My Story

Everyone has a story right?

My story is dark but I guess it has a light to the end of the tunnel. I suppose the light would be that I’m alive and well. I don’t know yet. I’m still trying to figure it out.

Growing up was far from easy. It started out decent. I had a mum and dad, siblings. Dad was an raging alcoholic and mom was his punching bag. At least this is what I’ve been told. One day dad went down the road for a ball and never came back. We were playing catch and the ball rolled through the gate. Later on that night I got sick and mum took me to the hospital and never came back.

I lost my parents in one day. Dad was in jail and mum ran away so I became a ward of the state. My uncle adopted me. I was two and somehow these memories stayed with me. Maybe they’ve been imprinted or maybe this was drilled into my head at a young age, but this is what I know. I thought I could breathe again. I was safe and sound. Honestly, that was the furthest thing from the truth.

I grew up knowing that my uncle wasn’t my dad but I called him dad anyway. I was always his little girl until one day I wasn’t anymore. The abuse was surreal. Lying became survival. He had his own children and I remember his wife who I called mum would ask me to take the blame for everything her children did. I was young and I did it because it was what I knew. I didn’t break easy and I didn’t cry. I took the blame and the beatings.

I began to lie and steal. It became survival. I mastered the art of revenge. I became quiet and withdrawn. I succeed in school, possibly over achieved. I was bullied for years. Speaking out made it worse so I took it. I handled it internally. Eventually I acted out. I was no longer bullied but I refused to become a bully. I made my own choices.

The pain that you feel after having a rough childhood is surreal. You’d watch movies and wish that you was that child that would have the happy ending. That wasn’t my story. I learned that the physical abuse was nothing compared to the emotional and mental. There wasn’t a day that didn’t go by where I didn’t think about committing suicide and ending it all.

It started in 3rd grade. I guess I never did it because I was too scared. I didn’t know what life after death would be so I dealt with it. I grew up and finished school. Amazing. I met a guy and thought I was in love until he raped me. I was 19. My first time was the worst time of my life. I was so scared I never said anything then I found out I was pregnant. You would figure that once the truth came out that the weight that rested on my shoulders would be lifted. It wasn’t.

In order to protect her son his mother said I was the aggressor and that I had called her son several times. So, everyone believed I cried wolf and I let them. I can never forget the look on my mum (aunt’s) face when I told her. The look of pain and failure, like she failed to protect me from the monster under the bed.

The system failed me or maybe I failed myself by not fighting harder. Maybe I shouldn’t have given up trying to tell the truth but my Uncle believed his mother. Once his mind was made up there was no changing it, so gave up. My uncle wouldn’t allow me to have an abortion so I carried this child for nine months. He wouldn’t let me kill his grandchild he said.

I was miserable. I hated myself for months and months. I tried to self abort but it didn’t work. I was tired. I was locked up by a man who bragged about my accomplishments but was never there. My uncle is the devil’s spawn.

I had the baby and it was a boy. You would think that I would hate the child but I couldn’t. He didn’t do anything wrong just like me. He was just dealt a crappy hand of cards much like myself. So I promised him that I would never let anyone destroy him. He would have everything I couldn’t have.

I didn’t dare give him up for adoption because my uncle would have adopted him. I couldn’t leave him to suffer a life like I had. You see, my uncle is good at providing the financial stuff but showing the love and affection is impossible for him.

I was a single mom working two jobs and going school full-time. I lived in a house where I just got tormented everyday but for my son I smiled through the pain and laughed. His smile never wavered nor did he ever witness the struggle his mom went through. I never introduced him to any guy that I dated because I felt that the guy who would become a part of his life would have to be my husband. It’s a golden rule that I lived by.

I meet another guy. It was hard allowing myself to trust someone but he won he over until one day he got mad and he hit me. I knew it was wrong but giving how I grew up I wondered if this is what honest true love was. This went on for some time. If no one believed me about the rape who would believe that I was being abused physically and sexually. He broke me. I lost sight of what I was fighting for. I was being abused at home and outside. There was no escape.

