Sometimes I'm not sure why I still go on with life. I'm not sure what my purpose is for living. I struggle in my mind all the time. Also why I can't seem to put the past behind me. The trauma's are endless.
We cant start with my biological dad trying to strangle me in my sleep at 2 and a half. That was the first big trauma, my body remembers. As far as I can remember I was terrified of dying in my sleep. I still sleep with a stuffed animal around my neck to 'protect' me in my sleep. Until I got my mom's divorce papers in 1999, I was convinced I'd died being strangled in a previous life.
The next big trauma's are around the same time frame. There's my mom getting really sick the summer I was 6, and a couple of months before the incident in the church. I went to mass alone because my mom wasn't well enough. I'd go alone to pray for her to get better, until that day. I sat in the front pew alone like I did when I went alone. You'd think I would be safe as a 6 year old sitting in front of an entire congregation? Well apparently not. The local "crazy" showed up and sat next to me. And then prevented me from leaving to take communion. This was seen by the entire congregation as I was in front and people were lining up to take communion. This happened in front of the priest giving communion too. Shoftly after the mass finished, and I had to wait another 30 minutes before this crazy decided it was ok for me to leave. By the time I got home my mom had received several reports of what had happened. NOT ONE OF THESE FUCKING CATHOLIC ASSHOLES thought to rescue the fucking 6 year old girl from an abusive crazy man!!!!!
Then came summer and since my mom had been falling down all year she ended up having a D and C which completely wore her out. She was in recovery in bed the rest of the summer. I was taken to my aunts place in Ste Julienne for the summer, for my mom to heal. Except I didn't believe them. I was sure my mom was dead. No one would let me talk to her or see her. They didn't take me to Montreal for a month, were I fell asleep every night sure I was an orphan now, and the only person who loved me was dead. My aunt was mean. I have all sorts of stories and I cried myself to sleep every single night. The one day they brought me to Montreal, I waited till they all went it and ran home. I managed to see my mom for about 2 minutes before they caught me and punished me for disturbing her rest. But at least I knew she was alive and I hoped I'd be allowed back home when she got better. I did. By september she had to go back to work at school and I was allowed to come back home.
There was the two car accidents a week apart when I was 9. THe one with my grandparents where my intuition of wanting to sit in a certain spot in car saved us all that day. And I saved us all the next week when I complained it was totally smoky in the bag of the car, we got out and the car blew up and went on fire. Twice grazed death in the span of 2 weeks.
The next incident I was 12. I went to pool with 3 neighbours. I forgot somehting at home and no one wanted to come with me so I went alone. ON my way home I was accosted by a group of about 15 kids aged from 8-16. They proceeded in stripping me, touching me and humiliating me. I was 12 so I had some pubic hair but no boobs to talk anout. This lasted about an hour being touched, yelled and humilated by a group of children. To this day I can't walk around in bathing suit unless I'm on a beach with many people I know, I also can't wear shorts out my house alone. My mom was nice to tell me that it was MY FAULT this happened to me becase I was wearing only my bathing suit. If I'd been fully dressed surely this would not have happened to me.
At 17 I went to a good freinds house, not the first time, but definitely the last. We used to hang out, drink, smoke pot and listen to music. He also liked popping pills he found from his mom. That night he raped me. I could tell he was off, I asked him to get out of his place to get some air. I went to grab his hand to incite him to come for a walk. He grabbed me and started to make out with me, against' my consent. He was 6'3" and did weights daily .I was terrified he would break every bone in my body. I did not fight him. I saw myself be raped from the corner of the room. When it was over I regained my body and left. I tried calling him the next day. He told me he never wanted to talk to me again. Yep he raped ME but make ME FEEL LIKE IT WAS MY FAULT. At school when I ran into him, if he dared to look at me, he looked at me like I was the worst piece of shit. I was nothing.
When I worked at the self serve gas station at 18, I was followed home from the bus stop by a man stopping honking masturbating. I ran he followed. When I got in my house, my dad told me not to worry. Guys that are exhibitionists aren't rapists and he didn't touch me. HE SHOULD HAVE CALLED THE COPS TO REPORT THE ASSHOLE. What did I know?
I've been asked if I'd suck a dick for $5 at Beaugrand metro while waiting for the bus to come home, when I still lived with my parents. I've never once in my life looked like a hooker. But it doesn't stop men from being totally inappropriate.
I'd love to report my rapist, who was named Paul Birks. From the jewelry birks family. The original family who sold the business in the 1950's. And he lived on Cote-des-Neiges in the early 1980's. I can't locate him anywhere, but I'd love to report he raped me, even if it was the summer of 1980.
