my struggles by finding myself and understanding who I am. I no longer looked outside myself for acknowledgment, approval, or happiness. I found through finding myself, and giving birth to a child I knew where to go and what I needed to do. I found peace and love in having direction and strength. I know love is no longer a word important to hear or an emotion that I need given to me. I love who I am understand who I have become and accepted myself fully. I guess what someone told me years ago were right, “I was lost then I found me and there I stood with love looking back at me.” This is all I will ever need.

Therapy Current Day 2010

Today was another wonderful therapy day.
I do enjoy the conversations it helps me sort things out in my head.
We came to the conclusion after talking myself in circles that I am in doom and gloom mode.
He made a good point that I tend to become a tortured artist when I write. It is true, I have to go inward and become the pain to write about the pain. I am sure I will come through and pull myself out once I am finished.

He was concerned about my non-existent blah type of mood towards my husband and myself. In a way I am like a wild animal being held captive. I am dying and giving up on fighting for my own needs. I really don’t see the point in all the emotional drama of fighting for my basic needs with my husband like the gym, or taking an online class or even working right now. My husband will not change his mind and allow me to do anything I want just because I yell louder. If he cared about me he would want those things for me and I have asked many times. So I am done asking and will just be silent until things change and I can be free again. Until then I will go through the motions and do what needs to be done.

I have been fenced in and no longer have anything of my own to have or hold. Therefore like an animal behind a fence in a cage I am dying. My passion for life is gone and my desire to fight for anything I need has left me.

Sad but true for now… I know what I am doing will inevitably leave me alone and without friends. But sometimes I can’t pull myself out of the hole until I see a reason or way out. I am not depressed just a general lack of interest in the world around me. I feel trapped.

I have my kids and they need me, I have my writing and I need to finish the story. Maybe in a couple years or my next life I will focus on being free.

Nothing else has really changed and therefore I will continue with the past in order to determine what I need to do with my future.

Current Day Update 2010

With all that has been going on in the last couple weeks there is some good news.

My dear cousin is recovering. All the tests that have been sent out from the second biopsy have come back cancer free and he seems to be moving forward with his recovery. He is gaining his memory back and taking walks everyday. He even posted on facebook that he wants to go home. Miracles do happen and my Granny seems to be in better spirits. I wish there is something I could do to help him. However I find myself just standing by waiting for his return home.

My life is normal and not all bad. I had thanksgiving with some dear friends. I made tamales and contributed to something. I spent some time with the kids and my nephew. I try and enjoy the moments. I feel very non-productive these days so I am focused on just writing and day by day with the baby. I want to contribute more to the world but I am home with no means to do anything about that right now. My husband will not allow that, he does not want me having time for anything but the home life.

The holidays are always ruff, he lack of having any real ties to family other than my Granny weighs heavy. I know my Granny loves me but love only goes so far when your not blood related. I personally view my friends as family. I would like to think other people are like me and would do the same. But you know the saying “blood is thicker than water” this is true for many people no matter what they say or do. My husbands family are not really close and so I usually find myself floating around with the kids to friends houses. I would love it if I could have control or stability of the situation and have my own home be a place where people come together. However this is far from reality for me at this point in my life.

I am still not allowed access to money or any financial decisions. If I want something I have to ask and wait for approval. I hate to sound so self-absorbed as if my life is completely horrible or something. It is just really uneventful and I am sure there are those who would be glad to be in my shoes doing nothing everyday.

I just want to develop my self somehow, maybe go back to school, and travel something… Oh Well maybe next lifetime?

I hate to admit I started smoking again, cigarettes that is…
I had my gym membership revoked (by husband) and all the gyms by our new place are too expensive for him. Therefore I fell back on the old crutch. My husband doesn’t seem to care and I hate it but find it to be a better solution then screaming at him.

My relationship with my husband is also uneventful. He seems fine with it; we do not really talk about much other than the baby. When I focus on the relationship it is depressing how little we actually have in common. Whatever the case it does not seem to bother him, so I should not allow it to bother me.

I am looking forward to more time with my teenager and writing. I am really feeling the need to finish that journey, the writing.

My mother keeps trying to find reasons or time for us to get together. Honestly I don’t want to, and have nothing to share or give her. I know that is selfish, maybe I should try for her. Then again I usually get hurt or regret any contact aside from the kids visiting.

Well it is time to get back to the story, maybe the answers to my life are somewhere yet to found.

Baby having a baby Life #2/ moving forward 1994

Before I move forward with the story, I should take a moment for a physiological review of my behavior so far in 1994.
Many well known Doctors have told me that my behavior signified a person that could display a tendency to place myself in dangerous situations or maybe I felt superior, invincible, and somehow knowingly placed myself intentionally into some of these dangerous situations expecting to be safe.
I never once thought about anything close to that during the time I was going through what I was going through. I was so naive to the outside world it was like an out of body experience. I never realized wondering the streets at my age to be anymore dangerous than my mother’s home, a hospital where I was abused, a foster home where I was abused more or any other place I moved to get away from the last. I was just lost. I was just looking to feel safe, I never felt out of danger no matter where I went, I was always terrified of being harmed. I was trying to find somewhere to feel normal and safe again.
With that in mind Doctors had said why didn’t you trust the system? Why not ask for help? The system and those closest to me were the ones hurting me. I had Kaiser Medical Insurance for most of my youth. They just did whatever my parents told them too and trusted that. Plus I am sure they were making plenty of money off me. Then most the other places I went I was moved from every year. If I wasn’t moving I was packing or unpacking. The minute I felt a little comfortable I was told I had to leave. I was looking for what I have always been looking for, a safe place I didn’t have to move out of and could unpack long enough to call home. Maybe the way I went about it was unsafe? I was not aware at the time that the world was really capable of doing any harm to me. I also figured nothing could be worse than what had already been done.

Now Baby having a baby


Finally at 17 I moved in with who I thought was a Man I could love and loved me. It was the Boy I met in high school with 4 brothers and a single mother. I moved in with BJ and his friends to a Condo in Clayton CA. I hadn’t spoken to my parents in years nothing not even a letter. I had another little job waiting tables and thought my life was pretty normal so far… I was trying to put down roots and stay still, be happy, have friends, and do normal things.
It was New Year’s 1994 when I got pregnant at age 17 and BJ was 21, the father. (I am sure anyone with a daughter right now is cringing.) I had been with BJ for a couple years he didn’t handle it well to say the least. I made the decision to keep the baby then did the unthinkable and called my parents.
My mother said “figured you were always a little whore and would be pregnant or dying from aids by now” My father was excited about a grandchild.

I moved into an apartment with BJ alone and tired to make it work. I became ill with toxemia, and my hormones, body breast everything was out of control. I was an emotional wreck. That drove BJ to leaving me around 2 months pregnant. So I lost it and melted into a deep depression, pregnant, alone, at seventeen. My only friend left just like everyone else and I didn’t handle it well, I was raging from the abandonment issues. My moods during those years where very volatile anything triggered me to cry scream, and hide in closets. After what I went through already I would freak out over little things, writing obsessively or just hiding afraid to go outside. Nothing was ever stable but this little baby boy inside me giving me the worst heartburn ever. I loved my son even before he was born, he didn’t leave me, and well he couldn’t at least.

My father made the pregnancy the best experience it could be. He took me to the doctor’s appointments made fun of my huge belly or how I would waddle. I was huge and gained almost 100 pounds total during the pregnancy. It was amazing to see this little boy grow, move and kick me all the time. I sang to him his lullaby at bedtime talked to him about the people he would meet when he arrived. My dad talked to him too. I always told my son how special he was to me how his life will not be easy with me but all my love and entire heart would belong only to him. His lullaby was “Castle on a Cloud” from Le Miserable I sang it to him every night when I was pregnant and after he was born.

My son’s father did not come back until I asked him to be there for the delivery. I asked my father and mother to be there as well. My father didn’t leave my side for the whole 17 hours and videotaped everything. My labor was very difficult as hard as the pregnancy. They induced labor and made it extremely painful. Out came my son a little over 8 pounds and close to 24 inches long. He had the biggest hands and feet it was really funny. My son was a peaceful baby, just opened his eyes and looked up to me. It took the doctors hours to stitch me up, my father just cried and didn’t leave till they were done. They kept me in the hospital for over a week from the tearing and bleeding. My son was born October 6th 1995 I just stared at him and wouldn’t let him go, I wouldn’t move for days and kept him close to me. I think I knew before anyone one else what we were about to face in this lifetime. Maybe a part of me felt scared of what my son would now face in this life. I knew it was not going to be easy for him or me. I truly believe he knew it too.
People came in and out of the hospital to visit, but my son and I were in this bubble together so the rest of the world didn’t matter anymore.

I named him with my fathers and my last name and, I gave him my little brother’s name for the middle name. After we went home BJ tried to be with me and even asked to marry me a couple times but I didn’t love him and I didn’t want a man in my life who leaves me just because it became difficult to be with me.

