I came from a home with two young people that had a very toxic dynamic together. My Step father was an alcoholic but he was the only father I knew. My Mother Married my step father when I was 3. Their relationship was extremely immature, especially with my step father being an alcoholic. There were times that he just didn't come home. Sometimes for a couple of days. Putting my mother into anxiety states and as a young child, listening to your mother go through such emotional turmoil was confusing. Whether it was crying, arguing, throwing things. It was just all really volatile. At this early age I sort of had to figure things out fast. I needed to decipher the moods people were in based on body language and energy, in order to stay out of the lines of fire. I was pretty isolated at a young age. Not having any siblings or cousins just yet. I was mainly around adults only.

 My mother worked first shift and my father worked third, so they passed one another coming and going. When my father would get home, of course he was tired and wanted to sleep. So, what was he to do with a 3- or 4-year-old? He thought locking me away in my room the entire day was a rational solution. As I look back, I always wondered why my grandmother was never called to come and get me while he slept. I can't imagine her saying no. None the less, that's what happened. For several years. I will leave some disturbing things from that part out, but I'm sure you can imagine that for a young child that was potty trained, this was not a pleasant thing. I learned to amuse myself, sit with myself and be my own friend. I didn't know this wasn't a normal thing. But in the end, I know it is now why I'm so comfortable isolating. Which is something I've battled with a majority of my life.

 My step father’s punishments started out more emotional when I was younger. Not allowing me to see certain family members or partaking in Holiday events. This is all before I was even 6 years old. When my mother and Step father had their first child together, I was nearly 7. Around this time, stress of another child compounded with alcoholism brought about money issues and to make things worse he was getting fired from jobs for not showing up. The stress and abusive behaviors escalated. We always had lots of animals and he'd enjoy beating them, choking them and at one time even allowed one to freeze to death outside. My abuse now had moved physical. There was a lot of verbal abuse too, being told I'm nothing and belittling, being made fun of. if I cried or displayed any real emotion, I was made fun of. I began to stuff feelings young and suppress.

 I became quiet, which outwardly appeared I was shy.  As I look back on things I think Why didn't anyone notice, or ask? I think that everyone in my family was living their own crap within their own family dynamic and it was simply easier not to know. Some sick games my parent’s thought were fun were things like, this little memory I have from some sort of parking lot. I remember I was in the back seat and I must've been leaning against the door, I wasn't older than 5. The door must not have been closed all the way and I fell out. Instead of jumping out and coming to get me, they let me run and cry behind the car. Letting me get close and then pulling off. Laughing the entire time. I'm pretty sure this manifested into several emotional setbacks I'd be unpacking for years to come.

Around that same age I remember them taking me to a safari and we had windows rolled down in an area they were supposed to be up. An ostrich stuck its entire upper body into the back seat and i was terrified. Again, that was something that was laughed at. Causing a sense of overall embarrassment and shame. I remember on many occasions sitting at the dinner table for literal hours being forced to eat things that were very untraditional for an adult let alone a child. such as liver, pig’s feet, and strange concoctions. After the birth of their first child, we moved to the country away from everyone in our family. almost an hour away from the nearest town. Living so far away from people in isolated farmland was fun from time to time, but in a walking on eggshells type of way. We had farm animals that became like pets. My step father enjoyed telling us when we were eating one of them. Very twisted humor, which was confusing as well. Especially for a 9 to 10 year old.

 I would get to escape when my grandmother would come and get me on weekends though and I enjoyed my time with her, she was very much the mother that my own simply was not able to be. I grew to appreciate and admire my grandmother, more than I'd ever admire anyone. She was always my safe place and gave me a sense of a real home, when I was with her. I find that area a little challenging to write about, simply because as I delve into remembering, so many things begin to surface for me, like how different it was, just how authentically she loved me, verses how everyone else did in my family dynamic. That was always so painful for me. To feel as though I just didn't fit in with anyone. That feeling became worse once my father and mother had their second child. I was just not treated the same. It felt almost like a shunning within my own parental home. I wouldn't know why for a bit longer though. The crazy thing is that, even though my parents treated me with such disdain and dismissiveness, I wanted their love more than anything and never understood what it was about me that made me not lovable.

