In May of 2003, my rebellion from the church, Ken and reason was in full swing. I was doing things I had been told I was not allowed to do for so many years and it felt good to rebel.

Around that same time I had bought a red convertible, gotten a tattoo and began drinking a little. For the first time in my adult life I was in charge of my decisions, my accomplishments, my failures and my mistakes and I made plenty of them. I didn’t know who I was as a person and I had never been an adult on my own.

To top it off Ken was following me and stalking me, so I was a nervous wreck on my way to a train wreck.

Then I met Matt, the most unlikely uncommon person to give me just the right amount of confidence to make me believe I was going to be okay. Was he a smart decision? Absolutely not. Was he good for me? Nope. Was he too young for me? 100%. Did I think about any of that? No, no I did not.

Matt was a server at our local Applebees. one Sunday, I went there for lunch with Susan and Daniel, friends from church and who also lived down the road from me. Our server was this 21 year kid, who for some reason decided to compliment and flirt with me. I had been losing some weight, but I was still overweight, I was extremely self conscience about my looks and body image, so when he told me I was beautiful, I was shocked and overwhelmed. But damn it felt good to have someone compliment me like that even if it was just for a good tip.

I found myself drawn to him, so the girls and I became Applebees regulars and he always insisted on waiting on us. During this time I continued to lose weight and gain more and more confidence. There were a few of the male servers who would refer to me as a MILF, but it was all in jest and Applebees just became a place that was a refuge from our normal lives. Chrystin and Courtney loved going there, as everyone treated them like family. Courtney even became an honorary server, where they gave her a shirt and an apron and they would let her follow them around as they waited tables. Applebees became a safe place for us, a place where we could go and forget about life for a few hours a week and we went often. This is where I had my first alcoholic drink after 18 years of not touching the stuff. I got my first and only tattoo after encouragement from the servers. This is where my healing, growing up, mistakes and finding my identity began.

One Friday night, while the girls were with their dad, I had gone to Applebees by myself. All of the servers and bartenders knew me by this point and so I sat at the bar, had some drinks and talked to random people. Matt was working and so he would come by from time to time to say hi, flirt a little and then go back to his tables. Matt had a good friend named Ali, Ali was only 18-19. As I got ready to leave, on the spur of the moment, I invited Matt and Ali to come back to my house to hang out for awhile. They came by after they got off of work and the three of us hung out listening to music, goofing off and just getting to know each other outside of the Applebees setting. Both Ali and Matt smoked, so I bummed a cigarette off them, like an idiot, and this began my seven years of the nasty habit. Anyhow, Ali had run out of cigarettes, so she decided to run to the store to get another pack, which left Matt and I alone. As we were talking, Matt leaned over and kissed me, we continued to kiss until we heard the door open and a shriek. Ali had come back and was extremely upset over what she walked in on. Little did I know (and I had asked them multiple times if they were a couple with the answer always being “no”) that Matt and Ali were friends with benefits and Ali was head over heels.

An argument between them ensued, crying, yelling.. all while I stood back and watched in disbelief. They ended up leaving and Ali never really spoke to me again after that, but Matthew continued to flirt and talk to me. Over the next year and a half Matthew became a confidant, supporter, friend and sometimes lover, but mostly we fed off each other and it was an unhealthy emotional bond. I loved the attention he gave me and he fed off the attraction I had for him and the belief I had that one day he would be a successful man who completed his college degree. I had so much faith in him and I told him so. He on the other hand didn’t have faith in himself and was fighting demons I didn’t even know about.

I eventually realized this bond was not healthy and distanced myself from Matt. There is so much I am not saying because this story in itself could become a book. Skip to September of 2006, I had not seen Matthew in close to a year and a half, my life had settled down, I had settled down. But this particular evening, for old times sake, I decided to go into Applebees. I walked up to the bar, and a now 24 year old Matthew was bartending, his face lit up when he saw me. I sat down and we caught up. I found out he had a girlfriend and they had a baby together. He seemed to be doing okay, but he confided his girlfriend was cheating on him with another woman and that was a blow to not only his heart but his manhood. He still had not finished college and felt defeated. I left feeling sad for him and still hoping he would find his way.

Just two months later, in November of 2006, Matthew Christopher Ayres died of a suspected drug overdose. He never met his full potential and he left his daughter and girlfriend behind. He was well loved by so many friends and family. I will never forget him as the person who brought me out of my shell and started me on the path to confidence and recovery from the last 20 years of my life. Sometimes we find friends in the most unlikely places..trauma is weird like that.

I obviously skipped over a bunch of my life during this time that I may or may not divulge. It was important to me to tell the story of Matt because he had such an impact on my life and I wanted to honor his memory by telling this story in one blog post rather than over several. The connection Matt and I had was purely emotional, we temporarily filled a need that we each had. We were never a couple, we were never in love and to be honest a lot of our interactions outside of Applebees were not planned. Sometimes we just ran into each other while we were out and about with other people. Sometimes we hung out after he got off work and sometimes I would get a late night call because we were a weird little support system for each other. I will always love Matt for being there when I needed someone to make me feel human again, to help me “feel” again.

The story I’m about to tell you comes with a lot of thought. I am fully aware that I made a mistake by staying silent for so long. But even now, I’m also aware that this story can be construed as heresay and because I know this story would be denied by those involved if it were exposed, it could also be construed as libel defamation. This is why I’ve decided to change the names for legal purposes.

The IFB church historically has a reputation for covering up sexual misconduct. If misconduct is exposed the IFB church also has a reputation of blaming and shaming the victim. Years ago, as I was realizing that the IFB church was a cult, I found a book called “I Fired God”. This book details the life of a young girl brought up in the IFB cult whose family was in the higher echelons of the church. She grew up in Hammond Indiana where the IFB cult originated. She details the horrors of the sexual abuse that occurred in her church and in one case the victim had to get up in front the church and apologize to congregation and repent of her sin. Jack Hyles, who was a prominent leader of the IFB cult, had a rule “if you didn’t see it, it didn’t happen”.

Sexual Abuse and the Jack Hyles Rule: If You Didn’t See It, It Didn’t Happen

In my own church I can recall a member of the church, who sat in the back of the auditorium and I remember that he snored through the services, had been gossiped about that he sexually molested his own daughter and the church still allowed him to be a member and nothing was ever said. Years later after I left the church, I looked him up and sure enough he was on the sex registry as a pedophile. I’ve long forgotten his last name, but I think his first name was Doug. this is just one example of the church looking the other way. But then there was a teenage girl who had gotten pregnant and went to the private school who was kicked out of school for her immoral behavior. The double standards between men and women were insanely obvious, yet members stayed willfully blind.

Because of the historical behavior of the IFB church and because I do believe that the leaders of the church I attended would not hesitate to file a slander lawsuit against me, I am choosing to tell this story under fake names.

Back to my story:

Kerri (fake name) (age 28 at this time) and I were friends from the church. Kerri was married to Mitch (fake name) and they had a son together. After I had left Ken, Mitch complained that I was a bad influence on Kerrie and he didn’t want her to be friends with me anymore, little did he know who the bad influence actually was. Kerri worked with the youth alongside her husband at the church and she had developed a somewhat strange relationship with a lot of the teens, especially the teen boys. Kerrie was very slender with long dirty blond hair, she was considered pretty by IFB standards. She seemed particularly close to one of these youths, I’ll call Jake (fake name) who was sixteen at the time, it seemed they were always together when on the church grounds.

When Kerri and I were together, she seemed to talk about Jake almost non stop, so one day while swimming in her in laws pool, I asked her about this seemingly obsession she had with him. My exact question to her was “did you kiss him?” At this question, she went underwater then came back up smiling. She then proceeded to tell me how Jake kissed her in one of the classrooms in the school building, this was after two years of flirting with her and she flirted back in appropriately. This began a two month long cycle of Kerri telling me about every encounter she had with Jake. The two had graduated from kissing to foreplay to sex and the majority of their encounters occurred on church property, namely the daycare, in classrooms, in bathrooms, under the outside stairwell. They had grand plans of running away together when Jake turned 18. Jake had even written her letters, which Kerri showed to me and actually gave me one to hold for her so Mitch didn’t find it. I’m pretty sure I still have that letter in my attic packed away in a box of things from my former life.

This was predatory behavior on Kerri’s part and Jake was the victim who didn’t realize that he was a victim. I have regretted not speaking up about this crime, but as I said both parties would deny this affair as they both have way too much to lose at this point.

My friendship with Kerri grew apart as I was no longer a part of the church and Mitch put so much pressure on Kerri to end our friendship. I have not spoken or seen Kerri in many years. I did reach out to her on messenger a few years back, but she never responded. This was my message:

While I made a lot of mistakes, knowing about this and not reporting is one of my biggest regrets. Trauma can blind us to right and wrong, at this point Kerri was one of the only remaining familiar friends I had and I naively cherished that friendship because I didn’t know any better. I can’t change my past, but I have been determined to be better and do better. My only hope is that Kerri has some sense of remorse for her behavior and that she has not repeated her crimes. Knowing her the way I did, unless she has changed, it is doubtful there is any remorse. I’ve often wondered if she suffered some sort of trauma from her childhood that allowed her to believe this type of behavior was acceptable.

Wheel of Fortune was now behind me and winning that kind of money was invigorating, liberating and fascinating all at the same time. I realized I didn’t need to be stuck in a loveless marriage with an overbearing controlling misogynistic man. Here I was 34 and I was still young.

I had only known this man in my entire adult life. This man who told me what to do, when to do it and how to do it and I listened because it was easier than the arguments that would ensue. This man, who not but a few months prior I caught watching pornography and when I confronted him, he told me that it wasn’t a sin because he wasn’t getting sex from his own wife. He told me that listening to country music (which I had started venturing out and doing) was more of a sin then watching porn. This same man who would verbally assault me at least once per week when I said no to sex, until I gave in, got undressed and lay there and told him to do it quickly because I wanted to go to sleep. This same man who didn’t care how he treated me but expected me to obey him in all things.

And how would I know if this was normal in a marriage, I never had a good example of what marriage looked like. Sure, I felt something was off, but I couldn’t necessarily pin point it.

So a couple of weeks after Wheel of Fortune, I got brave and told Ken I wanted a divorce. When he said he wouldn’t leave, I told him I’d call the police and they would force him to leave. Would they? I didn’t know, but that seemed to work. He left, but he must’ve felt I wasn’t serious because when I told him he could have whatever he wanted of our material belongings, he only took one nightstand, one end table and a TV. That was it. He packed his clothes and left.

My mother came to stay with me, after all she had left her current fling, and I had an extra room. This was early January, 2003.

I had been helping some friends, Rick and Anne, from church find a new house to buy and nothing was appealing to them. In late 2001 Anne began to have severe headaches and when it got too unbearable she finally went to the doctor. It was deviating news. Anne had a glioblastoma, which is one of the worst brain tumors one could have with a zero survivability rate. Anne and Rick put a hold on buying a new house until around this time, January 2003, they picked it back up as Rick wanted Anne to get her dream of owning a home before she died. So we found them a great house near the airport and work began on the painting and getting the house ready to move in. Sadly, Anne passed away before they could move in. Prior to passing away, I would go visit her at least once a week and give her a foot massage (foot mushy as she started calling them). I grew closer to Anne, although her cognitive abilities were almost gone by this point. I also grew closer to Joyce, her mother and this relationship would become pivotal to my survival after leaving Ken.

After Anne passed away, I’m not sure why, but her husband Rick leaned on our friendship for comfort. He was grieving and he knew I loved Anne very much. It started with him saying he wanted to buy an investment property and so we would go house hunting together. So for the next few months, we spent a lot of time together. I had left Ken and I was also fragile. I didn’t know who I was, or who I wanted to be. I had never been alone as an adult and raising children alone was hard. Then in April of 2003, my world came spiraling out of control. Rick kissed me. I felt so many emotions at one time. I was attracted, but I was still legally married though separated. I felt guilty, this was Anne’s husband, how could I have feelings towards him? I felt deceptive, how could I be close to Joyce, I could never tell her that I was attracted to her son in law. I felt confident, this extremely attractive man also found me attractive enough to kiss me. I felt confused, scared and so many other emotions. I didn’t handle it well, so I wrote. I wrote poems, I wrote letters to Rick, I wrote in my diary and I wrote whatever feelings would come to me each day. Rick also had some of those same emotions, and he didn’t handle it well either. On Easter Sunday he left me a voicemail apologizing to me for kissing me, many time by this point. We only ever kissed, but it felt good to be wanted and it felt wrong to be wanted. Little did I know, someone saw Rick and I together and told another one of Anne’s friends, Cathy, who was also the pastors daughter. When she confronted Rick, he told her that I came on to him and that I wouldn’t leave him alone and that I would show up unannounced and wouldn’t leave. It was a surreal moment to realize I was being played by one of the people I cared the most about. I was naive…

One day, while picking the girls up from school, I ran into Cathy in the school parking lot. This is the only time she ever confronted me on this and she harshly told me how she felt and told me to leave Rick alone. I was so taken back and in disbelief that he was saying these things about me, then I remembered his voicemail. So I played the voicemail to Cathy where Rick apologized to me and admitted he started everything. Did I feel vindicated? A little. But now I realized this was all out in the open and I had to be the one to tell Joyce.

So I took Joyce out shopping and we went to lunch. I was so nervous, but I explained what had happened and how it had happened and what was going on now and how Rick tried make me out as the aggressor. After I was done, Joyce was silent, for a few minutes. Then she said “this doesn’t shock me”. I was taken aback and asked why. She then proceeded to tell me he and Anne’s backstory of how they came to live back in Richmond. she said that Rick had had multiple affairs with ladies in their church and to get away from the gossip and to start fresh, they moved back to the Richmond area. That Rick wasn’t the man he tried to portray himself to be and that I was lucky it ended the way it did. While I still felt saddened to lose a friendship with Rick, I was so happy that my friendship with Joyce remained intact.

And as if this wasn’t enough on my plate, a couple more things happened in my life that made it continue to spiral. I found out Ken was stalking me and/or having me followed. He would know when I came and went from the house and we lived in the middle of nowhere. He would call me and tell me conversations I had with people while eating in a restaurant. He also started telling our children things about me that weren’t true and they were mad at me.

And then a close friend confided an affair with a minor that would rock the entire church to its very core if it was found out. I was sworn to secrecy and I was just confused and clouded in my judgement enough that I agreed. Trauma is weird like that.

Sometime in the winter of 2002 commercials for the Wheel of Fortune “Wheel Mobile” coming to our area began popping up on TV. We soon found out that they would be in our area at the Willow Lawn Shopping Center one Sunday in The Spring. Ken kept insisting we should go and I should try out since I have been an avid Wheel watcher since my teens and I was pretty good at the game. I, on the other hand, thought it would be a waste of our time and emphatically said so. And I figured that was the end of that and I completely forgot about it.

Spring rolled around and one Sunday after church we decided to go out to eat lunch, as most church goers do on a Sunday. Ken said he wanted to try a new restaurant in the Willow Lawn area and I was quite surprised at his suggestion as he was always a buffet type restaurant person and Willow Lawn was over 30 minutes away from our church and house, but he was pretty insistent, so we went.

Imagine my surprise when we pulled up to the shopping center and there were thousands of people and cars in the parking lot. This is when Ken confessed that it was the Wheel of Fortune tryouts and he wanted me to participate. I scoffed at the idea, but said I would humor him because there was no way that I would even get an audition with all of the people and especially with the selection process. What we found out was that you filled out an information card and they put it into a spinning barrel and five names were randomly drawn every ten minutes. If your name was drawn, you would get to spin a mock wheel along with the other four lucky random people for an opportunity to solve a puzzle. I told Ken there was no way my name would be drawn and so I filled out the card and watched it be dropped into the barrel with the other couple thousand cards. Then said I was hungry and Ken owed me food!

Not ten minutes later I heard my name being called over the intercom. To say I was shocked is an understatement.

I went forward to where the big wheel was located and was ushered onstage with the other four lucky random people. I had no idea what to expect and so I started getting nervous. We each got an opportunity to spin the wheel and guess a letter. I honestly do not remember what letter I selected or what the puzzle actually was, but I do know that I ended up solving the puzzle. The other four people were dismissed and I was asked to step to the side where I was given a t-shirt and asked for more information about myself. Then they took a picture of me and said “you may or may not hear back from us”. All of this took less than ten minutes and I was back standing with the crowd and Ken. I told him what they said to me and said “see I will most likely never hear back from them, but that it was fun doing this and I thanked him for making me do it and now I really was hungry and we went and got a bite to eat.

Life went on as normal. One day about three months later I got a letter in the mail from Wheel of Fortune formally requesting that I audition for the show at the Jefferson Hotel in downtown Richmond the next month in August of 2002. This is when I thought.. hmmm maybe this could happen, but I still didn’t allow myself to become too excited because I knew the odds were slim to none that I would actually make it on the show.

August rolled around and I showed up to the Jefferson Hotel to find that about 200 people were there for the formal audition. This was so much fun, we all sat down while listening to the procedure of how we would audition. The very first thing we were given was a sheet of paper with about 20 mock puzzles and a few letters filled in and the category of each. We were then given about ten minutes to fill out as many answers as we could in that time frame. Once the ten minutes were up, they told us to put our pencils down and they gave us the answers. I got all but one correct. They then collected our papers and started calling out names to stand up. I was one of the names they called. They then dismissed everyone who were still sitting with only about 50 of us remaining. This process took about an hour. The next couple of hours were spent spinning a mock wheel, solving mock puzzles and getting up in front of everyone and talking about ourselves. They then took a picture of me again and said “you may or may not hear back from us”. So once again, I figured I had a fun time but that it was over.

I was completely surprised when I got a letter fromWheel of Fortune in October of 2002 that said I had been selected to be a contestant on Wheel of Fortune sometime in the next twelve months. This was a full page letter of congratulating me on making through the auditions, etc etc.. only to have the final paragraph say that this is not a guarantee that I will be a contestant. I was so excited, until I got to that paragraph, then I laughed and said well, this is the end of a fun time and I would have a good story to tell about how I auditioned for and almost got on Wheel of Fortune.

In November of 2002 I was walking in the house arms full of grocery bags and my phone was ringing. After about the fourth ring, I was able to answer the phone and the person on the other end asked for Sharon, which is my given name. My first thought was oh no, what did Ken do now. But then they introduced themselves as a contestant organizer for Wheel of Fortune and they were asking if I could make it out to California at the beginning of December to be a contestant on the show? As if I would actually say “nope that date doesn’t work for me”. I of course said I could make that date, so they said they would mail me all of the details and they looked forward to seeing me.

Now I was excited and in disbelief that I was actually going to be a contestant on my favorite game show.

Ken and I were still struggling financially so we were a bit concerned with how we were going to afford a flight and hotel room in Los Angeles, but then I remembered that I had won a trip to Las Vegas from selling a house in a certain subdivision in the area and I already had a flight booked to Las Vegas for close to the same time. So I called the airline and got them to transfer my flight to Los Angeles for a couple of days earlier than what we had planned. I kept my return flight out of Las Vegas because my sister Teri was living near Las Vegas at the time and so she was going to come to the taping of the show and then I would ride with her back to Las Vegas which was only a three hour drive.

The day finally arrived and I boarded a plane, by myself, to Los Angeles, CA for an event of a lifetime. Ken stayed home with the girls as we couldn’t afford for all of us to go due to our finances, school and work schedules. The plan was for my Dad, his girlfriend Karin and my sister to meet me in Los Angeles the day of the show taping. I would have a day to spare in LA, so I decided to take a bus tour of the city since I had not been there since I was a child. This was a great tour that took us by the Hollywood sign, Venice Beach, The Hollywood Walk of Fame and so much more. Of course I made a friend on the tour who was also by herself, so we had dinner together. This was such a fun day and I was so excited for the next day.

I woke up early the next morning and ate breakfast at the hotel. After getting ready for the show, I packed my clothes that I would be wearing while playing the game. I also brought an extra set of clothes in case the show decided they didn’t like my outfit, as this was their recommendation. Wheel of Fortune sent a shuttle bus to my hotel and myself and several others got on. The bus took us to Culver City to the Sony Picture Studios where filming takes place. Filming of Wheel of Fortune is located next door to the Jeopardy game show filming, which was pretty cool. The Wheel of Fortune staff ushered all of us to a big room where they proceeded to go over the rules, then Vanna White came in to meet all of us, where she took the time to personally speak to each of us and welcome us to the show. She got up in front and told us how fortunate we were to be there. We were all stunned to learn how hard it was to actually become contestants. She explained that over six million people attempt to get an audition each year, but only about six thousand actually get an audition and only six hundred make it on the show each year. Once this was explained, I no longer felt the need to win, I felt I had already won just by getting on the show and I was determined to just have a good time.

Once Vanna left, they served us lunch and prepared us for filming. Each of us had to meet with their stylists to make sure our outfits would work and we each had our makeup done..whew it was already a long day and I haven’t even begun filming. Filming is done one week at a time, so their were 21 of us in total and we filmed in groups of three. I was in group three or four (I don’t remember).. they needed a contestant to help with the show promos for the week and they asked me if I could help them. So they had me stand by the wheel and spun it a few times, they they had me get in the car that contestants could win, they had me jump up and down and act like I had just won. Later I found out my family came in the studio and saw me doing this and they thought they missed me paying the game.. which was super funny at the time.

That day was such a blur and so much fun!! But don’t just read about my story, watch me play the game at the link below!! Did I win? You’ll have to watch to find out!!

She almost forgot she had the power to change herself, her surroundings and her kingdom. But when she remembered she could, it changed the course of her life forever.

Back in 1999 I decided I wanted to get my real estate license, so I began the process, including school. Once I had my license, Mr. Batte told me I could sell under his broker license. My first clients were friends from church, Tim and Beverly. They ended up buying a nice bi-level home in the east end of Richmond. I was super excited for my first commission check, I worked so hard for them and felt like I had truly found my passion in real estate. Mrs. Batte was angry at Mr. Batte because he was giving me a 75/25 split on the commission, which was very generous, but I had been with them going on seven years and I felt that was equitable since I did all of the work that both the realtor and broker would’ve done. But when Mrs. Batte handed me that first commission check, clearly angry, and said “I hope you appreciate this”, I knew right then and there it was not going to work having my license under their name. Within a month, I gave my notice with J. F. Batte and Sons and moved my license to Long and Foster.

