CHAPTER 1

My Journey

My childhood was not a great one, but I've come torealize that life is easier when I replace the chip onmy shoulder, anger in my heart, and bitterness in mymind with peace from within. So many of us can't say that, whichis sad. We must share the tragedies of our childhood and teachwhat we have learned to help others.

I now believe that everything I went through was essentialin making me the amazing person I am today. I've endured thischallenging journey so I can be wise and help others who alsohave endured this kind of pain. It is my soul's journey, as I amjust a vessel for my soul.

It's been a rough life, but I have no regrets, for I love who Iam today. I'm also sure I have more lessons to learn, but now Ican see and understand why these lessons are coming to me. Youknow how we all say, "If I knew then what I know now ..." Sotrue. But some lessons keep coming to us until we finally listenand get it.

Now I accept everything that comes my way, and I let theuniverse guide me, for my spirit knows where I belong. Join meon this journey.

This Is My Story

Not many of us remember our earliest days, and I amthankful for that. There's a reason our brain protectsus sometimes from certain events. My earliest memoryof any part of my life is from when I was about four years of age.It's a memory of my birthfather. He did things no father shouldever do to his daughter, or any child. This man sexually molestedme for years.

My mother was only fifteen years old when she becamepregnant with me. In 1967, that was a major sin. My grandmotherdid not want my mother to have the baby. Mom had a choice: acoat-hanger abortion or a wedding. She decided to get married,with no idea that the road she had chosen would bring suchdespair.

She was sixteen and he was twenty-two when they were married.Unable to wear white because she was expecting, my mother woreblue.

From what I recall of my childhood, my birthfather wasabusive to my mother. I remember the beatings. I remember beingleft alone a lot with my father, as my mother worked a lot. Shehad to pay the bills. It was her money that kept food on the table.She had no choice.

My mother was so young when she had me that we neverhad that bonding experience mothers and babies should have.How could a baby love a baby? She had no idea what I needed.I was deprived of the bond that every child needs so much. Thisexplains my need for such affection today.

She suspected I was being abused, and she says she asked meabout it when I was five years old. Well, of course I said no. Hetold me to say no or my mother would take me away. What littlegirl wants to lose her daddy? I mean, it wasn't all bad. He tookme shopping, to Ontario Place. We had fun when my mother wasworking. Every little girl wants her mother and father. I was tooyoung to understand my fear and confusion.

When my mother decided it was time for her to leave, mybirthfather wouldn't let her take me. So she left me behind forwhat seemed to me to be days, but it was only hours. She calledthe police, and I remember being in the police car. They askedme if my dad touched me. I remember urinating in my pantsbecause I was so scared, so I said no. How intimidating it was,being in a police car. That is no way to ask a child about such asensitive subject; neither, for that matter, is a counselor's office. Thequestioning needs to be done in a natural setting, with someonewho can offer trust and patience. Just picture any little childlooking up to authority. This is why so many will not talk. Veryintimidating.

I don't remember how, but somehow my mother got custodyof me, and we moved into my grandmother's house. But the abusecontinued, since my birthfather still had visitation rights. In the'70s, they didn't protect children the way they do now. Since Idenied the abuse, it looked as though my mother was making upstories.

My grandmother didn't care for me. She blamed me for ruiningher daughter's life, and it made her angry. She wasn't a pleasantwoman. To her, I was just a mistake, and she took her bitterness anddisappointment out on the only person she could: me.

When it finally came to blows, I can't remember exactly whatshe said, but I remember yelling and screaming at her, "You hateme! It's not my fault! I never asked to be born. I don't want tolive, I don't want to be here, and I didn't ask to live." It finallycame pouring out. I was so angry and hurt. I asked God to takeme every Sunday when I was at Sunday school. No child shouldfeel like this.

After that, it was like something came over my grandmother.From that moment on, she cared. I no longer felt that she hatedme. She hugged me, and I felt loved. Her tone, her attitude—everythingchanged. I can only assume she realized I really wasinnocent of everything. This had not been my choice.

During this time that we lived with my grandmother, mymom continued to work a lot, so I spent time with a babysitterwho lived across the road. This babysitter had sons my age andolder. When I was home from kindergarten, she would send meto play in the basement while she made supper upstairs. One ofher older sons would always come down too. At first he wouldplay with me, but then things started to change, and he slowlystarted molesting me.

This is just the way life is, I thought. It's all I knew. It feltso wrong, and they always said "Keep it a secret," which wasconfusing. But a child doesn't need to understand these things toadapt to them. We learn to live outside our body. We are not therewhen it's happening. We take ourselves somewhere else.

Years later, when Grandma was near the end of her days,she had bad diabetes and her kidneys were failing, so she had tomove to a nursing home. It became an amazing time to really getto know her. When she was there, she needed to be bathed, andshe did not want the nurses to help—yet she...