Welcome to my hell. After a lot of thinking, and coaxing by some friends of mine, I have decided to put my story back online here, and say to hell with what anyone else thinks. It's my website, and I can do what I want with it. Freedom of Speech and Freedom of the Press. hahahahahah

Anyways, I have been through a lot of crap, but I've survived. Like a phoenix bird coming from the flames of torment, I have risen up, kicked ass and taken names. I don't stand for people's crap anymore, and I refuse to be a victim any longer. This is my story.


When I was 5 years old, my dad's nephew, Russell, started to molest me. I didn't understand what was happening, and when I was asked by my parents if he was doing stuff to me he shouldn't have, I said no, because I thought I was going to get into trouble. Typical, huh? *voice dripping in sarcasm* It gets better! The molesting went on for about a year and a half. One day, I was over at my aunt's visiting Russell and his brother, Donny, and we were sitting there arguing over a book of maps. Small children are amused by the silliest things, no? Anyways, we were arguing, and my grandma on my dad's side was sitting in the living room watching the telly and all of a sudden it was like unspoken communication between my dad's nephews. I don't claim them as family because of what happened to me. I can't. I would be disrespecting myself if I said I cared about them, AND I would be lying. Not good.


Donny stood up, as if he understood what was going to happen before I even knew. He made some comment about he was going to go see what Grandma was up to, and he'd be back. I waited, and waited, and waited, and then when he didn't come back after about a half hour or so, I got up to leave. Russell grabbed my arm and led me over to his bed. I didn't know what he was doing, but as a person gets older, they get wiser. The look he had on his face all those years ago, I now realize it's a look that should only be exchanged between 2 people who love each other.


My Grandmother (GOD LOVE HER!!!) walked in, and looked like she wanted to rip him apart. She tore into him, up one side and down the other, and I was sent home.


When I was 10 years old, he tried to, as he put it, finish what he started years ago with me. We were at my cousin, Rachel's, and playing in the back yard with an old refrigerator box. ha ha Again, children are easily amused by the silliest things! hahahaha She got a call from a friend of her's, and Russell decided to go over and play with her dog for a few minutes, and came back over to where I was and tried to undress me. I kept swatting his hand away and telling him NO, but he wouldn't give up. Persistent little bugger! At that moment (I SWEAR my guardian angel is always on her toes with me!), my cousin, Rachel, came back outside, griping about how she was going to tell on us if we were hiding from her again. I finally got free of Russell, and climbed out of the box and told her I was here, and so was he. She was satisfied with that, but could tell there was something wrong with me. She asked what happened, and I told her nothing and looked away. I was again too scared to say anything.


Somehow, I managed to survive all that without losing my mind. When I was 15, the memories I'd suppressed all those years ago started coming back, because someone else (not brave enough to name whom yet, but if you ask me, I will talk about it with you personally.) in my *voice of sarcasm AGAIN* loving family decided to molest me, from the time I was 10 until I was 18. 8 long years of that crap.


When I was 19, married to my now ex-husband, and pregnant with my son, I started having nightmares, full force. It was really bad one night, cuz 3 apartments of neighbours woke up to the sounz of me screaming. I was still asleep and wasn't aware of my shrieks in real life, until Andrew woke me up. He asked me what I was screaming about, and when I told him what the problem was, he asked me if my parents knew. By that time, the only person who knew anything about my past was him. I told him no, and he made me promise him that I would call my parents and tell them what Russell had done to me. I didn't want to, but I did.


At first, I called my best friend, Jessica, the person who my daughter, Jessyka, was named after (but the spelling of her name is different than my daughter's), and told her what I'd been through, and begged her to please call my parents. She said she wouldn't do that, because she felt it wasn't her place to do so, but I would be more than welcome to call her back later after my conversation with my parents, should I need anyone to talk to. I promised her I would call her back, and called my parents. My mother answered, and when I told her that I had to tell her something bad, she told me to go ahead.


My mother is a tricky person to deal with. She has always told us children growing up that no one is better than anyone else, but yet she acts like she's better than everyone. She's always told us children growing up that we can always come to her and dad for whatever reason, but yet when I do, I am the one who is yelled at and judged for something I had NO CONTROL OVER. And she wonders why I haven't been back for a visit in 7 years (OK, I went home in July for a week, my younger brother turned on me, we got into a huge fight, so I left. Do I plan on returning anytime soon?? Not till he moves the fuck out). hmmmm...


When I told her about what Russell had done to me, she asked me if my dad knew. Ummmm, DUH, no he doesn't! The only time I've come forward about all this dreary stuff was um...NOW...So, she put my dad on the phone, and I told him what happened. He told me thanx for telling him, and that Russell better pray to whatever God he holds high, holy, and dear to his heart (of course I am paraphrasing here) that my dad doesn't get ahold of him. OUCH.


Andrew and I separated in 97, about 6 months after our son died of SIDS. It was very hard on us both to try and understand each other, so we thought it best to just go our separate ways. He lives in Pennsylvania now, and I have moved all over the use, now I live here in Indiana.