Being self employed was one of the most freeing experiences I had ever felt. It gave me a confidence booster meeting new people who complimented me in so many ways. For the first time in my life I was being told I was smart, kind, beautiful, uplifting, inspirational, hard working and most of all helpful and caring. I had spent my whole life being told the opposite of those things by my mother, my husband and the church who constantly reminded me that I was nothing but a dirty sinner whose only saving grace was God. I truly believed there was nothing special or spectacular about me or my life and that my only purpose was to serve God, my husband and our church. But being around new people on a regular basis forced me to see things in other perspectives and it was eye opening and refreshing. For the first time, I felt I had a purpose, a fulfilling career and it was changing me, for the better.

It was around this same time that I started developing a close friendship with Kerri (I’ve changed her name for legal purposes) from the church. Kerri and her husband Mitch (changed his name for legal purposes) worked closely with the youth at the church and were very respected and revered as a Godly couple. I’m not sure why Kerri and I hit it off so well, only that we were both outgoing and had children. We actually didn’t have much in common, but yet we were almost always together. I mention this now, because this will become a vital part of my story later on. Kerri was not who she portrayed herself to be.

One of my other friends was Anne. She and her husband Rick had only been attending church for a few years. They were a beautiful couple with three children and we’re in their forties at this time. Anne and Rick had decided to hire me as their realtor to help them find a house as they had been living at her parents house after having moved back to the area. It was during the time of showing them houses that Anne and I became friends. It was also during this time that Anne began having headaches and after a period of several months she found out she had a brain tumor (glioblastoma). One of the worst kinds you could get. This was devastating news to she and her family. All we could do was watch her deteriorate and pray. Needless to say they halted the house buying process until she could have surgery and hopefully get better. I still stayed in touch with Anne and Rick during this difficult time and had high hopes she would heal.

I’m not sure if it was because my confidence level was high due to my job and meeting new people, but I began to really notice how different my marriage was and how not normal it was to have your husband be in control of all things. My nature was not to be “meek” or even “mild”, but I had suppressed who I was for so long I don’t think I even knew who I was at that point, but I knew I didn’t want my life to continue on as it had been.

Ken and I had always had a joint bank account because that is what the church teaches. The husband has control over all of the finances and the final say, even if the wife disagrees, on how money gets spent. By this time I was averaging $6,000-$12,000 a month in real estate commissions and I was tired. It was July of 2002 and we decided the family needed a little vacation, but we didn’t want to go to far away in case a client needed me since I had multiple contracts open at that time. So we went to Williamsburg, Va which was only an hour away from home. We had a great time visiting all different places, swimming, playing miniature golf, eating out every meal. I didn’t worry about money because I knew I had just brought a couple of big commission checks and had a couple more on the way. When we got home, after week of just pure enjoyment and not a care in the world, as I was walking in the door the phone was ringing, Ken gloated he would get it, but I was right there so I picked it up. To my complete utter shock it was our mortgage company, telling me we hadn’t paid our mortgage in three months. Now you need to remember, when I started selling real estate I gave up the duties of physically writing out the checks for our bills, telling Ken I no longer wanted the stress if money was tight, so Ken was in complete and total charge of our finances. I couldn’t understand how we could be behind though and when I questioned Ken he had no real answer for it. He couldn’t (or wouldn’t) account for why the balances in our accounts were so low. But what really confused me was how he allowed us to spend several thousand dollars on a vacation when he knew we were behind on our bills.

That was when I made a decision that went against what we had been taught at church and I got my own bank account. All of my commission checks would be deposited in my account and we would put bill money 50/50 in the joint account and I would pay bills. While Ken argued that this wasn’t biblical, I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to work my ass off only to lose everything I had worked so hard for. In the two years Ken had been paying bills, our credit score went from over 800 to about 500, and I had no idea. How could we be broke? Where did the money go? These are questions I’ve never received an answer for to this day. But it made me realize that I never wanted to be dependent on another human being for as long as I lived. That was an empowering moment for me that I will never forget.

My decision to separate my finances from Kens was a pivotal decision in our relationship. That one decision gave me the strength to make several more decisions in the months that followed.

Right on the heels of that decision, something amazing and unbelievable happened. The game show “Wheel of Fortune” called and I was going to be a contestant!!

Big decisions allow for big changes and I was nervous, excited and afraid.. trauma can be weird like that..

The year is 1999, we have been existing in our new home for about two years… not much has changed over these years.

My mother left her fourth husband for a younger man and she is once again showing her selfishness. We had a good ten years where I enjoyed being around her so much. I can’t tell her story, but from my perspective and what I do know is that she met a man online who was much younger than herself and she wasn’t happy in her current marriage, so she left him. One night during this time she “popped in” at my house while I had guests over for dinner. Keep in mind, she lived over 2 hours away so “being in the neighborhood” was not an option, it was an intentional unannounced drive to my house. As we were sitting at the dinner table with our guests, my mother proceeded to lift up her shirt, in front of everyone, to show me her new belly button ring. I was mortified and embarrassed for her and for me.

My mother went through another nasty and bitter divorce. Greg, Chrystin and Courtney’s “poppy” whom the girls adored and loved so much, decided he wanted nothing to do with my mother or any of her family.. including my girls. That hurt..

At the beginning of 1999 the news outlets began reporting on the computer glitches that may occur on January 1, 2000. Basically these glitches had to do with the way the Calendars were set up on computers and that the computers would default to 1900 and not the year 2000. This was supposedly going to cause major chaos and destruction at midnight.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Year_2000_problem

And..Ken was all in on this new propaganda and the conspiracy theories related to Y2K. We had many “discussions” (ie arguments because I refused to believe and fall for it.). I simply would laugh when he talked about how planes were going to fall from the sky, how all the electrical grids would fail and the whole world would be without electricity. We would not be able to find food and other necessities for months, even years. Ken started comparing Y2K to the end of the world, He was so convinced that we would be living in an apocalyptic society that he started hoarding food and buying non perishable items in bulk. Before I knew it our little attic space was filled up with 50 lb bags of rice, canned goods, beans, etc. He also took out almost our entire checking account and savings account in cash because of the fear of not having any money. I couldn’t believe that for a man so seemingly smart he could fall for this.

I, on the other hand, thought Y2K was being blown way out of proportion. In my mind I felt that sure we might have some glitches. Our computers might revert to the year 1900 rather than 2000. There might be some kinks to work out, but I never once felt like it was the end of the world as we know it. Inwardly I was excited for New Years Eve 1999 because when the clock struck midnight I was going to laugh at Ken and all his conspiracies, I couldn’t wait for him to be wrong.

Churches around the globe preached the doom and gloom of the end of the world, the rapture and Jesus second coming and how we should be prepared for Y2K, so they encouraged Ken’s behavior. They also believed that President Clinton would invoke his presidential powers to become a dictator. This is an actual excerpt from an article dating back to 1998.

“For example, the Christian Coalition, one of the nation’s largest conservative Christian groups, with nearly 2 million members, offers a paper on its Web site that predicts, “President Clinton will declare a state of emergency. He will invoke executive power beyond our wildest imagination. He will become our very first dictator. He will seize control over utilities and industry. He will federalize the National Guard. It will ration food, gasoline, etc. Your money will be declared illegal…”

Our church preached along these same lines. At the time I didn’t realize how invasive it was for a church to preach about politics and our church did this regularly saying things like “I’m not telling you who to vote for, but voting for the wrong candidate could be a sin and send you to hell”. They would then preach about who the right candidate was, always aligning with the republican candidate.. but I digress, let’s get back to Y2K.

Throughout the year Ken had been telling our girls (then 6 and 10) about his beliefs, but presented them as facts, about Y2K and what kind of catastrophes he believed were going to happen. I always had to reassure them that it was going to be okay, that it wasn’t going to be as bad as Ken was portraying it. Those girls were so confused and scared.

December 31st, 1999 finally arrived. Ken spent the whole day nervously watching the news, going over his list of preparations, checking our propane levels so we would have heat in the event the power went out. I spent the day doing damage control with the girls, arguing with and laughing at Ken and secretly nervous a little because “what if he’s right”? Although everything sane in me knew he wasn’t.

As the day wore on and it became dark, I kept myself busy with cooking, cleaning, taking care of the girls and anticipating just wanting the night to be over with so Ken would stop his incessant lecturing on what was going to happen. The girls finally fell a sleep on the couch, it was around 10 pm, so I carried them to their beds and kissed them goodnight.

Ken and I sat on the couch with the news on as he somberly waited for the clock to strike midnight. The fear on his face, as the hand on the clock slowly inched toward midnight, became increasingly evident and I wasn’t helping with the smirk I had on my face not listening when he told me to stop. Finally the countdown began, he was literally gripping the side of the couch .. 10, 9, 8…3,2,1. Happy New Year!

He waited, nothing happened. Not one thing noticeably different. Then he said “you wait, by morning we will hear of all the destruction this has caused. He was so sure this was the end of the world that he could not fathom that he was wrong. So by morning, still no destruction, no apocalypse no government takeover.. after a couple of weeks he stopped talking about it altogether because clearly God solved the problems, as if it were some kind of miracle. Ken wasn’t wrong, God just had a different plan and intervened. That was his theory and he stuck to it.

I have no idea how much money he spent that year in preparation for “this apocalypse”, but I do know I lost the last bit of respect for him, for his intellect and for his leadership because of that year. It truly made me realize that he had some serious mental issues, but more like a God complex that was severely impacting our happiness. I worried for our marriage, I worried for our children and their future. I worried that they would be like him, act like him and conspire like him as they got older. I knew some changes had to be made, that I had to become more independent, for them, for me, for my sanity. Clarity is an amazing feeling in the midst of trauma..

Around the time I let Ken move back into the house, I had gotten a new job as the office manager/bookkeeper for a small real estate firm whose owner was also an attorney. The company was called J.F. Batte & Sons and I worked for John and Francis Batte who were “old school” and insisted I call them Mr. & Mrs. Batte. This was not the first real estate firm I had worked for, but this was the first one that I really fell in love with real estate. We were a commercial property manager and we managed the office buildings that Mr. Batte owned. There were seven office buildings he personally owned and then another 6-7 that he jointly owned. My job as office manager was to collect rents, show office space to potential renters and coordinate cleaning and maintenance. On the bookkeeping side of my job, I had to record all entries, pay bills and make deposits. Mrs. Batte prepared payroll and paid the taxes. This was 1995 and I made a whopping $21K a year. Boy I thought I had hit the big time at this Job, but to be fair they were really good to me, flexible with the kids school schedule and they became parental figures and I loved them dearly.

Around the end of 1996 Ken and I decided that we had outgrown our first home, the three bedroom one bath ranch house we bought when a Chrystin was almost one. Working for a real estate firm allowed me to have access to all of the homes on the market. We looked at several houses on the market, made an offer in one, but it was rejected because we offered $40,000 less than asking price due the amount of work that needed to be done on the house. We then found a house on 3.5 acres with four bedrooms, 2 baths on a dead end road near the Mattaponi River. It only had about 1400 sq ft, but it also only cost $89,000. We put an offer in and got it. We were so excited to move into this house.

So in May of 1997 we packed up our little house and moved to a somewhat bigger house. Mind you, our closing had been delayed by 2 weeks, so we had to move into the new house on a Saturday and turn around on Monday to get on a plane to our pre scheduled west coast vacation where we were letting Chrystin spend the summer with my older sister Sheila and her husband Scott. The day we moved into the new house, Chrystin was exploring the yard and found a newborn kitten under our porch. Realizing it was Ferrell, I told her to leave it there as we were too busy to even go look at it and I figured it’s momma was nearby.

On Monday we flew to California to visit my dad, then after a couple of days we rented a mini-van and started our three day journey driving the coast from San Francisco to Seattle, WA, then inland to Kennewick, WA where my sister lived. The drive was absolutely stunning and I enjoyed showing the girls all the different beaches along the way. That two weeks went by so fast and it was so hard leaving Chrystin with my sister, but I knew this was an opportunity for her to spend time with her aunt, plus they were driving across the US on the way back to our house and Chrystin was going to be able to see places we probably would never take her.

Ken, Courtney and I flew home to a disaster of a new house. the weekend after we got back from our trip, we had some friends, Robert and Jackie from church, over who were helping us unpack and putting things in place for the new house. We decided to grill some chicken when three year old Courtney informed us that there was a kitten under the shed. We assumed it was the same kitten Chrystin saw on the day we moved in, but this time he was under the shed looking very dirty and hungry. I went over and lured him out with a piece of chicken. He was so tiny, all black and gold eyes. Ken was immediately adamant that this kitten was not allowed in the house and we weren’t keeping him! So when we went to bed that night, the kitten stayed outside.

The next morning when I went outside, the kitten was still there, but he looked sick and he had an area on his head that was pulsating with puss. It didn’t look good and I couldn’t let him suffer so I took him to the vet, $200 later, we had our first pet as a family. The vet said had I not taken him when I did, he would’ve died as he had a maggot that had burrowed into his head and was feeding on him. The vet said it was likely due to him being a Ferrell cat that was abandoned by his mother and he was not being cleaned properly.

When I got home, I informed Ken and Courtney that we were keeping the kitten and Courtney got to name him. This was around the same time that StarKist had revived their “sorry Charlie” commercials… so you guessed it Courtney named him “Sorry Charlie Williams” and we simply called him “Charlie”. Ken still would not let him in the house, so he became an outdoor cat, which suited Charlie just fine as he had the best of both worlds, being a spoiled act who was loved on and fed, but still ruled his own kingdom day and night…that is until he was about 4 months old and I found him one morning on the front porch with a pretty badly injured leg. Once again I took him to the vet and he determined Charlie was injured while in a fight with another animal. When I got home, Ken still didn’t want him in the house, so I made the shed his “bedroom” and every night we started putting him to bed when it got dark. Charlie loved his new space and it didn’t take long for him to come running to us every night as we called “here keekee, here keekee” which was a name we only called him when we were trying to get his attention.

A side note on our friends Robert and Jackie, turns out Jackie was a former nurse who was addicted to OxyContin and got caught writing false prescriptions and forging various doctors names on them. She lost her license to practice. So that same day we found Charlie, she also stole some of our prescriptions we had around the house and replaced them with vitamins.. crazy we didn’t even noticed until months later when Ken had a toothache and we didn’t have any left. Suffice it to say we were not friends with them for very much longer after that.

This was a good time in our lives, while we were still heavily involved with the church, we both had good jobs, raising our girls the best we knew how and maneuvering married life in a controlling loveless marriage. Little did I know that Ken was going to get increasingly more controlling and verbally abusive to the point that I would lose all sense of self. But for now, life was livable, monotonous and safe and it was easy to be content because being anything else was hard and triggering and I was determined to not be a single parent, my kids deserved better than that…or so I thought. Trauma is weird like that

Life with two children, work, church and friends became a monotonous routine. Monday-Friday we got up at 5:30-6 am, got ready for work and got the girls ready for their day. By 6:30 I left the house and took Chrystin to school and Courtney to daycare, arrived to work between 8-8:30. Worked till 5 pm, picked up both girls from daycare, got home by 6 pm, cooked dinner, cleaned up, bathed the girls got them ready for bed and collapsed in bed by 10-11 pm. Got up the next day and did it all over again. The exception were Wednesday’s when we went to church. I taught 10-11 year old girls at church in a program called AWANAS. AWANAS stood for “Approved Workmen Are Not Ashamed”. The purpose of AWANAS was to train a child into servitude for Christ (ie The Church). Every Wednesday the children of the church, beginning at age three and ending when you were in high school, would gather together in the church gymnasium for Awanas. Each age group is broken up first by boys and girls and secondly by age groups. Cubbies, Sparkies, Guards, Pals, just to name a few. The goal is to make it fun, while indoctrinating the young children into a life of serving the church.

We would start each Wednesday by meeting promptly at 7 pm in the church gymnasium. We would recite the various pledges and sing the various songs related to AWANAS. We would then have announcements and be led in Prayer. After this we would break out into our groups and go into our classroom where we we subject the kids to an hour or so of biblical teachings, sometimes we would incorporate some games into this. I remember one particular AWANA night it was my turn to teach the girls and I had come up with a play about how rock music was evil. I had gotten two young girls from our group to act out the play in front of the class. The premise of the play was two friends and one of them was listening to “Christian Rock”, the other friend heard her listening and proceeded to explain why Christian Rock music was bad because of the beat and how the beat can cause our minds to think unclean thoughts and make us act sinfully… this is how brainwashed I was at that time. It proceeded with teaching the girls, via Bible verses, why it was wrong. Funny thing is obviously there is no rock music mentioned in the Bible. This is just one example of how Bible versus are being manipulated and perverted to fit the conservative Christian agenda.

Some pictures of Awanas over the years

Sometimes I look back and feel so guilty for traumatizing these young girls with the indoctrinations of a biblical cult. But on the other hand, I also realize how brainwashed I was at that time and was only teaching what I was being taught.

Ken worked for a builder as a draftsman during the last few years of living in our first home. He decided he wanted to build a garage to house his car in. He bought a 1971 Mustang Convertible when we first came to Virginia from California and this car was more important than pretty much anything. We didn’t have the money to build a garage, so he would go to his company’s construction sites and get the material from the “trash” pile. He said his boss was okay with him doing this, but I highly doubted they were okay with it, but never said anything. So every night he would get material for this garage and every weekend he would build. He had the concrete poured which was a considerable amount of money that we did not have, he had to buy the doors and siding. But at the end of the day the one and a half car garage ended up costing about $5,000.00 and took almost a year to build. And the only thing that was allowed in this garage was Ken’s car. This was common throughout our marriage, if I wanted something, we didn’t have the money, but if he wanted something he spent the money even when I would say we don’t have the money. But whenever money was tight or we didn’t have enough for a bill, he somehow always figured out how to make it my fault.

I had one really good friend (other than Renee) during this time, her name was Tina. Tina and I bonded over raising our families, church and we both had husbands who were so far gone into the way of the church and the control it gave them over their wives and children. And go figure, her husband, Dave, was one of the very few people I knew who actually liked Ken. Dave and Ken both enjoyed “bottle hunting” which essentially meant they found a place in the woods that use to or still had an old home on site and they would map it out to where the outhouse and kitchen used to be and they would start digging to find old bottles. They actually found some pretty incredible stuff including 100 year old bottles that were valued fairly high.

One weekend, we decided to stay the night at their house (I think there was a hurricane or snow or something like that). We watched “feature films for families” movies, played games, made “Pottorn” (Courtney’s way of saying popcorn), and generally had a fun night. Courtney was probably two or so at this time. Tina and Dave did not have a spare bedroom in their house, so we made a pallet on the floor for ourselves and Chrystin and Courtney. At some point around two or three in the morning, I started hearing noises coming from the hall bathroom. At first I thought it was one of Tina’s kids or one of her parents who also lived with her, that is until I realized my human tornado (Courtney) was not in her pallet sleeping. Dread filled every part of me as I leapt out of bed and ran down the hallway and found Courtney rummaging through their belongings with a tube of toothpaste in her hand, eating the toothpaste and getting it all over their bathroom. About the same time, Tina came out of her bedroom, I was so mortified that my child had done this, however Tina was laughing, not just giggling, it was that full on gut rolling laugh. I apologized profusely, while Tina kept assuring me it was fine and we should all go back to sleep. After getting Courtney settled and just about to drift off myself, I heard Courtney say “I yont feel goo” and then she threw up. Once again I rushed to the bathroom, but this time with her in my arms as she proceeded to throw up all that good minty fresh toothpaste she had eaten. What a night, one of course I will never forget. The sad part was I’m not sure Ken even got up to help, but I do think I remember him scolding Courtney the next day about what happened.

Tina and I remain very close friends to this day and I am happy to say she got a divorce and out of the cult too. Her story is pretty bad too.. trauma is weird like that.

Some pics of how our family dressed for the church.. barf

Typical IFB attire for women..

My second pregnancy was very different from my first. I was sicker, bigger and carried lower which meant I had more stretching of the stomach and more stretch marks. This didn’t stop Ken from demanding sex at minimum three to four times a week. He had always been that way, telling me it was my duty to keep him satisfied, so I obliged, even when I did not feel well or want to.

Chrystin was four and so curious about the baby in my belly. She wanted to touch my belly, feel the baby move. She was so excited to have a little sister she could hold and play with. I was excited for her to have a sister and soon because I needed to get that baby out of me!

The night I went into labor, I was at the grocery store while Ken was at school. He had begun the process of getting his degree in engineering. While I was walking I felt a weird twinge in my abdomen, but it didn’t hurt, then about fifteen minutes later it happened again. By the time I got home, it had happened quite a few times, but I wasn’t convinced I was in labor because it didn’t hurt. With Chrystin I had back labor and that hurt from the first contraction. So I called Renee and we timed the contractions together and by the time Ken got home we determined that I was in labor. This time we went to the hospital at around 11 pm and once I got there they hooked me up to the fetal monitor and also agreed I was in labor. Because the labor was not as intense as last time both Ken and I were able to get some broken sleep, but at some point during the night, the labor stopped. I had not yet gotten an epidural because, to be honest it just didn’t hurt. I was two weeks away from my due date and I figured they would send me home, but instead they loaded me up with pitocin and said “we’re doing this”.

After a few hours the contractions started getting stronger, but the fetal monitor was showing that they were still pretty weak, so I grit my teeth and bared through them because I figured I was being wimpy. I did this for a couple of hours until the nurse came in and said “oops, the monitor came off.” As soon as she replaced the monitor, it showed the contractions were hard and fast and I immediately asked for my epidural. Looking back, I don’t know how anyone gives birth naturally..

Backstory: Six months prior Renee had given birth to her second child and I was able to be in the delivery room with her and videotape the birth of her daughter Nicole. It was a beautiful experience and I told Renee she could be in the delivery room when I was giving birth. I told my mother in advance that she would not be able to be in the delivery room because at that time they only allowed two people in the room, obviously Ken was one of them.

