After leaving the last foster home, I would ever be in, we were sent back home. This was a cycle that was repeated often through out the years. I really lost count how many foster homes and receiving homes I was in over the years. For awhile things were not too bad. I was growing up fast and even made a friend, although she was much older than me. I even had a boyfriend, although he was too old for me too, but mom seemed to like him. I sure knew she liked his brother, as one time she got really drunk and tried to have sex with my boy friends brother on the couch. I was so humiliated, my boyfriend just pulled his brother up and took him home. I had to wonder if it would be like this with all my male friends I may have. He was a nice young man though, he took me to the movies and out for ice cream and stuff, I liked it, but I didn’t like him the same way he liked me. I am not sure if I was even capable of liking a man that way. However, I did like him as a friend, he was fun to be around, and I think if things would have been different, I may have grown to love him.
“That man,” I can’t say his name with out becoming ill,was not in the picture yet, not in a permanent way he wasn’t. Mom and I shared a room, we each had a single bed. She also liked to wear my clothes, as I was filling out some what, at least my bottom half was, I bemoaned the fact that I really didn’t have any boobs. I was still very young though, and was not even menstruating yet. The man that sexually abused me for years would come over and visit, although he really wasn’t supposed to be around us, but he came any way. He strutted around all puffed up like he was a real some body. His rictus grin ever present. I hated him, I still hate him.
When he wasn’t around mom drank a lot, one time she got drunk and was drinking in our bathroom, and fell. She didn’t spill her drink but she couldn’t get back up. she called me for help, when I was unable to lift her, she threw her drink in my face. That hurt my feeling so very much. She just laughed and I smiled a sad smile, what else could I do. She was a lot easier to be around when she was drinking, than when she was high on her pills. At least that was what I thought. She seemed to be happy when she was drunk for the most part. I think in some ways I hated her too, which hurt me deeply, because I also loved her.
Sometimes she was a tearful drunk, and would call her family and cry to them over the phone. I suppose deep down she was in pain too. However, I can not with any reasonableness, excuse what she did to me or my siblings. She destroyed me, my mind was severely broken. I would never be the same nor would I ever recover. Honestly there was nothing to recover. I was being sexually abused at the age of two. I sat down and tried to recall how many men that I could remember sexually abusing me. I am able to recall six, men sexually abused me before I had even reached the age of 12. Two of those men were close relatives. One being my natural father and an uncle. The other four men were not related. Out of all those men, only one was convicted and that was because of a decent man that would have killed my abuser, if the police were not called. Harvey of course mom was aware of but chose to look the other way, and stand by her man.
Mom had always been a promiscuous woman, except when she was with “HIM’. “He” seemed to be the only man that she loved, it is ironic to me that the most abusive man to us is the one she stayed with, and the men that were the kindest to us only lasted a couple of weeks at best. Our Mother was definitely deranged and had serious issues. The only time I ever recall my mother telling me she loved me was one night when she was sloppy drunk, but that one time I will always remember not because she said it, but because she could only say it when she was sloppy drunk. The only time I heard her laugh when she was sober, was when she and all us kids played tiddly winks. I will always remember that laugh with fondness and a ache since that was the only time I ever remember her really laughing. We were all on the floor, and she was winning, she rocked back with her head back and just belted out the most beautiful laugh I have ever heard. Her eyes were shining and her smile was beaming. That memory is forever ingrained in my mind. It is the one and only fond memory of her that I can recall.
One of the men was the one that sat at the kitchen table with my mother, sat me on his lap and penetrated me, I was three, Tyra was just a baby. This was just before we were taken to our first foster home. There was also the blonde man, who made me touch his man hood, and molested me. The man I do not recall, when I ended up in the hospital with trauma. That would have been about age six and a half possibly seven. Hector who was tried and convicted. I was eight. My uncle whom was intoxicated at the time. Not excusing him just sharing his state of being, when he hurt me. I was eleven. And one young adult woman, who was a sexual predator, that took advantage of my vulnerability and broken mind. Lastly we had the most vile and sicking man, that raped me off and on for three years. As I was removed from the family home and placed in care off and on during that time. I think he was the,most awful man, I already told you I hated him, but I want to say it again I absolutely detested him. From the information I gathered, and my own memories, and those of my first foster mother, and Tyra, and other family members. Some who say my father may have been sexually abusing me even before the age of two as he had me from the age of one, till I was two and a half. More on my dad later on. As he did not have contact with me again till I was about 19
I recall one night when mom was drinking with the man across the street, Us children ran back and forth across the street all night. It was actually fun. As night fell and the younger ones got sleepy and went to bed, I was still awake, and that man came over to our house. I recall he and my mom got into a argument about how good she would be in bed, and she said to him “Come on then I will show you!” He just looked at me and grinned and went into the room my mom and I shared. After they were done, he just laid in the bed with my mom smoking a cigarette. My mom yelled at me to bring her a pad. “I was so disgusted with her and him!” The smell was gagging to me! I don’t know if he got tired of laying with her, or she kicked him out but after he left mom yelled at me to come to bed. I was so glad the little ones were sleeping and did not witness this despicable display of promiscuity. However, I seriously didn’t understand the impact incidents like this have on a child. Displays of promiscuity, immodesty, overt sexual deviant behaviours, these were normal occurrences in our home.