I started to realize after having the baby that BJ was not a very nice man for me. He had been controlling me in ways I never saw before. I wasn’t allowed to have my own bank account, car, or say in how money was spent. I was not allowed to go places unless he drove me or knew ahead of time. I was not allowed to have an opinion, because in his mind the mans word was the last word. I later found out he had been seeing other women while I was pregnant and continued to after the baby was born.

It is amazing what you do not see when you are so desperate for someone to love you. I thought this man loved me until I held that baby and realized what love really was. Then I looked at BJ and realized I was a possession to him nothing more.
I was feeling suffocated again and the control issues where overwhelming for me so I made the difficult decision. I left with the baby, and decided to be alone. If I knew what I knew now I would have ran and disappeared forever.

BJ turned out to be not only the wrong man for me but also an abusive one for my son and me. I don’t think BJ will ever get over the fact I left him. He will be angry with me till the day he dies for not doing what I was told… At least that is what he told me a few years ago.

New Life away from HOME… 1993-1994 LIFE #2

With Life Number one out of the way I started on my second life or chapter drug free. This will not be the first time I start Drug Free in my life, I seem to repeat mistakes time to time……
Here we go…


If you remember, after I left my parents house at 15, I went out into the world they kept the nice little pure bubble with them that they raised me in and I unknowingly walked into oncoming traffic.
Being raised in a Mormon household with my parents was another universe. I used to wonder is my mother really that cruel or just naive? She is naïve.

I never knew about coffee, cigarettes, alcohol, and forget about sex I wasn’t allowed to do that unless husband said I could, or wanted a baby. For the first time in my life I was allowed to choose underwear in any color even bikini cut. Some may say that is “no biggy” but you weren’t tormented for having white granny panties sticking out of your jeans because you had to roll them down. If I only knew what would happen next I would have packed up and left town.
First in my new unmediated state I was sent to Grandma’s house (my mothers biological mother) and Grandpa Devon’s (her husband she married I think 6 times). They were property managers, Jazz Musicians living unmarried and in sin at the time! They were childhood sweethearts and were married after my parents, parents (the biological grandparents) divorced. Devon was the best Jazz pianist I ever heard he could play anything from memory, anything just asks. He taught me to sing all the old Jazz tunes and encouraged me to belt them out at any moment, Grandma was colorful originally her family was from Holland. Fun people, they had me stay in the apartment next to theirs, once I finally started eating and being normal well as normal as could be expected. I would take off a lot and disappear for days at a time. The medication was still working its way out of my system and all the abuse I went through made me act strange. I would rebel and leave trying to find somewhere to escape even though I new it was safe at my Grandmothers.

I would end up alone on the streets and was gang rapped once in Benicia after drinking for the first time then found wondering alone somewhere. I don’t know why I would leave; I guess I was trying to get out of my own skin and away from the nightmares. I don’t remember a large about of the rape just flashes backs with boys putting their penises in my mouth and other places. When I woke up I was bleeding from my vagina and hurt everywhere.
I went home to grandmothers finally a few days later and never said anything. I blocked most of these types of experiences out over the years. It was all very fuzzy most the time and I was unaware of my own body.

Finally one day, I was visited by a social worker. She informed me my mother and father along with my extended family had been fighting over the years regarding if my uncle molested me or not. That my parents had filed with the courts to legally abandoned me making me a ward of the court so they were no longer financially responsible for me. They still wanted to tell my grandmother how to raise me but wanted nothing to do with me at the same time.
OK STOP!!!
I can’t tell you how devastating it is to hear your own parents are filing to legally abandoned you in court. I still don’t know how to feel about it all I can say is it really sucks. How is any child supposed to feel hen someone tells you your parents do not want you and are willing to basically make it legal, like a divorce, in court.
Therefore anyone wondering why I have no loyalty to my parents, this is one of the main reasons. There are many more to come but this one started a large amount of the damage or reasons of why I am the way I am today.

I never responded and never will to the whole uncle molesting me question. It is not a battle I wanted to participate in, my wounds are mine and I will not allow those people to use me to fuel their dispute. Therefore I will never comment, and actually really couldn’t tell you what happened if I wanted to at this point.

Since my parents made their decision to pursuer this direction my wonderful grandpa (mothers father) stepped in and hired an attorney to counter sue my parents (or something like that) and the family fun began. They had a trial and I won, I think my grandmother was awarded emotional damages and made my legal guardian. I don’t really remember other than the money went to Grandma and Devon. Who were also awarded child support? My father at that time made $500,000 a year so I am sure it was enough.

I had what I needed and was off all the medication so I tried high school for a while but never really adapted to normal life. I went back and forth to different schools moved a lot and never had any stability since then.

I had met a guy around age 16 named BJ. He was tall older than me by 4 years. I don’t really remember a lot as I mentioned just moving around going to school sometimes and trying. Which wasn’t really working for me, my Grandmother did her best but she moved once a year with me in tow. I was shell shocked from everything. I spent time with BJ and his brothers most the time. There were 4 brothers they were being raised by their single mother who was a night nurse. That meant we did whatever we wanted to do. They smoked drank had older friends that did drugs well at least I think? They figured out how naive I was and kept me out of most of that stuff. At one point my Grandmother sent me to go live there than back to a foster home then back to Grandma’s house.

Foster homes in California are horrible places, they let the other girls beat me up then took my clothes and anything that wasn’t nailed down. The foster mother didn’t care as long as she got her check. They stole, did drugs and the housemother sold them cigarettes when they asked for them. I endured more abuse than good once again at that house, with minimal supervision. Still being as naive as I was, being a ward of the court is not place for a girl, or young women in my shoes after what I had been through. I felt discarded once again, and was alone. I tried getting a job since I was also getting my GED, but found it difficult to focus. I had waitressing jobs at places like Denny’s or Carrows, I would just work time to time so I could have something to do besides be harassed in the foster home.

Selfish/ Current Day 2010

The last couple days have been emotional.
I enjoy my time with the kids but my heart aches is for my cousin and granny in the hospital waiting to hear news about what this mass in my cousins head could be. They have sent the second biopsy out to pathology and no results have come back yet. Today was also my Granny’s anniversary of her first child death I can only imagine the stress she is feeling…

While all the things in my life are moving forward good and bad. I went back to my angry place and vented on my Granny’s best friend. We exchanged some emails about my life and the issues I am facing here at home with the recent betrayal of trust with my husband and my own journey of writing about my past life. I feel awful for putting any burden on her. It is not that I do not trust her, I trust her as I trust my Granny. I trust she will not judge me or look at my badly for venting. However I can’t help feeling guilty for being so selfish. My life problems are nothing compared to those of so many others and I should be thankful for what I have. My health, my children, a home. At the same time it felt good or it was a relief to share with another person. I rarely get the chance to share my life with anyone, openly and honestly. So many people seem overwhelmed with my energy or venting. It is the same story from poor me but a different day. I hate being selfish and eventually end up regretting I burdened someone else with my thoughts or problems.

Granny’s best friend has been apart of her life for 35 plus years and she is a wonderful wise honest women. I truly admire her.
It wasn’t my intension to vent or trouble her, I guess I just thought it was a safe person to say things out loud to and that was very selfish of me.

The voices of so many negative influences in my past life sometimes make me so insecure I get anxious and in a way explode from the anxiety. So many people have told me I will never be understood, loved, or be good enough. I hate to admit I even sometimes think my Granny does not really love me the way I love her and she just pretends to be my family. I know it is awful to say something I know is not true. I guess the past sometimes does effect our future in ways we cannot control. For me it is my deep insecurity or fear of never being accepted for who I am. It is the dishonesty of so many people in my past who have pretended to be my friend or said I love you then only to turn around and use my vulnerability, or compassion for others to hurt me that makes me continually wonder who I can really trust?

From that insecurity came my selfishness and need to talk to someone about me when I should be focused on my kids and cousin right now.

I do love that I can talk to Granny’s best friend; I know when she said call anytime she meant it. I know if I needed it bad enough I could call my Granny. But I find myself turning inward more and more everyday in fear of allowing my problems to consume me and make me this angry selfish person I know I can be at times.

I can never be good enough without trying to be better; I can never be strong enough unless I am willing to change. So I will focus on being a less selfish person and try to have faith that my Granny and Cousins love me. I am loved for who I am by my children; I am good enough today and tomorrow I will face trying to not be selfish.

Thoughts and Journal Entries from Childhood/ There must be some good… 1990-94

With all the bad things that happened to me or by my doing during my childhood it would lead some to wonder was there anything good to come from it all?? I guess that depends on what I choose to make it…

I can say the good things I took from my childhood experiences are the fact we always had family dinners together almost every night. We had Monday night family night and sometimes the religious talk or Book of Mormon study was boring but we spent that time as a family. There was always music in the house, there was always an art influence and there was always plenty of communication. My mother had traditions of our Dutch heritage we did every year by celebrating Sinter Claus on the 4th of December or the birthday songs sung in Dutch. The cooking was incredible, my mother made everything from scratch. She would grind wheat for bread and make our names out of Chocolate. She taught me to cook anything and everything, some recipes I have kept from my grandmother and her over the years. All the kids had their very own lullaby my mother sung to us when we where kids. My lullaby was “blue bird of happiness” she sang it to me as an infant every night.
My parents may have fought but they made a marriage last through everything now 40 plus years. That is amazing!
My family all owned their own businesses and had a very entrepreneur hard working spirit that was taught to us by example. We all worked in the house or in my fathers Dentistry practice, my grandfather owned his own insurance business, by aunts and uncles had their own businesses. Therefore we were all taught to work and work hard.
If I look back some of these positive lessons I have carried with me into my adult life. I have also consciously chosen not to carry the bad experiences in to my adult life and become a different kind of mother than what I had. I do not place so much control and judgment on my children’s life or my own life. I approach things honestly or at least try even when I don’t know the answer or what to do in the given situation. I admit that I do not know everything and try to find the answers. I have an open communication with my kids and most my relationships in my life. A no bullshit approach for the most part. You would be surprised how many people are shocked when someone actually means exactly what he or she says sometimes. It is like your speaking in a different language.