My mom drove down when she found out I was in labor, I reminded her that Renee would be in the delivery room this time, but from that point on she began using her guilt tactics on me to let her stay instead of Renee. She knew exactly what to say and how to say it and it put me in a very uncomfortable situation at an extremely vulnerable time. When the time came for me to push, the doctors made everyone leave, except the two who would be with me and my mom started crying saying, “I’m the grandmother, you need to let me stay” and it worked, I asked someone to tell Renee my mom would be staying with me. Looking back, I know she knew what I wanted long before I went into labor, but it wasn’t what she wanted and she made sure she got her way, even if it meant taking advantage of me. To this day, I feel terrible that I had someone tell Renee she could not stay. I know it hurt her.

Courtney Marie was born around 6:30 pm and she weighed a whopping 9lbs, 13 oz and was two weeks early. My doctor and the nurses were taking bets on how big she would be while I was pushing and I had to tell them to stop because I still had the shoulders to push out. It was determined that I probably had undiagnosed gestational diabetes and that is why she was so big and early.

I only took two weeks off from work because the company I worked for said they needed me back and I could bring Courtney to work with me. So I set up her bassinet and I worked. I did this until she was about six months old, then I had to find a babysitter for her.

After I had Courtney, my body wasn’t the same. Between the gestational diabetes and how big she was I now had a pendulous abdomen, and I was gaining weight. I also decided to get Norplant as my birth control method at this time. Norplant was a new drug that got implanted in your arm and you didn’t have to worry about birth control for five years. In my first year on this birth control, I put on 50 lbs of unexplained weight gain. I also stopped having a period altogether, which was very concerning to me. Ken was very harsh about my weight gain and began berating me about what I ate, how much I exercised, etc. He would say things like “why are you eating that?, you’ll just gain more weight” Or “if you exercised more you wouldn’t be so fat” but the worse one was “you need to lose weight so I’ll be more physically attracted to you”. When I would say he should be attracted to me because he loved me, he would reply “that’s not how Mens brains work, we have to be physically attracted to the person we love”. After a year and a half of Norplant two things happened. I found out this is what was causing my problems and I asked Ken to move out of the house. Chrystin was five and Courtney was eighteen months.

I continued to take the girls to church, I worked and it was hard. I was constantly being told by one church member, friend or pastor that divorce was wrong and we needed to work through this. We even went to Christian counseling where I was told “you didn’t look like that when you met him, he is a visual husband, you need to look good for him”. All the blame of our marital problems were my fault, not his. He could tell me I’m fat, I’m lazy, I’m not a good mother and I had to believe him because , well he’s the head of the household. Sure, they dumbed it down, Christianfied it, but at the end of the day it was my responsibility to please my husband. And I had been brainwashed just enough to believe it, so after eight weeks of living separately, I took him back. I felt sorry for Ken as he had just lost his job as well and the friend he was staying with needed the room back and I just didn’t know how to be on my own and being a single parent was hard. So I caved, and he moved back in the house with us. Oh he made promises for sure, he promised he would not be so critical to me and about me, that he would be more loving and considerate. He would help out more around the house and with the girls. He would… blah blah blah blah blah.. and I believed him, because I wanted to believe him, because I didn’t know anything else.. Trauma is weird like that.

In January of 2003, I got pregnant again. This time it was planned as we wanted to give Chrystin a brother or sister so she wouldn’t be an only child. This pregnancy was difficult almost from day one. I had horrible morning sickness and all around just felt terrible. At around the same time, Pam and Kevin (the babysitter and my boss) had decided they were moving to Georgia so I would need to find a new babysitter. Ken and I had manage to pay off all of our debts and after careful consideration we decided that if I babysat other children during the day, we could afford for me to stay at home, so I quit my job and advertised daycare in the newspaper.

The first children I babysat were a brother and sister, Jonathan and Jessica, from our church. We didn’t know their parents well but they seemed nice enough. Jonathan was about two and Jessica was not quite one. Chrystin was three at this time and seemed to enjoy having the other children around. One thing I realized early on was that babysitting other peoples children regularly was hard. While I loved my daughter very much, I found out that no matter how much you try, you do not love other peoples children the same as yours. I was not a very patient person to begin with and having children all day tested my patience continuously. Simple things that would not bother me when Chrystin did them, infuriated me when the other children did them. Because I did not have a good example of a parent, I found parenting challenging, so having other people children certainly did not make me a better parent, or person for that matter. To make matters worse, as I mentioned, my pregnancy was extremely hard. I was so sick all the time. One of the things I noticed with Jonathan and Jessica was that they seemed to be withdrawn. Even at their young ages, they were timid and fearful. I knew their dad , also named Ken, was very similar to my Ken. Meaning he expected his family to obey him and if they didn’t there were consequences. After about a month of babysitting Jonathan and Jessica, I started noticing bruises on them, to which their mother told me they were clumsy. They also seemed to always be hungry, to the point that when we were done with lunch, Jonathan would scour the kitchen floor for any food that may have been dropped, Jessica followed suit. After about another month, their mom Michelle was hospitalized, then she took the kids and left her husband. It seems he was extremely physically abusive to all of them, of course all in the name of scripture, and had beat Michelle so badly that she was hospitalized. I was so glad she was able to leave him. But that also meant I had to find more kids to babysit. I did find other children, but didn’t really keep them longer than a month or two at a time. This was partly due to my finding a reason why they weren’t a good fit or their parents deciding my pregnancy was getting in the way with watching their children. I agreed with that wholeheartedly.

When I was about three months pregnant, the kids I babysat were napping, so I decided to take a nap since I still had morning sickness and felt terrible. Midway through the nap our phone rang and I let the answering machine pick up. I was shocked to hear the voice on the other end, it was Mike, Ken’s navy friend who I dated for awhile and who was with Ken when my twin sister and I first met them in Alameda, CA. I jumped out of bed and picked up the phone saying “Mike, hi how are you? This is Shari”. His first words to me were “man, you guys got married?”. We chatted for a few minutes catching up, it turned out Mike was married and had a child. I got his phone number and Ken called him back later in the evening. Mike and his wife Lori only lived about three hours away in North Carolina so the following weekend they drove to Richmond and we met up with them. After the first couple of hours of catching up and getting reacquainted, the real reason for Mike reaching out came to light. He and his wife had gotten involved in Amway and were recruiting us to “join their team”. Ken was always talking a big talk about how he was going to get rich quick, but this was the first time he had ever considered acting on it. I told Ken that I was not interested in a multi level marketing program, that we had just gotten out of debt and I was able to stay home and only babysit a couple of children each week. All of that to no avail, Ken made all of the decisions for our family and at the end of the day, I had no say in this. So Ken put the initial investment on our credit card, which had been paid off for over a year. We made multiple trips to North Carolina to meet a charismatic man named Aaron who was Mike and Lori’s team leader. Aaron had a way of drawing you in and getting you to spend money you didn’t have, and that is exactly what Ken did. Aaron had a large group under him selling Amway and he held biweekly meetings, on a week night, in our area about an hour away from where we lived. These meetings would go on for hours usually well after midnight at a local pizza restaurant, we would always go and we would always drive home afterwards.

I was now close to five months pregnant and it was May 1993. Ken had bought a 1971 mustang convertible when we first got to Virginia and this was the vehicle we drove to these meetings. One particular night after the meeting, it was probably 60 degrees outside and Ken decided he wanted to ride with the top down on the convertible. I asked him to please not have the top down as I was cold, but he told me “no he wanted it down” and so we began to argue. I crawled in the back seat of the car and laid down hoping the wind would just pass over me. Ken was yelling at me looking back and forth from the front of the car to me in the back of the car and apparently was swerving as he drove. Now remember, we did not drink alcohol at that time because it was forbidden, but Ken ended up being pulled over on suspicion of drunk driving. I laughed and laughed as the cop made him go through the drill of walking in a straight line and touching his nose with his fingertips. Ultimately it was determined he had not been drinking, but I thought it served him right for being a selfish uncaring human being for making me ride in the car with the top down when I was cold. So when he got back in the car, I asked if he could now please put the top back up… and he did. This still makes me laugh..

By the time Ken realized Amway was a bad idea, he had gotten us into over ten thousand dollars of debt and I had to go back to work. I was once again forced to have job interviews while pregnant. I was fortunate and found a job with a security company as their office manager. We were able to get Chrystin into the Church’s K-4 program, Even though she still had two months before she turned four, but the way her birthday fell she only missed the deadline by a couple of weeks, so they made an exception.

So at six months pregnant, I started a new job, Chrystin started her journey at the conservative Christian school run by the church we attended and Ken denied that all of this was due to his poor decision making and desire to “get rich quick”. I was starting to realize that I didn’t like Ken very much and I was getting tired of feeling like I had no say in our little growing family. I was gaining independence little by little and I wanted my voice to be heard. Those last few months were a short blip in our lives, but had a huge impact on how I thought about Ken’s decision making.. I was not perfect, but I did feel we could do better and be better..I just didn’t know how to convey that to Ken. Or I should say I was afraid to convey that to Ken, I was afraid of the arguing my voice would cause, my opinions would cause and even my facts would cause. I didn’t like arguing, but it seemed that was a huge part of my marriage, a part I did not want, but didn’t know how to stop it.. trauma is weird like that.

Our lives went back to a new normal as young parents. We had bought a small house, Chrystin had turned one and we were more involved in church than ever, but we were still not a happy couple. To anyone who barely knew us, we appeared to be happy, but to those who knew us well, knew our relationship was stressed.

Ken was very controlling and it was now to the point that he told me what to do, when to do it, how to do it. What to wear, what music I could listen to, what TV I could watch and he did all of this while manipulating scripture making it seem if I did anything differently, then I was sinning.

You are probably thinking to yourself, “why would she put up with that?” It’s actually quite simple: 1). I was sixteen when I met Ken and he was twenty-one, so it was easy for him to “mold” and “shape” me into what he wanted me to be; 2) I never had a good example of what a stable, loving relationship looked like, so I no idea how ours should be. I had always seen arguing in my parents relationships, so this was normal for me; 3) I really did want to do what what right. I wanted to be a good mother, a good Christian and a good wife. Everything Ken was telling me was also being taught in the pulpit and so I believed Ken; And 4) I had no self confidence anymore, it had been taken away from me by the gradual picking me apart, piece by piece by Ken. It was easier to just live with him then think of not living with him.

One night, Ken was in school and Chrystin was asleep, I got bored and decided to watch some TV. We only had the local channels since cable was expensive and a sin. I ran across the “movie of the week” on TV and it seemed innocent enough, although to be truthful I don’t remember now what it was about. I was about halfway through the movie and Ken got home, so I quickly turned off the TV. He must’ve seen the flicker of lights from the TV when he pulled up, so he immediately asked me what I was watching, but before I could answer he turned the TV back on and saw the movie. He started yelling that it was a sin to watch this garbage and asking how I could even want to do that as a Christian. He pointed out that “we are of this world, but not part of this world”, that we are to be good examples to people of what a Godly person should look like and that we need to be “set apart” from non Christians. When I protested that I didn’t see anything wrong with watching that movie, he pulled out the Bible and read scripture after scripture to me, trying to get me to admit that I had sinned and I was wrong.

This went on for a couple of hours, and at about midnight I reminded him that we both had to work in the morning. He basically said he didn’t care, that “teaching me”, as his wife was more important than sleep, so he continued. I was so frustrated, crying and even locked myself in the bathroom trying to get away from him, but to no avail. He just stood at the door of the bathroom and continued quoting scripture, continued to call me a sinner telling me I needed to repent from my old ways and become new. In my frustration, I had a child like tantrum in the bathroom and sat on the floor kicking a hole in the wall. Around 3 am, I gave in and told him what he wanted to hear so I could go to bed. And that really was all it took. He hugged me and said “see, that wasn’t so hard”. And that’s when I knew, it was easier to give in than to argue.

I learned that to be compliant with Ken, all I had to do is make him feel like he won, in everything. As long as he felt like I agreed with him, our house would be calm and serene, but the minute he thought I was out of line meant another long night of arguing. This was true no matter where we were. If I said something out of line in public, he would correct me right then and there, if I said something out of line at church, he would smile, nod as if to say “we will discuss this at home”. People and family close to us, heard us argue many many times, but people in the church did not. It was very important to Ken that certain people held high views of our family.

I hated being at home, so I found solace in going to the mall to window shop, making the hour long drive to go to Renee’s house (she is the only one I truly opened up to about how bad my marriage was), going to Northern Va to visit my mom and sisters or going to a church friends house. Going going going, that kept me sane.

It didn’t matter what I did, I was never going to be what Ken wanted me to be. I was fat (I had gained weight after my pregnancy) I was lazy, I was not a good wife, I was not as good as a mother as I should be, I was not godly.. the list goes on and on. After awhile of being told all of these things, you begin to believe them…so it becomes easy to just accept them as fact and try your best to keep peace in your house. This was our life, this was our secret but I didn’t know any better, so this was just normal to me.

When Chrystin was around three, we decided she needed a sibling, and so I became pregnant for the second time. Funny thing was Renee was also pregnant, again. I honestly don’t know if I would’ve survived these years without Renee, she was the only person, at that time, that I could just be myself without judgement, without criticism and with complete love and friendship.

And so the next chapter of our lives was about to begin, all I could think about and pray about were that things would get better and that Ken would love me for who I am and not for who he wants me to be.. my judgement my decisions and my beliefs had all been clouded with the childhood trauma I endured, I honestly could not think clearly or for myself during those times.. trauma is weird like that.

I was born a princess and sold into slavery, or at least that’s what I’ve been saying for the majority of my adult life. Having a baby made that seem even more so true. I had never worked so hard until I had Chrystin, but she was worth every sleepless night, every back pain of labor, every diaper change and every bit of thrown up formula. Even though I initially had so much guilt for the way she was conceived, I knew I’d do it all over again for her.

My relationship with Ken changed quite a bit after having a baby, meaning he now had more things to criticize me for. I was afraid he would not step up to fatherhood because of his selfish tendencies and to some extent my fears were realized. However I had one saving grace, the day after I got out of the hospital, a friend from church Donna and her husband Kevin came to visit. They too had recently had a baby so they were all too happy to give us tips. Donna was a stay at home mom, but they explained they they took turns getting up with the baby for the early morning feedings so they both could get sleep. I mentioned that would be nice if Ken would do that too since I had to go back to work in six weeks and shockingly Ken agreed to that. And so began the journey of being parents.

Five days after having Chrystin, I got the call that Renee was in labor. Coincidentally this was the same day the big earthquake in San Francisco hit. October 17, 1989. Renee had a little boy and named him Joshua. Our babies were just five days apart and we knew they would be lifelong friends.

Chrystin went to her first church service at just two weeks old. We walked in just a few minutes after the service started and when the Pastor saw us, he stopped mid sentence and asked us to come up front so he could introduce Chrystin to the congregation. He held her up for everyone to see, then he proceeded to tell everyone how we had become like his own children and how God had big plans for us. (This will become important later in the story). Then he kissed my child in the forehead and we went and sat in our seats.

Chrystin was an easy going baby. She was happy and she slept well most nights. When she was five weeks old, I took her on her first plane ride back to California. The reason for this visit was two fold, first I wanted my dad to meet her. This was his first Grandchild and he instantly fell in love with her. Secondly my great grandfather Ollie Farmer, Grammy’s dad, was in the hospital. He was around 90 at this time. Throughout my entire pregnancy he talked about being ready to leave this world, but he was hanging on so he could meet his fifth living generation. So in November of 1989, he got to meet Chrystin. we took pictures of him, Grammy, my mom, myself and Chrystin all together in that hospital room. It was an amazing and somewhat surreal experience. Just a few weeks later my great grandfather would die.

While Chrystin and I were in California I got a phone call from Ken. The grandmother of the couple worker who was going to babysit Chrystin fell and broke a hip and would not be able to babysit after all. I was scheduled to go back to work on that Monday. I had zero time to find a babysitter. This co-worker took it upon herself to find a replacement sitter for me, which in theory was kind, but terrible having to take my child to someone I had never met. So I got on my flight home with complete dread about going back to work. This particular flight home was terrifying towards the end. When people ask “what’s the worse flight you’ve been on?”, this is the one I talk about. The first four or so hours of the flight was fine, I was able to hold Chrystin in my lap and as a five week old child, she did great. She slept a lot of the way, cooed a lot, but was never fussy the entire flight. The last hour of the flight we hit severe turbulence and the rest of the plane ride was very bumpy. Just before we landed as we started to descend it got even worse. All of the sudden the plane dipped pretty far down and flipped to its side, this had every single person on the plane screaming, crying and praying. I held on to Chrystin for dear life praying we would make it down, which of course we did and I burst into tears in gratitude we were alive.

The following Monday I had to go back to work, I had to leave Chrystin with a woman I had never met, I had to trust my co-workers judgement, I had no choice. So I drive to this woman’s house and left my child with four or five other snotty little children (this is how it felt) in a house that reeked of cigarette smoke and wet dog. This was one of the hardest moments of my life. Everything in me said “run”, take Chrystin home and stay, but I didn’t, I left her there and immediately started looking for another place to take her. It took me about a month to find another place, this time it was a reputable daycare with multiple caretakers and it cost almost as much as I made per year to have there, so it made no sense at all, but Ken said I had to work.

Ken and I argued more and more because I wanted to be home with Chrystin, but he looked at it like I just wanted to be lazy and not work, plus he wanted to go back to school and we needed my income. Because of the desire to be home and the additional arguing, this took a toll on my productivity at work and at home. The church was also pressuring me to get more involved, so I joined the choir, worked in the nursery and helped with Sunday School. To say I was busy was an understatement. Then when Chrystin was just nine months old and our lease was up at the apartment we decided it was time to buy a house. The funny thing was, Renee and Pete decided they were going to buy a house at the same time, it seemed Renee and I were always doing things the same and together. So Ken and I found a house on the far eastern side of Richmond near the airport. It was a small 3 bedroom one bath brick ranch with easy access to the church. Renee and Pete found a newly built 3 bedroom, 2 bath home in the southwestern part of Richmond. We went from being neighbors, to being fifteen minutes apart at the apartment to being one hour drive apart. Ken was happier about that as he was starting to make comments about my friendship with Renee, he thought I should have more friends from church. I was afraid for our friendship and knew I’d miss the spontaneous plans and visits.

At around the same time as our move, Chrystin started to say her first words which were thank you and Bible. Her doctor didn’t believe me, so I had him give her something to which she said to him “tane ooo” and she also sung the B I B L E song which sounded like this for her nine month old mouth “yi B ya B ya E ya E ya E ya E …Biyull”. It was so cute. A few months after the move, my productivity at my job severely went down and I missed a lot of work when Chrystin needed me and the. It happened again, I was let go from my job. I had high hopes that I would just stay home from work, but once again that did not happen. A friend from church, Pam and her husband Kevin made a double offer. He would hire me at his company and Pam would babysit Chrystin. The great thing about this offer was I was making more money and Pam was charging less than the daycare plus I was able to work four ten hour days rather than five days a week.

Everything was coming together in our lives and we were as happy as we could be given our tumultuous relationship. Chrystin nearing her first birthday, buying a house, new jobs, friends, church…and yet I was still missing something in my life, but I didn’t know what that was. Trauma is weird like that.

Close to the end of our first year of marriage, I was in an all time slump, I just wanted one person to love me for who I was, the way I was without asking for change. I wanted unconditional love. The church encouraged young newly married couples to start families right away, but Ken didn’t want children yet, so we were using protection whenever we had sex. I could not be on birth control due to the debilitating migraines I would get, so we used a spermicide that was my responsibility to insert prior to sex. At some point, I decided I wanted a baby so I would have someone who would love me unconditionally, which was very selfish of me, but that was just the state of mind I was in. So one night, just prior to sex, I pretended to use the spermicide, but I really didn’t, and Ken was none the wiser. I only did this one time, because I felt so guilty afterwards and the deception was too much for me.

For our one year anniversary, Ken and I had managed to save enough money to go back to the Poconos and spend a few days there again. On the way home driving, I was craving cashews, but it was late and we couldn’t find a store that had them. I didn’t think much of the craving. Then the next weekend the company Ken worked for held a party and so we went and they had cashews, I casually mentioned to his bosses wife I had been craving them recently and she jokingly said “uhoh, maybe you are pregnant”. This got me wondering and realizing I was late for my period, so another week passed and I went to the doctor for a pregnancy test. The doctor came in and said “congratulations, you are pregnant, and the guilt flooded back over me again for what I had done to deceive Ken. How was I going to tell him? I got home, crying and just blurted out “it’s positive” a look of confusion came across his face and I then had to explain that I was pregnant. I did not tell him about the deceit. After the initial shock, I was elated to be having a baby, Ken was not. The church was excited.. imagine I’m a twenty year girl who made very little money, living in a small house with a small car and every single person congratulating me on being pregnant, telling us “God had a plan for our lives” or “God has blessed you with a child” or “Glad you didn’t wait until you could afford a child, God will provide”. Everything in me wanted to scream “God had nothing to do with this, I had a plan, I blessed us with a child and I will provide”. I knew what I did was wrong and I alone held all the guilt for it.

Renee and Pete still lived next door and we were still the best of friends. Renee had told me she got saved as a child, so the church felt this friendship was okay, but the still kept telling me to get she and Pete to come to our church. When I told Renee I was pregnant, she smiled and said “me too”. It turned out because she had had a prior miscarriage she didn’t want to tell me about being pregnant again until she was certain it was going to be okay. Renee and I were due just a few days apart and we would be able to enjoy our pregnancies together. This made the journey that much more special between us.

At the time I was working as a secretary for a company that was a thirty minute drive from our house. I had just had a good review and they seemed to be happy with my production there. About two weeks after I told them I was pregnant, they called me into their office and fired me. I was so distraught that when they had me sign the paperwork, I didn’t realize that one of the documents I signed was me stating I was resigning. This company took advantage of my vulnerability and illegally terminated me under the guise of resignation. I was young and dumb and did not realize I could have sued them for this act. I couldn’t even apply for unemployment and I was pregnant having to look for a new job. This was a very scary time for me. However I did what I usually do and overcame. I was able to find a job with a mortgage investment company as their secretary. It was fortunate the the girl whose place I took had been promoted and she was also pregnant. This was going to be a perfect fit.