Still, I didn’t end my life. Eventually the truth came out when he started stalking me. He found me at my college and started an argument that led to a physical fight. He was arrested. It was over….finally. However it was once again just another chapter in the story of my life. My uncle was pissed. I don’t know who he was more pissed off at himself or me. It was the first time I ever saw him attack someone. I suppose that was his way of showing me that he cared.

After everything I went through I felt worthless. I didn’t feel loved or wanted. I felt like my life was a revolving door of pain and hurt. I stopped caring and I became a robot. Did what I was told when I was told to do it.

My way of handling it was cutting because I could never go through with suicide. I’m not proud of it but each slash made it feel better. I doubt anyone could understand but that was my cooping mechanism.

I became an addict. It was hard to stop once it began. It started off as an accident. I accidentally cut myself while washing the dishes. It really did hurt but then there was a sense of relief so it continued.

I lived in a house with people and no one knew what was going on behind a closed door. I started wearing long sleeve clothes to hide it or a jacket. No one questioned my fashion sense. No one looked my way. I was basically invisible.

I stopped laughing and smiling. I did my work and retreated into my bedroom. I took care of my son like I was supposed to. There were times that I resented him but given after everything I’d been through I just wanted a care free life like him.

It seemed like my life revolved around guys and honestly it didn’t. I didn’t go out looking for anyone. They seemed like they were decent people but everyone wears a mask. I wore my mask well…better than others. Behind my smile and laughter was heart break, loneliness, and defeat.

I met someone…yeah…a guy. Like I didn’t learn the first two times right. He was different. He saw through my mask. It took him a while to reach me…the real me. I jumped every time he approached me. Hugging was awkward. He was patient and kind. He moved slow. He waited. He watched.

He told me that hurting myself hurts him. He knew my dirty little secret and never did he have to touch me. He approached me and I backed into a corner. Taking my hand in his, he slides up the sleeve to my jacket and saw my scars. He rubbed his thumb over them and I flinched, not because he hurt me but because for once I was seen. This guy became my best friend.

It’s been four years since I cut. Recovering addict and I must say that it was hard…but it got easier. Its like that mountain that I was carrying slowly melted away. I learned to trust and how to handle my emotions the right way. I’m in a better place.

When I said it gets easier, it does. You just have to be that deciding factor for yourself.

My story hasn’t ended it…

I think it’s just beginning.


No Regrets

In life we have the world of choices to make. One of the big choices is choosing whether you want to settle or not.

I catered for a wedding and the grandmother of the bride told me her granddaughter’s story. A powerful one it was. This bride was with her high school sweet heart for years. This guy was honestly the love of her life so naturally when he asked for her hand in marriage, she didn’t deny it. They had two children together and there were finally going to be a family in the eyes of the church.

The dates were set and she found the wedding dress of her dreams. After buying this dress and some time before her wedding date came up, the guy killed her. Metaphorically speaking of course. He runs off with another girl and tells her he doesn’t want to be with her anymore.

Could you imagine the pain she must have felt? Hearing this brought tears to my eyes. That man was her knight in shining armor and he gave it all up for some other chick. Not only did he abandon her but he left his daughters behind as well. Although this broke her heart, she still loved him. She loved this man enough to try and end her life because she could not live without him. The pain was too great.

She survived the attempt and as time passed she met a new guy. He proposed and she said yes. This man loves her and her children. He takes care of those girls like they are his own. Nothing can tear him away from them. However, she still loves her ex but this new guy is there. He’s the one wiping her tears and making her feel safe and secure. He’s the one whose never leaving her side but her ex is the one who holds her heart.

I’m not going to say she’s crazy or stupid for still loving her ex because I understand what it feels like to love someone so much that you can never get over them. But I also know that I would never settle for someone just because they are there. I don’t think its right to do that to them. I guess this works for her because he knows and he’s patient and kind. He doesn’t mind waiting, even if it means it may be until death does them part.

Her story made me realize that I don’t want to settle for this or that. I may sound greedy but I want the best that life has to offer in love, work, everything. I would want you guys whose reading this to have the best in life as well. Everyone won’t have the same best but do things that you won’t regret. You only have one life to live so live it with no regrets.