SOME of My Journal Entries 1990-1994
Age 10-15

#1

To all the children who lost their soul
To all the adults who thought they were alone
To anyone who believed they were the only one who walked on a broken road
everyone has pain within their lives
Then there are those who choose to make a change instead of just survive


#2
Love is not forever love does not complete the circle we live our lives in.
The moment you turn your back one by one they come to knock you down and take there love back. Love is not family nor is it the answer to a prayer.
I guess I know now what the song said when they sang love does not live here any more. Love is not a gift of the heart when there are no hearts to be found.
Love does not find a way when things get to hard and love will never guide you through the darkest part of your life. Love is not a hero that conquers all, it only exists in a fairytale a story told to dreamers long ago. Love shows no mercy, and unconditional love never existed at all. Time to put away the toys the dreams the stories once told because as the song goes love does not live here anymore. I would rather live alone I would rather fade into the earth than believe in such a lie as love. So the lesson of life has been discovered and the reality unfolds. That love never lived and to believe in things that can not be touched or seen should be left in the books of fairytales to be bought and sold.


#3
Shattered dreams and broken hearts were very minor parts of this masquerade that I have so nicely displayed, because according to the rules I am a failure and a fool. Masks were made and they handed out roles, a perfect play to cover a story that will soon unfold. But soon a mistake was made, so according to the rules I am a failure and a fool. As the play took its toll a voice spoke the secret of her role, and just before she lifted her masks she stopped, but according to the rules I am a failure and a fool. The happy smile or joyful laugh the others choose to take that path and believe the masquerade. Yet she failed again and chose to speak the truth. What she realized at last, that according to their rules I am a failure and a fool. Then as years went by they went their way and she went hers she finally realized, according to my rules I will choose whether or not to be a failure and a fool.


#4
The last door is shut the curtains closed, and I am not letting you through any more walls. I am tired of hurting, but hurt is all I have got. You expect me to slip and screw up, to be drug away, but I will never let you have your way. You try so hard to cause me pain and make me misbehave. Even when you sent every one I loved away I was brave. So what comes next when there is nothing left for you to take. You say you love me, but I am loved more by people who hate. So now you have pushed me away, I dare you! I dare you to hit me with your pain! Then you will be drug away.

#5
The different child that never did what she was told. The different child that was teased and called horrible things, The different child that was never understood the different child that was always alone. The different child that did things her own way. Even though she was so different from the rest, on the inside she was the greatest of all. As the years went by that child became the very best at everything, because she dared to be different.


#6
If you were to take the time would the pain go away. If I die will it be too late. A meaning a reason to go on I will never know. They focus on what you do how far you go. I wish I could relate. I wish I knew what they wanted what I am supposed to do. Do I throw it all away or continue the circle of anger, confusion and hate.
Because Someday you will be old and I will need to Care for you.


#7
If I die before I wake I pray the lord my soul to take, but it is too late to take my soul my heart is gone and I am cold. I have died so long ago. My face seems pure my eyes so bright but I can not see the real answer with in me, that it has always been me. I pretend I am fine and say everything is o.k. I can never admit the truth because the truth would mean defeat. A fool was I who played the game of living in a world of shame. So I sit and wonder will I ever be safe in the world of lies I have created in my own space.

#8
A child’s place far away under the sea far away from this place. Where I can go at my own pace. Where there are no strong currents to pull me this way or that. But soft flowing waterfalls, rivers, and streams flowing to the ocean of my dreams. As I look into the water my reflection looks so clean and happy so free. I see the blues and green the colors of my dreams. I reach to touch them but there still so far away. A tear falls from heaven, putting clear ripples in the way. It calms and the water is clear no color, just a glowing light of fear blocking my way. I can’t touch it but I feel the warmth. The power of the light new and strong, the fear is so bright. Tears start to fall from my face and touch the water dimming the light. The light disappears and there are my dreams so beautiful and clear. I reach down and pick them up holding them close to my heart knowing we will never be apart. The fear has dimmed and our strength is one, forever together forever as one. I have beaten this fear my strength made these dreams so clear.

#9
Hold on hold on to something that is always nothing in the end. The smallest strings lifting me up are breaking one by one. The biggest hole is where I fall to my death. Branches break as I fall wind rushes past my cheeks covered in tears. The last piece of my identity catches me and silence of a lonely world consumes everything. I put my feet one by one down feeling the cold ground beneath me. Only once only then will the cold disappear. Skies turn blue and gray night becomes dark and longer then the days. I have no strength to save no breath to take. Time is passing by passing threw me. The whisper of a forgotten soul is all I hear saying hold on hold on to something.

#10
Finding a place to call your own. Figuring reality will never last. I stand on the edge of the cliffs and wait for the stars to take me away. Spinning into the illusion of a dream wondering how far away this one can be. Passing time, hopes will never find what seems to be the only thing. As the little streams flow from the mountains to the gutters ending in the sea. Touching every part of the world connecting us all it seems so simple so perfect. I wake up in bed no one to be found except for me. When did I get so far away from the stream? Nothing to hold on to when you’re in the middle of a river drowning in your own screams.

#11

Here comes a rush of pain again as I drag threw the mud.
Help before I cry
stories trapped
I am still alive
Midnight awake again I hope for daylight
choose a side
remember for once in your life
I will exist
my heart before you leave, try again, don’t shut them out
my only friend, find yourself in another lie again
so strange the way things turn
My face has two sides
Give up the pain scatter my fears
And I return Yet another soul survived

#12
I can’t feel anymore when there is nothing left to loose
I can’t cry anymore when there is nothing left for you to bruise
I know the game of life but never play by the rules
I can be honest I can never lie
I can open my heart and always try
But now there is nothing left for you to take
Nothing left to fear when I have already been here
I am not afraid to be alone
Not afraid to do anything on my own
I live to make it through the day
Then watch it all be taken away
I was perfect once just like you
I smiled once and faked it to
I thought I was in love and realized I was a fool
The deception and lies have scared my life
And there are wounds that will never heal with time
Yet I still believe if I have me everything will turn out right
Now there is nothing left for you to take
Nothing I can give away
And nothing left to fear when I have already been here

What happens next Part two of two/ 1991

You might ask, where was my father. My dad Fought for me every moment at times and then became quiet. It was like he was a beaten man. My parent’s arguments consisted of what to do with me. My father defended me the best he could, and actually took a punch in the eyes from my mother one day for it I think, I am really not sure since they fought a lot. They thought I wasn't listening all those nights they were screaming in their room about me. But I heard every word. I loved my daddy, and I know he tried to protect me. But eventually he just gave up and gave in. He had to choose his marriage, or his daughter, and he chose his marriage. So I cannot blame him for that. My parents have their own problems. My father is a recovered alcoholic and addict; my mother never let him forget it. My mother also never let him forget the fact her father paid for his education.
My grandpa (or mother’s father) wasn’t a extremely wealthy man but he did well and he helped pay for a lot of things I later found out in my life. He actually set aside money for me to go to college, but my mother why and took that from me too. You might think at this point, my mother is a bad mother or that I hate her. I did hate her for a long time. Then I realized she loved me, just not in the way I needed to be loved. I guess she did the best she could, unfortunately I can forgive but I will never forget. That fact has broken any trust permanently. I will never have a relationship with her and that is my choice nothing can fix that.