I moved out on my own, he moved to PA, I stayed in Texas a lil bit longer. I moved into this huge place, 2 bedrooms, 2 full baths, but it was too big for just me, so I had a girl I met at an Easter party come stay with me, b/c she had no where to live, and was going from friend to friend and being a couch rat. So, I told her she could stay with me, rent free, all she had to do was help out with the cleaning up around the place. She was pregnant at the time, so I didn't make her do a whole lot.


One night I was wrestling with my bed trying to get it into my room, but was having a hard time with the damn thing b/c it was so big. I eventually got it into my room, yanking the muscles on each side of my neck so far, they were almost ready to snap. I didn't know how bad the damage was that I'd caused until the night I woke up to get ready for work, and I couldn't move. I had my roommate call 911 and had her call my boyfriend at the time, dzoon. :) The doctor at the ER gave me some VERY strong meds, muscle relaxors, and told me that I was on work release for a few days (I don't remember what the timeframe was), to get the muscles to behave themselves again, as he put it. ha ha He was from Pakistan or something.


So, one day, I get this call from a co-worker. A mutual friend of our's at work had bought a house and was throwing a "YAY me, I bought my first house" party, and wanted to know if I'd like to tag along. I was still having troubles with my neck, but she talked me into going anyways. Said that whenever I was starting to feel really bad, to let her know and she'd take me home, no questions asked. Well, we were there a lil while, and I started feeling kinda weird from the meds, and some people were smoking pot, and the smell was making me get a contact buzz. I went and told my friend I wanted to go home and lay down, that the meds for my neck had kicked in, and I wasn't feeling too social. She said she'd be right with me, she wanted to go and talk with our friend, let her know what was going on, and she'd be ready to go, just give her a couple minutes. I went outside and there was this dude out there, and he starts hitting on me. I told him, politely, that I had a boyfriend, and I wasn't interested, but for what it was worth, we could be friends, I had no problem with that. So, he backed off, and then starts in on me again. I told him, again politely, that I wasn't interested and excused myself to go in and get my friend, to let her know I was ready to go and was she going to be ready soon??


Right as I'd gone inside the house, dude was right behind me and grabbed me, pulled me into a back room, and raped me at knife point. To this day I can't handle the smell of pot and Coors Light beer smells. :(


My boyfriend at the time, Draco616 (or dzoon, whichever..they're the same person!!) came out to see me, but didn't know what had happened. He just knew I'd gone to the ER for a migraine, and that was all. I didn't tell him at all the entire 4 days he was in Texas visiting. I didn't want to ruin our visit by him worrying about me all the time. The first night he was there, I didn't really feel very social, so we just went into my room and talked.


I didn't want to do anything more than just talk, so that's all we did, even though he tried oh so hard to get me to do more with him. I told him I was kinda tired and wanted to lay down, so he left me alone. When he and his roommie went back to San Diego, my roommie and I sat down and I finally told her what had happened at my co-worker's party. She was the first person I'd told beyond the people who already knew who were there when the dude was arrested. She asked me if dzoon (aka Draco616) knew, and I told her no, but I was terrified he'd break up with me if he found out.


She held my hand when I called him and told him. He and I cried, and he asked me why I hadn't said anything while he was visiting. I told him I didn't want him to worry, or spend his vacation in jail, b/c I knew he'd go after the guy that had done it and probably kill him for violating me. He said I was right, and then decided he was going to come back to Texas and get me, and I was going to move to California to be with him, so I would be safer.


One of the hardest phone calls I've ever had to make in addition to telling him about the rape was calling him and telling him that as a result of that rape,I had gotten pregnant. He was doubly worried then, and asked me if I was going to keep it or terminate the pregnancy. I told him I was going to keep it, b/c it's not the baby's fault who its father is.


I lost the baby a few weeks later.


When I was staying with a friend of mine, waiting for my bf and his roommie to come get me and my roommie (Dzoon, his roommie, and I'd convinced her to come with us) to go to California.


We were out shopping, and I felt this horrible pain in my back, and went into the bathroom, and there was blood everywhere. I knew what that was, b/c I'd had 2 miscarriages with Andy. I told my friends what happened, we went back to the house, and I just stayed in bed. Slept most of the time, but didn't want to go to the hospital, b/c I didn't want to answer a bunch of questions about the father, and open wounds that were still very fresh. :(


We called dzoon the day it happened and told him, and he said he was sorry, and when I was ready, maybe we could try and have a child together. Although that was the last thing on my mind, it was so sweet of him to be so supportive in helping me grieve.


We dated almost a year. I moved to Illinois, and we agreed that we should just be friends, as it wasn't going to work out, and that was that. We're still friends. We don't talk all that much, but that's alright. :)


When I was 22, I started dating a guy known on icq as DreamWalker. We were a great couple, until he started showing me his true colours. He raped me one night...well, I consider it to be rape, b/c I did say NO, and where I come from, NO MEANS NO, and if a dude's still going to try and get what he wants, and the woman's trying to fight him off and he overpowers her, then that's rape.


