As a five or six year old, my parents worked hard. I was left with my dad’s parents’. My uncle started molesting me. Then soon after, so did two of my oldest cousins. I remember this going on until I was twelve. I found out what was happening to me from an encyclopedia. I knew it was scary,  hurt, and left me feeling all alone. Never thinking once about telling anyone.

My grandparents fought. My granddad, was scary with butcher knives, either at me, or the latest dog’s tail. Just for fun. My dad abused my mom, when he was drinking. Many nights we were running anywhere for help, or putting furniture against my bedroom door just to keep him out. My mom couldn’t stand to have me around any other time, as long as I was away from her, she was happy, if she was home. I became an addict as soon as possible. It seemed comfortable.

More than ever,  I felt comfortable. As a child, I heard voices, felt people coming after me….all the time. Even seeing them at times. Alcohol,  drugs of other kinds,  gave me reasons for these things to be happening. That was my reasoning. I have made peace with my abuse. I am clean and sober now, since August 28th,  2011. One of my abusers is dead. One lives on, and one still lives a screwed up life. my opinion. Saying that, I guess it affects one different than the other. Me, I’m not sure I honestly will ever be free from it all, but I don’t really want to be. It’s part of me. One of my chapters. One of my stories. Thank you.