My older brother Dave was gone on a mission and the rest the kids survived. My older sister was a perfect child, at least on the surface. She held it together. And whatever she did to deal with it she did without anyone knowing. I wasn’t as careful and I made it a point to rub in my mother's face. For example, when I ditched school I came home and told her I did it and there was nothing she could do about it. If there was something I was known for in that house, it was having an attitude, and always saying what I thought of you. I guess if you want the god-awful truth you would ask me and I would tell you. I said things for the effect of them, and I said vulgar and horrible things most of the time. I was soon transferred out of the school district I was not getting along with anyone, especially the girls, I didn't get along with girls. They were mad at me, I guess? I had breasts and was hanging out with their boyfriends. Honestly, I hung out with the boys because I got along with them better. They were simple, and they didn't scream at me. Girls at that age are vicious snakes, and whoever you think is your best friend is not. I had my life threatened continually by teenage girls and I think that's why they sent me to another high school.
At this point I'd run away from home more then come back, cut myself and be depressed for a while then do it all again. I met a couple people at the new school. One boy, a girl and a few other people. All of them were older than me. I tried to make it to class, I tried to go to school, but at this point it was a dream for me to be able to relate to anyone my age. One particular incident I recall was when I called my mom, because I wanted to go hang out with the new girl I met at her house after school. We went to her house for the night we left for awhile to go meet some people and my mom called her house while we where gone. She realized I wasn’t at her house so she called the cops and told them I ran away. I was 15 and just trying to be a teenager. Since the girl was older than me, they accused her of aiding and abetting a runaway. This was not the way to make friends. I was hanging out with the guys doing the whole stoner chicks skateboard Betty wearing black thing. So the girls picked on me and some of the boys. I was still very quiet and kept to myself so I was treated like a cute little pet by most of the older kids. I never realized that I was attractive, so it didn't occur to me why people wanted to be around me most of the time.
My father would say he never worried about me but the other boys said, because I was the first one to grab a baseball bat and swing at them if they touched me. One time I was in trouble in history class for the boy was calling me names or something. So I pulled them out side through him against a locker and decked him.
This new school was predominantly white upper class kids. So I hung out with everyone else of course and didn't really pay any attention to the hicks and racist kids. I've never looked at the world like everyone else, I never understood it, didn't notice if someone was a drug addict, black, white, red. I figured I was different anyway and if they accepted me and I accepted them then what was the problem. I found this to be my gift throughout my life. My gift of accepting others for who they are not what they are. I try and be judgment free in my life. I understand pain, and I know what it's like to not be wanted, nurtured, or misunderstood. My own family didn't want me so I don't need to imagine how someone would feel being an outcast because who they are or what they did in their life when I was outcast in my own home. Not a day of my life went by that I don't get angry from others prejudices or discrimination. I was labeled and judged everyday as a problem as a crazy person as a victim and many other things. It disgusts me that people are still so ignorant to think they have the right to pass judgment on anyone or hurt someone.
My older sister learned, this really quickly. When I picked a fight with a guy at church, because a boy made her cry.

Things were getting worse at home so I ran away again. My friends at my new school hid me while my father and his friends searched all over the town for me. At this point I was losing hope in myself and was fighting with both of my parents. I was disrupting classrooms, home environments, and just plain acting out all the time. They upped my Medication, and I couldn't function anymore. My Parents said if I stopped taking the medicine, I would not be living in their home anymore. One-Family meeting, they took a vote and everyone voted me out.
I decided to stop taking the medicine. I went cold turkey, which could have killed me and I spent weeks in bed with the shakes tremors sweats. I was very sick and all I remember is my little brother holding my hand crying and my mother coming in and out laughing at me saying this is what you get I told you not to do it. I was determined to stop feeling numb. I couldn't take another day, and I didn't want to live another moment, medicated and depressed. I knew it had to end or else my life was going to end. The medication was so heavy it was damaging my kidneys. I was getting bladder infections all the time, and I was not eating. Four years of my life I could not remember the details. How was I supposed to learn anything at school or remember anything I had learned if I was just foggy all the time. I think I almost died in those weeks from plain stubbornness and the will to make a change. I was 15, and I was about to be homeless, but I wasn’t afraid of being homeless I was afraid of living. I figured, nothing could be worse than being drugged up and depressed all the time.

During those weeks I imagined my new life.

It is funny how you blink and all the sudden your parents are no longer your parents anymore. There is not a magic cape, no super powers. They become people with flaws with mistakes and you learn they did their best. Maybe I wasn’t loved the way I needed to be or thought I should be, maybe my mother loved me the only way she knew how and my dad is not as great or as perfect as I saw him before as a child. Maybe I will never understand why they made the decisions for me they did, but I have to accept it because how else to I recover from my childhood. If I do not learn to let it go I will never be able to live my own life.
I truly believe our souls carry on through generations our family’s sins and pain, and sometimes unconsciously we carry their worries and mistakes. If I don’t let it go and stop the cycle with me it will carry on to my children.
So I will say out loud my parents were never what I needed and I wasn’t what they wanted. I have learned to try and find something they bring to my life everyday no matter how hard. They are not my parents; they did not give me unconditional love. I think, having the desire to try and find something to love about other people and feel obligated to be is what I needed to learn. I only hope I can give others what they could not give me or at least try.

Now on with my new life well here comes more pain………..

Anger issues / Current Day 2010

My cousin is still in the hospital and what they thought was a single cell Ameba in his brain Infectious disease has determined is not. It is now a waiting game in hopes of finding a diagnosis before it is too late. I worry about my Granny and cousin everyday, but it is impossible to wrap myself in this problem without attending to my own life. I would love to sit and wait with Granny and make sure he is Ok however they are 3 ½ hours away and my children need me right now. The never ending worries of a mother verses a bad episode of the TV series House.

My mother called to fill me in on more information. My mother feels the need like the rest of that side of the family to be involved in every tragedy. Funny they are never around when the good times are happening or over the last 10 years for that matter. They tend to try and indulge in the mishaps of others.

We talked for a moment and I changed the subject to the kids to try and keep it light. To my own fault I tested my mother on the assumption I have of her befriending my teenagers stepmother. His second stepmother. She is pregnant again and feels the need to take her hormonal anger out on my teenager. Over the years she has disrespected me and even threatened me over the phone. I will get into the other collateral damage his father and her have done in his life and mine later, which include physical abuse.
My assumptions were correct. My mother has befriended her and even defended her actions in our conversation. I can understand my mother making peace in order to maintain a relationship to see the kid and try and get along. We all do that when there is a split parent home. But to choose to place her loyalty in their favor just pisses me off. Especially after what has happened over the years. After I was done speaking my mind I have to say I am not surprised just continually outraged and puzzled.
What makes a mother so blinded by the facts and reality of someone that they choose to abandon their own child for that child’s abuser. The abuser being my son’s father and his destructive wife.
I told my mother she is not an intelligent person and I guess that’s what happens when you inbreed. Yes I was mean, yes that was rude. I did it and said it to test my mother and I shouldn’t be surprised. My mother chooses the side of people who in my mind are not nice or honest people. After all they committed adultery, stole money from my grandfather, and physically abused me, then spent years mentally working me over.

I know I am not an angel and have many issues, but please I would never behave the way the teenagers step mother has by harassing the child’s mother, making empty threats and continually disrespecting me in front of my son. He is my son and always will be.

My mother, I shouldn’t continue to have such anger towards or be surprised. I knew when I was a child who she was. A vessel for me to be born, nothing more….

The funny thing is, I would do anything to help her if she was in need. Because my basic human instinct is to protect myself, my children and then of course my mother.

It is like my fathers good friend said to me when I was young. He told me to stop trying to win their love, they will never love me they are nothing like me and do not have the ability to love me. They do not believe in loyalty or a tic for a tic and tac for a tac, a basic even exchange of humanity. They believe in their judgmental way and can’t see anything else.

Powerless/ Current 2010

With so much going on I decided couples days of silence was in order to focus on my cousin and his brain surgery-taking place today. SO far so good and we all hope for the best. I went to see him over the weekend and he was the same as he always is….
He has always been the light in the room the treasured child of laughter and life. Now at 22 he faces a tragedy that could change his life in so many ways. I sincerely hope the only change this brain tumor brings is maybe removing his innocence.

There are so many emotions and feelings that occur when tragedy hits a family. For my Granny it is her worst nightmare and reliving the losses of her first child and my grandfather to Cancer. IT also reminds us all of the tragedy of my little brother and how his brain tumor changed his life and all of ours forever.

Today by midnight we will hope for the best hope for a quick recovery and what must take place next.

His brother my other cousin sent me a test about feeling helpless in the moments and hours he waits quietly for the surgery to be over.

My response was simply the most horrible feeing in the world is feeling powerless and unable to protect the ones we love. That whatever happens it will be faced with all of us together. No one is alone in facing what will happen next. Whatever it is good or bad we will all help and be there for him.

That is all we can do face the storm together and have hope.

My life and life issues are insignificant the last few days, I have placed them aside to make room for what others may need in the coming days.

Granny always said there would be a next so we must be strong, she did look at me the other day and ask why this is happening and how she asks God why everyday since he has been sick.

I could only say because you are stronger than most, because I can give you my strength as you have given it to me in times of need. That there is not a reason why just the fact that we are the people this world has molded into the stronger human beings and for that reason we can do what needs to be done now. I told her never to doubt herself because she would never allow me to doubt myself.

Granny’s has been our strength for all of us, me my cousins, and given her all for the one in surgery today. He will be all right, there is no alternative. I fear Granny may not recover if this goes any other way but well. My cousin’s mother died when they were small and their father, well lets just say he turned out to be a selfish drugged asshole when his kids needed him most. Granny is all we have and all they have.

These are the people I spend my holidays with, I share my life with and are the family I choose for this life. Being powerless in these situations may be the worst feeling today, but loosing one of them would be worse.