We both began to be excited about having a baby, we decided to not find out if it was a boy or girl, although Ken had openly hoped for a boy. Picking out names was tough because Ken wanted to name a girl Christine, but I told him there was no way I was naming our child after the girl he had stalked in Arizona before he met me. I couldn’t believe he would even suggest that. I liked the name Emily, but in the end we compromised on Kristen. I didn’t like the traditional spelling of Kristen, so Ken suggested Christen, but I didn’t want Christ in my child’s name, so we settled on Chrystin Michelle and if it was a boy we were going to name him Justin Michael.

We had no idea how we would afford childcare, diapers, food, etc. Ken had already told me that I needed to continue to work, because he wanted to go to college and I would need to bring in income so he could do that. So staying home was not an option. So I began looking for childcare in order that we would be prepared when the baby came. Turned out, one of my new coworker’s grandmother was looking to make a little extra money on the side, so I went and met her. She was so sweet and this seemed to be the perfect option, plus she only want $50 a week to watch the baby once the baby was born.

At some point, I can’t remember exactly why, but Ken and I decided we wanted to move to a slightly bigger house that had three bedrooms instead of just two. We found a house a few miles away and decided to move there. The rent was about $100 more a month than what we were paying and it seemed to be a good deal. I was super sad to be leaving Renee, but knew by this time it would not affect our friendship. So at seven months pregnant, we moved to this new house. I was so exhausted from the move and so glad it was done. The weekend after we moved, we decided to go to Arlington to visit my mom and Greg for the weekend, when we came back to the new house. There were ants crawling on the walls and floors, they seemed to be everywhere. We had not left any food out and could not figure out the source, until I saw a roll of Certs on the bedroom dresser that they were all headed towards. This completely freaked me out and I called the landlord and told him we could not stay there. All I could envision was a newborn child covered in ants. Within two weeks, we were moving again. This time to an apartment townhouse with two bedrooms, one and half baths.

The last month of our pregnancies, Renee and I were exhausted. I had had two baby showers and then drove to West Virginia to go to Renee’s baby shower. Now I only had a month to get the baby’s room together. Renee helped me get it together even though she was just as pregnant as I was. I couldn’t paint the room because it was a rental, but we used neutral accents since we did not know if it was a boy or girl. We bought a crib, changing table and dresser along with a rocking chair for nighttime feedings. The colors were yellows and mint greens with touches of blue and pinks. It was so pretty and I was so tired of being pregnant.

Wednesday night, October 11th I was not feeling well and told Ken I wasn’t going to church. He did his usual condemning for missing a service but in the end I really didn’t feel well and told him emphatically that I was staying home, so he went without me. While he was gone, the contractions started. At first I thought they were Braxton Hicks contractions, but these were stronger than normal and I had a strange backache that could not be relieved. When Ken got home, I told him that I thought I was in labor, Ken went to bed and told me to wake him up when it was time to go to the hospital. So all night long I was in pain, this backache was terrible. I even called my doctor and he suggested I take a warm bath, so I tried that. My doctor also said it sounded like “back labor” which meant the baby was facing up in the birth canal rather than down. This also meant I got no relief between contractions. At around 6 am my contractions were about six minutes apart, my doctor said to head to the hospital at five minutes apart, so I woke Ken up and told him it was time to go to the hospital. Ken, with no urgency at all, got up, took a shower, came downstairs and made himself a full breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast. When I complained that we needed to go he sternly said that he didn’t know when he was going to be able to eat so he was making breakfast and we would leave when he was done. We finally left to go to the hospital when my contractions were three minutes apart.

Once at the hospital, it was confirmed that I was three minutes apart, however I had only dilated to about 5 centimeters, so I still had a ways to go. After receiving my epidural (which didn’t help because of the back labor, I still felt an overwhelming amount of pressure in my back), Ken decided he wanted to sleep. And so he did for most of the time while I was in labor, unless he was walking to the cafeteria to get food. My mother arrived from Arlington, VA as she had asked if she could be in the delivery room and I agreed. My mom was a great help. My sister Sheila was also there, but could not stay for the actual delivery.

At around 3:30 pm, I was finally dilated to 10 centimeters and ready to push. Ken became involved then and he and my mom held my legs while I pushed for about an hour. At around 4:30 pm our daughter Chrystin Michelle came into the world. 8 lbs 7 oz and 21” long. She was the most beautiful human I had ever laid eyes on.. I finally had someone to love me..

Our first year of marriage was filled with constant criticism of my not being the right type of Christian wife that I should be, I wasn’t trying hard enough to be a Godly woman. I was still interested watching TV, I hadn’t fully given up music I liked, and I wasn’t obedient enough, I talked back and didn’t submit like I should. Ken and I argued constantly. He put so many conditions on our love and who I should be so that he could love me the way God intended, this of course made me feel the opposite of what I thought I would feel as his wife, very unloved. So, in that first year we decided we needed some counseling for our marriage, of course it had to be Christian counseling and the pastor recommended a deacon of the church. In those first sessions of counseling as we discussed our issues, I was told I needed to read the Bible more, be meek and mild and calm my personality. Pray that God would help me be more of the type of wife that Ken needed. Submit in all things. I never fully understood the whole submission deal, women were told that the husband had the final say in all things of the marriage. If I worked and Ken worked, he could tell me what I could do with the money I made, but he could do whatever he wanted with the money he made. If I didn’t feel like having sex one night, I should do it anyway, so I was fulfilling his needs. I don’t recall in those counseling sessions that they ever told Ken he needed to change anything about who he was or how he treated me. I felt invisible to the church, to myself and most of all to Ken. This church nurtured the egotistical, narcissistic, misogynistic male and devalued women and children, only I didn’t know this in the beginning, I truly thought I was doing something wrong.

We did make some friends with the church, specifically Ken S. and Lillian who were not yet married, but both went to the local IFB college to become a preacher and Christian school teacher. I remember Ken S. Liked to fish and so did my Ken, so one day we rented a Jon boat and went to the Chickahominy River and fished. It was a very hot day, so I wore my bikini top under my shirt, at some point Ken S. made an excuse that he had forgotten that he made other plans and had to leave, and so we took him back to the dock. I now know that my “nakedness” (only wearing a bikini top) made him uncomfortable, and he did not want to be tempted with unclean thoughts. Once Ken S. left, Ken and I went back to fishing on the boat, then as Ken always did he requested sex, on the boat, in the middle of the Chickahominy River, this wasn’t the first time he requested sex that was risky, we had sex in the middle of the woods and I once gave him a blow job in the back seat of a car, at night, while his sister sat next to us. I agreed to sex on the boat because, to be honest, if I didn’t, he would start an argument with me. (Note: as I was recalling this particular memory, I realized this actually happened before Ken and I got married, we weren’t always celibate before our wedding)

We eventually became part of a group of church friends who were our age, Chris and Beth, Jay and Sharon, Scott and Christy and their brother Johnny. We all often hung out together, including Ken S. and Lillian, after church, going to lunch, hanging out at church activities and even going camping together at Douthat State Park in Covington Va. The church expected you to attend another IFB church even when you are out of town on Sundays, so when we went camping, we would attend a small local church on Sundays. We enjoyed these friends but looking back I now know that they would not have been our friends if we were not “saved” because the church highly discouraged you from spending time with the unsaved, you might be tempted and “backslide” into a life of sin. This often meant disengaging with family and friends. However, I was not willing to give up my friendship with Renee and eventually it became acceptable.

Renee was my solace. When I needed to get away from it all, I would go to her house. We would go to the mall and just walk around and “window shop.” We would people watch, laugh a lot. Renee had recently gone through some trauma with she and Pete, that I won’t discuss, but I was there as her friend, a shoulder to cry on, to lean on and to dream with. She was there for me to vent about Ken, and she would always tell me that Ken wasn’t a normal husband and that was not what marriage was about, but I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t make enough money to leave and besides that, divorce was a sin. I was completely stuck in this marriage, and I knew it.

During this time my mother ended up moving to the Washington DC area in Arlington VA with Greg, the navy master chief that she was dating while I still lived in California. They ended up getting married, which made him her fourth husband. At the time I was excited to have her nearby, it seemed she had finely calmed down and found the right man for her. I was happy for her and looking forward to building a relationship with her. At some point after she moved here, my sister Teri had moved to Virginia and then my sister Sheila had followed shortly thereafter. Teri had gotten a job in Washington DC as a secretary, and she was able to hobnob with the politicians. Sheila had decided to go to nursing school and enrolled in George Mason University. I was a little jealous that they were both doing something with their lives while I was stuck in Richmond with Ken. I would go visit as often as I was allowed and my mother was so pleasant to be around, plus having my sisters nearby was a bonus. I realized that neither my mother nor my sisters liked Ken, so I tried to visit without him, but he would almost always insist on coming with me.

I started feeling alienated and lonely and still very unloved. So, I did the unthinkable, I purposely got pregnant, without Ken’s consent, so that I could have one person in my life who would love me unconditionally. Trauma is weird like that.

My friendship with Renee continued to blossom and grow, so much so that when Pete asked Renee to marry him, she asked me to be the maid of honor. We were now planning weddings together and she was going to be my matron of honor. Renee was extremely talented. She had made her own wedding dress, flower bouquets and all her wedding decorations, plus she prepared the food and made her own wedding cake. I was not that talented, so I found an inexpensive gown that had been marked half off for $200 that I had to make payments on, it also needed some minor alterations as I am short and heavy chested. Renee made all of my bridal party flower bouquets for me and table accessories. This time of planning weddings together made us grow that much closer.

A couple of weeks before their wedding Renee went home to Morgantown to make all of the final arrangements for her wedding while Pete stayed behind and worked. Then a few days before the wedding, we drove up with Pete to West Virginia. Contrary to all of the jokes about West Virginia, it is one of the most beautiful states in the US and Pete was nice enough to stop a few times along the route so we could take pictures of some of the scenery. If you’ve never been, you should go.

On August 30th Pete and Renee were married in a small chapel in Morgantown, WV. Pete, always the prankster, had written “Help Me” on the bottom of his shoes, so when they knelt to pray, all of the guests busted out laughing. This was the first time I had met any of Pete and Renee’s family. Pete’s mother, Annie was a small full blooded Italian woman with a fiery spirit and his father Louis was full blooded Greek. Pete’s best man was his brother Bobby. Bobby was probably one of the most beautiful men I had ever seen. He had dark hair and eyes, a contagious smile and was genuinely a nice person. This meant that Bobby and I would walk down the aisle together behind the bride and groom once the vows were done. Renee had asked Ken to take pictures at their wedding as he had a nice camera that he had bought while he was in the Navy. For the most part, Ken did a good job of this, but he refused to take a picture of me and Bobby coming down the aisle at the end of the ceremony. He was jealous and did not want a picture of the Bobby and I together. This decision robbed Pete and Renee of a picture of the best man and maid of honor. This was an immature and selfish decision on Ken’s part. What Ken didn’t know was that Bobby had been flirty with me from day one of meeting, even mouthing “why him? Stay here with me” jokingly as we were leaving. Boy that sure was tempting to take him up on his offer.

For the next six months we went to church faithfully and planned a wedding. Renee was a huge help with the planning and we had so much fun with the picking out bridesmaid dresses, which I chose a floor length mauve colored dress and accented the color with Grey tuxes for the men. We had hired a friend of Ken’s brother to do the catering and as per the church there was no DJ, dancing or secular music at the reception, so I guess that saved us a ton of money. The week of our wedding, which was February 6th, my mother and Grammy came to Virginia to help with last minute items. When they realized I didn’t have any flowers, they bought two big bouquets of flowers to go up on the church alter. My dad came the day before the wedding to walk me down the aisle and my sister Sheila and Teri were bridesmaids along with Ken’s sister-in-law Lori. The big day arrived and I woke up before anyone else and went to breakfast by myself. I was having serious doubts whether this was the right thing to do, so I called Renee and she told me it wasn’t too late to back out of the wedding. In the end, I decided to go through with it because I did not want to let anyone down and so many people spent so much money just to be at the wedding.

We said our I Do’s with only a few minor hiccups, such as the videographer moving the flowers out of site and then cutting the video in the middle of the song being sung by a co-worker so she could move to another area to get a better angle. The reception was boring since it was only Christian music being played and the caterers we used only bought food from a big box store and warmed it up. But all in all it was a pretty good day and was great to have all of my family together.

Ken and I honeymooned in The Poconos in Pennsylvania. We had a chalet and it being a honeymoon resort it had a heart shaped tub and all meals were included. We skied everyday and got to experience fresh 20” of powder while we skied. We even accidentally went down an expert slope (I slid on my butt the whole way down). On our way home as we were driving, we had decided that I would drive halfway home and Ken would drive halfway home, somehow only about an hour into Ken’s shift of driving, after I had already driven my half, he decided he didn’t want to drive anymore and stopped the car on the shoulder of the road and told me I had to drive the rest of the way home. I was asleep in the back of the car when he did this so I told him no, I wasn’t going to drive anymore. He started yelling at me, I remember I kicked the back of his seat because I was so angry and frustrated at him. A cop pulled up behind us to ask if everything was okay, Ken told him we were just switching drivers, so in order to not create a scene in front of the police officer, I moved to the drivers seat and drove the rest of the way home. It was at that moment I realized I had made a mistake, but I didn’t think there was anything I could do about it, so I just went through day by day. Trauma is weird like that.

My last post I said I was joining a cult, which some of the readers who are familiar with the IFB may disagree with. Let me explain. Wikipedia describes the characteristics of a cult as follows: Specific factors in cult behaviour are said to include manipulative and authoritarian mind control over members, communal and totalistic organization, aggressive proselytizing, systematic programs of indoctrination, and perpetuation in middle-class communities. The IFB church we went to has every single characteristic of this.

Let’s break it down by each characteristic.

Manipulative and authoritarian mind control over members. The IFB believe that the KJV of the Bible is the only Bible with the true word of God. They also believe that the pastor of the IFB church interprets the Bible for its congregation. Which means if you come up with a different interpretation and your pastor disagrees with your interpretation, you are wrong and disobedient to God and your church. The pastor of the church has the final say in all things related to the church. If a member disagrees, they are publicly shamed. As a member, you are expected to behave like an IFB member. What that means is that you are not to curse, you are not allowed to drink alcohol, women must dress modestly (dresses and skirts, or culottes). You are not allowed to listen to secular music, as it is from the devil. You are not allowed to go to the movies, even a Disney movie because you would be supporting an industry that produces secular movies that are rated higher than a “G” rating. As a member you were expected to be at church whenever church was being held. This typically consisted of Sunday School, Sunday morning church service, Sunday evening church service and Wednesday evening church service. If there were any special church services in addition to this, you were expected to be there. If you missed a church service, you could typically expect a visit from an elder or deacon to ask why, under the guise of “are you well?”. You are expected to tithe 10% of all gross income you receive, no matter how much you may need that money. It’s better to be poor and a servant of the Lord than have all of the riches in the world. They preach this at the pulpit, all the while they use your tithes to gain wealth. They have nice paid in full houses, nice cars, clothing, vacations, etc. while you are eating Mac and cheese and pork n beans living paycheck to paycheck driving crappy cars and small houses. They do this proclaiming your lot in life is the “will of God”.

Communal and Totalistic Organization: Every totalitarian structure relies on a charismatic and authoritarian leader, who drives the whole system. Our Pastor was extremely charismatic. He was friendly, charming, professed his love for his congregation, only wanted the best for you, if that was in Gods will of course. The church was Gods church, not his, not ours. He was just a disciple for God doing Gods work that he was called to do. We were followers of God, not him. He was only the messenger of God. This all sounds good in theory, but don’t double cross the church or preacher, you will feel the wrath of God upon you. This man built this church from the ground up and was the pastor for almost 40 years, he then passed it on to his son (I was long gone by then) and his son passed away unexpectedly so it then passed to the grandson who is the current pastor of the church. Normal churches have pastors appointed by a board that are switched up every few years so not one pastor can lay claim to a church, there are checks and balances, whereas the IFB has pastors for life and are in control of everything. They will say that they are not, but in reality they have the last word and can veto the vote of the congregation and/deacons. I’ve seen it happen.

Aggressive proselytizing: our church expected its members to go “soul winning” on Saturdays and throughout the week. You were expected to “witness” to every person you come across because God demands it, you are soul winning and saving souls from the eternal damnation of hell. They didn’t force you to go, but you were looked down upon and even ostracized if you didn’t. The alter call every church service was grueling and long with the impassioned pleas for the unsaved to come forward and accept Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior. The song “Just as I am” on continuous loop until they were satisfied that everyone in the crowd was right with The Lord. I have sat in services where the alter call lasted 30+ minutes with no regard to what the members of the congregation might have planned after the services, and don’t you dare leave while the alter call is going on, you could be the reason a person does not come forward and get saved and you don’t want the blood of their souls on your hands. Every encounter with a person is an opportunity for salvation and we should not throw that opportunity away. The guilt over soul winning was endless and shameless.

Systematic programs of Indoctrination: this is an obvious one. Not only were you expected to attend church when the doors were open, you were also expected to participate in activities by the church. I worked in the nursery, helped with Sunday School, sang in the choir and taught the Awana program. I spent countless hours of my life for this church with no reward and/or recognition, just a pat on the back for doing Gods work. In all of these activities there were guidelines of how to live your personal life in order to be qualified to work the programs. As stated earlier, women were to dress modestly, not listen or watch secular tv or music, be faithful and obedient servants to the Lord and their husbands. Men were to a good example of the leader of the home, not listen or watch secular tv or music, a tie was expected at all church services. One of the mottos of the church was “we are in the world but not of the world” which simply meant that we should stand apart from the rest of the world in all things.

Perpetuation of the middle class communities: This one is hard to prove, but I can tell you that the majority of the congregation was middle class white suburban individuals. Mixed marriage was frowned upon, although there was one couple in our church. The pastor went so far as to quote Bible versus regarding interracial marriage using Deuteronomy ch 7 vs 3-4 as their basis. Our church also went to the poorer communities and bussed in children for Sunday School in order to train a younger generation in the word of God. They would use the children to get to their parents for soul winning purposes. But even when people from undesirable areas of town came to our church, you might say hello, but you didn’t necessarily become friends with them.

I firmly believe, without a doubt that the church I joined and other IFB churches are cults. The way my perception of the world, including friends and family, was completely altered after I joined. As you continue to read my blog, I will give examples of all of the above and I think you will come to agree with me that the IFB is a cult.

After I came back from Florida, Ken and I rented a house, the exact same layout of his mother Mickey’s house, on the same road as Mickey. We both got jobs, I was working at a local restaurant, O’Briensteins as a hostess and then server once I turned eighteen, Ken found a job as a draftsman for custom kitchens. Neither of us made much money, but it was enough to pay the $265 a month rent that we had.

Because Ken was always telling me I needed to “tone up” I joined a gym and started doing aerobics a couple of times a week. I had only been in Virginia a few months and had not made any friends, outside Ken’s family so when another girl who was around my age seemed to be at the gym whenever I was, I started talking to her. Her name was Renee and we hit it off. We would work out together a few times a week then walk next door for frozen yogurt. We both talked about how much weight we wanted to lose (each of us weighed maybe 115 lbs soaking wet), our boyfriends and where we were from. Turns out she was new to Richmond as well and was from West Virginia, her boy friend was a welder with the union and had a long term contract in Richmond, which is what brought them here. After she and I were friends for about a month, she invited Ken and I to her apartment to meet her boyfriend, Pete. Ken and I came over and Ken brought a six pack of beer for himself and none for anyone else. We played games and talked and got to know each other, it was nice to have friends again.

Around this same time I was in the process of getting my drivers license. Because I had switched high schools so often, I never got the opportunity to take drivers Ed, so now that I was eighteen I didn’t have to. All I had to do was pass the written and on road tests. Ken and I had bought me a car already, it was a 1977 Toyota Corolla and it was a stick shift. It was so funny learning how to drive that car, the stop and go, the stalls, but I did it and could not wait to get my license so I could drive it. One day I was running late for work, I had my car keys and a car but still no license. I decided I was going to drive rather than take the bus so I wouldn’t be late, so I nervously got in the car and made it about halfway there, when I chickened out, went to make a U-Turn, changed my mind, went back in the lane and almost wrecked my car by hitting another car. Apparently I’m not good at breaking the law and turned my ass around, went home and rode the bus, was late for work and got written up. This led me to speed up getting my license, so I studied harder and took the tests and passed. I loved that little car, I drove it for about eight years, rusted out bottom and all until I finally broke down and got another car.

The house next to us was vacant so I told Renee to apply. We were super excited when they got approved and Renee and I were now next door neighbors. Renee and I were polar opposites, I’m an extrovert, she is an introvert, I love crowds, she hates them, I will tell anyone anything they want to know (obviously) and she barely told anyone anything. But we were the best of friends and loved being so close to each other. Pete and Renee did not like Ken. They felt he was controlling, a self proclaimed know it all who was always right. Ken liked to sleep late whenever he could, so Pete decided to play a prank on Ken. Pet put a fake owl in the tree next to our house, what this did was cause a mob of crows to fly over our house every morning for about a month. Ken and I couldn’t for the life of us figure out why they was happening, waking us up at the break of dawn each day. When I found out, I thought it was hilarious, Ken was pissed.

