Life from Four to Now

Growing up is never easy. Some have one parent, some have both, and some have neither. Well if you haven’t guessed it by now... I’m one of those who has neither. I can remember as far back as the age of four. Shocking right? Well... not really when life has never been easy for me. I’ve been abused, left, mislead, confused and left to figure it out on my own. So this is a little life story of my own I wanted to share.

From the age of four I remember things a little too well. At that point in time I had four other siblings, only 3 that I knew. My grandma ended up meeting a man. Now before I get ahead, I forgot to mention I come from a family of drug addicts. Mainly pill popping, pill snorting feigns. It wasn’t until this man came into our life that things changed. Apparently he was one of those who liked hard drugs. Lord knows those are the ones that bring the worst out of you. But, anyway, after a few short months of him and my grandma dating, my mother eventually played into it as well and got hooked on every drug you can name. As you all guessed, yes, it all went downhill from there.

The torment began. At the age of four, yes, the rape started and didn’t stop until I was 6. I remember having nightmares every night. I tried to tell my mom, she was too high to listen. I began talking about it over the plastic play phones we had back then. I remember every second as if it was yesterday . Even at a young age, I began taking risks. Taking risks for my family, my siblings, my grandma, and most importantly my mother. I remember him saying “if you don’t let me, I’ll just do it to your sisters.” I couldn’t let it happen to them. I was already damaged, the worst thing would be for it to happen to them too. I remember being forced underneath a blanket, no air, no lights, no way to call for help, no way to get out at all. I just felt trapped. My whole life I’ve just felt trapped.

At the age of five it continued without a word being said. No one believed me anyway. He always wanted to spend the night. He always wanted to sleep by me. He always wanted ME. I remember the uncomfort of it all. And last but not least, I remember the last time he done it to me. By this time I was six years old. We lived in and out of different motels, and this specific night we were upstairs. I woke up with my panties off, again, and him sleeping next to me. I cried, as I went to the bathroom to pee, it burned as well as hurt when I wiped. I called my mother in there, crying, telling her he did it again, only this time she believes me. Her exact words were “I know baby I seen him, I’m sorry”. Now like everyone else, of course a memory like that would stick to me. But I NEVER hated my mother for it. As I know, drugs make you out of character and careless. But this last time he paid. She made me get the motel phone off of the nightstand and called 911. I remember being rushed to a hospital in an ambulance, having tubes stuck inside of me, blood drawn, everything a rape kit has to test . And it was positive. I would never lie about something like that. But the abuse never stopped with him.

For years and years I questioned myself, and still do. What do I do to make people think that’s okay to do to me? Am I dressing wrong? Am I giving off the wrong impression? Am I antagonizing them? What could I be doing wrong? The answer is nothing. There is nothing you can do to stop a predator that, especially when you have no clue that they are indeed a predator. After that experience I received counseling, and everything other kind of sexual abuse help there is. Nothing changed. I didn’t have friends, I didn’t trust people, I was quiet, shy, and most of all as mean as I could be. Around a year later, we were staying with my youngest sister’s God Parent’s. They had a daughter about 18 and a son about 20 during this time. The abuse started again, but not by who you’re thinking. It was a girl this time.... who knew females were capable of doing such things? Stereotypical right, but it happened. With her, she would rub on me, lick me inappropriately, and hump me. Weird right? I’m honestly uncomfortable just thinking about it. I feel so disgusting... and these next ones will be the ones who got away with it. I don’t know why I never told, and still don’t know til this day. I had already been through it. All I could do was put on my big girl panties and just try to find every excuse to stay away from them. Eventually we stopped going around them, and I never seen her again until my youngest sister passed away on June 11,2020. That day I was dreading tremendously. Not only did I lose my baby, my mini me, and my little sidekick, I had to be reminded of the tretuorous memory of HER. But again, it never stopped there.