What happens next Part one of two/ 1991

Time seemed to just blur together and what I mean by blur, as they seemed the same. My mom and I would fight then she would tell me and I was a slut or no good. I would be depressed for while then I would fight back, and my parent’s marriage was falling apart. My dad would run home in the middle of the afternoon from work to break up our arguments that we’re getting so worse. Family therapy was a joke, It was basically an hour spent blaming problems on me and telling me what I'm doing wrong. They sent me to a special school for kids with behavior problems. Most of these kids were just disabled and I was completely out of place. My self-esteem or my ability to learn anything useful in school was not happening anymore they started just sticking more labels on me, pushing me further away from reality and told me I was crazy.

I guess when there are problems; somebody has to take the blame for them, all of them. I seem to be the problem for everyone. My Aunts, or Uncles and cousins didn't come around much anymore and they told me the man who molested me as my uncle and so now there was a family feud going on of who owes who an apology. My grandparents still came around to see my little brother. I remember at dinner I would fall asleep from being so heavily medicated in the middle of dinner and then be sent to my room. If there was a family function like a wedding or a reunion I was told to stay home, and they hired a babysitter even when I was 15 years old, because I was socially unacceptable to be seen with the rest of family.
During my time at the special school and school counselor analyzed me and spoke to my mother. In his report my mother said I was manic-depressive. I think she really believes I'm mentally ill or needed me to be mentally ill to support her cause. I guess it's easier than pointing the finger at herself, or really finding out what the problems are and taking the time to sort them out. Some of my medical records have affected my entire life. The only consistency in them has been that I was highly intelligent, and socially dysfunctional. Not one of them says I am mentally ill. I remember reading one of the reports, and in the report. It said that I apologizing to the Doctor for Not Being Able to draw him a picture because my hands and body shook from the Medication. That I Was unable to eat and sleep. I had tremors all the time, I was constantly contemplating Suicide, and when I wasn't thinking about dying, I was thinking about how to find a way to feel again, because I wanted to feel something. I don't remember the details; I do remember going to the hospital a couple more times and being sent away a lot.

My mother and I had the routine down, we would fight screen hit each other. My Dad would come home from work, and then they would call the police. Then I was taken away, put in the back of the car, I would crawl under the back seat, curl up in the fetal position and cry until I got to the Mental Ward. The doctors kept upping my Medication. I kept on fighting and screaming. I was getting older and my sexuality was becoming apparent, and I was getting wiser.
I started reading about what the Medication was doing to my body, and what the side effects were or could be long term.

Did you know that high dosages of Lithium and Prozac on a teenager or adolescent that is going through puberty could be a little dangerous? Not to mention whatever else they tried to give me when I would kick and scream. I remembered they actually monitored my heart for a while because of some of the “possible” side effects.

Lithium Poisoning for example can occur in teenagers. I had most the symptoms and never really ate or slept. I had increased depression, suicidal thoughts, constant slurred speech, shakiness and nausea all the time. I was 100 lbs and could not function other than to have large outbursts to try and fight back.


It said on numerous websites that Children might be showing early signs of lithium poisoning if they develop the following: (remember I had all of them and they kept giving me more)

Diarrhea
Drowsiness
Muscle weakness
Lack of coordination
Vomiting.
Mild shakiness, especially in the hands
Thirst
Increased or frequent urination
Muscle weakness
Coordination problems

Signs of more severe toxicity include:
Giddiness
Blurred vision
Ringing in the ears (tinnitus)
Severe shakiness


Prozac Side Effects

Common side effects include restlessness, insomnia, anxiety, headache, asthenia, flu-like symptoms, fever, nausea, diarrhea, anorexia, dry mouth, constipation, flatulence, dyspepsia, vomiting, somnolence, yawn, abnormal vision, sweating, trembling, weakness, weight loss, skin rash, delayed ejaculation in men, decrease in sex drive, and there have been reports of subsequent weight gain. As with other SSRIs, an overdose of fluoxetine or combining it with other antidepressants can lead to serotonin syndrome.
Prozac may increase the risk of suicidal thoughts or actions in children, teenagers, and young adults. However, depression and certain other mental problems may also increase the risk of suicide.


The above are just some of the short-term use side effects that can occur in anyone. These side effects are listed on any major drug website. Just Google it and you will find a wide variety of information.

Now put a child on this medication for 6 years, then up her dosage once the medication is in her system. What happens is your body gets use to the medication and then you need more apparently??? Well that is what they told me. Then if you read the list of symptoms or side effects for the above drugs you will see I had most of them. The suicidal thoughts, nausea, loss of appetite, anxiety, headaches, insomnia, sever shakiness, slurred speech, and all of this while my body was trying to develop into a young women. Really what makes parents think there child is so awful to drug them to the point the child starts to have symptoms of toxicity??

All those years I spent in some sort of daze and it comes out later I was never really diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, I have PTSD and need help with my anger. I don’t know how you would feel, but I was outraged for long time. I am angry with my parents and still sometimes I get a little defensive in their presences. They think what they did was justified. I think they are the crazy ones. I think they had too many kids and not enough time to properly care for them. I think they probably did there best, but unfortunately it is not good enough. Then I let go of my anger and realize I can’t live that way. I can’t be like them, and I can’t allow what they did to effect or ruin the rest of my life. I let it go and try to move on, cut my losses and forget about the rest. It has taken me years to except it all for what it is, something I made it through and became a stronger person for doing it? Honestly I don’t know how to feel about any of this anymore, I don’t know what to feel? Maybe that is OK…. I am not my parents and did not have their life, I was not in charge of my own life. What I do know is I will never do the same thing to my children, EVER!



To be continued Stay Tuned…. Part Two of What happens next to come….

Sometimes the truth hurts/ Current Day 2010

Tonight I was supposed to go have dinner with my dear old ex-boyfriend the one I love and miss when I am sad.

With everything going on…
The cousin in the hospital for brain surgery, the unhappy marriage, and the undetermined future, I felt it was best to stay close to home.
I miss the feeling he gives me, tat comfort of being understood and known without having to explain myself. However I sometimes in this sate of mind feel weak. Weak in the sense I could fuck up and do something that would ruin my new friendship with him. I might be persuaded to kiss him or even get naked and want to do more. That longing to feel a connection with him again never is far from me.

So I stayed home and went to dinner with my husband and baby. I even had a drink, some sake and warm food. I usually hate drinking; it makes me vulnerable, and then sad. It makes me think too much, along with my loss of control issues. So it is best I drink in a safe place or not at all these days.

My husband and I had a decent night, we walked and for a moment I forgot how angry I was with him. It is hard sometimes to let go of the anger or frustration. I don’t like to hold myself back, or not be able to talk about anything but I find myself doing that with him.

We are OK I feel OK, not great, not in love not much, but OK. I regret not seeing my old friend tonight but know when I am in this state of mind it is safer to not allow the chance or possibility of screw-ups. You know those things that cannot be taken back.

We are home things seemed normal today. The baby is taking a bath having his naked time and we will all go to bed early.

These are the moments I want it to work, but miss the feeling I have had in the past with my old friend. You know that person you don’t have to talk to in order to know what’s going on. My husband talks constantly and it is draining at times. I tell him to stop talking and he gets offended. I don’t mean it to be hurtful, it’s just annoying to have someone ramble and not stop. It is one thing to talk about a topic and share your point of view. But he tends to go on into a long drawn out speech trying to prove a point all the time. It is also overwhelming at times. Why can’t I say stop and have it just be stop, nothing more.

I need to get back to my writing and figure out what happened in order to figure out how to fix things now. It is frustrating I can’t share my writing and this part of my life with my husband. It is my truth.

I think a quote I read today explains what I am trying to achieve with my writing.

In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act - George Orwell

I just want to be honest with myself and find out how I can speak truthfully everyday without offending others. However I guess that would take being with someone who is more like me who wants to hear the truth no matter how damaging and hurtful it can be.

A day in the life/ Current 2010

My normal day
The baby and I wake up around 8am
We play and then he has breakfast by 9am
We have music and learning time then a bottle at 10:30am
I have memory cards and teach him words, letters, songs. He already knows how to say “hi” and “doggy”; he loves his Mozart musical video so I can sometimes get a shower if I play it for him.
I can’t let him nap anymore because he will not sleep at night.
I try and get the dishes done, then some cleaning and play more.
We usually go for a walk or out to see some friends in the afternoon.
He eats lunch around 12:30 and then has another bottle by 2pm.
Sometimes by then I will let him sleep for an hour if he gets really cranky.
He has a snack by 4pm and dinner around 6-7pm.
Then we play games learn new things in-between meals.
He gets to go once a week to a play date kind of thing with a parents group I joined. I really don’t enjoy it but my baby does love people.
We go to my older sons games and do normal things, like laundry.
If my husband comes home, he gives him a bath and does the bedtime routine.
The baby goes to bed between 9-10pm. He never sleeps through the night and usually ends up awake at 2am then in bed with me and wakes up 4-5 more times.

I hardly get any sleep and try to just make it through the day. I love my kids but wish this one would sleep more…

That’s it that’s my life.

I wish I had more, but since I don’t have money, a job or school anymore that’s all I got. Which is more than most and I shouldn’t bitch but I am.

My husband and I don’t talk, well I don’t he talks and I really don’t know what he says but try and get interested.