The bar was just a few blocks away, so Mom had easy access to it, and she made good use of it, sometimes she would stay out so late I would go get her and get some one to go in and bring her out so I could walk her home. She must of had men buying her drinks, because she never had a lot of money being a welfare mom our whole lives.
In our house food was a one time thing at the beginning of the month she would fill the fridge and cupboards, making sure to buy a large bag of flour if we were out and a couple jars of cheez whiz, and lard. This was so I could bake bannock in the oven for the kids lunches when we ran out of food, which we always did, Then it was bannock for lunches and macaroni for dinner, and water to drink.
I did babysit and make a little money, but mom, always “borrowed” that to go out drinking, so there was very little I could do. Mom was not a person you ever said no to and kept your hide intact! One time I was walking her home we were walking in the middle of the road and she had her hands in her pockets and she fell, and couldn’t get up and a car was coming! I ran towards the car, thank God they stopped, Mom struggled to get up and I apologized to the person but he just looked at me threw his window like I was a bug that crawled up out of a hole. We made it home safe, once again. I think the look of disdain on that mans face, impacted me a lot harder than I realized, I no longer wanted people to look me in my face.
Another time I had to go get my mom, we were almost home and she fell into the hedge bushed pulling me with her. She was laughing, I have to admit I laughed too we probably looked pretty foolish! I always waited up for her when she was drinking , because sometimes she would bring home a guy, and I didn’t want to be in our room if she did that.
It was about this time I started smoking cigarettes, it was a way to have something in common with my mom. They made me feel ill, but so grown up at the same time. Now years later I wish I had never started, it is just another dirty habit I have to try and over come. Coffee too made me feel sick, but when mom let me drink it I would, just to be more like her….However, when she let me drink alcohol, well that is different story as you will soon see.
School, wasn’t an issue, since she never asked my how I was doing and as long as no one called her to complain she was fine to me. Well as fine as our mother was to any of us on any given day. I was back at HillCrest so It was cool even made a girlfriend, although she was a bad influence on me. I also, made some very unlikely friends who were bikers. I never drank or did drugs with them or had sex with them for that matter. I did a titties pic with them, which was a tradition they had that all females that went to the animal house got a titty pic. That was pretty tame considering the hell I had already been through. Remembering back to having my young girl breasts exposed and photographed, I didn’t want to, but I felt on a visceral level I had no choice. I remember a man bending down and putting my child breast in his mouth, and the other bikers laughing and cheering. I just plastered a smile on my face and withstood my victimization.
I did go cruising with one of my biker friends was good fun. One time I said I wanted to skip school and he picked me up on the corner and took me to school for a week, and said if you skip; no more rides kiddo. This was the gang that I supposedly was in, how ridiculous was that! Just because these people could look rough and rode bikes. These people were so family orientated! Children were sacred to them, especially babies. Sure they took a pic of my boobs, what little I had, but that was part of their culture, you may not understand it, but it really is just about belonging. They had a wall covered with women I was the only really young one, but I looked older than I was. So they may not even known how old I was. However, they were respectful to each other and the women. Unlike my mother. I didn’t drink, nor did I do drugs, unless it was to smoke pot with my mom or drink with my mom. On my own I did not do these things. I didn’t like the way pot made me feel, when I was high on pot Tyra would look at me funny and it made me nervous lol.
When my mom found out that I had a friends that were bikers she demanded I take her to were they met. I refused at first, willing to take a beating to keep their secret. I would not see them any more if it meant keeping her away from them she was such a Bytch! She was also a consummate liar. She told me, she wasn’t mad she just wanted to see it, I thought fine I will show her were it is, there is no way in hell they are going to let her in lol. I was right she came home one night madder than hell and said I went to that place you showed me and they wouldn’t let me in! I told her mom of course they didn’t let you in, they don’t know you, or who you are. A few days later she demanded I take her to that place I showed her and get her in. I refused and she backhanded me across the face, I just calmly said mom I do not go there any more or see any of my old friends from their any more. When that didn’t work she switched tactics and said “sweetheart” I am just curious to see these people. I said ‘why mom?” “They never caused me any harm and I never did drugs or drank with those people.” She said I just want to go and see it and I do not want you to call me “mom” I want you to call me “Jackie and say I am your sister. I said fine and took her. she ended up drinking and flirting with some guy there and bringing him home. She sent me home after being there for about a hour. She was so manipulative and hurtful towards me. I accidentally called her mom a couple of times so they knew who she was. I walked home, it was quite far and very late, she got a ride home with the guy she picked up at the “animal” house, which was a bikers hang out in Edmonton way back when. It was not a gang hang out either, it was just people that liked to ride Harley’s and drink beer together. Mom just said it was a gang to get me removed from her home.
