I don't even know what to say right now. This is not the first time I have stared at a blank screen or a piece of paper. It's only the first time I ...I stopped for a moment to regroup. The first time I stopped long enough to be honest. I take that back. I've always been honest. The problem is...I can't remember. God help me for what I am about to remember. Let's start from the beginning because I am unclear when the abuse started. I have never even said that word and my name in the same sentence. But I have been crying all night and I don't know why. As I research I am nauseated. I have random images of nothing specific and I cry uncontrollably. I feel like I cannot breathe right now. I take a break from my thoughts and the strange thing that creeps in to my mind is ssshhhh, or someone will hear your silly thoughts. No one will believe you. I don't really know who abused me. There were so many men in my life...some were not even prominent...but left an imprint. I'm stopping because I can't see through the tears...very weird. OK the first memory I have is of my mother "rescuing" me as a baby in a crib. Probably nothing, but an awkward visual in my mind. My mother says there is no way I could remember this...I recall the placement of my crib and my recently passed great grandmother's organ...the window...my mother's nightgown...I was so scared. I was...as my mother recalls...about a year old. I only remember crying, and my mother "walking and bouncing" me back to sleep. This is very vivid and I'm not sure why. Next memory is waking up in my "babysitters" room with her husband. I remember Johnny Carson and counting sheep. And now...never mind. He's fat and he has brown hair and when my babysitter wakes up I am in the playroom...she says
I am sleep walking.
I am in trouble. I know this sounds silly but this is the first time I ever wish upon a star. I don't even remember what I wished for...but I was in my nightgown...and my babysitter was mad that I was awake...and I was afraid of her hairy husband in his underwear. A few years later my mom has a best friend. She has a daycare business. I love Donna with all my heart I trust her as someone to take care of me. One day she collapses against the wall. She is drunk all the time... I am 8 or 9, and immediately I feel an urgency to help. I am scolded for calling 911. We are at a wedding for someone in Donna's family. My Mom says I am not allowed to go "over there" but for some reason I remember going "over there" to the guest house. Mostly it was empty except for Ricky.
He has a daughter named Sarah and he plays guitar. Ye's yucky too. That's why I wasn't supposed to go there.