My mothers death gave me a chance at life....my own life. I promised myself that I wouldn't tell this story until I was able to tell it all. These are the memories of my life, my world, it's not pretty and it's not going to be a sweet story that makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. There are moments in life that stand out like a billboard and you can try to scrub your memory but you won't ever come clean. There were good times that are worth remembering and I play them back to myself over and over and over. So much has happened that now at 38 I feel like an old soul. I warn you in advance that this is not a story you will want to believe. You will find yourself thinking that surly I must be exaggerating or adding details to make the events of my life seem more extream and sensational. I wish like hell you were right.

I was 7 the first time I was fucked by a man. He was in his 30's and he'd been messing around with my sister but by the time she was 9 he'd lost interest and had turned his atention towards me. Both my mother and my father gave their consent and helped me prepare for my "big night". I have promised myself I'd be honest and give every detail, becuase this is esencial to my healing process. If I were you....I'd exit this blog so I could go on pretending that no one actually does this kind of stuff in real life. This story will make you feel dirty and I'm sorry for that. It's my time to heal, my time to tell all and put the burden of these memories to rest.

 

This blog won't all be about my past, I have a life today that isn't perfect but it's rich and full of fun, true friends, and the kind of challenges that make life worth living. I hope you can stick with me.