How to start what has taken years to happen and explain to the ones I love. My life from the moment I had to come to it was surrounded by drama. Having a teen mother who was from a foreign country without family was hard enough but to bring a child up in it is another. Born to a mother who was 18 and a unplanned pregnancy wasn't the least of my problems. Life was going to be hard. She needed to work and she needed someone to watch me so I was shipped off to be with my grandparents where they'd take care of me while she was building a life for us back in the United States. Unknowingly she had no idea that was going to be the biggest mistake she would've ever made.
I recall being around the age of 2 wearing a white dress almost like a dress you'd be baptized in and being carried into a room upstairs. Who knew that on this day I would remember almost some 30 years later, but I do and it did happen. My mothers brother was around the age of 8 or 9 and whether he had knowledge of what he did was right or wrong he took my life away from me that day. My whole being as a person with having the power of controlling my destiny was lost all because of these events created in this world where I was not planned. He had the power that day to make the right choice, to not choose me to abuse and he found me a black sheep of the family. The details of that moment are so fogged but I recall one that makes me always want to throw up. I find it even hard to right now to type because I'm having to relive it. I can't right now but I'm hoping in time I can. This is my start to releasing my pain that has sucked me into a black whole of sadness, anger, frustration and depression.
Life in general is filled with ups and downs but to a child the downs seem to over power. When you can't speak to make it better or to not be able to scream for help or know what was happening was wrong at this age is the feeling of no hope of ever erasing this moment in time that would repeat itself for many years to come. I'm writing this to be free! Releasing my ever lasting pain and to help others to be free. Children should never be subjected to what I've been through and if I can help one child or adult see what others didn't see I will.
As a child I didn't understand what was going on around me so to me there was no reason to cry for help. I was living with my grandparents who had taken on caring for there grandchild from the daughter who left them at the age of 15. Already I wasn't starting off at a good advantage since I was one of three grandchildren. What separated me from them was a broken home, my mother wasn't married to my sperm donater who I know. I was always trying to fit in where I didn't belong when it came to my family. So having a voice was hard to come by when your already broken. I was judged and made to feel like an out cast when it came to my relatives. They had no idea as of yet what was going on but, there demeanor towards me before they knew can give you incite on how they did react. Blood is not always the best bond.
I began to attach myself to one person the most, my cousins mother who married into this so called family. The only one at that time I felt truly cared for me when I was lacking my mother.
During my time there a new tragedy would strike. My mother would have to come see me but not for good reasons. I was with my family at a soccer park where they all played.and I remotely remember the moment when for a split second I was just looking across at them. I was hit by a jeep while trying to cross the road to get to the other side. My mother's older brother ran to me and picked me up and put me in the jeep of the man who had hit me. My body from what I recall was in a body cast and a metal bar to separate my legs. I don't remember much about my recovery only that my mother was there with me and then gone again.
To recall everything and every detail would be a lie and I'm not about too or ever lie about the moments in my life that molded the person I am today.
Here I am back in the states with my mother and safe or so I thought. This is really hard to get out because I have to admit to myself that I suffer from Rage. As an adult with children I blamed my mother for doing what she did to me and not teaching me to be a better person. Calling her screaming why didn't you love me enough to get help. She had no idea she was about to scar me more then what has already been done. Her RAGE is an uncontrolled anger that manifested itself and I was in its path to be verbally or physically abused. Going from love to hate in a matter of minutes was my life. All I knew of my mother when I was young was that she loved me to death but hated me with her hand or belt. Her short fuse would end up being my worst nightmare and her I love yous would go on deaf ears as I got older for many years. Learning that the one person I should be able to go to was last one I would tell was telling all in itself. The marks that were left are forever embedded in my memory. Those times of fear can never be erased just like the times of my abuser touching me.