 Through this time the volatile behaviors continued. I became the maid or 'mother' A little of both I guess. I had chores happening from sun up ‘til sun down which was all on a very regimented time scale. In between taking care of the animals we owned, which were many, things always needed done and things always needed cleaned. My time in showers and even brushing my teeth were critiqued. There was some unknown amount of time these should take and my step father was the only one that knew. There were Constant mental manipulations taking affect, which bred into me, a nervousness, a sense of self-doubt and a lack of confidence within myself was born. I feel, I must add that during all of this craziness in my life, I still remember many fond moments too, which Looking back now I believe to be the tiny, hope filled moments that spurred me on. That nourished my soul. And to be honest, I never saw a lot of what I began to see over the years of healing and really digging deep, while I was living in the trauma. But there were so many things sent via the universe that aided me in the trials that came.

So back to living in the middle of nowhere. We spent time with my step father’s father and step mother quite a bit. Probably more time with his family. I grew up seeing them as family, as well. It was around this time that I was molested by an older female, that was a part of this family. It happened on several occasions and then there were two older females. Both that, again I trusted and considered family and I was barely 10 years old. I knew that it didn't feel right but hell not much did thus far in my world. Things were said about this after a while, but my parents didn't wish to cause conflict over it. Which definitely was not a safe sort of feeling. This was a pivotal moment in my life, because this is where I truly began to close up. I felt my feelings were unheard and the ones I looked to for safety and protection did not offer that, in fact they seemed to condone it. Festering a lack of trust in ones I loved (I didn't know what love even was) I began to feel very unworthy.

 The Molestation went on for some time until we moved further away from one another and they grew older getting married and having families of their own. It was never spoken of again. We'd see them from time to time over the years and everyone acted like nothing had ever happened. After a while I think I sort of disconnected from my emotions. Which just got worse. During the time living out here, there were many other things that took place, besides animals dying in cruel, unnatural ways, my step father began to not be able to hold down jobs. Leaving us with no electric or heat a lot. We would need to heat our water for baths and we had old oil lamps and Kerosene heaters. In the midst of that, my step father is going on longer drunk benders and wrecking every vehicle we owned. Police were coming to the home letting us know he was in the hospital. My mother was a constant nervous wreck and there was just a lot of stress and anxiety. I know now that I lived in a constant state of fight or flight mentality. I began to sneak beer around this time. When we would go to family Holiday gatherings, and at home since we always had alcohol.

 My mother and step father separated for almost a year during this period, he moved out of the home. They ended up reconciling. Not much longer after that, we moved again, due to failure to pay rent. This would be the Third move for me in 10 years. The first was from my grandmother’s home where my mother and I lived prior to her marrying my step father, and getting ready to be my third school. I not only began to close up emotionally and appear very shy, but I had a problem getting close to anyone. I preferred to be by myself. I simply did not trust people. I felt like there was also no real point, if I'd just need to leave them eventually. Since we never stayed anywhere long enough. This became a pattern in my life as I grew older. What also became a pattern in my life was internal anger. Moving to the new home was basically the same scene, different place. Things were just getting worse. I began to drink and smoke both cigarettes and Mary Jane. I was 10.

 I was also taking care of my siblings a couple of weekends a month while my parents went to my step father’s families for whatever. I began to get into trouble at school. Fighting and skipping school to party. I think drinking became a sort of comfort thing for me. It was easier for me to talk to people and engage. I spent a great deal of time in, in school suspension and once I got home, I'd be locked in my bedroom. Meanwhile the madness in the home was still escalating. The benders were still taking place only now it was also a good time to my stepfather to have his kids and wife in the vehicle while he drank and drove. Having me hand him beers from the backseat while he sped and drove crazy. My mother screaming at him to slow down and stop doing what he was doing. Understand that the only time this man did not drink was when he was passed out. He once passed out with a lit cigarette and burnt a hole into the couch, even burning himself and he did not wake up. This was taking place while we slept upstairs. We would have school in the morning and he'd be locked out of the house for not coming home and at some random hour, we'd be waking up to kicking and banging at the door. I normally let him in. Things were either really good or really bad.