While Ken was on West PAC he had gotten interested in religion, more so the subliminal messages in playing music backwards, which was popular at that time. I had hypocritically been around church my entire life. You know the kind one minute we are religious and God is so good, speaking in tongue’s, praising the lord, hallelujah all the way and the next we are drinking, doing drugs and not going to church, then all of the sudden we are getting up and ready for Sunday school again. I believed in God, I believed in Jesus, but I wasn’t religious, so it didn’t really bother me that Ken was going through that “phase”. The neighbors down the street went to a local baptist church and had invited us to go, but we made excuses as why we couldn’t. One day a couple of men from this church knocked on our door, Ken let them in and had a conversation with them for a couple of hours. They next Sunday we attended church at an Independent Fundamental Baptist Church (IFB). The IFB church is a strict conservative, men run, men controlling church that believe that the King James Version of the Bible is the only true word of God. Women and children had a mostly silent role in the church. Women should not wear pants and are to be submissive in everything to their husbands. They believe that only salvation through Jesus will get a person to heaven and that most other religions were false religions, this included Christian religions. On that first Sunday Ken and I got “saved” and made the decision to make that our lifestyle going forward. I had some trepidations about the conservative nature of that particular church and wanted to look around at other churches, but Ken vetoed me and said that this is the church we would be attending. He had found his place, a place that embraced his controlling nature towards me, encouraged being even more controlling and demanded that I be submissive. I was only eighteen years old, Ken was twenty three. I had no family near me, I couldn’t afford to live on my own and I didn’t want to go back to CA, so I chose to follow whatever Ken wanted to do. It was just easier that way.

After we had attended church a couple of times, the pastor of the church came to our house and had a talk with us about “living in sin”, basically saying we had to get married in order to become members of the church since the church would not condone us living together. There was no proposal, no bended knee or fanfare, just all of the sudden we were planning a wedding, still living together, just separate bedrooms and I was shopping for wedding dresses along with other dresses and skirts to add to my wardrobe. I went along with everything the church told us we had to do. I guess I just wanted to fit in and belong, to feel like I had a family that cared about me, not realizing I was joining a cult. Trauma is weird like that.

Ken was back. His reason for not telling me he was back, quite simple he said. “I wanted to surprise you at the prom”. The only flaw in his logic, prom had already passed. Turns out, he was stalking me to make sure I was not cheating on him. But I chose to believe his lame story about the prom and forgave him even though my older and more wiser friends said that was not normal.

The night of his return, he wined and dined me and took me back to his hotel room and I stayed the night. We were once again inseparable.

However, I had in fact flirted, even kissed a couple of guys while he was gone, just within that month of his returning. Turns out, for me, absence doesn’t necessarily make the heart grow fonder, it just dims the memories. Had I not seen Ken the day I did, he may have seen me leaving on a date to the amusement park, Great America, the next day. But, I cancelled that date and Ken and I were together again. Turns out, the reason Ken was home early was because his stint in the Navy was up. He was on the aircraft carrier The USS Enterprise and they flew Ken in a fighter jet off of the ship to the nearest Navel airport in Australia where caught a flight to Alameda for his formal discharge papers. He never told me he would be getting out earlier than the West PAC tour, which makes me wonder if this had not been his plan all along.

When Ken had returned, I was only a few weeks away from my high school graduation and only three months away from turning eighteen. One night Ken told me he was going back home to Richmond, Virginia and asked me if I wanted to go with him. Not yet being eighteen, I knew I would have to get my mothers permission, but figured it would not be a problem. After discussing with my mother, it was determined I could go, but only if after visiting Richmond for a month, I would then fly to Daytona Beach, FL to live with my sister Sheila, who was now living there, until I turned 18. This appeared to be my mother trying to parent, In my opinion I don’t think she cared, I think she was happy to not have me there. (The reason I say this is because my sister Teri told me that about a week or two after we turned 18, my mom told Teri she could no longer live at home with her. So Teri was forced to move out, barely 18 years old. She slept on a papasan chair at Tim and Denise’s apartment for quite some time.). So that is what we decided to do and Ken set about making the flight reservations. When asked what date I graduated, I told him Friday, June 13th at 3-4 pm. Ken made the flight for Friday, June 13th at 8 pm, meaning after I graduated, I would have to immediately get on a plane and fly across country, leaving everyone and everything I knew at that time. I cried and asked Ken to please let me enjoy my graduation day, but his response was “I’ve waited long enough to go home, I’m not waiting another day. I will go with or without you, but I’m leaving on the 13th.” So, I graduated, got my diploma and headed to the airport with Ken. Not one person, including my mom, told me that this was controlling behavior and I should run, they all just watched me go. To be fair, it probably would not have mattered to me anyway, I was already broken by that point and he was my ticket out.

I graduated high school, something so many had such little faith I would do. It was not with honors, but by the skin of my teeth. I was not dumb, in fact I was quite smart. Most of my classes would’ve been A’s and B’s, but I got my grades deducted because I skipped class so much. I wore a strapless dress under my cap and gown, it was so pretty and I wore a nervous smile on my face, not because I was graduating, but because I was leaving for Virginia that night with Ken. At my graduation, I was invited to a few after graduation parties, which of course I had to turn down and I also smoked my last cigarette as I had promised Ken I would quit since that was another condition he put on me for going with him. Leaving California was a very scary thing for me to do, I was still only seventeen and getting ready to tackle the world on my own. I would be fully dependent on Ken for everything, then fully dependent on my sister for a couple of months, then back to being dependent on Ken.

And so, we boarded the Plane to Richmond, VA. The flight took about eight hours total with the layover we had. This was the second flight I had ever taken on a commercial airliner, the first being to Houston back when I was thirteen. I don’t remember if his family met us at the airport or if we took a taxi to his moms house, but we got there and I met his mom, Micky, her Husband Jett and his sister Tammy the morning we returned. They lived in a two bedroom, one bath home in a really old subdivision of Richmond. Ken didn’t have a bedroom, but they had a walk up attic that they turned into his bedroom years ago, and that is where we slept. No A/C, in the middle of June with the southern heat and humidity. I thought, what have I gotten myself into?

After about a month in Virginia, I flew to Florida to spend the rest of my seventeenth year with my sister Sheila. I had been there less than a week, and as sisters sometimes do, Sheila and I got into an argument that came to blows, and I left. In a timely good fortune of events, Ken’s best friend’s grandparents were vacationing in Daytona Beach where I was and so I hitched a ride back to Virginia with them. I never wanted to stay with my sister anyway, I guess this was my excuse to move back with Ken.

I should give you a little background on Ken at this point. Ken was born in 1963 to his mother Micky and his father Raymond. He had two brothers and sister, this was his mothers second marriage. One brother and one sister were from his mothers first marriage and his other brother, little Ray was his full biological brother. His mother Micky was a local country and western singer and before she had children, she had her own bit on a local TV show called “Americas Sweethearts” as “Micky and Vicky”. Micky also sang with the likes of Roy Clark and Patsy Cline even meeting the King himself Elvis Presley. At some point she married her first husband and had a little girl whom she named Nanette and a boy she named Danny. The story goes that she was invited to sing at the Grand Ole Opery the same time Roy Clark was, but she couldn’t find a babysitter, so she didn’t go. I’m pretty sure she became bitter at that point as she divorced her husband and gave her children to their grandparents to raise them. She then married Ken’s father Raymond, had little Ray, then Ken. She was still singing in nightclubs and her husband eventually found out or just thought she was cheating on him, so he took Little Ray and left her. We later learned that he did not take Ken, because he didn’t think he was his. Micky was pregnant with Tammy when Raymond left her. Ken had undiagnosed Tourette’s syndrome and when was six years old, Mickey sent Ken to live in the Virginia Home for Boys. I later asked Micky why she sent him there and she told me it was because “Ken was so gross to look at with all of his twitching and rolling of his stomach.” So Micky only raised one of the five children she had. Ken lived in the boys home until he was fourteen when he finally asked why he was there, they looked in his file and didn’t know why, so they sent him home with his mother. She put him in the attic of the home until he joined the Navy.

I understood that Ken was broken too. He had a rough childhood like I did. He had unspeakable things happen to him in the boys home, he had no parental figures in his life and he was not wanted. He worked so hard at not twitching while he was in the boys home because of the relentless bullying he received from it. When I met him, only his eye twitched and occasionally his Index fingers would twitch. I had so much empathy for him so I made excuses for his behavior as an adult. If I would’ve been just a little older or had positive relationships with parents, maybe I would’ve recognized his narcissism, but I didn’t. I only knew he needed someone to love him, so I did, unconditionally disregarding the fact that he put conditions on his love for me. Trauma is weird like that.

January was quickly approaching and Ken and I were spending all of our spare time together. At the beginning of December Ken took me to Lake Tahoe, Heavenly Valley, to go snow skiing. I had never been skiing before so on day one we both took a lesson, then we only skied the beginner trails the rest of the day. Both of us picked up on it rather quickly so by day two we were skiing the intermediate slopes. There was this one slope that was a leisurely slope. It took over an hour to ski it as it went around the mountain, so you started on the CA side went around to the Nevada side then ended at the California side. We fell a lot, laughed a lot, it was such a beautiful and memorable trip.

Christmas Eve rolled around quickly and it was a bittersweet holiday. We did not put up a Christmas tree that year, but we did make an outline of a Christmas tree with lights on the wall, it was actually really cute. With all of my mothers faults, she always tried to make holidays special and Christmas was no exception. I was working in retail, so I had to work on Christmas Eve. I got my co-worker , Jim, to drive me home that day rather than walk so I could get home quickly. Jim was a big pothead and was always asking me to smoke weed with him. I rarely smoked weed, but for some reason on that particular day I agreed. I was so high while opening presents that evening.

And so Christmas came and went, then New Years Day 1986 and then our goodbyes as Ken left for a nine month West PAC Tour. At this time my mother had also been dating a Master Chief in the Navy, his name was Greg and he was on the same ship as Ken. So my mom and I grieved together as the men we loved were leaving us for what felt like would be an eternity.

Life without Ken was returning to normal. I was heavily involved in Drama Class and most of my friends were from that class. There was Alissa, Phil, James, Theresa, Denise and a host of others I don’t remember their names.

Denise was a junior in high school and she was married. Her husband, Tim, was in the military and they had a small apartment in Alameda. I marveled at how Denise could be married and was a straight A student who was also involved in extra curricular activities for school. We often hung out at Denise and Tim’s house because there was no parental figure and we could drink and party whenever we wanted.

We also had a good friend named Alicia, Alicia lived in Oakland and we met her through Marty’s friend, Kevin, who was dating Alicia. Alicia had her own car, so she and I would drive around town being teenagers. I think Alicia had already graduated high school though.

Teri and I had lots of friends and lots of things to do, so while Ken was out to sea, I was able to occupy my time. I was also still pretty rebellious when my mother tried to be a parent, often I would not do as she wanted, because to be fair, nothing was ever enforced. One weekend I was at Tim and Denise’s apartment, we had been drinking and hanging out all day, it was about 6 or 7 pm on a Saturday night. My mom called and told me to come home, I told her I did not want to come home and hung up. She called back about an hour later and the same conversation ensued, at some point she threaten to call me in as a runaway and my smart mouth told her “go ahead” not believing she actually would. Well about another hour passed and there was a knock at the door and lo and behold a uniformed police officer stood there telling me he was there to take me home. I was so angry at my mom for actually following through on her threat. When I got home my mom and I got into a screaming argument and she slapped me across the face. I looked at her and said “did that make you feel better? I dare you to do it again!” So she did and this went on repeat for another three or four times, until she just walked away. And this is how my relationship went with my mom from then out, either we loved each other and had a great time, often partying together or we hated each other and it came to blows (note: I have never hit my mother, she was the one who usually slapped me). There was not much else in between.

I missed Ken a lot, writing almost daily to him. Ken was an artist and he drew a pencil drawing of my senior picture. The drawing was beautiful, he sent me a copy of the picture he drew. I took the copy to school and showed it to everyone. At some point during that day, I lost the copy so when I wrote him that night I asked if he could send me another copy of the picture because I had lost it. Then a few days later I received the original of the picture and wrote to him to thank him. But mail back and forth was slow and It took about three weeks to get a response from Ken and it was obvious that he was mad, he told me I should not have been so careless with something that took him countless hours to create and that he was not going to just draw another picture because I would probably just lose that one too. I was devastated that he was that angry with me. I wrote him and apologized profusely and explained that I did not lose the original, that I had not even known about the original until after I wrote that letter. I was so upset that he was so angry with me when it was just a misunderstanding.

At some point around March our drama teacher brought in drama professor to teach us for the week. When he walked in the theater I almost gasped, he looked so much like an older version of Ken, the resemblance was remarkable. Drama class was the highlight of my school year and I was active in the plays. I auditioned for the lead role in a French play based in a hotel, I can’t remember the name. Alisa rightfully got the lead but I got second, however I wasn’t interested in studying and learning lines enough to only have one night, so I didn’t prepare. Denise was also in the play, she played a maid, she did such a great job with her role. I sold tickets and helped behind the scenes. I made so many friends from Drama class, people and memories I still cherish to this day.

My moms roommate, Marty, had been taking me on the weekends to a club in Oakland called Gallagher’s, it was a dance club and there was a band, Paris By Night, that I loved dancing too who played there regularly. The first night I was there I pretended it was my 21st birthday because I had figured out a way to pass for older than I was. I got to know the lead singer, his name was Jackie, and we used to talk on the phone. He was very cute and I flirted, bit would’ve never acted on it because I was Ken’s girlfriend.

As we got closer to prom, I was bummed that Ken would not be able to take me, so Phil from Drama class agreed to take me as a friend. The night of the prom, we got a limousine, I borrowed a dress from either Alisa or Theresa because my mom said she didn’t have any money to buy me a dress. We went to Alisa’s house and her parents cooked us all an amazing dinner, then we all went to our prom. I was completely surprised when Paris By Night and Jackie were the band playing at our prom. I was also embarrassed because Jackie thought I was 21, so he found out I was only 17. During the prom Jackie dedicated the song “Suddenly” by Billy Ocean to me in front of everyone at the prom. It was so sweet and kinda embarrassing. We had a great prom and I was so glad I was able to go.

A week or so after Prom, Alicia came over and said on her way to our house, she saw a guy on the corner of the intersection and he looked just like Ken. I told her it was probably the drama professor who came to our class and I thought nothing of it. Then the next day Alicia and I were driving to the store and Alicia said, “There’s that guy”, I looked over at the car next to us and sure enough the guy driving looked exactly like Ken. He saw us looking at him and sped up. I told Alicia “follow him”, we followed him for a few blocks and he finally stopped at a stop light, I jumped out of the car knocked on the window and it was Ken.. So many questions ran through my mind but first and foremost, “why wouldn’t he tell me he was back?” I just didn’t understand..

Any other girl would’ve recognized the red flags, any other girl would’ve run, but not me…trauma is weird like that.

The summer of 1985 was an interesting one. Ken and I had been together now for three months and it was going well. I loved living across the street from the beach and I even got a job working at Kinny Shoes Store which was at the mall down the street.

At some point during the summer, my mom convinced me and Teri to see her foot doctor that I think she had a crush on because she always talked about how “fine” he was. Teri and I both had premature bunions on our feet and she wanted to have them checked out even though we never complained about them and they didn’t bother us. I also had a wart in between my fourth toe and pinky toe that needed to be removed. So We went to see this doctor and he tells us we need to have surgery to remove the bunions. Teri said she wasn’t going to have the surgery, but I said I would. Prior to the surgery though, the doctor wanted to remove the wart, so my first appointment was for that. I remember my mom did not go with me to this appointment, remember it was the eighties, so I was sitting there and the doctor gives me a shot to numb the area where the wart is and walks away. This poor doctor must’ve thought he was going to be sued. While he walked away, I got a sudden onset of a migraine and threw up and told him I had to go. He looked terrified and kept asking me if I was allergic to anything, if I felt like it was the shot that caused it. I assured him it was just a normal migraine and I get them often, then I left. In order to get home I had to take BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit aka metro, subway, etc) and I was mortified, not only did my head hurt, the noise was deafening and the bright lights painful, I was also puking all over the Bart train. I was never so glad to make it home.

A few weeks later we scheduled my surgery, the date we scheduled it was a time when Ken would be training and out to sea, so I was bummed he wouldn’t be with me. In order to remove the bunions, the doctor had to break both of my feet so he could dig into and remove the bunion from the source of the growth since it was premature and not finished growing. Obviously I don’t remember the actual process but I remember waking up from the anesthesia in a great amount of pain. I was in the hospital for a full week and kept pretty sedated with pain medication. I honestly don’t remember much of that week. I had a few visitors though, including my mom and sister, a few other friends, but I don’t remember who. The day I was being released, I was still pretty drugged up. I had asked my mom to pick up my $60 pay”Check” (they paid me in cash) from Kinny Shoes, which she did. Once I was released, someone convinced me in my drugged up state to buy everyone dinner, so I spent nearly all of my pay on everyone else.

For a month after my surgery I could not put any weight on my feet, so I had to rely on people to get me things. I was pretty small back then, so when Ken came back from training, he would carry me to the bathroom and help me shower. He seemed so attentive and I was very appreciative that he was there.

After about a month and I was mobile again, but not necessarily leaving the house mobile, Ken was over and my mom and Teri needed to run some errands, Ken asked if he could go along as he needed some things where they were going. I told everyone that while they were gone I would cook dinner. So they left and I set about making fried chicken, mashed potatoes and white gravy and green beans. I remember this meal vividly for a couple of reasons. My Grammy was the one who taught me how to make fried chicken, my grandma on my dads side taught me how to make gravy and this was the first meal I was ever going to cook for Ken. I had spent a couple of hours cooking and it was all ready when they got home, but I was completely shattered when my mom informed me that they went out to dinner at Sizzler. I couldn’t believe they had done that, they knew I was cooking dinner. Ken told me he questioned my mom about eating out when I was cooking and my mom brushed it off saying something like “oh she won’t really cook, let’s just eat out”. So he believed her and he went with them. To be fair, he felt bad, so he ate some of what I made and said it was good. I was let down and so disappointed.

Toward the end of the summer we moved again. We stayed in Alameda but my mom had a friend who wanted to rent a house together, plus there was another friend Marty who was willing to go in on the rent as well. So the three of them rented a three bedroom, three bathroom house with a full basement that had two bedrooms and a bath in it. My mom and us girls took the upstairs, her friend took one bedroom and Marty took the other bedroom. Although I only lived in this house for less than a year, it was my favorite house I lived in with my mom since it was the last house I ever lived in with my mom.

We were getting ready to start a new school year and I was going to be a senior, my last year in high school. I had friends who were going to college or a trade school, but all I could think about was finally being free and an adult. Plus my parents never discussed college with me and if I brought it up I was told I couldn’t afford to go, so to me college was just not an option.

School started in September and it wasn’t what I had hoped for. I just didn’t like being there so I decided I was going to quit school, but the counselors convinced me to go to Island High School which was an alternative high school for those contemplating quitting school. So I was now starting my fifth high school in my senior year of high school, but this time by choice. I don’t recall if my mother tried to talk me out of quitting, but I don’t think she did. My goal, go to school half days and work half days, so that’s exactly what I did and it worked for a little over a month. I’m not sure what made me change my mind, but somehow somewhere I got a strong desire to be better, to do better. I wanted to graduate High School, I wanted a diploma. I wanted to prove everyone wrong, I wanted to make something of myself. So I put my big girl britches on and I went back to Alameda High School. While I want to say I was a different person, I wasn’t. I still didn’t like school, but I forced myself to get passing grades. I loved two classes, Drama (hi Mr. Chacon) and Choir, I rarely missed those classes. All the other classes, I did what I had to do in order to graduate.

Funny story about choir. I am not a good singer, I am not a soprano, but in choir I can blend well with others and I can fake a soprano voice. So I was front and center soprano. One day the football team was having a luncheon and their entertainment fell through. I was near the cafeteria at the time and one of the the teachers knew I was in choir, so they asked if I would sing a cappella as their entertainment. Not knowing I didn’t sing well, I agreed.. needless to say one song in and I realized it. Not one person clapped and some even laughed. I can’t hold a tune to this day and there I no way in hell you will ever hear me sing by myself.. trauma is weird like that.

After the girls home, we went to live with my mom in Alameda, CA. Alameda is a small San Francisco Bay Area town. It is located beside Oakland, California. My mom lived with a self proclaimed wino, Mary. Mary was kinda loud and obnoxious but she was nice enough, I don’t really remember too much about her, except that she drank a lot of wine which is probably what made her nice. I don’t think we lived there very long, but it was long enough that I do have a few memories of the time frame when we lived there. I remember that Mary had a cat and the cat was to stay indoors at all times.

Teri and I were enrolled in Alameda High School, this is the first and only high school we attended together since my dad had separated us due to being afraid we would argue and fight in school. My mother once again worked two jobs. One as a secretary in San Francisco in one of the Embarcadero buildings, then the other as a cocktail waitress on the naval base in Alameda.

Sometime in February of 1985, Teri and I decided to go to the Alameda Beach on shoreline drive. This beach has a great view of the San Francisco skyline, but the sand and the water are both kind of murky. That didn’t bother us, it was nice to be in our bathing suits, laying out in the sun and getting our feet wet on that unusually warm February day.

As we were laying out on the beach, there were two guys playing frisbee. We had been slyly watching them for about fifteen to twenty minutes, when their frisbee landed near us. One of them came by and apologized and then the other came by and they started talking to us. They introduced themselves as Mike and Ken. We ended up playing frisbee with them and spending the rest of the day on the beach with them. At some point we walked and grabbed a bite to eat, as it started getting dark we invited them back to our (Mary’s) house. So the four of us rode the bus to the house. Once we got there we realized Mary’s cat had gotten out of the house so we spent hours laughing, walking around the neighborhood looking for that cat. It was such a fun evening with the two men. We learned that they were both in the Navy and had the day off. Alameda at that time was a naval based town so it was very common to meet sailors either passing through or who were stationed there. As Mike and Ken were leaving we gave them our phone number and hoped we would hear from them again.

