I am nineteen now, in college studying to be a nurse and stronger than I have ever been.
As a child, I was abused from day one. When my mother was pregnant with me my ‘father’ pushed her down the stairs. When my mom realized that he was putting rat poison in my sister and my bottles, she divorced him. She remarried a year or so later to another abusive man and became pregnant with my brother. I was three at the time, and as any three-year-old I wet my bed. My mom’s new husband would beat me in the morning, and threaten me at night – sometimes, swinging me by my hair. This made me so frightened to wet the bed that I thought about it all the time, which only made it worse. I wet my bed until the age of twelve because of it. When I was 5 he sexually assaulted both me and my sister.
After my mom left him we had no place to live. We were living in a basement, without a house on top, no electricity, nothing. At the young age of 11 the drugs started and I was hooked until the age of 16.
My life started out very rough, but I made sure it did not stay that way.