 I started to sneak out and just try and be away from home every chance I got. Once this was discovered, was when I began to be padlocked in my bedroom with the window being nailed shut. I had plenty of time isolated as a youth. I started to ride the bus to school but not get back on it to go home. There was a time I played some sports, but things were just never enough for my stepfather. I was never good enough. every weakness that was displayed was ridiculed. I struggled with math and could just never get it. There were times I was made to stay up into the early morning hours being screamed at and ridiculed for not understanding. I'd go to bed a nervous wreck and very distraught. I had several emotional vices like sucking my thumb and night terrors which began around the time I was 4, and lasted until I was in my teens. I was called out and made to feel embarrassed in front of others. The mental manipulations just never ended.

 Around this same time, I was told this man, that I had his last name and knew to be my father, was not my father. I was around 13. And my entire family all knew of this. This was where my already shaky foundation crumbled around me. My Life took a very destructive turn. I felt a deep sense of betrayal from everyone around. What was strange even at this time was no one seemed to think there was really anything wrong, with anything. It was all just made to be normal and every day. Which gives off avoidant energy. Which is exactly what it was. avoidance and minimizing of emotions and feelings. I began going out into the world with some pretty crazy tools for dealing with relationships and my own overall well-being. I had no clue and the ones I did have were very twisted and toxic. I was not in touch with any real feelings and I didn't understand the feelings I had. Alcohol made that feel much better. For a while anyway. I suffered alcohol poisoning a couple of times over the course of my life. I suffered with a distorted sense of self and reality. I spent a lot of time attempting to fill myself up with outside things. I was honestly pretty scared of intimacy with people in general.

 My Biological father was introduced into my life when I was 15, only because I was getting older and had male siblings out there that my family didn't want me to date and not know. I was also beginning to get into juvenal legal issues. My friends and I broke into a home to party in while skipping school and the owners came home for lunch finding us. They knew my parents and my Step father thought it would be good to report me. I spent time in groups and had a mentor that I had to spend time with on a weekly basis. I ran away multiple times as well as being kicked out and then having the police called on me for running away. Most teenagers get into some innocent trouble, but I tended to get into more serious trouble. My choice of friends were always ones that were a bit rougher around the edges and more carefree. I moved in with my biological father at 15. His lifestyle was very different from what I was used to. He was more lenient. He openly smoked pot and allowed me to. I pretty much came and went as I wanted. But I felt as though I was living with a stranger. I didn't know this man. And his life choices were not any less toxic, just on a different level.

I watched as he cheated on his girlfriends and had a bit of a shady lifestyle and profession. I had my first serious relationship at around 17. I had boyfriends prior but they were a bit more adolescent. Let’s keep in mind that my family drama was still taking place even though I no longer lived there. I was still very much in contact. I was no longer in school due to being kicked out in 7th grade for breaking a girl’s nose. My parents signed me out. I feel like I'm scattered as I share because as I take myself back into these places I'm honestly attempting to keep focused on the more pivotal aspects. and not allow all the day to day drama to get in the mix. So, the boyfriend. I was still a virgin at 17. I was terrified of sexual encounters from my mother’s horror stories. And honestly didn't feel comfortable with any of that type of thing. I had a lot of male friends that acted as siblings to me growing up. This boyfriend was not one in my normal group of friends. One night he got tired of me rejecting his advances and he raped me. I never told anyone. I think I never said anything due to past experiences where I'd needed my parents to intervein and they didn't. I also felt a sense of shame. This brought a whole new dynamic to the level of trauma I would go forth with in my adulthood.