A short time after meeting Mike and Ken we moved from Mary’s house to an apartment right on Shoreline Drive, literally across the street from Alameda Beach. Ken called us a couple of weeks later, they had been out to sea for a couple weeks doing training exercises, and he and Mike came over for a visit. We introduced them to our mom as she was home when he came over and we all went out to dinner. It seemed Ken was pretty flirty with Teri and so Mike and I became flirty. Over the course of the next month or so we saw them pretty regularly. They also went out and partied with my mom some. Because Teri and I were underage, we could not go with them. I remember being told by Mike about one particular time where Ken, Mike and my mom (maybe others were with them) went out and partied. Apparently there was a drunken fight where some guys at the bar decided to try and start a fight with Mike. The story goes that rather than help Mike in this fight, Ken just walked away and left Mike to fend for himself. I guess my mom came to the rescue before anything bad could happen. Once they came home they decided it was time for bed, so Teri, my mom and Ken all slept together in the same bed, very platonically speaking. Literally slept. Mike slept in my room and we semi hooked up, but no sex, I wasn’t really that into Mike, I really liked Ken. Remember my mom was home and she allowed this.

One night, as we were all hanging out, drinking and partying, I decided I would tell Ken I liked him. At this point it was obvious to him that Teri wasn’t interested in him. I think we were going out to the car, maybe for a beer run or to get food, and in the elevator on the way down, I blurted it out. Not knowing what to expect, I was surprised and stunned when he kissed me. And I guess the rest is history. We became boyfriend and girlfriend. Anytime Ken was at dock we would spend every available minute together.

We quickly became sexual and he quickly became possessive. At sixteen, I didn’t realize this was a warning sign, I didn’t realize it was a sign of control. I would think “awe that’s so sweet he is jealous, he thinks that guy will try and take me from him”. One specific memory jumps out at me, we were getting ready to hang out for the evening and I met him downstairs outside the apartment building. The first thing he said to me when he saw me was “why do you feel the need to wear so much makeup?”. I didn’t realize that was the beginning of his control. He also used to say things like “your not fat, you just need to tone up” or “you shouldn’t eat that, you’ll gain weight”. Ken himself told me of a time when he had met a girl in Arizona that he liked and when she didn’t reciprocate he followed her for two weeks. I believe that not having a good example of a healthy relationship caused me to not see the signs of an unhealthy relationship. He paid attention to me and that was all I needed. Trauma is weird like that.

The rebellion was in full swing and there was no turning back, the war was eminent. Although it was evident there would be no winners in this fight, we carried on anyway, with regret and remorse.

The last few months of 1984 and into the beginning of 1985 I was increasingly rebellious, deceitful and mouthy.

My dad and his current wife Rosslyn (aka Roz) had a system in place for allowances, each child was to get $50 a month (there were five of us in the house, Teri, myself and three step sisters Carrie, Michelle and Liz). If we were perfect children, we would get the full amount, if we were bad, we would be docked, usually in amounts of $5 or $10 at a time. So essentially at the end of each month they would tally the totals and that is what we got. This seemed great in theory, as I hadn’t ever really gotten a allowance before, but it sucked in practice. It became evident from the beginning that Roz was partial to her children. They rarely got docked. And while I was mouthy, I wanted that money, so I tried to not get “docked”, but to no avail. I never knew what was going to make Roz dock my allowance and usually at the end of the month I got around $10-20 as an allowance, sometimes I got nothing at all. Her girls almost always got most of theirs. I really didn’t like Roz at that point.

Teri and I were both “going with” the two men near my moms house. I was seeing Randy and Teri was seeing Carl. We mostly saw them on the weekends that we went to visit my mom, but every now and then we would sneak a visit when they would drive up to Manteca and pick us up.

On one occasion I remember being at Carl and Randy’s apartment, we were watching TV and relaxing. Randy proceeded to ask us if we want to snort a line of crank. Back then crank was slang for methamphetamine. I honestly had my fill of drugs by then, so I politely declined, however my sister Teri accepted and they both went into his bedroom and got high. I sometimes wonder if this was the beginning that led my sister down the dark path of addiction, but that is her story to tell, not mine.

We didn’t skip school much, but we had decided one particular day that we were going to skip school and hang out with Randy and Carl, so we got up and got ready for school, like we did any other day, but rather than walk or catch the bus, Randy drove to Manteca to pick us up. We then drove to Ceres and hung out at his apartment. By this time my mother had already left Ceres and was now living in Alameda, Ca., so there was no fear of seeing her while we were there. I don’t recall that we did anything specific or different while we were hanging out, what I do know is that at some point during the day one of the schools called to check on one of us. When my dad realized one of us were not at school, he called the other school and found out the other was also not at school. My dad says he called either Randy or Carl that day, but I don’t remember that part. However, we were not prepared for what was waiting at home for us that day.

My dad was not a big man, but he had a big personality and booming voice to match. He mostly laughed a lot, drank a lot and had fun a lot, but he also had a temper to match his jovial personality, which meant that you did not want to see that side of him. Teri and I made sure we came home separately that day. Because we went to different schools our schedules were not the same, so we knew it would be weird if we got home at the same time. I knew something was wrong when I got home because I was immediately told to go to my room, which I did. I could hear Teri crying and knew this was not good. I was then called out of my room, asked about my day and given the opportunity to tell the truth, but I did not. He specifically asked if I was with Randy and I lied and said no. That was a mistake. I will not go into detail about what happened next because my father has expressed remorse and told me later in life about the underlying circumstances surrounding this life event. Suffice it to say, the next morning both Teri and I went to our counselors and turned our father in as we had the bruises to show for what occurred. I can’t say for certain, because I don’t remember this part, but Teri told me that she punched herself a couple of times to make the markings appear worse than they really were. I don’t remember doing this to myself, but it’s possible that I did. My dad has also said that Teri told him at one point later in life that my mother was the one who instructed her to make the bruises appear worse. Again, that is all hearsay because that is not part of my memories.

This started a whirlwind of action from the school. They called in police reinforcements and we were photographed from head to toe. We were then taken to a girls home until it could be sorted out with our mother to come and get us. This took seven days since she no longer had custody, I think. During those seven days at the girls home, we were among girls of all ages who had been abused or children whose parents could no longer control them and in some cases children whose parents didn’t want them anymore. We slept in a room full of beds and had no privacy, we ate what was cooked for us even if we didn’t like it, showered in mass and realized we did not like it there and we just wanted to leave. Thankfully at the end of the seven days my mother picked us up and I was once again on the move.

At some point during that week we had a supervised meeting with a counselor and our dad. He apologized for what happened but we were spiteful and said some pretty mean things to him, in the end he no longer had custody of us and we went to live with our mom in Alameda. And it seemed my dad hated us. Just like my memory of being two, our clothes and all our possessions were in the driveway when we came to pick them up.

And so we moved to Alameda and now I’m getting ready to be enrolled in my fourth high school to finish my third year of high school and all I can think about is freedom. I was so angry at the world and at all of the adults who had failed me so far, although back then I didn’t realize why I was so angry, I just knew I was. I wanted freedom from adults, I wanted to just be on my own, I had enough of being told what to do, when to do it, how to do it, etc.. trauma is weird like that.

Don’t I look happy at this jubilee? I’m like the clowns with a smile painted on my face, but I fear the shoes are too big for my feet and I will stumble, I will fall..

Living with my dad at age fifteen was difficult because I was used to being able to do as I pleased, to roam and come home as I wanted. My dad, was stricter than my mom. There was structure, structure that would’ve been great for me years ago, but I was beyond repair at this point and no one was going to slow me down.

A few days before my sixteenth birthday, I got caught stealing eyeliner at the local drugstore. I didn’t have any money and wanted to get a present for my sister Teri. I had never stolen anything before (well except when I was like five and I took some candy from the store and my mom immediately made me take it back and apologize). So I was caught, led in the back room of the store, my dad was called and I was in trouble. I think I got grounded.

But a few days later, the day of our sixteenth birthday, in 1984, my dad gave my sister and I each a birthday card with a car key inside. We were so excited and couldn’t believe he got us each a car for our birthday. He told us it was in the driveway, but when we walked outside there were no cars there. As he was laughing he told us to look down, and there in the driveway were two matchbox cars. Of course we thought it was cruel for him to do this to us, but looking back it was pretty funny. He then handed us concert tickets to see The Beach Boys at Manteca Waterslides for that evening.

We went to the concert that night and Dad and his current wife, Rosalyn were sitting up on the hill, we were allowed to go up front by the stage. Teri and I somehow managed to convince two poor teenage boys who did not know us, to let us get up on their shoulders for the entire concert in the front row. Typical style, we screamed to the singer Mike Love that it was our sixteenth birthday and the rest was history. Mike Love talked to us through the whole concert, sang happy birthday, gave us memorabilia and I almost convinced him (wishful thinking) to give me his iconic white beret style hat. This truly was a memorable birthday and it’s a story I tell often.

I started my third high school in my third year of high school at East Union High. Remember that incident with my sister towards the end of my sophomore year? Well, my dad decided that I was not going to go to the same high school as Teri so there could be no repeats of that event, so he enrolled me at East Union. My first day at school, I actually knew a few people, this is because I had gone to elementary school in Manteca mostly while growing up. My “best” friend from 6th grade was in my home room class and we immediately reconnected. Her name was Dusty. Dusty was gorgeous, she had long brown hair, dimples and beautiful blue eyes. She introduced me to her friends, Denise F., Denise S., Debbie And Stephanie. Dusty was in the popular crowd and for the first time, so was I. Now you have to understand being popular never really mattered to me. I was an outlier, I was not a follower, but I wasn’t a leader. I was a smoker, but not a bad girl. I dabbled with weed, but not a stoner. I didn’t get bullied, but I was not a bully either. Now here I was in the forefront trying desperately to stay in the background, but needing the companionship of friends to keep me sane.

My mother had moved to Ceres, CA at this point, I’m assuming it was for work. Teri and I would go visit every other weekend, but my mom was rarely there. My mom had two neighbors, Randy and Carl and one night Teri and I met them in the parking lot. They were friendly, cute and older than us. We started hanging out with them quite a bit because it gave us something to do since my mom was rarely home when we were there visiting her. I will discuss more about Randy a bit later.

School was going along fine, I was faking the fitting in and making of friends. Dusty and I were inseparable, we did everything together. Sean, from Modesto, would come and visit regularly. He brought his brother Chris along with him and the four of us would cruise the main strip either in Manteca or drive the 20 minutes or so to Modesto and cruise there. Dusty and Chris became “friendly” and we were all just being our happy go lucky not a care in the world teenage selfs. One night Dusty and I were bored, but she was watching her siblings who were all around 10 or younger (I think we were watching 3 of them, she had 7 brothers and sisters). Dusty had her drivers license and her parents owned one of those big luxury style vans. So we put her siblings to bed in the back of the van and we drove to Modesto with the sole purpose of TP’ing Sean and Chris’s house. I remember it was pretty late because when we got there there weren’t any lights on in the house. So we tiptoed and quietly giggled as we threw toilet paper over trees, cars, porch, lawn. At one point Sean got up and went to the kitchen, I only know because he turned on the kitchen light and looked out the window. I thought we were goners, we hid and crossed our fingers he didn’t see us. But then he turned off the light and that was that. The next morning I got a phone call from Sean furious at what we had done. His mom made he and Chris clean it all up. To Dusty and I, it was the funniest thing we had done to date.

One night at a Friday night football game, Denise F.’s Father was either sick or he had already passed (sorry Denise I can’t remember), we were all sitting on the outskirts on the grass, not in the bleachers and I was smoking a cigarette, Denise asked me if she could have one. Knowing how upset she was, I told her I knew she was upset, but that she should not smoke just because I was, and so she tried it and about choked. Later that night we found some alcohol and Dusty, Denise and myself (there may have been one other girl with us) were cruising the main strip drinking and having fun. We were by no means drunk as we didn’t have enough alcohol to get us drunk. But, Dusty got pulled over. Two key things to remember, this was the eighties and Dusty was stunningly beautiful. So the officer comes to the window, evident he is taken back by Dusty, and asked if we have been drinking. Dusty of course said no. A conversation ensued and officer asked to smell Dusty’s breath. Dusty leaned in closely toward his neck and breathed.. obviously flustered, the officer backed away and sent us on our way telling us we should go home. We laughed, Dusty was mortified she had done this, but to us it was hysterical.

So this is how the year went for the most part, school, friends and fun. I once again was getting settled. Now my dad on the other hand had a hard time controlling me and I wish I was exaggerating. I was rebellious, so so rebellious.

Sean and I fizzled, I dated a few boys in high school, nothing serious. Went to homecoming with Richard D. Which was fiasco in its own right. I never ever slept with a boy at East Union. I had a reputation to uphold, it sounds kinda funny now as I type it, but I was starting to like this goody two shoes persona.

Back to Randy, one weekend while visiting my mom, Teri and I were hanging out with Randy and Carl. I am sure there was alcohol involved, but at some point I ended up in Randy’s room and Teri in Carls room and from then on we were an item. I even had him come over to meet my dad, but we told my dad he was nineteen, not his real age of twenty-three. this went on for about three months or so towards the end of 1984. My mom knew their ages, but I guess she didn’t care, after all my older sister married a man when she was sixteen and he was twenty-five.

I think back at all of these memories, the times I was sexually active and it’s a miracle I never got pregnant or an STD. Also looking back, I just can’t fathom a mother giving her blessing to her teenage girls to date predators and pedophiles.

My life was not perfect. I don’t hate anyone who was a part of my story, including those who made incredibly bad decisions that had a negative outcome on my life. I especially DO NOT hate my mother. As you read, please remember she had demons of her own that I don’t think she ever has worked through and I truly believe those demons still haunt her to this day. Was she a good mother? No, she wasn’t but I’m not so sure she had good examples to lead her by either. I’m pretty sure she has a lot of resentment for some of the things that happened in her life. I always say I won’t tell other peoples story, but you should know that my mother was a child born out of wedlock in 1948. She was led to believe two different men were her father and in the end, I found out about four years ago that neither of those men were her father. Through DNA I found her true father, who died in the nineties. I am not sure why my Grammy chose to keep this from her, I am not sure why my Grandpa Bud knowingly chose to misrepresent himself as her father, but there is no way that this was not traumatic to my mother. None of this negated the fact that she was not a good mother, it is only a possible reason why she made some of the decisions she made. My mother is still living, we have a distant relationship. She is angry that I made this blog public, but it is not for her to decide how I tell my story and who I choose to let see it. Hopefully this means she is remorseful for how she parented us and for her decisions. I love my mother, she is the only mother I have ever known and she always told us she loved us and showed affection. There were good times and laughter growing up, it wasn’t all bad. I don’t love the way we were brought up, the people we were brought up around and I’ll never understand as long as I live how she could’ve thought that some of the environments we were subjected to was okay. And last but not least, please understand that not all of the trauma that I suffered in life was because of her.

The walls were crumbling all around me, the floors were giving way to the darkness that was enveloping my entire world as I came to the realization that my kingdom was forever doomed.

At some point around March of 1984 I was cruising the main strip with some friends and ran into Sandra and some of her friends. This was the beginning of our friendship. For awhile we seemed to do everything together, as friends. I confided in her about my home life, past and present. She confided in me about life as a gay woman and those who accepted her and those who did not. Growing up in California and having known gay people all of my life, I didn’t feel she was any different than any other person I had known.

So a friendship formed, a trust was created and a confidant was gained. I would say this friendship went on for a month or so, then one day while stopped at a stop sign she kissed me and I kissed her back. Our mutual friend was walking up the road at the same time, JD, and he ran up saying “I knew it”. It was awkward and funny and weird and normal all at the same time. This went on for about another month. I was “going with” a girl and I liked it. I liked Sandra.

One night, Sandra and I were on the couch in my living room, no one else was home at the time. We were talking, making out a little, just relaxing before she went home. I never had the nerve to go any further than that with Sandra, I wasn’t ready to be intimate with another girl. Jerry came over and the door was unlocked so he let himself in, which was something quite normal for him to do. He walked in on us just at the time when Sandra kissed me and it was at that moment I realized how much Jerry liked me. He was devastated, heart broken and angry. He yelled at me, he yelled at Sandra, he had tears in his eyes and he left. It was never the same again.

During all of this time my mother was having some health issues, adding to the stress that she and Mark were not getting along. I didn’t realize how serious it was until the day she was released from the hospital after having her gall bladder removed she informed me that we were leaving Texas and moving back to California. She had booked a flight already for herself and I was to stay behind and pack up our belongings, Grandpa Bud would be there within a week to pick me up and drive me and our belongings back to California. I was devastated to say the least. I literally only had a month or so before my sophomore year was over and she didn’t even let me finish it out at Andrews High School.

I had heard rumors about how and why my mom decided to leave Mark, then later in life my mother told me herself that Mark’s mother Mimi, had walked into her hospital room with a check for $5,000 and told her “I’ve got a check for $5,000, if you leave Mark, it’s yours” to which my mom replied something to the effect “I’m gone, give it to me, bitch”. (Side note: my sister said it was $10,000, I honestly thought $5,000, so who knows, memories are weird) And so she left and It seemed that I the afterthought of her decision.

I only had mere days to say my goodbyes to all those who were important to me, I was as so upset, pissed, disappointed that I had to go. My Grandpa Bud arrived to pick me up and we loaded the small pull behind Uhaul that he had brought with the few belongings we had acquired during our time in Andrews. Grandpa Bud gave me the privacy I needed to say goodbye to Sandra and we hugged and kissed right there with him in the car in front of Sandra’s, I was not ashamed, I was heartbroken.

We started the 1,370 mile drive to Modesto. It was mostly a silent ride. We stopped twice on the drive there to sleep in cheap motels. I mostly wrote. I wrote poems, I wrote letters to Myself, to people who were important to me and to my mother telling her how much I hated her for doing this to me. I never gave her that letter and it eventually got lost over time. Writing during that trip was extremely therapeutic for me. One poem in particular I wrote titled “No One” described how I felt unseen, that no one cared about me, no one was there for me and no one would be waiting me. One verse that jumps to mind was “no one is no one you know”. I think the only real memorable thing about that trip was when we were passing through Los Angeles, we were in traffic at a toll booth area and I looked over at the car next to me and it was Pat Benatar driving right beside us. I wish I would’ve had a camera, she saw me looking and smiled at me.

We made it to Modesto where Grammy and Grandpa Bud lived at the time. I had to start over, my mom enrolled me in Thomas Downey High School for the last month or so of my sophomore year. My only saving grace was that my mother’s youngest brother, Brock, was only 6 months older than me and we were in the same grade. He was kind enough to let me hang out with he and his friends. He had two friends that I got along with great. Rachel and Sean.

Side note about Brock. While we lived in Texas he came to visit. While he was there he went into the next town with some of Marks friends for an alcohol run (Andrews was a dry county at that time), I think the car was a jeep that had its top off or a pick up truck and a few people rode in the back. Once they got back in town they were in a car wreck and Marks friend, who was driving died. Brock was thrown from the vehicle and broke his arm.

I still have fond memories of Rachel and the fun times we shared. Sean ultimately became my latest obsession.. when you have no stability in your life, you fall easy and hard for those who show you attention. Trauma is weird like that.

One by one they came to the royal court in hopes of wooing the princess and one by one she pushed them away with her words and her actions and in the end she was alone with only herself to blame.

I “went with”, “dated”, “had boyfriends” whatever you want to call it a lot in the almost two years I spent in Andrews, Texas. As I mentioned, there was Steve E**** for awhile. I went on one time dates with Scooter , Lance A*******, James ****** to name a few. I went to homecoming with Robbie G****** as friends my freshman year as well.

I also dated a few for a few months at a time. I was particularly fond of Todd D*****. We dated in my sophomore year I think because he also took me to homecoming and I know the first homecoming I went to was with Robbie. Todd drove the cutest little convertible, it was just like the one my Grandpa in my dads side owned. Todd and I got along great, but looking back it was almost like we were just really good friends. He was always a gentlemen, we made out a lot but he never went any further than kissing. I am sure it was because I was clingy and high maintenance, but it didn’t last too long, however we remained friends and he often would still come and pick me up from school. I remember during this time I was able to talk to my twin sister on the phone for the first time in Over a year. I told her Todd’s name and she cracked me up by immediately singing “Hang down your head Todd D*****, hang down your head and cry, hang down your head Todd D*****, poor boy your bound to die”.. it was so good to hear her voice. I still wasn’t allowed to tell her or my dad where we were living though.

Toward the end of my freshman year I dated James W*******. He was a senior and I was a freshman. I remember he had blond blond hair and dark brown eyes. He was one of the few that I felt comfortable enough talking about my family to, he seemed to understand and get me. Shortly after he graduated though he moved to the Dallas Ft. Worth area. We would talk on the phone often and I even stayed home from a family vacation (by myself for a week at 14 almost 15) because James said he was coming to Andrews. He never came. Years later, after I had lived back to CA, James W******* somehow tracked me down and called me. He said he’d always felt bad and wanted to say he was sorry.

One day I was walking to class and I noticed that Sean H****** was talking to a friend and pointing at me. I remember thinking why is this popular good looking guy even noticing me? Anyway a couple of weeks later I walked to Rusty L***** house, he lived on Ruskin Rd as well, for a party. I was there with a friend Christy W******. When we walked in Sean H***** and Odie were sitting at the table playing cards. I clearly heard Sean say to Odie “that’s the girl I was telling you about” and he was looking at me. This was my first time ever really talking with Sean. We hit it off fairly well, talked all evening then ended up back at my house for a sweet make out session. This was close to the time of senior prom. Sean told me he really wanted to take me to Prom, but he had already asked his ex girlfriend Amy to go before they broke up. So he asked me if I would go to the after party prom with him, and I agreed. We agreed to just meet there since he had to take Amy home. So we met up at the after party, danced, saw people staring and talking about us and Sean, I guess wanting to give them something to look at, kissed me on the dance floor. He was genuinely nice, we didn’t end up together or anything, it just kinda fizzled out, but we remained friends until I left to go back to California. He was even brave and let me borrow his car a few times, even though I didn’t have a drivers license. I think he drove a mustang if I’m remembering correctly.

Ronnie F******.. he started coming around towards the end of my Freshman year. He would come over and hang out at my house, we would play pool, flirt and eventually make out. He knew I had a major crush on him and he took advantage of that. He “wooed me and made me think he liked me just as much. Then he would back off for a week or so, then come back around. He was a major player but I was naive and didn’t realize it. One night he called me, said he was sick in bed and practically begged me to come over his house. I thought it was so sweet that I was the one he wanted when he didn’t feel good, so I got my mom to drop me off at his house. When I got there I realized he was the only one home. Well he turned on the major charm, taking advantage of the fact that he knew I liked him and he convinced me to have sex with him. The embarrassing part was that his mom and sister came home while we were having sex.. I had to walk out of his bedroom and face them.. so so embarrassing. I had no idea that would be the last time Ronnie really spoke to me, he dumped me so fast after that. I was mortified by the way, with ease, he could hurt, use and dump me.