From the ages eight to 10 weren’t that bad. Despite losing my grandma to an overdose a month before my 9th birthday, things had been okay. Noticed I said okay? Yeah here is where it gets kind of crazy. I forgot to mention my siblings and I all have the same mother, but everyone has different dad’s, except for the oldest two, which would be my brother and sister. So in case you’re lost, my mother had one boy and four girls. My brother being the oldest, and I’m the middle child. You can fill in from there. I was there the night my grandmother died. I didn’t understand then, but I know now. The evil that is in this world will surprise you. She was offered countless amounts of different pills. I never thought she’d want to take her life. But I remember her saying “not right now”. A few days before she took me and bought me my first pair of Air Force ones. They were so expensive; I was never able to get things like that. We never had the money. Things made me wonder, and I’m sure you’ve put the pieces together by now as I have. She wanted me to have those last good memories of her. That was my heart, she raised me, she taught me to be strong, she taught me to love unconditionally, she taught me how to be who I am today without even knowing. Losing her was pretty much the only major effect that happened between those ages.

I learned fast, but it wasn’t like you think. After my nanny passed it really went downhill. I was the only one of my siblings there, I only had my mama and my family in Louisiana, no siblings other than my brother who I had just met for the first time that year. I had to be the backbone. My mother attempted killing herself so many times it got to a point I hid every possible hurtful thing in that house. I’m fighting everyday of my life, trying to protect the one who brought me into this world, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Well, I guess after my nanny passed away my mom didn’t have anywhere else to go. She would meet men, we’d move in with them, they’d fight, and we’d be kicked out on the streets, walking until she met the next man; which didn’t take long. Oh I can’t count how many “homes” I’ve had. Yet I’ve never had a real home, until I moved back to Georgia. At this time, I moved in with my sisters and we altogether lived with one of their dad’s. My brother still stays in Louisiana. (I think I should be a little more specific though, so, this is our names in order from oldest to youngest, David ‘DD’, Kayla, Courtney,Cassie, and Heather.)Cassie’s dad eventually took us all in as basically foster children. He eventually ended up marrying a woman with two other girls and we combined as a family of 8. They didn’t really have a choice, if they didn’t get married we were going into the system for adoption. Six girl’s altogether, you know there’s some trouble coming.

By the time Cassie’s dad gets temporary custody of us and our family combines, I’m turning eleven. We start school, meet the neighborhood kids, and trouble begins. The neighborhoods and friends of ours were mostly boys. Eventually we start sneaking out, having boyfriends, and fighting all the time. One of the funniest things to look back on, that wasn’t funny at the time, is being caught trying to sneak back into the window we snuck out of! I literally pissed myself! Not intentionally, but I was already about to piss on myself before we even got caught, and I was kicked in my vagina! So of course we get the “sex talk”, took to the doctor, and put on birth control. But I was honestly still a virgin at that time. Although, two years later that changed!

Now to the teenage years, trials, and tribulations. I was almost thirteen when I finally gave into “consensual” sex. In a way it was still so unwanted, I was peer pressured and didn’t really have a choice at that point and again I felt trapped. Only this time I wanted it again afterwards and became willingly sexually active. All for shit to happen AGAIN.

I know by now you’re probably like when does this end? Trust me I wonder the same thing everyday! So time to get into the thirteenth year of my life. The oldest step-sibling had an on and off again boyfriend. Well his dad and her had been making arrangements for her to go over there and see her boyfriend, as far as I knew. Until the table turns after she asks me to go with her; she didn’t want to go by herself. Me being me, I’m the go to person for everybody, so I go! Long story short we get there, it’s only me, her, and the dad... He turned on the famous movie ‘Friday’ for me as they went in the room. About 30 minutes into the movie... she comes and gets me to come back there. I walk in, and he immediately pushes the dresser in front of the door to keep us in. He asks if we want to play cards, I agree. It’s just cards, what could be the harm? Well, here’s the harm in it, if you lose, you have to strip. Now you’re probably wondering why didn’t you just leave? Well I’m only thirteen, I have no clue where I am, I have no phone, and I have no one to call anyway. The cards game leads to us being naked, I’m hidden the best I could’ve hidden beside the bed to where my body is covered up. I’m scared to death. I don’t know what to do. Another game comes to play where he’s daring her to do things to me. She somewhat does them, I know she knew how uncomfortable it was, everything was just in general. It still proceeds though. She actually ended up holding my arms down while he held my legs to force himself in me. I fight as much as I can until he finally stops, getting about two inches inside of me. We get dressed and have a silent ride home. He even made a few calls to his friends saying how they could make money off of us. Luckily everyone he called was too busy at that time or I don’t know where I’d be. I give all the glory to God for not letting it get that far. So at this time, I’m just ready to move back to Louisiana. A year goes by, I’ve had a few boyfriends, but I’m mistreated by the “family” I have. I felt so unloved, so out of place, nothing I ever did was right. I started cutting my wrists, the pain felt so good. Why can’t I just be happy? Why can’t I just have a normal life without crazy shit happening every time I blink! WHAT CAN I DO DIFFERENTLY?! I still haven’t figured it out.