 I'd like to stop here, before going any further into my story and unpack where I was emotionally and mentally at this point. I was confused about everything I'd seen, witnessed and experienced. I had no idea how to express myself without a heightened sense of emotion. I had a great deal of anger. I was very insecure concerning everything about myself. From a poor body image to a very broken sense of worth. I did not trust anyone and felt very alone internally. To compound all of this I was now actively subduing myself with drugs and alcohol. I was not skeptical about the drugs either. So, I was already a pretty seasoned drinker for my age, I smoked weed, snorted cocaine and popped speed. I was always under the influence of something. I believe medicating myself helped me manage all I had no idea how to actually manage. So even though I felt the pain, I wasn't truly in touch with what it was or where it came from. I was simply reflecting the product of my environment, what I had seen and grew up with. Like a mirror.  

After my rape, I remember having a very confused feeling about men. Between the parental men in my life to now the men outside the home. I didn't have the greatest taste in my mouth. I think I went through a period of time where I actually disliked them and meant to cause them pain. Around this time, I had many boyfriends. None ever lasted long, and it was always me, either cheating or ghosting them. While in the relationships I treated them poorly. I tended to be physical when under the influence as well, so my relationships were volatile. Getting truly close to me, was something most could never do. I lived between my grandmothers and my biological fathers house blowing through jobs left and right, either due to my partying ways or simply quitting. I entered into what I felt to be my first serious relationship around this time. We lived together for a while and got engaged. (I won't linger on too much detail when it comes to specific individuals in my story, for the simple fact I can only speak on my experiences)

 The relationship was much like all of the others before. Breaking off this relationship due to infidelity. I then moved in with several friends when I was around 20 or 21. My life began to not only unravel a lot I don't even remember due to my drug and alcohol abuse a great deal of it. I was having blackouts pretty often, but I know I wasn’t doing well. Around this time, I met my first husband. We dated for some time before we moved in together. At this stage a great deal of illegal activity became the norm. He was in the system his entire life. Crime was his thing. I didn't know the extent of the drug addictions until much later in. Our drug of choice now was blow. His entire family was into some pretty sketchy stuff and now I was a part of that. Having a deep seeded desire to just sort of fit in with people it wasn't hard to get me on board with things.  He couldn't keep a legit job ever. It was all about stealing and illegal activities.

 His sister, worked for a massage parlor. I, at this point didn't know what any of that was. But she assured me I'd make really good money and it was easy work, so I went to work with her. She was correct, the money was good, but it wasn't "easy" work mentally or emotionally. there were no sexual acts being forced but most did some, to what extent was at that girl’s discretion. I was now the bread winner while he stayed home doing drugs and racking up debt with dealers. Things moved violent when I fought this role I was holding. I also stopped the drug flow since I was the one paying for it, the dealers stopped supplying to him. This relationship was very violent. We ended up having an issue with someone I had worked with stealing from us when we allowed her to come stay with us for a few days while she was having relationship issues. When confronted, she lied and we decided to take the law into our own hands. We ended up getting a U-Haul and going to her home where we loaded all she owned onto the U-Haul and taking it. We then slowly sold her things back to her. Some stuff got sold. This went on for some time.

During that time, we broke up for a while and I was with someone else. (Yes, I was very much all over the place in all areas of my life. I was a mess) But that crime had still happened. About a year later coming home from work in my new relationship two detectives approached me. They introduced themselves and initially I was unresponsive, but cooperated by going to the station for questions. In the end there was no real easy way out of this. They had been investigating this for some time, so they already knew all the answers to their questions. We were both arrested that day and bonded out pending our plea hearing. We not only ended up back together, we married and I got pregnant in the months prior to our hearings. During the course of my pregnancy, I continued living life as though I wasn't pregnant. (This is something that took me a very long time to heal from.) This was also an extremely abusive relationship, where drugs and alcohol addictions took center stage. When it came time to be sentenced, He went away and I was sentenced to house arrest. While awaiting that monitor, I was placed in the County facility. One day I woke not feeling well, and noticed I was bleeding. A great deal. At this point I was due in a couple of weeks. I bled for a total of three days, getting weaker and weaker feeling a great deal of movement from my baby, knowing exactly what was happening. The Jail checked me out and deemed there was too much movement for me to be in distress. As I continued to bleed out. Finally, a third shift officer came in to do count in the wee early hours and noticed I was unresponsive. She called for help. The only recollection I have at this point Is of being rushed down a hallway in the Hospital with things being hooked up to my stomach. The next thing I knew I was in the operating room and someone was standing over me putting the oxygen mask on me, rubbing my hair and telling me

