not like the movies

As a young girl I was convinced my mother was a prostitute. I used to eat dog food because she would remember to feed the family pet but not her own daughter, this fact was even documented by the police when they did a raid on the house and found me eating from the dog's bowl like an animal.

I used to call her Mrs. Hanigan after the character in my favorite movie ANNIE, and my Pop was Daddy Worbucks. The only difference was in the film Mrs. Hanigan became a nice person and wanted to save Annie. Still to this day my mother fells no remorse for what she had done to me, just blames other things like drugs or mental illness.

Not once has she said sorry. Which is all I ever want...

How can you forgive someone and let things go if they can't even apologize?

Strange things

Was talking with my Grandmother about my cousin who sleeps in her younger sisters room because she sees strange things at night, and it reminded me of myself.

As a child I used to see people surrounding my bed at night, I mentioned this to my Grandmother along with the fact that once I was sitting at the top of the spiral staircase looking down through a gap that had a 14ft drop to the floor below, and there was a little girl lying dead on the floor with people around her. They didn't see me, and I knew that they were not really there.

My Grandmother looked at me with a very puzzled look on her face... "I never told you this" she said "but a little girl did fall and die in that house before we lived there, talk to your Aunt about it she knows more..."

Strange don't you think?

difficult task

Some how I have to come up with the courage to ask my grandfather for the files he has on the court case with my mother. I was never ment to know that any files existed let alone read them which I must admit I did when my Aunt told me about them when I was 17yrs old. Somehow I just knew where they were and found them instantly. Hopefully I can do it soon as my work depends on his approval in a way...

My task begins...

As a young child I was horribly abused and neglected my my own mother. I have decided that it is time to benefit from my misfortunes, to write and publish a book...

But first I must go though countless files, newspaper clippings and sicking photographs all about myself. 

When I was younger I actually believed that I had fabricated many of the events that took place, the wild imagination of a little girl. Unfortunately these events actually occurred.

This is to be a blog of my emotions to try and help me vent excess anger and sadness I am feeling as not to overwhelm myself with this difficult task I have set before me.

Would you be able to look at a photo of yourself at the age of 2, beaten and bruised, hair pulled out, face bloodied and scratched, arm broken...

And then write about it? 

I can and I must, not just for my own benefit as a form of therapy but also hopefully, to help others that have experienced the same violence from someone that was meant to love and nurture.