I realized that I have in fact settled. I don’t want to. So I have taken the leap of faith and I’m moving to the states. I’m an island girl moving to the big sea. I love my home but the opportunities are limited. The states will have so much more to offer and I have delayed this move for 4 years thinking that it’s going to get better when it hasn’t. I’m not happy and I deserve to be happy. I deserve so much more than what I give myself credit for. I have a degree and I’m not using it. Makes the college thing pointless doesn’t it.

We live in a world where racism has taken over and a life means nothing. But every life counts. Every one counts. If today was your last day what would you do? I would go zip lining because its on my bucket list and I’ve been too afraid to do it. I would take my child to the Magic Ice Gallery or take him on a tour of the island by boat. Heck, I would send him to an ecological overnight camp. I would want to be happy.I would want to be so happy that it becomes contagious like chicken pox. Everyone would have no choice to be happy.

I’m not saying do something crazy like do drugs or join a gang. But live positively and give your best in any and everything that you do. Its hard. Life is hard but every step you take right now is a gigantic footstep into your future.

Never give up and think your alone. If there ever comes a time and you feel like that then message me. I’ll be here.

Cyber Bullying

Today’s topic is as follows:


Why did I pick this topic?

Because I am currently the victim of a cyber bully and stalker by association.

Association? Is that even possible you ask?


My best friend has a habit of doing things that they aren’t suppose to. So they did something and I am the one dealing with the consequences. Every morning there is something new being said to me via Facebook or where ever. This person knows what vehicle I drive and where I work. This is real and scary.

I told my friend what was happening and they want me to ignore it. What they don’t comprehend is that they aren’t the one suffering. I am. Instead of attacking my friend and making their life a living hell. They are attacking me to get to them. Might I say…this tactic is genius and it’s working.

My friendship with this person is hanging on a nail. What’s scary about this is that no one knows who the person is. Everything has been an abundance of fake profiles. This person knows so much that it can be anyone I meet or talk to on an everyday basis. I can get seriously hurt and it’s La Dee Da for everyone. No one takes it serious because there is not enough evidence but I’m the one being harassed.

This life of being a Bully or a Cyber Bully is stupid. What are you getting out of it? Ruining someone’s life makes you happy? Attacking other people to get to someone is worth it? Does it give you the power high that your looking for?

Again I ask…What hype do you get out of it? When you get bored do you move onto the next person. Is your self esteem that low?

Do you know how many people give into cyber bullying? That it ruins the mindset of innocent victims. And if that person ends their life what do you tell their family? I’m sorry? How does that fix something as major as the loss of life.

If the person runs away or does a crime because of it? Then what?

So many questions that cannot be answered.

The time that one puts into bullying someone to any degree can be used to do something else. You may be a future actor or FBI Agent…Lawyer or Cop. The possibilities are endless.

Think about it for a minute before you do it. If this was someone that you love, can you still do it?


Growing up, I was a dreamer.

I believed that I could be anything I wanted to be. I sang, drew, played piano and steel pan, wrote, and decorated. I lived to be creative but I had someone who told me that drawing was a waste of time so I stopped.

I had someone who never showed up to anyone of my musical performances so the sparks died.

I had someone who only knew of my decorating talents when it benefited them.

I had someone who said writing would get me no place in life so I burned my journals.

I burned my dreams.

That someone was my father. I tried to act like it didn’t bother me but it did. I mean how could it not. I grew up in a world where I wasn’t good enough and I stopped believing.

Now I have a child of my own.

He looks like me.

He acts like me.

He talks like me.

He begs for my attention…the same attention that I craved and yearned from my very own father.

He draws, writes stories, loves to sing.

He is the splitting image of me. I smile because of him I can find my way. I can dream again. Dream of a future for him where there is no racism. No hatred.

I dream that he will get to live the life I wasn’t allowed. I don’t want him to live a life with regrets because dreaming is a wonderful thing.

To live a life without a dream is to live a life without air.

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