“We can't save your baby, but we are going to try our hardest to save you." I remember fading off and my thought was please don't save me. Please allow me to go with my baby. That didn't happen and from the moment I woke, rage filled my soul. I didn't speak about the pain I was feeling. I cried very little. I was in shock and now know I had detached emotionally. I remember being asked If I'd like to hold her and I was outraged. (Something I'd regret later) My Family was no more equipped to deal with something like this anymore than I was. So, although they came and showed the basic emotion of crying, there was truly nothing anyone could've said to me at that point, to bring any amount of comfort. While I was in the Hospital, my family had the funeral and the burial. I came home feeling like an empty shell of a human, wondering if anything was real. I'd stay there, for a very long time. I was 23 at this point.

To say I hated everything and everyone around me, including the fact I was even still living, was a serious understatement. I went into several court ordered Rehabs and had volatile relationships with everyone that encountered me. I absconded those rehabs, and found myself in some really scary situations rather regularly. Until, finally I was picked up in a car I had stolen from a known drug dealers’ home, on parole absconding from a rehab and hit a guardrail on the highway.

I was beyond a mess. Filled with what honestly felt like nothing more than a void. My parole was revoked and I was resentenced for my original crime. And I didn’t care. I was numb, and possibly deep down relieved. I was sentenced to 1-5 years in a State Correctional Facility. It took me the entire time, to start my healing.

It was already a maximum-security prison, but since I kicked off my toxic madness in the early phases, I set the tone for myself. I was also housed in a lock down unit and spent a LOT of time in the restricted housing unit or (RHU). If I wasn’t there, I could be found in my room locked down.

My time there was not without its craziness. But for me, I almost felt safe and comfortable. It didn’t bother me that I was there. It was very easy for me to adapt and block out the world beyond the razor bladed fence. I realize that may seem to come off a bit disturbing, but  considering I’d been a prisoner as a child and I was mentally one prior to my incarceration, it wasn’t a horrible transition.

This time would ignite the start of my healing. Over the next 5 years, clean and sober I would have plenty of time to think about what led me to this point in my life. Things that I had suppressed would also begin to come to the surface for me. I truly believe that had I not been taken out of society, I would not still be here telling my story. But that took much more time to realize.

Feelings and emotions came without warning during this time, I know now that I was never in touch with myself at all and I had no idea who I was as a person. Up until this time I was not anything about authentic, because I had no idea what that meant. I was living out of survival mode my entire life.

I was like an empty void that consumed life from the outside in. And I wasn’t sober doing any of it. Prison was not the most ideal place to suddenly become vulnerable so writing would prove to be my greatest tool and main healing source. I journaled my emotions and started to get in touch with who I was as an individual.

About 3 years in was when the memories of my daughter’s death began to come to the forefront. It wasn’t just her death that I thought about now though, it was my direct role in it all, the realization that my actions and toxic behavior was what killed her. To say that was soul shattering would be an understatement. During my unraveling (which is what I will always call this phase in my life) was where I had to face myself.

No matter what sort of life I was brought up with, it was time to face my role in how it proceeded to play out and the lives that were impacted due to my lack of healing. How I figured that out with nothing remotely to go by, I have come to realize was my spiritual team guiding me, as they did my entire life. This was all meant to happen, a spiritual intervention when I had no one and nothing else to do that for me. That mirror was not comforting in the least. Over those very isolated years, everything my world was made up of and all I had lived, was flashed before my eyes like a twisted version of The Christmas Carol with the cynical Ebeneezer Scrooge. I was horrified and sad all at once, very regularly.