I use to have more to my life, when my other son was little I worked 2 jobs, went to college and raised him. I guess I miss being a single parent.

Tomorrow is laundry day and if I am lucky I will get to go see a friend in the evening childfree. WOW the little moments I have alone I value.

I know I must sound awful; I do enjoy being a mother. However how effective can I be as a parent without any sleep or my own identity? What can I really offer my child as he grow if I am unhappy and do not have any hobbies, work, or worldly events to share as an individual person?

When I was working or had my own income that allowed me to be an individual I was interesting, involved, and had something to talk about. Now it’s like a report every night. Here husband take the kid so I can pee alone, and by the way he needs a diaper, and a bottle. My hygiene is suffering, I don’t even shave my legs very often, and I never get a Mani Pedi anymore. My hair is horrible and pulled back all the time. Plus don’t even get me started on the circles under my eyes…

Really can I have a second to be a human again? I love the baby with all my heart and love holding him, teaching him and laughing at all the new things he does. It is really an amazing experience to be apart of everyday. So why do I feel so horrible for wanting time to myself to develop who I am???

Little Brother 1990 ish...

Back in 1990 my little brother was 11-12 years old. I was still 14 years old

I found out after returning home, my little brother was going to be going into surgery, so they could put shunts in his head to drain the fluid that was surrounding his brain. Remember he has a new brain tumor.
My parents sent me to my aunt’s house because I was always sent somewhere left somewhere or told I was not wanted. I heard those words a lot during those years, you’re out-of-control. You're not acceptable! That my behavior was not what they wanted or would tolerate that I was crazy, and I was an embarrassment to them. I was told this regularly after being slapped beaten up or verbally bashed to the point of crumbling to the floor and hiding under furniture.

My aunt was kind she always was gentle with me. I think she felt sorry for me. She took me to buy some gifts for my brother and took me to see my little brother in the hospital. When I got there he was in recovery, and his head was shaved. He had big bumps with stitches on the top, and was still in an out of sleeping because he had anesthesia plus painkillers.

When he woke up I was crying and it was just he and I in the room, o.k. I was crying a lot. He looked over and said what's wrong? I said just allergies, my eyes burned with tears, and he started singing a little stupid song, we used to sing together when we were young. You see, whenever I needed anything, a friend to play with, or a best friend on the schoolyard. My little brother was there, since I was not a girly girl like my sisters. He was the only sibling, I could relate to. He held my hand when I was scared in my room. He made me laugh and was my strength, when I could no longer be strong. If anyone messed with him and I kick their butt! Now things were different, and he was never going to be the same because he was sick, and might die.

My nightmares had become a reality, and now even when I was crying my little brother who was just out of surgery, was singing a song to make me feel better. This is how special and strong my little brother was and still is. He was always there when you had nothing left to give. He gave it and gave everything he had to you.

My little brother is my hero, and I wish I could go back to those years before he got sick and treasure every moment, because he was never the same after. I can't explain it, unless you have gone through it you don't know how to describe what happens to someone when they get a terminal illness. They go from being the person you've known all your life to a total stranger.
My little brother’s tumor affected the part of his brain that holds his memory. His memory was gone, and he was no longer able to use that part of his brain. I do not know the medical terms or technical area of the brain. However I do know my little brother after chemo, radiation, and surgery over the next 5 years didn’t remember our childhood together anymore.

My mother cried a lot and my father got angry. I'm ashamed to admit I pulled away and got angry to, not at him at the world and at the situation. After my brother came home from the hospital, I didn't go back to school anymore. I started doing home school and helped him with his physical therapy, because my mother had to go to work again. My little brother had to go through chemo and radiation in for a long time.

As I mentioned the part of the brain, the cancer attacked was his memory. My little brother survived with a 3% chance but, he no longer could remember anything he couldn't remember what he did yesterday and couldn't remember what we did five years ago. He no longer had the ability to learn new things and will forever be a child. Between they chemo radiation and the brain tumor, it caused him to have blackouts and other problems as he grew older. The only reason we found that brain tumor in time was because my little brother hit his head in the snow on the youth activities trip. Maybe I knew then that he was sick, and that's why I threw a fit and demanded they call my parents. All I can say is, I would do it all again, if it meant, we just found out a little sooner. My brother would have died if we didn't find out when we did. If I could say anything to him, I want my little brother to know, I'm sorry I wasn't there more often. I am sorry you got sick. I am sorry I was selfish and got angry, and I wish it were I instead of you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I wrote this right after I saw my little brother in the hospital.

I saw him die, but did not cry, because I was now dead inside.
As he walks, he sees a light in the still darkness of the night.
It glows and Flickers very bright.
As he walks closer, he can see, it is death waiting to take him from me.
Then I think why does he have to go, as he begins to glow.
I hold him tight and will never let go.
I will never lose him.
He will never be alone.
I could not live without him.
I could not be that strong.
He loved me no matter what, he is the only one I trust.
So if he dies, I will hold on tight, and I will die to.
My eyes turned black my lips went pale and a small voice whispers. Just let him go..
But I can't ,he is dead so I will die to and there is nothing they can do.
He was my strength, while he was here.
So what else is there to do but sit and wait until I go too.

I think that's the day I stop believing in God. Only thing I could think about no matter how selfish it seemed was why!! If God were great, then why would he make such a beautiful child so sick. Why would he take away the only friend I had and then asked me to be strong. I know these are selfish thoughts, but over the next year I spent so much time trying to find my little brother. I spent time doing physical therapy, going to the doctor's appointment and dealing with my own issues. I just wanted him to come back, but he was never the same. It was like all those years we spent together didn't count anymore. It was if someone sucked all the good parts out of my life.
Eventually I moved farther away from him, because I couldn't stop being angry and frustrated, and the fact that this illness took him from me. I can't imagine what it must have been like for my parent's how did they deal with a child becoming sick, and one day he was normal and one day he was dying.
To this day I cry to bring him it back one day. I might see him in heaven, like I saw him before he was sick, and he would remember me remember the years we spent together. Maybe he will be my little brother again.

Therapy day hip hip hoary! 2010 Current Day Drama

Another great therapy session I guess…

We talked about what has happened over the last couple weeks.

My husband comes and goes when he wants, his Aunt inappropriately called the last doctor trying to get more information. My husband has refused to allow me access to any money or have anything I need.

The end result time repeats itself I feel like I am in the same old bad situation with no way out or just waiting for things to change again. I manipulate to get what I want by giving my husband sex to make him feel some sort of connection to me. That way he relaxes for a moment and stops yelling I am crazy or being excessive.

Basically my life has become once again a series of bad choices. I chose to give up my independence, my school, and my ability to make money and trusted a man to provide my kids and me with what I need. My mistake not theirs…

If and when I can no longer provide for my kids, because that’s all that is really left here I will see it as no other alternative then to leave any way possible. My teenager needs my baby and me need me. I am writing in this blog to give myself some sort of feeling of control or way out. Other than that it is a waiting game. Maybe it will get better? But really I don’t need a relationship with my husband. That as we all know is part of who I am, I detach and once it has gotten this far there really may not be a point of return.

My therapist realizes my state of mind and encourages me to try. I would rather just get some much-needed rest and time alone. My baby refuses to sleep and this is wearing on me. I have a very hard time being nice when I have not slept. Therefore it is just a matter of time before my husband takes off again because he thinks I am mean without cause.

Let me put it to you this way. I will come to your house and take away everything you own, I will take your money and if you want anything you will need to call me and ask permission. Then after I tell you if you really need that or not, I will not give you money for anything I will personally purchase the items I feel you need and then tell you that you can’t have anything else. How does that sound to everyone? Would you be pissed, maybe yell a little?? Well then you must be crazy for yelling because anyone can live that way right?? SO why should I be unhappy??

Figuring it out as I go/ Current Day 2010

SO…

We have gotten this far already and there is more to come. They say writing a blog or journal is therapeutic. I think it could help, but reliving some things can be more harmful than good.

If I knew what I know now then, I would have never taken it all to heart. I would have known my experiences were just preparing me for the rest of my life. I felt back then as though nothing could get worse and that I would never make it out alive. But without these experiences and the ones to follow I would not be able to look back and see how valuable they all really are.

Doctor’s reports and my research have shown I should have been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress in the beginning. That at times PTSD is often misdiagnosed in minors as other disorders. Therefore I was being treated incorrectly and more harm than good was done.

I am sure if anyone is reading this than you may be pissed, or feel badly for me. Don’t the lessons I have learned from everything are invaluable. They have made me many things but not a victim that is something negative in my eyes. I refuse to be a victim, a survivor, or the poor abused child.

There are those who when cornered cower and die, and then there are those who get up put on their boxing gloves and fight. I have cowered many times only to catch my breath and learn how to fight back. I have fought and failed many times only to find that sometimes it is best to walk away and cut your loses.

Having these struggles and having them lead to a label or diagnosis of PTSD was my challenge and at times the feeling of shame took over me. I refused to allow or admit that these things ever affected me. I would think people would just hurt me more if they think anything is wrong with me, and try and ignore the real issues. I would try not to allow any of it to get under my skin or make me react in a negative way.