In the summer before my Sophomore year, Jerry G****** and I hung out a lot. He was a great friend, but I didn’t realize he wanted more. We really went so many places together and spent alot of time together that summer and into my sophomore year. He even went on vacation with our family over the summer. Mark, my moms now third husband, owned a pick up truck with a shell over the top of the back. Whenever we travelled, they would throw a mattress, some blankets and drinks and snacks in the back and they is where I would ride. This time we travelled to a Houston to visit Marks sister Phyllis and her daughter Lexa. So Jerry and so rode in the back of the truck for the whole trip. At some point during the trip after it had gotten dark, we were sleeping, cuddled together. This is when I fully realized Jerry wanted more, we ended up kissing and that progressed and we had sex, right in the back of that truck with my mom and Mark in the cab of the truck.

Unbelievably that did not ruin our friendship and it never happened again. Looking back, Jerry may have been the perfect boyfriend. He doted on me, he accepted me 100% loud mouth, flaws and all. But I did manage to finally make Jerry hate me. The last person I “dated” in Andrews was Jerry’s cousin, Sandra A*****. She is also Adam A***** sister, I was in a bad place. Things weren’t going well for my mom and Mark and I felt lost, she found me. No, I am not gay, never had been, but she created an emotional connection with me that made me feel seen and made me think she was the one for me..trauma is weird like that.

I’m proud of who I am, but I am not proud of what I’ve done to get here. Young and dumb, I was pretty on the outside, ugly on the inside. I was getting used to being used.

I met Adam and Marilyn through my sister Sheila. I was fourteen at the time and they both were nineteen. They had a daughter Jennifer who was around eleven months old and I would occasionally watch Jennifer while they were working. Both of them were the apartment managers so they had the responsibilities to make sure the grounds looked good, make or coordinate any repairs or maintenance needed to be done and to supervise the laundromat. As part of their compensation they had an apartment free of monthly rent.

I would often hang out with Marilyn in the laundromat. Marilyn was fun, she was goofy and she was genuine. She was a good friend to me, we would regularly ride around town together, play fun stupid jokes on people and just be silly. We laughed a lot.

She and Adam were young and got married because she got pregnant. They fought and bickered quite a bit.

I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but Adam started being “extra” nice to me. He would compliment me quite a bit, sometimes he would touch my shoulders, stroke my hair. At first I didn’t think anything if it. Adam was cute, he was older and he was showing me attention, so when he bent down and kissed me for the first time, I was receptive.

We began sneaking around, stealing a kiss whenever Marilyn went to the bathroom, or secretly meeting when she was working. We only had a sex a couple of times, but I never really felt guilty about it.

At that time I had struck up a friendship with Missy from school, she and I were inseparable and did almost everything together. The only times we weren’t together was when I was hanging out with Adam and Marilyn. I did, however, tell Missy and another friend of ours (I can’t remember her name, so I’ll call her Stacy) in detail about what was going on with Adam and myself. This turned out to be a big mistake.

One night , while hanging out with Adam and Marilyn, they got into this huge fight. We were driving and Marilyn insisted that Adam stop, she got out of the car and began walking down the dark deserted highway and Adam took off and left her there, I was still in the car with him. After about five minutes of driving, he turned around and told her to get back in the car. He drove her home and she got out of the car, he said he was going to keep driving to clear his mind. Marilyn actually asked if I would stay with him and talk some sense into him. But we did everything except talk once we were alone. I should’ve felt shame, remorse, something other than what I felt, which was nothing.

This went on for a few months, please remember during these few months, I was still a freshman in high school and I still had other “boyfriends”, just not sexual ones. As far as anyone knew I was as normal as they were.

So Missy, myself and Stacy continued to hang out together, having sleepovers, hanging out in the smoking area at school, cruising up and down the main street in Andrews, normal teenage girl stuff. At some point, Stacy and I had a falling out and she hated me and I guess I probably felt the same. Missy and I were still friends, but now Missy and I would do stuff together or Missy and Stacy would do stuff together, but it was no longer a “threesome” it was both Stacy and I vying for Missy’s attention.

One day, Marilyn and I were hanging out at the laundromat at the apartment complex when I see Stacy walking down the street. Stacy saw me and headed in my direction yelling at me, cussing at me as if she wanted to start a fight with me. I was no stranger to fighting as I had already been in one fight in Andrews, with Paula, so I yelled and cussed back. The pushing and shoving started, but before anyone could throw a punch Marilyn jumped in the middle of us and was yelling at Stacy to back off and keep walking. To which Stacy asked are you Marilyn? My heart sank, I knew what was coming. When Marilyn acknowledged who she was, Stacy told her everything I had ever told them about my affair with Adam. You could see the look of devastation on Marilyn’s face. At this point, a triumphant Stacy walked away and left me with the carnage. I somehow pulled it all together and convinced Marilyn that the only reason that Stacy knew her name or Adams name was because I talked about Adam and her a lot with Missy and Stacy. I said Stacy made all of that up because she hates me and wants to ruin my life. Whew, Marilyn bought it, I was in the clear. Marilyn did go home and question Adam, who of course denied it as well. Adam called me later that night and scolded me for telling anyone and said we would have to cool things off because he didn’t want Marilyn to find out. So that was the end of that.

I don’t remember feeling hurt or sad or anything like that. I remember feeling rejected, not good enough and used. Looking back I allowed myself to be used. I wanted love and attention to the point that I was willing to do whatever it took to get it. I was becoming my mom, the person I didn’t want to be, but somehow was becoming her…trauma is weird like that.

I’ve embraced the new beginning because I have no choice, but summer is almost over and I don’t care… all I want is my MTV.

My first commercial jet plane ride was from San Francisco Airport to Houston Texas. I had been on smaller airplanes before as my Grandpa On my dads side had owned a Cessna style airplane and would occasionally take us flying in them. Usually it was from Tracy CA over to San Francisco, turn around over the bay and head back to Tracy, CA. My grandfather stopped flying when he crashed his plane, thankfully he wasn’t hurt, but I guess it scared him enough that he quit flying.

We landed in Houston and my Uncle Jesse picked us up from the airport. Jesse was actually my Grammy’s brother so more my mothers uncle than mine. Jesse lived in a small house in a suburb of Houston, I think it’s Conroe, Texas. Jesse had satellite TV, I had never had that before and I remember being overwhelmed with the unlimited options of programs to watch. This was in August of 1982 and MTV was was still pretty new. I came across MTV very early on at Uncle Jesse’s house and I don’t think I turned it off the whole time I was there. It literally saved me from going insane because of all the sadness and boredom I had.

One night my mom and Uncle Jesse took me to the iconic Gilly’s bar in Houston. Back in the 80’s a child could drink alcohol if supervised by a parent. We danced, drank and danced some more. I got to meet Mickey Gilly and Johnny Lee. Johnny signed a picture for me, this was right after his big hit from the movie Urban Cowboy, “Looking for Love”. My mom was asked to dance by several men, After awhile I noticed she was only dancing with one particular man. He introduced himself as Mark. He was tall, blond hair, blue eyes, he wore a big Texas cowboy hat and belt buckle to match. We found out he was visiting his sister who lived in Houston. He lived in Andrews, TX which is a small west Texas town situated near Odessa and Midland TX. As we were leaving, my mom and Mark exchanged phone numbers and I rolled my eyes, I knew what that meant, this was the beginning of a new romance.

My cousin Heather, who was just a couple of years younger than me and her mom, my aunt Kathleen also lived in the Houston area. It was nice to have my cousin around and get reacquainted as I had not seen her since we were really young. I spent a great deal of time with Heather, teaching her things I should not have taught her, like how to give a blow Job using a cucumber and what sex was like and even encouraged her to give it a try with an older boy she had a crush on in her neighborhood, I think his name was Kyle. I’m glad of two things: Heather was too shy to approach Kyle like that and Kyle had no interest in Heather like that.

After having been in Houston for a couple of weeks, my mom informed me that she was going away for for a couple of weeks. Turns out, she and that guy Mark had been talking on the phone a lot so she was going to fly to Andrews area and visit with him. I stayed with my cousin Heather for part of the time and then back with uncle Jesse. One notable thing happened while my mom was gone. My uncle Jesse had a dog, I don’t remember her name, but she had puppies and I got to watch her give birth. It was so cool and kinda gross to see that.

I didn’t hate Houston, but it was mid August by this time and it was really hot and humid. I had never experienced that kind of humidity before and it was so hard to breath. So I stayed indoors in the air conditioning a lot and, you guess it, watched MTV for hours and hours. I fell in love with the band Rainbow and Joe Lynn Turner. Their song “Stone Cold” was played every few hours. I was mesmerized by his eyes, his hair. Joe Lynn Turner was my very first celebrity crush. I still listen to their music every now and again.

When My mom came back from Andrews, she informed me that we were moving again. It seems she somehow convinced Mark Glover, or maybe he really wanted it too, that they should move in with each other. I wasn’t surprised, this had been happening my whole life. So in the span of about a month I went from living in Newark, CA to having my sister arrested for robbing my grandparents house, to fleeing the law and moving to Houston Texas to now being told I am once again being uprooted and moving to Andrews Texas.

This is when I finally began to feel that my best interest was never the intent of my mother. It seemed that it was always what she wanted without regard to her children and it would never change.

So we packed it up again, got on an airplane and flew west.

And the trust was broken, the walls had crumbled and the guilty fled to a new land. A new cycle of destruction followed wherever we went.

Toward the middle of the summer in 1982, my sister Teri left to go live with my Grandma and Grandpa on my dads side of the family and my sister Sheila left to go live with my Grammy. I was the only one living with my Mom in Newark because I didn’t want to leave Scott. Scott would be getting out of Juvenile Hall and we were going to live happily ever after.

I don’t think Teri had been gone more than a couple of months when she decided she wanted to come back and live in Newark. I thought it was weird that Tracy was going to pick her up and that my mom had made those arrangements. But I thought it was my mom after all and she had done stranger things. Once Teri got back to Newark, she had a bunch of stuff from Grandmas house and said Grandma had given it to her. I remember she gave me a jewelry trinket type box that she said Grandma wanted me to have.

My Grandma and Grandpa were the quintessential grandparents. Grandma was kind but a little gruff sometimes. She was about 5’5” tall, had dark brown hair, wore horned rimmed glasses, while Grandpa was quiet, until you got in trouble. He had the biggest hard rock belly and we used to sit on his lap and “play drums” on his belly. They were an icon of stability. They lived in the same house that my grandfather built in 1962. My Grandfather was the owner of a Construction company and had built several of the still standing subdivisions in Manteca. He had a great reputation as an honest hardworking man. My Grandmother made the best biscuits and gravy every Sunday morning and the family would gather around her table to enjoy. I sadly missed that tradition more than I made it because I lived with my mother. Grandma had an organ and she would spend hours trying to teach us to play. Sitting at the organ with her is one of my fondest memories. My grandparents were just all around good people who believed in the goodness of people and who trusted you until you gave them a reason not to trust you. And My mom, Teri and Tracy gave them a good reason to no longer trust them.. and all of us for that matter because they didn’t know who to believe.

The next day after Teri arrived home, we were all swimming in the apartment complex pool. We noticed that a few policeman had showed up at the pool and then took Teri away. I was so confused, I did not know what was going on. I found out they had also arrested Tracy. I will not tell anyone else’s story, so I can only give you the version of events as I heard them. First from my mother, then later in life from my sister Teri and then some from my dad.

When I started asking what was going on, I got resistance. No one wanted to tell me why my identical twin sister was taken away by the police. then my mother finally told me that Tracy had robbed my grandparents house when he got there to pick Teri up. She said Teri was not in trouble, but the police just wanted to question her. My mom told me Teri would be home soon.. but she didn’t come home. Not that night, not the next. In fact I didn’t see Teri again for about two years.

Teri later told me that while living in my grandparents house, she found several thousands of dollars in cash in my grandparents bedroom. She called my mom and told her what she had found, then the unfathomable happened. Teri said that my mother instructed her to steal the money, so she sent Tracy to pick up Teri and the money, but when Tracy got there, the money was gone. That money was actually rents my grandfather collected and he had deposited it that morning. So Tracy decided since they couldn’t get the money, they would take other things. He robbed my grandparents of valuable heirlooms that were irreplaceable. He stole their safe. He took anything and everything he wanted to take and then drove Teri back to Newark, where she proceeded to give me stolen items and saying my Grandma wanted me to have them. I don’t blame Teri at all. She was thirteen years old, impressionable and wanting to impress. She simply did as she was told and coerced to do. Once Tracy found out The police knew who robbed my grandparents, rather than give the belongings back to my grandparents, I was told he dumped everything in the mudflats of the San Francisco Bay. They would never be recovered.

I also heard that once Tracy had posted bail, my dad and uncle Pat went to his apartment and beat the ever living shit out of him for stealing from their parents. They were never charged with assault to the best of my knowledge.

About a week or so after the robbery, my mother informed me that we were moving to Texas to spend some time with my uncle Jesse. She told me I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone where we were going, but I slyly hid a note under my bed that said we were going to Texas and to tell Scott where we were.. I don’t think the note was ever found. Two days later, we flew to Texas with only what we could pack in a suitcase. I didn’t know it then, but we were running from the law, on the lam per se.

I had to leave my beloved Scott without saying goodbye. My world, my everything. Flying into Houston Texas, tears streaming down my face, this was the first time I really and actually hated my mother. I remember thinking.. Houston is so green from the airplane, I remember feeling so numb. Trauma is weird like that.

You should see me in a crown
Your silence is my favorite sound
Watch me make ’em bow
One by one by one
One by one by one … Billie Eilish

After Boise ID we ended up moving to Newark, CA which is just outside of the San Jose area. This is one of the only times I don’t recall my mom moving somewhere to follow a boyfriend.

We finished up our seventh grade year at Newark Junior High School and that summer I turned thirteen. Thirteen was a pivotal turning point in my life. I had already been exposed to so many things that I should not have been exposed to that you would think it couldn’t possibly get any worse..yet here comes thirteen saying “Hold my Beer”..

Once again my mom worked two jobs. She was a secretary by day and a cocktail waitress by night. She was hardly ever home and we really didn’t see too much of her. We moved into an apartment that had, I think three bedrooms. I know Teri and I shared a bedroom, Sheila had a bedroom and my mom had a friend, Leanne from Idaho with us some of the time. So many of my memories are a little blurry.

My mothers friend, Leanne, was from Pocatello Idaho. I think they met as cocktail waitresses in Boise. Leanne was average heights, skinny and I think she had strawberry blonde hair. She was an extremely hyper individual. She and my mom partied a lot. One night, and I’m sure they were already high, they were sitting at the kitchen table snorting cocaine. Either I was curious or I caught them doing it, i don’t exactly remember how it happened, but I still can’t comprehend even now as an adult what my mother did next. My mother, invited me, her thirteen year old child, to snort a line of cocaine with her. Looking back now as an adult, I cannot fathom what the hell she was thinking when she did this. But, if mom was doing it, it must be okay, so I snorted my first line of coke with my own mother.

My mother actually inadvertently taught her own children how to party, so it was no surprise that we started holding our own parties when mom was at work. We had friends from school over, raided the alcohol, some brought “speed” in capsule form over. On one particular afternoon, we had a group of friends over. We were all drinking, doing the normal partying. I don’t remember everyone who was there, but I do remember there were quite as few of us. One particular friend, (I’ll call him Billy because I don’t remember his name) drank quite a bit more than us, I think he must have been doing shots or drinking straight liquor. But anyhow, we had all been having a good time when we realized we couldn’t find Billy anywhere. We looked all over the apartment, then we went outside around the back of our apartment and there he was, Billy crumpled on the ground, passed out, foaming at the mouth. None of us had ever heard of alcohol poisoning before, but we knew this was wrong. He was in bad shape. We were so afraid of getting in trouble for drinking that we almost left him there. I got up the courage to call 911 and anonymously report an unconscious boy in the walkway behind our apartment. So we all watched the ambulance come and take him away. We thought, whew Billy will be okay and we won’t get into trouble. Little did we know that you are never anonymous when you call 911. We had the police come to our house, ask us what happened, how he got there. And we lied and kept lying until they finally stopped asking us questions. That was an extremely scary time for us and eye opening to the dangers of alcohol at such a young age.

Another party, another night. My mom was working at the bar, we were home and had invited some friends over. Barney, my current “boyfriend”, Teri, my friend Tammy and some guy named Jose was also there. This particular party I found myself being the drunk one. In the bits and pieces I remember, I found myself in bed with Barney. I remember my friend Tammy barging in and saving me from losing my virginity with Barney and he ended up going home. I don’t remember a whole lot from that night, but I guess everyone else went home and I passed out on the bathroom floor. I remember waking up in immense pain with a heavy weight on top of me. Once I realized what was happening, I struggled to get the weight off of me and saying “stop, please stop!” Turns out Jose, the boy I didn’t know, found me on the bathroom floor and took advantage of a girl who couldn’t say no. So I lost my virginity that night anyway, not by choice, but to a boy I didn’t know who wouldn’t stop when I asked him to. I remember I thought I must’ve done something wrong, maybe I encouraged it, maybe I led him on at some point in the night. I didn’t even hate him for it because I felt like I deserved it.

I know it wasn’t my fault. That I did nothing wrong. That he raped me. I also know that I did not deserve it. This took me many years to realize and then accept this…trauma is weird like that.

#trauma, #childhoodtrauma, #rape, #thirteen

A falling star comes down in the night, her brightness has faded away. She once had a smile full of light, but for some reason she cries today. Could it be the moon has left her so he could stray afar? How could she have been so sure he would never leave her for another star? She begged and pleaded for him to keep her there, but he wanted to be with another. So now she falls, alone way out here, without the moon or any other. Shari, 1982

Summer was over and so began my eighth grade year in school. For once I am starting at the same school that I was in seventh grade, so I won’t have to make all new friends again.

I was a trouble maker in eighth grade. I was loud and obnoxious. I fought with other girls my age, I argued with teachers, I didn’t do my school work, much less homework. My final report card showed all “F’s”, but at the bottom said “passed to ninth grade”. I guess they wanted to make sure I did not come back.

I had a few friends, but Tammy was my best friend. Tammy and I were inseparable that year. We walked to school together, walked home, we partied, took speed during the school day, drank alcohol after school. We connected like I had never connected with another girl as she had a similar home life as I did plus she had an older boyfriend. His name was Tracy and He was 20 years old. They had sex a lot and she told me all about it. My only experience was the rape, but she acted like it was fun and enjoyable. She made me think I wanted what she had and so I tried to be like her. She seemed so mature for her age, so knowledgeable in relationships and sex. Later in that summer, Tracy would become a household name in our family, a name we wanted to forget, but we never will.

I met Scott in school. He was fifteen and still in eighth grade. He was tall, had dirty blond wavy hair that was just above his shoulders. He had green eyes and a slight chip in his front right tooth. He took interest in me first and I was smitten. He liked me, he liked the way I looked, he thought I was fun to be around. He gave me the attention I had been craving my entire life, and I loved being doted on. Of course, the attention was really to get one thing, sex and he pressured me for it. I let him believe I was still a virgin because I honestly didn’t count the first time. So one day, after school, in the middle of a park, behind a fenced in area, I lost my virginity for the second time. This time it was consensual.

Scott was my world, my everything. But Scott wasn’t perfect, he had a temper. Never towards me, but he got into a lot of fights, mostly the ones he started. It was well known in school to not mess with Scott Cunningham, he will kick your ass.

We dated that whole school year. I was smart enough to go to planned parenthood (thank you Sheila) and get my first gynecological exam and be put on birth control pills. I remember coming home from planned parenthood after going by myself and my mom was at the top of the stairs as I headed to my bedroom. I had a brown paper bag with the “goodies” from planned parenthood. She snarkily asked “what’s in the bag?” By this time she knew I was sexually active, but she never really discussed it with me, she only made snide remarks, so I sarcastically responded “what do you think?” And walked in my bedroom. And that was that.. it wasn’t discussed again.

Scott and I had sex anytime, anywhere we could. At some point my mom moved us from our apartment to another apartment in the same complex. We shared this apartment with a man named Glen. Glen was a strange man. He stayed in his room, rarely coming out of it unless he was going to work or getting something to eat. I have no idea what he did in that room all day. I do know that he would invite my male friends up to his room, but I never discussed what they did in his room. I probably didn’t want to know. Glen had a van that was almost always in the parking lot. Scott and I utilized his van many times to have sex. Our friends thought it was funny to knock on the windows, make hoot and holler calls while we were in the van. All of this seemed so normal back then.

Side note: remember Kurt from my Boise ID story? Well he ended up following us to Newark for a few months. I don’t have any real stories from his time in Newark, but thought you’d be interested to know he showed up there. In researching for this blog, I looked up Kurt’s name. He died in 1992. I don’t know the circumstances around his death, but he would’ve only been in his early 30’s when he died.

One day after school, Scott got into an argument with a younger classmate. Scott ended up beating this kid to a bloody pulp, kicking him in the head with his boots and putting him in the hospital. Later that day Scott was arrested for assault. He was sent to juvenile hall for six months. I only saw him one more time after that. I guess with juvenile hall you can get day passes and his mom brought him to see me. I think it had only been a month since the last time I saw him, but I was so excited to see him, I had missed him so much.

But life goes on and sometimes life takes an even uglier turn of events that changes the course of your plans. I had no control over the next sequence of events, but it altered my life, my sisters lives, my mothers life and my fathers life..

I was so used to major life events, that looking back I didn’t seem phased, but I cried so many times over what happened, but no one ever saw my tears.. trauma is weird like that.

It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t all good. Sometimes you just have to find the humor in this wretched thing called life.