Well, eventually after about another year of being called every name in the book and left out of the family, I moved back to Louisiana to be with my mom. Only for the cycle of homelessness to continue. Being home to home to home to home to home; it was exhausting in every way, shape, and form! I moved in with my oldest sister, kayla, her boyfriend, and my niece. Kayla had a baby by this time. They took me in for a while until they couldn’t anymore and then I moved with my brother’s grandpa. I was fifteen, smoking weed everyday, started smoking cigarettes and even tried a Xanax one time. The only habit I’ve had that still sticks with me is weed. Anyway, I enrolled my youngest sister, Heather, and I into school so we could finish and be able to graduate. After all, no one else in my family graduated from high school, I had a goal to become the first, and I was! Only for the same shit to continue. Damn can I get a break for once?! I felt stuck in a cycle that constantly repeats. I always knew being with my mom we’d never have a stable place, but I never knew someone else would put me in a horrific place too.

I’m sixteen now and never been able to go to actual parties where I’m able to drink, unless it was with family. This woman hyped up how she could get me into this club, we were going to have so much fun and just have a girls weekend! As a teenage girl, who wouldn’t want a girls night? I guess you could say she “had me at hello”. Turns out, it was a whole setup. Now I’m a little older, I’m a little more aware of things and how they go, but I never knew I could actually be drugged without knowing. I thought it would at least have a taste? You’d be able to see something in your drink for sure. Well, I was wrong. The last thing I remember before blacking out is saying “No,No,No,Stop” while he just kept kissing and rubbing my body. I was stuck, paralyzed like, I couldn’t move, everything was blurry and fading. By now I had passed out. I woke up by myself, with my pants on backwards, and it hurting to wipe again after I used the bathroom. Here we go again, at this point I can’t cry out for help anymore. No one really cares. It’s happened too many times. No one will ever believe this happened so many times, they’ll just blame me. I’ll be a hoe for it. Like everyone else called me when they found out the first person raped me, or when they found out I actually lost my virginity. No one cares. I’ve seen it my whole life. I don’t want pity, never have and never will. I’ve learned from these things. The sad part is, during this time, I tried calling my mom everyday to come get me from this woman house and she never would. I ended up in the hospital with my kidneys shutting down, unable to move my body. I was paralyzed in pain literally. They gave me seven different medicines in a shot on top of five huge pills to take. The only thing my mom asked when I made it to back her from the ER was “what kinds of pain pills did they give you?”. I had to be checked for STD’s and everything else while in there and Thank God I was clear.