I learned humility daily from not only the degrading things that took place in my current environment, but also from facing all I’d done and been through. I learned to be grateful for every single day I had every time a fellow inmate didn’t survive the isolation. I learned to appreciate life on a profound level.

This was not a place where I could share what all I’d been through, I wouldn’t be in a mindset like that until much, much later in years. So, I dealt with these realizations and emotions alone. But I spoke to my spiritual team. (or prayed however one would choose to believe) It was a very long road in this place but I always made the best of it.

I spoke to my grandmother, and my family members wrote me from time to time and thought of me during special occasions. But I did not choose to have them visit me. I wanted nothing about this place to touch them. I took full responsibility for where I was and needed to get through this without having it impact them.

As my time there began to wind down, I found myself scared at the thought of leaving. I felt safe there. When I got to my final year and a half, I actually did not go to my parole hearing. And chose to do my entire time. I wasn’t ready to leave. I wasn’t ready to go back into the world. I’m not sure I trusted myself to make the right decisions.  That was something else I fully understood was a problem.

That day inevitably came though. My family came to pick me up and the entire drive home was silence as though no one really knew what to say to me any more than I did them. There were so many things I had to adjust to upon leaving, from the way the world had changed to what would I do and where was I going.

I had nothing left, and things I should have still had, people sold or got rid of. I was 28 and beginning my life from scratch. I had nothing but the clothes on my back. 

I ended up staying with my Parents and two younger siblings which I knew could not be for long. There was no way I could come from where I was to being back in a place of my childhood trauma and maintain any amount of peace within. Although I was thankful at the time to have a place to go, I knew I’d never advance there.

I attempted to do things legit and go back to school, while working. That just wasn’t going to work for me in my situation. I had no car, nothing. I couldn’t simply go waitress or bartend and think that was going to get me anywhere. I called an old friend and went back to work for an escort service. I kept that as quiet as possible, but I come from a small town.

I stayed with my family for about a month before moving into my own place. I moved in with nothing. I bought things a long the way. I enrolled in College for Journalism and Media Communications, while I worked. Things looked ok for a while, until I began to party again. Which was always my way of coping. And fell into another toxic cycle.

Although I had begun the Journey, it would prove to be a slow burn for me. I ended up doing something that I never needed to do, considering I was making very good money. I almost believe as I look back now that I was trying to subconsciously sabotage myself. There were too many areas that I needed to work though at this time, ones I hadn’t even come to recognize yet about myself.

I was caught shop lifting, which had always been a slight rush or addiction for me. It was also something that initially, when I was younger was a means of survival, but somewhere a long the way turned into a thrill. I was caught on camera and ended up having charges brought against me.

I ended up going on the run, with a male friend of mine that was also on the run. This was never meant to have a good ending. But here I went again only being home for a couple of years. (Now, as I reflect back, I know that remaining in any toxic environment or way of life brings forth self-sabotaging behavior, especially when you are living in a survival type mentality)

This was very uncomfortable. We lived in a travel trailer for several years and ended up getting married. Working at random places and using false names. Traveling to different States and just sort of wandering. There were good and bad times on this journey, but none living in authenticity. We both drank and used drugs so there were some volatile situations along the way

At this time, I am now about 32 years old and wanting to do more with myself. Tired of living like this. I want to say at about 34 was where I had another mini undoing and found myself in a bad situation with someone that I was partying with. We were arrested one night and since I had a warrant in another state, I was extradited back to serve a 6-month sentence.

When I got out after that, I was on parole for a while and things went smoothly. Well, what I deemed smooth. I made it off parole without being violated so, that was smooth to me. Then partying started to happen again. I just couldn’t seem to get away from all of that. My friend and I would live this way for several more years before getting divorced.

During the party phases of my life, I really had no care for people. I was very selfish and did things that made me feel ashamed of after. Which only allowed a mental excuse to remain in the toxicity. All through this time, I was journaling and writing. Putting bits and pieces of this mess into some order on paper. As I did this, it was sort of opening my eyes as a type of outsider, looking in. The fog still needed to be cleared and my mind needed to be sober. This road would be traveled for many more years. 