At that times liqueur stores were not open on Sundays, and bootleggers were in full force. Sometimes mom would use the bootleggers, and take me with her. They would give us free drinks, and when I drank those drinks I felt so much better. I didn’t realize how dangerous it was to be drinking with these kind of men with or with out my mom. Who knows if they roofied us or not…maybe that was moms plan all along a way to get booze without paying cash for it.She did some really insane things when it came to us children, so I put nothing past her, for what she would do for her drugs and alcohol.
That “Man” was slowly but surely weaseling his way back into our lives. He would take us all camping, mom loved camping. He was still abusing me, sometimes he would come in to the bathroom when I was in there. He told mom to tell us not to lock the door because what if we slipped and fell how would they save us? What a bunch of bull, but I learned not to take baths when mom was totally out of it on her pills. she was abusing them so bad now she would be out of her mind most of the time. I didn’t always succeed, but more often than not I did.
Because Mom was drinking and abusing her pills so bad she had what they called a nervous break down. What ever it was, she ended up in the hospital for about two weeks. That time away from her was such a relief! We could even let our guard down a little bit. I could rest and not be doing all the things responsible adults do to maintain a happy home. Even though mom was in the hospital “He” would come and try to take me to the hospital to see her. I did go with him once and he abused me before even going to see her! The next time, he came I said lets take all the kids, he said no, just you or no one. Suzie our homemaker said “just go with him, see your mom it will be fine.” She really didn’t have a clue I’m sure. At least I like to believe she didn’t. After that time I told her what he was doing when he took me out of the home to see my mom. She really didn’t want to hear what i was saying, however, after that she did not force me to go with him, and he ended up taking all of us too see mom. Maybe that was his way of saying see, I do take all the kids. He just gave me a hateful glare.
Child protective services told my mom that Harvey was not allowed to live with us while I was in her home. So, when mom came home from the hospital I was told by a social worker to pack a suitcase for when I went to school the next day as I would be leaving her home.. They were not going to pick me up at home, I had to go to my school and leave my suitcase in the office. Who does that! I never even got to say good bye to my siblings!! That “man” moved back in as soon as I was out of the house.
I was heartbroken, I did nothing wrong, I was a good kid. I never gave mom any problems, in fact I spent more time looking after her, and the house and the little ones, than I did myself. However, she wanted her “man” back, and he was not allowed to live with her while I was in her home. I was told this by the last and only social worker I ever trusted, Karen P. However, mom was so adept at lying and manipulating she got her way. I am not sure why CPS said he could not live with us while I was there, but , I have a sneaking suspicion they knew the truth and were trying to protect me. If mom never lied in court that man would have gone to prison! The Ultimate Betrayal to me was removing me from my home so my abuser could move in. This was my mom’s choice… I was removed and taken to a receiving home, this is were my Journey takes me on my walk alone.
Before I leave you dear friends to work on the next piece I had a memory resurface that I and Tyra really wanted to share with you. It is about our youngest sister. A day before picture day she got it into her mind that cutting her hair to have no bangs was a great idea. See, I didn’t have bangs, my hair was parted down the middle, all I really had were cow licks lol, hated those seriously. She was in grade one at the time, so really didn’t know any better. She also, seen a friend of our mothers shave then pencil in her eyebrows. apparently, our youngest sister thought that was really attractive too! So, you she shaved her eye brows off too!! She came down for school the next morning to show me her handiwork. I could not help my self.. I laughed at her. I couldn’t help it, she looked perpetually surprised! (HEHE) I tried to help by trying to pencil in some eye brows with my pencil crayons, it didn’t work though. I told her to show mom, as maybe she could help. By this time my little sister was crying her eyes out and I felt so bad for her! She just wanted to look pretty, If I was older I would have been flattered she wanted no bangs like me, being young though I just saw the humor of the situation.
To say the least mom was really angry! It was picture day and she wanted those pictures of Tanya! Tanya crying, said she didn’t want to go to school.. mom made her go any way. I did feel bad for her, but when mom said something it best you obey and do what she says or suffer the consequences, not sure if mom bought those years photos or not.