Today I feel like I want to die. I see no point in living. I haven't done anything in this world that anyone else could not do. What is the point? Why???
We cant start with my biological dad trying to strangle me in my sleep at 2 and a half. That was the first big trauma, my body remembers. As far as I can remember I was terrified of dying in my sleep. I still sleep with a stuffed animal around my neck to 'protect' me in my sleep. Until I got my mom's divorce papers in 1999, I was convinced I'd died being strangled in a previous life.
The next big trauma's are around the same time frame. There's my mom getting really sick the summer I was 6, and a couple of months before the incident in the church. I went to mass alone because my mom wasn't well enough. I'd go alone to pray for her to get better, until that day. I sat in the front pew alone like I did when I went alone. You'd think I would be safe as a 6 year old sitting in front of an entire congregation? Well apparently not. The local "crazy" showed up and sat next to me. And then prevented me from leaving to take communion. This was seen by the entire congregation as I was in front and people were lining up to take communion. This happened in front of the priest giving communion too. Shoftly after the mass finished, and I had to wait another 30 minutes before this crazy decided it was ok for me to leave. By the time I got home my mom had received several reports of what had happened. NOT ONE OF THESE FUCKING CATHOLIC ASSHOLES thought to rescue the fucking 6 year old girl from an abusive crazy man!!!!!
Then came summer and since my mom had been falling down all year she ended up having a D and C which completely wore her out. She was in recovery in bed the rest of the summer. I was taken to my aunts place in Ste Julienne for the summer, for my mom to heal. Except I didn't believe them. I was sure my mom was dead. No one would let me talk to her or see her. They didn't take me to Montreal for a month, were I fell asleep every night sure I was an orphan now, and the only person who loved me was dead. My aunt was mean. I have all sorts of stories and I cried myself to sleep every single night. The one day they brought me to Montreal, I waited till they all went it and ran home. I managed to see my mom for about 2 minutes before they caught me and punished me for disturbing her rest. But at least I knew she was alive and I hoped I'd be allowed back home when she got better. I did. By september she had to go back to work at school and I was allowed to come back home.
There was the two car accidents a week apart when I was 9. THe one with my grandparents where my intuition of wanting to sit in a certain spot in car saved us all that day. And I saved us all the next week when I complained it was totally smoky in the bag of the car, we got out and the car blew up and went on fire. Twice grazed death in the span of 2 weeks.
The next incident I was 12. I went to pool with 3 neighbours. I forgot somehting at home and no one wanted to come with me so I went alone. ON my way home I was accosted by a group of about 15 kids aged from 8-16. They proceeded in stripping me, touching me and humiliating me. I was 12 so I had some pubic hair but no boobs to talk anout. This lasted about an hour being touched, yelled and humilated by a group of children. To this day I can't walk around in bathing suit unless I'm on a beach with many people I know, I also can't wear shorts out my house alone. My mom was nice to tell me that it was MY FAULT this happened to me becase I was wearing only my bathing suit. If I'd been fully dressed surely this would not have happened to me.
At 17 I went to a good freinds house, not the first time, but definitely the last. We used to hang out, drink, smoke pot and listen to music. He also liked popping pills he found from his mom. That night he raped me. I could tell he was off, I asked him to get out of his place to get some air. I went to grab his hand to incite him to come for a walk. He grabbed me and started to make out with me, against' my consent. He was 6'3" and did weights daily .I was terrified he would break every bone in my body. I did not fight him. I saw myself be raped from the corner of the room. When it was over I regained my body and left. I tried calling him the next day. He told me he never wanted to talk to me again. Yep he raped ME but make ME FEEL LIKE IT WAS MY FAULT. At school when I ran into him, if he dared to look at me, he looked at me like I was the worst piece of shit. I was nothing.
When I worked at the self serve gas station at 18, I was followed home from the bus stop by a man stopping honking masturbating. I ran he followed. When I got in my house, my dad told me not to worry. Guys that are exhibitionists aren't rapists and he didn't touch me. HE SHOULD HAVE CALLED THE COPS TO REPORT THE ASSHOLE. What did I know?
I've been asked if I'd suck a dick for $5 at Beaugrand metro while waiting for the bus to come home, when I still lived with my parents. I've never once in my life looked like a hooker. But it doesn't stop men from being totally inappropriate.
I'd love to report my rapist, who was named Paul Birks. From the jewelry birks family. The original family who sold the business in the 1950's. And he lived on Cote-des-Neiges in the early 1980's. I can't locate him anywhere, but I'd love to report he raped me, even if it was the summer of 1980.
Today I feel like I want to die. I see no point in living. I haven't done anything in this world that anyone else could not do. What is the point? Why???
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