I felt as though I had no idea where to begin or how. There was nothing real or even substantial in my life, there never was. I had to figure out what that meant to me. This relationship would come to an end, like all others in my world before it.  At 37 I met my daughter’s father. When I became pregnant, I was still a shit show, but I was able to polish it up a little more.

 

I was in school, working and trying to raise a child. I knew I didn’t want my child to live the way I had. I never wanted her to live in toxicity, but I hadn’t been able to ever fully disconnect myself from it enough to know what that even looked like. Which always seemed to just keep me in it. I felt trapped within my own life. But I wanted desperately to break out of it.

 

As I reach this portion of my life which will bring us to the here and now, I have decided to leave it there.  

 

 

 

                                                                                       SUMMING THINGS UP

 

During these times throughout my life, I’ve touched on where the blatant trauma and some toxicity lay, but there were undertone areas. Day to day dealings and stress factors. Controlling individuals, codependency factors, mental and emotional manipulations, Narcissistic behaviors as well as physical abuse.

Being that these things were introduced to me at a very young age, they became what was normal for me. What I was naturally drawn to in others in my life as I moved into my adulthood. The abusive behaviors and toxic mindsets were the foundation of all that made me who I was.

I had many broken moments, Ones I truly did not see myself making it through. There were many times I asked to die. I was very isolated and alone dealing with life, in general because everything around me was unhealthy. A bunch of hurt people, hurting people. On the treadmill of disfunction.

I found myself making so many poor decisions and life choices out of a survival mindset. Considering I never believed I was worth loving or worthy of anyone’s time, since that’s what I had drilled into me. I went through life on a type of auto pilot running with that narrative. And attracting all of that into my day to day.

Over the years I have been homeless, staying wherever I could, and sleeping in some unsavory places from time to time. I have done things most would not in the name of survival. I learned how to work with whatever I had and made choices based on my resources at the time.

Some have looked down on me for my life choices, but never offered a hand, only their distaste. Not understanding and not knowing what there was to choose from. Some could have known and still chose to look away, gossiping rather than helping. One who wouldn’t ask, because over the years, I was made to feel that was a weakness.

I grew self-sufficient but still with limited resources to make things ever fully work out the way I’d like. I really have lived in this day to day, week to week type of survival mode my entire life. Since it was all, I’ve known. It was just something I did.

Through it all I have never fully given up on life, people or myself. I’ve always felt there was something I was meant to do. Because after everything I’d endured, that was a belief that kept me going. Every time I felt I just wanted to quit. I wanted to check out, I was too lonely, the odds were too stacked against me.

I knew in my soul, my story and the knowledge I’ve gained from it all needed to be shared. Somehow, some way. It was the only thing that made sense. I knew that I could relate to just about any scenario, even if the scene wasn’t exact. And I never want anyone that comes into my life to feel the way I’ve felt.

Over the course of my life, I have remained hopeful for change in the world around me as I watch the vast amount of corruption. The fire within me has only grown stronger. I now like the woman I have become. I’m proud of the mother that I am. Because I’ve taught myself to become that which I wanted someone to be, for me.

I’m not where I want to be entering this second phase of my life, but I have crawled out of where I once was and where I very well could’ve perished. I never turn around in sadness, missed opportunities or regret because I know there is nothing back there for me.

Over the years I have walked away from individuals that one never thinks they will ever walk away from, nor should you ever be placed in that type of situation.  Some took me a great deal of my life to finally release. And the hurt was heavy.

This journey continues with every new phase of my life. I meet all endeavors with a breath of fresh air. And a chance to do something new. I no longer fear showing the world who I am. And I no longer see people from my past, in the ones of my present.

I will always walk into any situation with my eyes fully open and my heart aware. I allow people and places to show me who they are. In a safe, loving space. How things unfold around me, determines how I choose to move.  I believe there is a saying that sums up my existence. It is “you never know just how strong you are, until strength is all that you have.”