The Day We Pranked Michael “One-Leg” Todd. This was an essay I wrote for my English class. I didn’t want to spill the beans on all the bad stuff, so I pretended Michael was a good guy. He was fun, but he also dealt drugs, I think he beat his wife too.. so not so great. Some of this was fictional (like remembering the pranks he pulled) But we really did pull off this prank of trying to sell his leg. By the way I got an A on this.

When I was a nine-year-old little girl, my mother had a friend named Michael Todd. Michael had dark curly brown hair, tanned skin, and hazel eyes. Eyes that were kind, sincere and had a mischievous twinkle to them right before he would tell a joke or play a prank. Michael was a prankster, and he did it often. I have many memories of his antics, like the time he hid my mother’s shoes then helped her look for fifteen minutes before finally letting her in on his secret, or when he invited us to dinner and made the mashed potatoes with sugar instead of salt, I’ll also never forget the time he took my sister and me to the drive-in movies to see the zombie thriller Dawn of the Deadand snuck up behind us, as we were lying on a blanket beside the car, and scared us by grabbing our feet. His pranks were epic and, we loved them.

There is one more thing about Michael’s appearance that is worth noting. He only had one leg. When Michael was younger, he was in a motorcycle accident, and his leg was injured so severely that the doctors could not repair it, so they had to remove it. He never let this slow him down, and I am sure he impacted many people’s lives because of his positive attitude. He never complained about losing his leg, but it was clear that the prosthetic he had was bothersome as he would usually remove it when he got to our house. My sister and I had a nickname for him; we called him Michael “One-Leg” Todd. The first time we called him this, he laughed so hard that the soda he was drinking spewed right out of his nose and told us that it was so funny and cute that two nine-year-old girls came up with this nickname, and he, in turn, gave us the nickname of “Twinkies” because we are identical twins.

One day, my sister and I decided to play a prank, of our own, on Michael. We decided to sneak into the house and stealhis prosthetic leg. As we walked into the house and started looking around, we heard Michael and my mother talking in the kitchen, so we headed to the living room. That’s when we saw it, leaning right up against the old brown recliner. We quietly picked up his leg and tiptoed out of the house, and sat on the front lawn with it. We had no idea what we would do next, but we felt proud to accomplish this feat. As people started walking by us and asking questions like “well, what do you have there, young ladies?” and “does the owner of that leg know you have it?” it dawned on us, we could sell his leg. So, my sister went back into the house while I stayed outside with Michael’s leg to make sure no one steals it. She got an ink pen, tape, and a piece of paper. My sister wrote $5.00 on the paper, and we taped it to the leg; we laughed and laughed. We thought this was so funny. We received many reactions from those passing by, ranging from sheer disgust or chastisement but most laughed in hystericsas they passed by. A few people even tried to barter with us by offering less than the “asking price”. We had been outside for a half-hour or so when we heard Michael’s booming voice “Twinkies”! Scared but still highly amused with ourselves, we giggled and said, “We’re out here”. As he came over to where we were, he all of a sudden burst into uncontrolled laughter; he could not believe what we were doing. When he stopped laughing, he asked for his leg back, but we told him he would have to buy it from us; we couldn’t give such a valuable treasure away. He said, “you drive a hard bargain, twinkies”, and so he paid us each $5.00, and we happily gave him his leg back.

Whenever I think of the day we successfully “pulled a prank” on Michael “One-Leg” Todd, it brings a big smile to my face. He was a significant influence on my life and taught me how to stay positive even in adversity.

#pranksters, #trauma, #princess, #twins, #childhoodtrauma, #overcomingtrauma, #mystory

Innocence lost is sometimes best if never found again.

Ann Morrison Park is located just outside of downtown Boise Idaho. This is where we spent the summer of 1980, you could say the park was our babysitter that summer.

It started innocently enough. It was a fun place that my mom would take us to. The Boise river runs right through the park, we used to like to play in the river and I remember it had these little fishies that looked like little sucker fish. I would spend hours catching these fish by hand. Sometimes we would float on inner tubes down the river. It was a fun time for us, the park was fun.

Somewhere down the line, I guess my mom couldn’t find a babysitter for us or we didn’t want to have a babysitter, but whatever the reason we ended up going to the park everyday while my mom went to work. There was this group of older people (18-30’s) who were also at the park every day. I only specifically remember one of their names, Kurt. Anyhow there was a married couple, several single individuals both male and female. This group kinda took us in under their wings. Their goal at the park was to hang out, get drunk, get stoned till dark, then wake up and repeat and they included us in these activities. We were eleven almost twelve and they gave us beer and cigarettes each day.

There was one particular man, I don’t remember his name, but he had tattoos all over. Everyone would always talk about his “tweety” tattoo, but that one wasn’t visible. They talked about little “tweety” and big “tweety”. Of course I was too young to understand the innuendoes of their comments, but I was curious and would ask to see his tweety tattoo, but the group would always tell me “no, you don’t t want to see it”. One day, as I was leaving the public restroom, this man was also coming out of the mens room. There was no one else in the group around. He asked me if I still wanted to see his tweety tattoo, and of course I said yes. To my shock, he unzipped his pants and pulled his penis out. Right there on the tip of his penis was a little tweety bird tattoo. Then he asked if I wanted to see the big tweety tattoo as he started rubbing his penis with his hand to make it grow, and it did start growing as he was coercing an erection. Well, I can’t say I’d ever seen an adult penis before and that scared me, so I took off running back to the group and never asked about tweety again.

Kurt. He was around nineteen years old, I remember he was very good looking and very likable. I’m thinking I had turned twelve by this particular memory. For some reason my mom did not pick us up from the park one day, so my older sister and I ended up at Kurt’s apartment. I honestly don’t t remember the specifics, but we ended up staying the night there. God only knows why, but we also ended up sleeping in his bed, with him and he molested me and I was too afraid to say something, so I laid there while he had his hand in my underwear feeling me up. I guess I’m thankful my sister was there so it didn’t go any further than that. This is probably why his name sticks with me.. trauma is weird like that.

I’m not sure if my mother was naive or purposely blind to what went on at Ann Morrison park, or the people we were with. I do know that my mom became friends with these people as well and they would come to our house and party. I think one party, someone slipped me some kind of drug. I remember going to my bedroom to go to bed while the party was still going on, but something felt and seemed weird. I couldn’t sleep, every noise seemed like it was right there with me. We lived fairly close to some train tracks and I remember hearing the train thinking it was coming right at our house. Then I opened my bedroom window and could see the train and I swear it zoomed right by my head. Now obviously that is not what really happened, but it seemed so real that I had to convince myself it wasn’t. I’m not sure what type of hallucinogenic I was given, but I’m pretty sure that I was given something that night.

One day after coming home from the park, I was obviously drunk. Can you imagine being a parent of an eleven, almost twelve year old and asking them if they are drunk? Especially if you are the one who took your child to this place every day exposing them to people who were likely to give them drugs and alcohol. Anyhow, my mother asked me if I was drunk and my drunk ass child self started taking high steps as I was walking and slurred “noooo, I’n not druunk”, then I got in trouble for drinking… it’s pretty ironic. I’m not really blaming my mom, she was still a child raising children, but I always wanted to be more important to her than I felt like I was.

As with every other place we lived, our time in Idaho was over. We packed our bags, got in the car and started the nine hour drive back to Manteca, CA. Just as we could see the Boise horizon in the distance “What’s your Name” by Lynyrd Skynyrd came on the radio we all belted out the lyrics of the opening line of the song “ Well, its eight o’clock in Boise, Idaho”… it’s kind of strange that’s what I remember about the drive.

Those six months or so in Boise ID taught me that not all people are good people. That I was growing up, faster than most kids my age and that I was exposed to things that most parents couldn’t even comprehend exposing their children to. It was only six months, but they were some of the most impressionable and formative months of my life that I wish I could forget… but I can’t .. trauma is weird like that.

#boise #childhoodtrauma #annmorrisonpark #abuse #neglect

Where is my kingdom, who are my people? I’ve lived my whole life not fitting in, not belonging, not being loved like a Princess should be loved.

At some point toward the end of the age of eleven, beginning of twelve years old my mom sent us to live with our dad. This was nothing unusual, it seems that this happened several times over the years but we always ended up back with my mom. This time my mom followed her current boyfriend, I think his name was Bill, to Boise, Idaho. It only took about six months before she and Bill broke up, but for some reason she was going to stay there. My older sister Sheila, who was 13 had already followed her there. My Grammy and Grandpa Bud (my moms parents) were getting ready to drive to Idaho and visit my mom. They, at the encouragement of my mother, had asked my Dad if they could bring myself and my twin sister Teri with them when they went to visit my Mom. My Dad had legal custody of us, so I remember my Dad did not want us to go, but Grammy convinced him that we would only be gone a week and they would bring us back safely. So he relented and off we went.

We always loved spending time with Grammy and Grandpa Bud, so a long car ride with them was so fun for us. I have fond memories of my Grammy.. I can still hear her sing saying my name “Shari, Shari baby”. Grammy was kind, yet stern. You knew to do what she said, but you also knew you were loved. She was a great cook and made the best carnitas tacos. One of my best memories of her before she passed in 2010 was being in the kitchen with her sitting down while she showed me how to make them.. yum. Grandpa Bud was a no nonsense, what you see is what you get kinda guy. Equally as stern as Grammy, but quick to give a smile and a hug.

After the long car ride we arrived at my moms new house in Boise Idaho, which was just a block away from the park where the movie Bronco Billy, starring Clint Eastwood and Sandra Locke, was filmed. It was so good to see my Mom, she showered us with hugs and kisses, telling us how much she missed us, took us to do fun things while we were there and told us that she didn’t want us to leave. She somehow convinced us that it was our decision to stay and then had us call our Dad and tell him we didn’t want to live with him, that he was bad and we were better off living with her. It was the one thing my Dad dreaded would happen and it did. I’m hopeful that my Grammy and Grandpa Bud were not in on this from the beginning, but I honestly don’t know.

My mom had managed to turn us against our dad in less than a week. It still makes me sad when I think about how it all played out.

Mom worked two jobs, she was a secretary by day and a cocktail waitress by night. We had a lot of spare time on our hands. I know we finished up 6th grade there, made friends that introduced to bell bottoms which for some reason we’re still in style. My older sister Sheila was in 8th grade and we all went to the same school as in Idaho junior high school was 6th-8th grades, but in California 6th grade is still elementary school.. so I thought I was a big shot being in Junior High School.

The summer after our 7th grade year, my mom decided that it would be okay to drop us off at Ann Morrison Park every day while she worked. we hung out with the best of the best druggies and drinking crowd the park had to offer. I don’t remember all of their names, but we met a lot of very interesting people at this park, people we had no business hanging around, people my mom did not know but trusted to take care of us like our babysitters. So much happened during that summer, but to be fair it could’ve been so much worse than it was.

I wish we knew then what we know know, how our time in Boise would forever change our lives. We grew up so fast there, we lost the last of our innocence in six short months. The experiences, the people and the parties will haunt me till the day I die… trauma is weird like that.

#abuse #childhoodtrauma #trauma #isurvived

I was playful, joyful and life was fun and free until I met you….. Pain, pain go away, come again another day.

Around the age of 9 we moved to an old house in Manteca, CA. This house was also on Yosemite Avenue but further towards the country. Yosemite Avenue is a very busy road in Manteca and the house we rented was right on the road. I guess my mom couldn’t afford the rent by herself, so she had some roommates. I don’t remember their names, but they were a young couple. I remember they got high a lot, drank a lot and had sex a lot. I only know about the sex part because my bedroom was next to their bedroom and there was a door in my bedroom that went to their bedroom. My mom had put my bed against that door so I couldn’t get into their bedroom and they couldn’t get into my bedroom. I could hear them all the time in their room and I could see them. I was curious and realized that the keyhole in the door gave just the right view to watch, so I watched. This was my first exposure to sex that I vividly remember, I didn’t understand what I was watching, but I was intrigued.

After the house on Yosemite, we moved to a duplex toward the end of my fourth grade year or around the beginning of my 5th grade year. One day my Dad decided to take us on a day trip to Yosemite National Park. My dad owned a truck with a camper that sat on the bed of the truck. Myself, my sister Sheila, her friend Florence, my sister Teri, my step Sisters Ronda and Michelle all crammed into the camper shell and off we went on the 3 hour drive up to Yosemite. There are several entrances into Yosemite, but I remember the one we chose (and don’t memory check me in this because I could be wrong) lead to a tunnel or bridge of some sort. On the other side of this tunnel or bridge we’re two waterfalls, one very small one and then one very big one called Bridalveil. My dad had stopped the truck so we could all get out and take in the scenery. This was our first stop for the day.

We parked and all got out and we were looking at the smaller waterfall. Most everyone decided to cross the street to get a better look at the Bridalveil waterfall, I decided to stay behind and either my sister Sheila or my step sister Michelle stayed also. At some point I decided I wanted to cross the street and my usual independent self ran across without looking. One of my sisters grabbed me and told me to wait, but I pulled away and ran into the middle of the road that was basically a cliff overlooking a stream that the waterfall runs into.

The last thing I remember is looking to my right and seeing a blue car coming towards me, I jumped just as it hit me.

The next thing I remember is waking up lying on the road with heavy blankets on top of me. It all seemed surreal, I was looking around and my dad was there, he seemed really distressed, there were people all around, cars stopped everywhere. I didn’t feel afraid, just confused. It wasn’t until I heard someone yell “here comes the ambulance” that I realized something had happened to me. I remember my face burned, so I pulled my hand out from the blanket and touched my face, there was blood all over my hand.. then I panicked.

My dad later told me the sequence of events from the moment I was hit by the car until I regained consciousness. When I was hit I flew up into the air, apparently my dad was trying to catch me because he was afraid I was going to go over the cliff. I then landed on my stomach and face and proceeded to “skid” across the pavement causing road rash all over my body and face. Had I gone over the cliff my story probably would have ended right then.

People stopped their cars, put their day on hold to help. They gathered blankets to put on me, they got someone to call 911 (pre cell phones) and they tried to keep my dad and other family members calm. Apparently my dad flew off the handle when some guy asked my dad if he could “just move me to the side of the road” so traffic could start flowing again.

The couple who hit me, not their fault, felt terrible. The ironic part of it all was they were from Manteca, where we lived, and my dad (or maybe it was my grandfather) built their house. My Dad joking asked “couldn’t you have waited till we all got home to hit her?”

Once in the ambulance, I drifted in and out of consciousness. I remember I had to pee, but it was a long ambulance ride so they told me I would have to pee in a kidney dish(?). I remember I was so embarrassed that my dad was going to see my “private parts” that I couldn’t do it. It’s funny that is what I remember about the ambulance ride. Trauma is weird like that.

Once we got to the hospital back in Manteca (yes I took an ambulance from Yosemite back to Manteca.. 3 hour ambulance ride, I don’t even want to think how much that cost.). I was doing well, awake and coloring in some coloring books (not sure where those came from) when my mom walked into the room. This is when I broke down sobbing, I was so happy to see her, for some reason she was all I needed at that time.

My mom took me home that night. Amazingly I did not break any bones. The extent of my injuries was nothing more than being bruised and road rash. The doctors say had I not jumped before the car hit me, it would have impacted on my rib cage, punctured my lungs and I probably would not have survived. Instead, I had one big nasty bruise on my thigh and hip from the car’s impact. I think they estimated the car to have been traveling around 25/30 mph.

Once home I was able to see the road rash on my face. I was so ugly. It made me cry and throw up. That was a rough night for sure. The scabs have long since healed but the scars of that day remain, just faded. As I got older and into my teens you really couldn’t see them anymore, but I always knew they were there.. trauma is weird like that.

Am I a princess? From a young age most little girls are told they are princesses, but I don’t ever remember being called a princess, being treated like a princess or even acting like a princess, so I must not be a princess.

After my parents divorced, when I was two years old, my mother had a series of failed relationships. Moving in and out of this guy’s house or that guy’s apartment and we were with her wherever she went. I have very few memories of this time, if I’m being honest, I have no real memories from three until around the age of five at which time my mother met her second husband. In all appearances he was great and showered my mother with love. He was funny, witty, charming. He looked a lot like the 1970’s Carlos Santana with the dark hair long on the sides but just above his shoulders and that full lip mustache. He worked as a salesman for a canning company, I think, and he travelled some for work. Sometimes we travelled with him. I remember when I was about six or so we temporarily moved to Palm Springs, CA for his work. This summer particularly sticks out for me because of the fond memories I have from it. We lived in a motel that had a sliding glass door that opened up near a pond that was filled with ducks. We would play in and around the pond all day long, trying to catch tadpoles and frogs, chasing the ducks and being chased by the ducks, finding duck nests and eggs. There was also a horse farm nearby and my mother took us there for lessons (this was not our first exposure to horses as my grandfather on my dad’s side owned 3 horses). The lessons were rodeo lessons and we learned how to barrel race with a clown leading us as we went. We thought we were big shot kids riding those horses, even if we didn’t have full control of the horses, but it was so much fun. All summer long we were led by that clown and we were counting down the days till the big “end of summer rodeo”. When the big day finally came we were dressed and ready to ride. I was helped onto my horse, a golden brown pony, and led to the starting point, but then instead of being led by the clown, the clown clapped hard on the horses butt and hollered “gettiyep!” That horse knew exactly what to do, but unfortunately I did not. The horse ran as fast as it could in the figure eight sequence of the barrels and I remember being terrified and screaming as loud as I could, but no sound came out. Have you ever had a silent scream? To this day, when I am afraid, I can not scream. All my screams are silent screams. Trauma is weird like that.

A couple of years into the marriage, we moved into the “haunted house” on Yosemite Ave. No really it was haunted! The house was built in the 1800’s, had three stories and a big old front porch. I can remember waking up to shadowy figures at the foot of my bed, hearing strange noises, creeks and footsteps, one time I even saw an old lady who bent over and put the needle on my record player and the music actually started playing. I was never really afraid, but I also didn’t like seeing and hearing these things. After a while of living there my mom’s second husband changed for the worse. He became verbally and physically abusive to both my mom and us. He used to think it was funny to “wrestle” us girls at night before bed where the loser had to do shots of wine, thereby getting us drunk. I was seven. I am not sure if it was all wine, there were nights where I would drift off to sleep but I wasn’t asleep, I was hovering over my body, flying through the house watching everyone around me. This always came with the sense of a heavy weight on me, I couldn’t move, it was hard to breath. To this day I am not sure of the meaning of those nights. I often wonder what I have blocked from my memories, I often wonder if I really want to know. Trauma is weird like that.

My mother was a hairdresser and she had the opportunity to work on the movie set of “Good Luck Miss Wyckoff” starring Anne Heywood, Carolyn Jones and Robert Vaughn. Her job was doing the cast’s hair, we got to meet Carolyn Jones and I was shocked that Morticia did not actually have long black hair. I remember sitting on her lap and talking and laughing and feeling really special that I got to meet a “Star”! One night my mom came home really late from work and my stepdad was so angry he punched my mom, then pulled her hair. I remember he had her by the neck against the wall and she was yelling for us to run and hide, but he caught us. He grabbed us by the hair and used us to gain control over her. My memories are a blur around this night, but my mom filled me in as I got older. He thought she was cheating on him, he was jealous of her success and he lost his self control. He beat my mother up, but somehow she managed that night to get us in the car, as she was leaving the driveway my step dad had a baseball bat and he was hitting the car with it, he busted the front windshield, but we got away just in time. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but thank God it was the last, she finally left him for good.

My mother was far from perfect. I remember after she left him, She maxed out my step dads credit cards, bought us clothes, food. She also left us at our dads and went to Hawaii for a month with some guy (I don’t remember who he was) From what I was told it was all on my step dads dime, that is until he finally cut her off.

And so our lives went back to moving from house to house, school to school, town to town. I don’t think I ever spent more than one year at any particular school while in elementary grades. My mother was not a good mom, but somehow I think she thought she was doing the best she could for us. She had a rough life and I think that was her way of coping.. Trauma is weird like that.

My sister and I were born in the summer of 1968. My mother didn’t know she was having twins until after my sister was born, surprising both my parents and the doctor, who proceeded to curse while telling my mother “shit, there’s another one in there”. I was not an easy child from the start, my independence showed before I was even born. My mothers cervix collapsed and as I like to say, I was hanging on to her rib cage trying desperately to stay in my warm and familiar home. One hour and fifteen minutes later I was pulled into the world kicking and screaming.

I guess a little background on my parents is in order. They were kids raising kids as they were 17 and 18 when they had their first daughter, my older sister. Then at 20 and 21 here we come, unplanned and unexpected. My parents had a tumultuous relationship, meeting in high school and coming from different backgrounds. My mother was poor, a child born out of wedlock of my grandmother living with her siblings and step father while my father was the fifth child of seven children in a well to do family whose reputation in the small California town was exemplary. My mother had only recently come to learn that the man she thought was her father, was in fact her step father. This information no doubt caused her turmoil, so when she met my “bad boy” father as a sophomore in high school, she was enamored by him. My father was a playboy, he was very good looking and wealthy. My mother was beautiful and they naturally were attracted to each other, but both had large personalities and tempers to match, they fought and loved with equal intensity. My mother got pregnant at 16 so my parents got married, in the spring of 1966 my sister was born. The day my mother went into labor with my sister, my father was having a weekend fling with one of her friends (which resulted in a brother that I didn’t find out about until I was in my forties, but that’s another story). My parents fought, they cheated and they divorced when I was two. I have no memories of my parents ever being together.

I do have two memories from a very young age though. One is riding in a red wagon being pulled by my mother while we pass an enormous chain linked fence. I later learned this was the daily route we took while taking my older sister to school and the fence was only 6’ high. The other memory was sitting in my grandmothers truck watching my father throw all of our belongings from the garage to the driveway. I was two years old, yet that memory sticks with me to this day. Trauma is such a weird thing.

This blog is about trauma, abuse, control, neglect, drugs, sex, religious hypocrisy but most importantly survival and overcoming obstacles. This is my life in bits and pieces..I’m finally ready to share it and my hope is that it inspires and helps others realize they will be okay.