...or so I've been told. But I wasn't there for *that* beginning.
I was here for my own though, and thats where I'll start. Easier to just make a list...get all of this out of the way:
1)I was born in 1980 to two drug addicts.
2)My mother used alcohol and meth while she was pregnant with me, so I was born with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders (mostly emotional and behavioral) and also whatever damage the meth did to my brain chemistry.
3)I was put in emergency foster care at the age of 3, along with my younger brother and sister because of abuse.
4)My birthmom said she would come back for me. She never even came to say goodbye.
5)At the age of 4, I was adopted into a large Catholic family along with my brother and sister.
6) Adopted mom and I did NOT get along. I thought my birthmom was coming back for me, and I did not like this mean lady who spanked me and told me what to do and made me eat my vegetables.
7) Due to my behavioral problems in second and third grade (lying, stealing, defiance, etc) my adopted mom decided to put me in therapy.
8) "Therapy" turned out to be very traumatic as my mom opted to go for "rebirthing/reattachment/holding therapy"...whatever you want to call it, it is not therapy, it is torture. Go ahead and google it. It's not pretty. Children have died from this abusive "therapy" but despite being sat on and smothered and wrapped in sheets and deprived of oxygen, I survived. My first experience was a surprise, no one told me what was happening, and a room full of adults pinned me to the floor and restrained all my limbs while my parents lay on top of me. No one spoke, I could not move, it was hard to breathe, and I was not allowed up so I peed and vomitted all over myself. I was six years old, and I thought I was being murdered.
For the next 2 years I went to this "therapy" every week where I was pinned down for hours at a time, towels were put over my face, I peed on myself, vomitted on myself, they put ants on my face, etc all to try and elicit some sort of emotional response so I could "bond" with my new mother.
I learned to shut down completely, (I could lay there for up to 5 hours at a time and just live inside my head somewhere safe where they could not get me), I learned to fake it, and I learned exactly what they wanted to see/hear so I could stop the torture.
9) This "therapy" continued until 5th grade at which point that particular therapist said I was "cured."
10) Unfortunately, I was not "cured" (surprise, surprise) and my mom decided to send me to survival camp to see if that would straighten me out. In case you were wondering, it didn't. It was several weeks in the Idaho wilderness with two adult male guides and 10 or so teenage juvenile delinquent males. I was 11. We marched in the wilderness from sun-up to sun down and we had nothing but an army issue blanket, a tarp, a rope, a tin can, and a small allotment of dried lentils, dried rice, and an even smaller allotment of powdered milk, a handful of raisins, and a handful of oats.
Succumbing to exhaustion, I was the only one who did not "graduate" from this program. I was put in solitary confinement for the last week and a half, which consisted of me in a tent in the middle of a field by myself where I ate my dried lentils and rice and caught voles for companions.
Since I did not "graduate" my mom did not come to Idaho to pick me up. I flew back to Oregon and even though I said "Mom I'm so sorry I'll be better I promise" (she didn't fall for it) she took me straight from the airport to another therapist.
11) We walked into a small out of the way office in Eugene where we were greeted by two women who yelled at me and told me I was a liar, a fake, a manipulator, and an all around evil, evil child who deserved to be punished. I cried and sobbed and said it wasn't true but they did not listen to me....my mom left and went home. I went home with a lady who put me in a bare room with a wooden floor and one window. No food, no water, no furniture, no pillow, no blanket. I cried myself to sleep on the floor.
12) This marked the beginning of the Kathie Bishop era, a lady who claimed to be a therapist but later turned out to be unlicensed. I lived with Kathie Bishop for 3 years and endured all kinds of emotional, physical, and psychological abuse including
brainwashing, physical/psychological torture, and kidnapping. Its a long story and marks the point in my life where I lost all hope of ever being a "normal" kid.
13) After 3 years Kathie Bishop was forced by the police to return me to my parents (she kidnapped me when my parents found out what she was doing to me and tried to get me back)....I spent the night in a juvenile jail cell because my parents did not want me in their home.
14) My parents picked me up from jail and took me to a mental hospital where I was evaluated for 3 weeks and then sent to a theraputic group home in Oregon City. I was discharged after 3 months because they found nothing wrong with me other than "mild depression."
15) My parents sent me to live with my grandmother in Mississippi, but I was so damaged I tried to kill myself (I was 15 by then). My grandmother found me in the attic and took me to the hospital where my stomach was pumped out. I was placed in another mental hospital for 3 weeks and then placed in a group home for girls in Hernando.
16) I spent 3 years at the girls home where I made lifelong friends, good grades, and felt loved and appreciated and safe for the first time in my entire life. I graduated high school and left the girls home for junior college at NWCC in Senatobia.
17) At junior college, I discovered cigarettes, alcohol, marijuana, and sex. I dropped out of school after a semester and got a job. I lived with the mother of a friend of mine and worked full time. I wound up following a guy I was dating to Starkville and worked there until I met a guy and got pregnant when I was 21.
18) The father of my child was on meth and with my emotional problems and his drug problems, it was very very very volatile.
19) Around this time, my father died from polycytemia vera and I flew up to Oregon for the funeral with my 4 month old baby boy. I maintained contact with my parents by phone but this was the first time I'd seen anyone in my family since my high school graduation when my parents flew down.
My dad was a good man. I still miss him. He had a way of loving me that I could actually understand...not like my mother at all. God bless him.
20) When I came back from the funeral, I left my son's father and my son and I were homeless for 6 weeks while I saved up enough money to get a place of my own. The lowest point was when I spent a night at a motel littered with dead roaches and I had to open up a can of formula with a pocket knife to feed my baby.
21) I decided to go back to college. It took me 5 years and it was the hardest thing I ever did in my life, but I got my degree. (My mom even flew down for my graduation!) I also utilized the free counseling services provided to students and was in counseling for 7 years, working hard to undo the damage caused to me over the years...I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Panic Disorder. This marks a time in my life where I made a full and conscious decision not to be a victim of my life circumstances, but to try and make the best of what I had been given.
22) During my college years I dated/lived with an alcoholic/cocaine addict for 3 years. He was very nice to my son but very mean to me...there was a lot of emotional abuse to the point that my friends staged an intervention to try and get me to leave him. I didn't wind up leaving him until I came home from work one night and found my son, the night before his 4th birthday, alone and crying saying "mommy I was scawwed!" The guy, in some sort of jealous rage, had gone out drunk driving around trying to spy on me at work. I packed a bag and left.
23) After I graduated college I finally, for the first time in my life, started getting my act together. I had a full time job, volunteered with the cub scouts, attended church, and tried to make a good life for my son and I.
24) I met a man online, fell for him, and planned to get married. Before we could make marriage plans, however, we got pregnant. I wanted to wait until after the baby was born before we got married.
25) In one 18 month period my mother died of pancreatic cancer, I got married for the first time in my life, my second son was stillborn 3 weeks before his due date, my grandmother died a month later, I had a miscarriage at 8 weeks, and I lost my first daughter to premature birth at 6 months gestation..she died in my arms.
26) My husband and I bought a puppy to soothe our broken hearts and fill our arms that had so hoped for our babies...
...and now you're caught up. Here I am, with our 3 month old puppy in a laundry basket beside me, stricken with parvo and fighting for her life.
I have been through hell and back and I'm still here, still hoping to one day be one of the "normal" people...still hoping that good things will happen to me and that I will finally find where I belong and what I should be doing.
Anyway, thats the short version, hahaha!
God, I'm still here. I'm still waiting for you to show me what you want me to do....