During this time, for about two weeks, I was in and out of it. I was homeless with nobody but the woman who was basically selling me so she could get her fix. I wasn’t me. I can remember bits and pieces of things that happened; they weren’t good. I knew it was her. I was only drinking and smoking with her and one person that she said was trustworthy . My whole life, literally since I can remember, I have smoked weed. It wasn’t too much. I wasn’t too high. I know how it feels to be high. Also, my mom was an alcoholic. I drank growing up as well, I know what alcohol makes you feel like. I had only had a few sips, there was no way I could have been drunk. A couple days leads to a few weeks and eventually I get back with my mother. She’s calling me hoes, accusing me of sleeping with everyone around there, and just being plain inconsiderate. I wasn’t a fan of sex, especially since it’s been forced on me so many times. I hate it honestly. The fact she could say those evil things to me, when I cried for her help every single day, it hurt. I guess the drugs won her over again... they were too busy getting high they didn’t care what they risked. I was the risk taker again. There, helpless, hopeless, waiting for it to end, and one day it did. After a couple of weeks things were unraveled and it turns out she was selling me for drugs and money for herself. Days I went without eating, she would call people over, tell me ride to the “store” with them and give me a rolled blunt to smoke. Of course I did as she said, all I had was her, but it ended the same way every time. Sex was always the ending. Conscious or unconsciously, comfortable or uncomfortable, it didn’t matter, I had no choice. I didn’t know what they were capable of, and I didn’t want to find out. The only thing I could do was just let it happen, going in and out of consciousness. I had no strength, no fight, nothing left in me. I was numb to everything; physically, mentally, and emotionally. She had been telling everyone I was eighteen, while I was telling them my real age when they asked me. Eventually it all came out I was really sixteen and the club owners were not allowing me there anymore, mom wasn’t answering, so I’m stuck by myself walking. As I’m trying to find my way down the street a car keeps following me. Cutting me off every chance they get, trying to get me in the car, blocking every pathway I have, as I’m losing hope, here comes the club owners wife... She pulls around and blocks them with her dark colored expedition with tan, semi-ripped seats; I quickly get in. It was finally over, they gave my mom no choice but to come get me, yet they still ended up taking me to her because she wouldn’t come. So there I was, back at point A, hoping the cycle stopped there. For the most part it did.

Here we are now, I’m seventeen, and graduating from Hammond High Magnet School, as I said I would! Life hasn’t been that rough, only financially. By eighteen, I get pregnant and stay in Georgia with the father of my child. I grew up my whole life being abused in every way and seeing my mom abused in every way. She made a lot of sacrifices for us whether I realized it or not. She was a prostitute. She got her ways for her and me by sleeping around. I hated it, I know it tore her up mentally as well, I wish I could’ve helped her, I wish I could’ve shown her another way, but there was nothing I could physically do. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. There’s a viscous, toxic, captivating cycle in the drug world. Looking back at everything I’ve been through it does effect me in both a negative and positive way. I’m still learning. I lost my mother August 29,2019. She never got to meet my daughter; I wish they could’ve known how truly amazing she was despite of the bad things we’ve went through. She’d give you the shirt off her back if she knew you didn’t have one. The true her was loving, amazing, caring, and a mother before all.

Now to finish the final years of this so far miserable life. At 20 I got pregnant again. I now have two beautiful mixed babies and six step children I love with all my heart. My child’s father is eleven years older than me. The road hasn’t been easy there either but it’s not like before . Here I am again, experiencing another loss. I’m due with my second child June 15,2020, and June 11,2020 around midnight I get a call. I hadn’t slept for nights I knew bad news was somewhere around the corner, and I was right. Around 12:09pm my oldest sister calls me telling me to get to the Flying J in Temple,GA that my youngest sister might be dead. No hesitation I grab the keys from my child’s father and throw my unclothed child in the car, and immediately start driving towards that direction! I’m calling hospitals trying to find the one they are taking her to. It’s 1:00am and we reach Tanner Hospital in Villa Rica,GA. It’s not until about 5am that they tell us she’s dead. They tried everything that they could but just couldn’t bring her back. The company she had wasn’t good company after all. Her own girlfriend killed her. They drove around for an hour with her dead body in the car, trying to figure out “what to do with her”. We held a vigil where they left her body, at the Flying J, and I went into labor! That leads us to life today. It’s hard losing everyone who has ever been close to you and not having any type of support system. I’ve just learned to live with life, pray for better days, and keep hoping for the best. I’m twenty-one now with two kids. Life is still a struggle, financially and mentally but I know one day it will change. You just have to “keep swimming” or you’ll drown. If I can do it, so can you! I currently reside in a small bedroom with my two kids and my child’s father. Writing and sharing a little of my story has always been a goal of mine. I hope this encourages you to keep going no matter what happens in life. Never give up or lose faith, better will come!