I now have to admit, with everything that has happened I cannot deny or refuse to acknowledge that my unconscious behavior that part I cannot control has PTSD. I have something inside me that may never be fixed. I can only hope writing about it may help me or others who have struggled to not feel alone or ashamed anymore. I am tired of feeling afraid of what others may think of me, what others could find out or what if this means I am weak. I pride myself on being strong, but does PTSD make me weak?

I would like to believe admitting I am broken and trying to fix myself by writing is strength. But that little voice inside the one that controls my unconscious is terrified of who will try and use my scares and secrets to hurt me more.

I guess I will just have to figure it out as I go….

The accident

Around the time I was 13, so about 1990….

We went to church regularly every Sunday and my parents encouraged me to go to the youth activities with the Mormon Church. I really tried to go along, I a few friends there. So least, I knew somebody; my one female friend and I were getting more distant because she was interested in boys. And I was consumed by what was going on in my own life. Most of the people or kids at these youth activities were mean judgmental and treated me like I will have some sort of disease. Between there beliefs in God, and that I had been in a mental institution I was having problems. Therefore to say the least people treated me differently. When you’re a teenager it changes weekly and no one is really a “friend”, and these teenagers acted like they've never done a wrong thing or had any compassion whatsoever for anyone. This included their parents as well, most of the adults have their own judgment and thought they had me pinned down as a troublemaker. When in fact most of the time it was, their own children or daughters sleeping around and doing the so-called sinful acts. I will admit I was not nice to them, but they didn't treat me well or ever give me a chance. A lot of the people in this particular Mormon Church acted like they were holier than anyone. As if their lives were perfect and I was just a speck of dirt. They had their youth dances, their youth trips their youth volleyball team and the youth outings, and I was dragged to all of them kicking and screaming. If my parents only knew the torture I had to go through and endure. Maybe they wouldn’t have made me go. Maybe my parents thought that it would save me somehow from my negativity. The whole experience of youth activities just made me despise the Mormon religion more and the people that practice religion. It made me think why God would really want people to judge each other this way. In fact doesn’t it say in the Bible do not judge. Will these holy rollers had judgment downed to a tee and practiced it often.

Girl’s camp every year was an adventure. Just imagine 200 Mormon girls ages 12 to 17 together in the mountains learning how to be good little Mormon wife’s. Church was at 7am everyday and we got to sing for our food, hooray!! Let me tell you I would find interesting ways to try and be sent home. They made us sleep in the dirt and I usually had about 20 mosquito bits by the second day. Then on the ride up altitude sickness never failed to kick in with motion sickness from the back of the bus. I think it was all the medication I was on at that time. Everything about the camp made me physically sick. The girls there giggled all the time, they made beads and had skit night so everyone could sing and dance. I do not remember having fun and I usually was a loner because my only friend and I would get in fights or trouble together so they would separate us from each other all the time. I think she would request to be away from me she had a habit of being two faced a lot at that age. The last year I was there they told me we were going on an all day hike and would need to pee in the bushes. I refused to go and made a point of being difficult in hopes they would send me home. Needless to say I don’t enjoy camping ever. I really like my own bed and indoor plumbing.

My little brother was at the right age, and he wanted to go on the snow trip with the youth in the Mormon Church. Well, there was no way I was letting him go alone. Not with those people, even though I don't like the snow. They usually had someone keeping an eye on me, can't trust me I'm crazy as they used to tell me all the time. My little brother was playing on a snow dome or I guess it's one of those sliding snow things that are metal and that handles on the side. You slide down the hill, and somehow he's slid into something and knocked himself unconscious. I freaked out, one of the group leaders said it is no big deal hockey players do it all the time?? It's no big deal?? Right? I demanded they call my parents immediately. They said no there's no reason for that we don't need to call your parents he well be fine. I started screaming and screaming and demanding they call them, my little brother was hurt. The bishop at the time pulled me by a car and tried to calm me down. He actually grabbed my wrist hard shoved me against the car and became stern with me. I told him if he ever touched me again I'd rip his balls out and shove them down its throat. I began swearing and screaming some more. He then left and went to talk to some other leaders of the activity group. I looked at them and said I'm going to get my bag and take some of my medication. I was upset, and I'd had enough over the last couple months. So I took all of the medication and some Tylenol. Because I knew mixing Tylenol, with about 10 pills of lithium is toxic and that would get their attention. I went back to the bishop and told him what I took. They were forced at that point, when I went and told them what I did to call my parents.

I woke up later and a local hospital after having my stomach pumped and drinking charcoal. But my parents were there, and that's what I wanted. My parents said I was trying to kill myself. I just thought, hey, what is the worst that could happen? I would die, but my parents would show up and my little brother would be taken care of, like I wanted.

After everything we all went home and my little brothers was not returning back to normal over the next couple days. He was sleeping a lot, so they took him to the doctor and did some CAT scans. Over the next couple weeks, they found out my little brother had a brain tumor. And I wasn't in a good spot of his brain. It was an area that they could not operate and they believe it to be cancerous. I do not regret doing what I did in order to draw the attention to my brother. No one was listening to me, because of his or her judgment. So I made them listen to me.

My argument with my mother during that time escalated and I was sent to another mental ward. This time it was a different mental ward, not a lockdown unit, but still with adults. It was bad; I was still around to many adults with major issues. Some of the adult women there cornered me and ripped my clothes, stole my necklace and slapped me. When I told the doctors they said they could not prove it and I probably made it all up. I was scared and alone again. My roommate was one of the girls that would hurt me and then laugh about it when there wasn’t anyone around to see, they were adults and I was just a child. I started becoming more and more numb at this time, I figured why should I care about myself, no one cares about me and people will hurt me wherever I go so why try. At least this time I had arts and crafts time so I could focus on anything but waiting for one of the other patients to hurt me.

I was there for another two weeks. The doctors were wondering why I tried to kill myself since I was only 13. I said, wouldn't you want to die if you were me? Plus I wanted my little brother to go to the hospital. It made sense to me; no one ever listened to me so why shouldn’t I do something drastic to get their attention.

I spent most of my time trying to fix everyone else's problems, because that's what I did. I ignored my problems, and since I was the youngest one there, I just felt out of place all the time. So what was the point of trying to get better, they had already labeled me. That evening another of the girls later stole from me and ripped apart more of my clothes. When I told them again they'd told me I was lying again because she said she didn't do it. I guess that is what you get when you're the youngest. I looked at the doctor and screamed; you think I am tearing up my own clothes??? I started freaking out again when they would not believe me. The doctors added on Prozac to my list of medication. So now I'm taking 180 of lithium and 80 mg a Prozac and no one has diagnosed me with a manic-depressive behavior or bipolar behavior. According to my medical records I was never diagnosed with any mental illness.

Just a thought? Maybe a conversation and anger management would've helped more. Maybe an appropriate setting or one on one time could have been more helpful? By the time I left, I didn't eat I didn't sleep and I was a zombie. The medication made me shake all the time and felt really sick. I could barely function. I was nervous all the time and could not be touched. I would not want to be around people, I would become angry when people where around or would shutter if anyone tried to touch me. It seemed that the medication made me worse not better. However in my parents eyes I was better because I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t fight back, I couldn’t find the energy being so drugged up to do much of anything. I am sure they were happy that I was no longer a loud mouth in their home.


2010/ Current thoughts

For the record I do not hate my parents anymore. I can’t live with that much anger and pain all the time. I may not ever have a relationship with them. It has taken me 20 years to be in the same room with them and not break out in hives or scream. I have accepted the loss I moved on and have my own family now. Therefore in order to do the right thing and allow them to be involved in my life as grandparents I must create a relationship I can have with them. I do not go to their house for holidays or anything normal. I just make sure they see their grandkids, because that is the right think to do, and my issues with them are my issues not my kids.

Exhausted/ Current Day News Flash 2010

It has been exhausting around here lately. My favorite cousin is in the hospital with a brain tumor. Good news is first biopsy came back cancer free. Bad news he has one more test and possibly another surgery to go still.

My baby is not sleeping; he has decided that he does not want to sleep anymore and fights going to bed.

My husbands Aunt called the doctor I went to see a couple weeks ago and I feel like my entire world is being made public information without my consent. Her actions only upset the situation more and made the doctor angry. It was very inappropriate. My husband is yelling all the time because he is scared of loosing me. He is forbidding me to do anything. Will not allow me money or freedom because he thinks it will keep me from having the ability to leave.

I don’t want to leave I want my life back. I want to provide for my kids and live a normal healthy life. Don’t we all?? He is only pushing me away more by trying to control everything.

The good news is my teenager and I had a wonderful evening alone. We talked about everything in his world. We went and saw a cute movie. We enjoyed being together without any distractions. I took my baby to my parent’s house for the night so we could both have time alone and get some sleep. I love that he can talk to me so openly and tell me what is going on in his world. It reassures me that I am truly important in his life and that I am being a good parent. He told me about his problems with his father and stepmother. She is pregnant again, she is intruding on his privacy and he hates that. I cannot fight his battles for him but at least I can sympathize or be a person he can confide in when needed. I love our relationship the moments like tonight when we laugh at the world together openly, and honestly.

I know things will fix themselves and all I can do is wait to see what is put before me tomorrow in order to make the best decision I can. My husband will either come home or deal with things or he won’t. My sons will always be close to me the joys of my life. I am good at being a mother. I am great at being honest. But I am exhausted from the drama, so I will wait for it to clear, get the rest I can tonight and look forward to tomorrow’s challenges, joys or surprises as they unfold.

Hospital Trauma

My day-to-day routine became more difficult. It was hard to wake up in the morning and go to school. It was hard to do anything. I was dealing was so much at home and in so much within myself. And I wasn’t sleeping, I wasn't functioning. It was like I was crumbling into the corner and hiding under a chair with my arms over my head bracing for the impact. The arguments with my mother escalated every day. I was afraid all the time, and I wasn't sure what was happening. I wasn't sure why it was happening, I started to forget what I had for breakfast, forget who I spoke to, all I could think about was the nightmares and who knew about them, or who would find out about them next. I was feeling a loss of control over my own nightmares getting out.

My room was upstairs next to my parent’s bedroom, and I can hear them arguing at night about me, or what to do with me how to deal with me. My mother was angry with me, she didn’t like my behavior she didn’t like me. The therapist wasn't helping anymore. Nothing was helping and the violent arguments with my mother and I started disrupting the entire house. Then finally one day got so bad they called the police, and I was sent away. My parents took me to a locked down mental ward for adults. I'm not sure if this was the best answer to the problem. I think it might have been a little extreme for an 11-year-old to be sent to a mental ward containing severely mentally ill people. I remember sitting in a room with the doctor and arguing begging my parents not leave me there. It was a scary place, cold like a luxury prison, and I was the youngest one in there. I remember my mother crying, and I figured out she really was leaving me there. She was leaving me helpless with strangers, leaving me in this place alone and afraid. To this day, I do not understand what possesses a mother to leave their 11 year old child in such a horrifying place. The desperation she must felt in order to endanger me like that. I was left abandoned and alone when I needed my family the most.

I am sure you're asking what is so dangerous about a mental ward lockdown unit for adults. Well let me put it this way, would you leave your attracted young female child alone anywhere. Being a parent now I would never would. I did not try and harm myself, I did not try and harm others. I cannot understand why to this day and that the experience only made things worse for me. I did not trust people after my experiences in this type of place. I don't trust the system and knowing what I know now it made things far worse for me.

I was screaming in horror kicking a throwing, having a full tantrum as they left. I became so enraged and out of control the orderlies grabbed me strip me down, restrained me to a table and medicated me. I don't know about you, but do you know what it's like to go from comfort and safety into the hands of total strangers, grown men after you've been sexually molested and be restrained by them. Have your clothes taken off and be literally so scared you want to die. At that time all I could think about is, what did I do to deserve this and did I deserve this. I thought at that age, maybe I should just never opened my mouth and told anybody anything. I knew then I would think twice before telling my parents any of my secrets, or anything about me. I began to rethink my entire life. I could not move and was frozen from being frightened. After I calmed down, they put me in a room, all white little beds, white walls, tile floors gave me an hospital gown took my jewelry anything, I had personally on me, they took. I spent two weeks like this. I wouldn't sleep. I rarely ate hardly spoke to the doctors. They analyzed me asked me why I was behaving this way. I would hide in the corner under my bed some times and shake crying to go home.

I still have nightmares to this day about those two weeks. I still cannot tolerate being strapped down to anything and I do not react well to being in hospitals or police. I actually freak out, abnormally freak out when I'm the hospital to this day for any reason. I never knew why until I got older and remembered what they did to me. I didn’t remember until later in my life what the people in the hospital did to me and why I was so scared. You see, I was the youngest little girl there. I guess when they strap me to those tables and took away my cloths. They didn't just drug me and leave me there. I didn't remember then, but I remember now, the abuse or what I may have imagined they would do. The lines of reality became a blur and enduring those two weeks was just not far from being molested. I guess sometimes the mind forgets things in order to survive, but the body never forgets.

Some of the other patients in this hospital were severely mentally ill. They were violent adults with major issues. Some of them tried to kill their parents. Some of them attempted suicide more than once. During this time, the doctors did all the typical of evaluations on me. They told my parents I was highly intelligent, but severely socially dysfunctional. Never at any time, did they label me manic-depressive or bipolar. At least that's what I read later in my medical reports. But they did talk to my parents about medicating me. They started me on lithium, and they tested my blood to make sure the levels were right. Then I finally got to go home two weeks later.

Once I was home. It was like I was a Leper everyone tiptoed around me. I was so angry. It is, like, I came back with eight foot wall around me. My world was a blur now. I was on drugs, heavy drugs. I would go without food or sleep for days. I felt like a zombie in the whole world looked strange through my eyes. I kept going to therapy then with my parents and we started family counseling. During family counseling time, the family would sit on one side of the room, and I would be on the other. You see I was a problem now, I was the scapegoat, I was the reason my parents marriage was failing. The house was coming apart, and everyone was unhappy because of me.

Now don't have pity for me at this point I was no angel. By seventh grade, I'd ditch school more than I went to school. I cause more problems than I had problems, and I fought every day with everyone in that house. I was like an angry caged animal who was sedated all the time.

I did have moments of happiness. I remember some normal things, like when I was 11 on Thanksgiving I was riding my bike with my brother. My foot slipped and the bike panel on the BMX dirt bike went into my ankle and cut my ligament almost in half. That's pretty normal for a kid and is still makes me laugh that I did something so stupid. When I did go to school, I fought with a lot of teachers and was a smart ass, typical teenager. My PE instructor and I would to fight more than anyone. He was a male chauvinist, and I reminded him of that fact every day. I believe one time walked off school grounds miles home, because he told us we were to do the girls pushups because were girls and we can't do boy push-ups. I definitely was outspoken and out to speak for the world. Or at least everyone who was victimized.

My best friend K and I fought all the time, and then made up about every day. She was very popular maybe for all the wrong reasons, but she was popular, and she got away with hell, because her mother was dying of leukemia. Her mother was the sweetest woman I've ever met. Like an angel so soft and gentle. She'd lied to my mom so I could come over, have fun and not worry about anything because my mom wouldn't let me near anyone. My mother wouldn't let me leave the house she swore I was always up to something. Like I was out to be bad. I don't think I was that bad. I didn't drink and do drugs, and didn’t sleep around. My friends were just boys. I guess that was bad enough in her book. I remember one time I asked her if I could have cute lacy underwear or bikini cut underwear, and she flipped out swearing I wanted to wear it for someone. Then asked who I was getting naked in front of that I must be a slut. More than one time she had me strip down in front of her after I got home and checked my underwear, she actually smelled it I think. I use to run away a lot and would be gone for a day or two then come home. I just wanted to escape.

My teachers at school were noticing my behavior problems that I was withdrawn. However I started winning awards for my writing, like young author awards and stuff, but most of my grades were failing. One doctor did some sort of testing on me figured out my IQ was in the high range. So he could not possibly understand why I couldn't complete the work at school. I couldn't even focus long enough with all the drugs they had me on to read a sentence, let alone get a good grade. At home, I continued to tell my mother were to stick it and soon started hitting her back when she hit me.

By the time I was 12, I started having new nightmares about my little brother. I would dream about him dying, and it scared me. I wake up crying and sneak into my big sisters bed downstairs. I will give R my older sister credit for the fact that through everything that went on in that house you would never know it affected her. R use to let me crawl into bed with her or hide in her closet when I was scared, and I was scared a lot. To this day R won't talk about what happened in that house or what I went through, we haven't spoken in years, other than when I had nightmares in my 20s. I wanted to know if they were true. So I called her and she told me they were true. She said it was all true, and she was sorry she couldn't talk to me about it. I may be the total opposite of my sister, but I can't hate someone who holds the secrets to what I can't remember. And I can't hate somebody who picks me up off the shower floor when I passed out or hides me in her closet when I was scared. My sister R, always held everything together, the kids that house, She had strength beyond her years.

At this point in my life I was useless or angry most the time so when I wasn't sleeping, I was non-responsive or mean to people. I'd either be in the garage punching the bag or arguing with someone in the house. I was nasty mean and vulgar. I didn't remember day-to-day activities. I didn't recall what I had for breakfast or anything they kept upping the medication and soon I was just passing time by sleeping all day.

I guess that's why it took me until my mid-20s to remember a little bits and pieces that I have remembered. Going to school conversations or exactly what day of the week it was were not things, I recall. I remember trying to find ways to get out of going to school. Not wanting to see people or be around people. I remember I started cutting myself or my inner thighs and imagining what it felt like to have feelings. I wanted to feel something, I was becoming numb to it all, I was floating through what was left of my life. I was a drugged depressed zombie who felt like I was no longer in control of my own body. I shook constantly from all the drugs in my system. They kept upping the medication or adding on more until I felt nothing at all.

The new dreams about my little brother were taking over the old ones. I would scream at everyone, my little brother was dying! I didn't know how or why I could just see them in a hospital in my dreams and he was dying. My little brother was the closest thing I had to a friend in that house. So I was terrified of losing him.