I was staying at his Mom's place in PA, and he had come to visit one weekend. We were watching some movies together, and cuddling, and things start getting a bit heated between us. I had a cold, and I didn't want to have sex that night, so when he tried the "foreplay" thing, I swatted his hand away, but b/c of my cold, I didn't have the strength to fight him off me, and he raped me. :( I don't know why I didn't walk away from the relationship right then and there. I really don't. Temporary lapse of stupidity, I guess.


We got a place together, and all was well for almost a year. We had our routines, we did stuph together, and sometimes on our own, but we had a nice lil system going. One night, he was mad about something, and we got into an argument. He started smacking me around, all over the place.


He said he didn't want to date me anymore, and when I demanded to know why, what I'd done that was so bad he didn't want to see me ever again, he raped me. Said it was to teah me a lesson in not talking back or something stupid.


The cops were called, by a neighbour, but they said since we were living together and had had consensual sex before, there was nothing they could do about it, even though there were marks on my body. How could it be proven that things got a bit kinky, they said. Oy.


Brittanney, my oldest daughter, was a result of that. :( Do I love her less b/c of how she was conceived?? Shit no.


So, DreamWalker and I broke up, and I moved out. When I found out about the baby, I told him, and he goes, "Well, I don't know if I want to be part of the child's life." I told him off and hung up on him. One night, he found out I was visiting a friend of our's, and called over there, knowing somehow I'd be the one to answer the phone, and he starts messing with my head. He'd told me earlier on that the baby was going to die anyways, and why the hell was I getting attached?? Same thing the time on the phone. :( I had a near mental breakdown and ended up in the psych ward for a few days. Isn't the first time he'd put me there, but the first time, he said I'd tried to throw myself out a 7th story window. No, I don't think so. I'm terrified of heights. Duh.


We made peace about a year before he was killed in a car accident. He e-mailed me and apologized. I know it was a sincere one, b/c of the content of the letter, and the fact that he never once apologized for what he'd done to me when he'd done it in the past. I have forgiven him. It took me awhile and a lot of soul searching, but I was finally ok with forgiving him of all he'd done to me.


DreamWalker and I dated for a long time, and had talked of getting married. DreamWalker became abusive, and I had to leave. As the result of an argument gone bad, I found out a few weeks later that I had become pregnant with my daughter, Brittanney. When I had informed him of the baby, and all, he was very aloof. I hung up on him, and that was that, until he called my friend's house where I was and said a whole bunch of horrible things, which caused me to go into emotional melt-down. I ended up in the hospital for a few days because of that.


While I was staying with my friend, I met this guy who calls himself Red Dog189 on AOL INSTANT MESSENGER, and we dated for awhile, and then when Brittanney died, I started to shut people out, so he dropped me. Jerk.


So, 2 days after I turned 23, (I was due on 20 February 1999, but lost my daughter on 11 October 1998) I lost my daughter to placental abruption and Anencephaly. It messed with my head in 2 ways. 1) I had lost yet another child, another chance at being a mommy. 2) Dream Walker had predicted this, and I was afraid for a fleeting moment that he'd had a hand in it, but I knew he didn't. He's not THAT heartless.


When she died, the day after I was released to come home, I called our mutual friend and told her what had happened, and asked her if I put the conversation on 3-way, and dialed his #, would she, if I was to pretend I wasn't on the phone listening, tell him what had happened. She said she'd do it, and when she told him, he goes, "I figured that's what would happen. Thanx for telling me, Wendy." And hung up.


So, when I was 24, I met this guy named Jason. We met online, and agreed to meet in person one night, just to hang out. We started dating soon after that, and eventually started fighting almost daily. He'd smack me, he'd threaten to kill me, stuph like that. I stayed, despite all that, b/c I felt that that's what I deserved. I'd move out, I'd come back. I'd move out, I'd come back. This went on for 15 months.


He'd have to force me to have sex with him, and he'd throw me around like I was just a toy that needed to be tossed. :( At one point, I moved out when I was in college, b/c I couldn't handle staying there with him. I was introduced to this dude who was a guest of a friend of mine at our school, and this guy was real smitten with me. He constantly asked me out, and I'd decline. I wasn't there to date, I was there to learn.


He met me at my locker after class, and offered me a ride home and then to work, b/c it was pretty hot out, and he was being nice. I figured, well, there's no harm in just hanging out, right?? So, I consented. He drove me home, and I went upstairs to take a shower, but I locked the bathroom door. I don't know why I did that, but I just did. I got ready for work, and we left my house. He missed the exit to get to the town I was working in at the time, and when I bought it to his attention, he apologized and said he had to stop by his apartment, but he knew a shortcut and that we'd be able to get me to work on time, no problem.


We got to his apartment, and I asked where the powder room (bathroom) was, b/c I had to use it. He showed me, and I went and did my thing, and when I got out, he was standing there, stark ass naked in his living room. I asked what was going on, and he said something about how I owed him. He raped me. Then told me that if I was to tell, he'd find out and kill me. So, no one knew until I almost got kicked out of school for missing so much class, and I lost my job b/c I'd just keep calling in sick. :( I told the Dean at my school, but made him promise me he wasn't going to say anything to anyone. He promised, and that was that.


As a result of THAT attack, I got pregnant with my youngest daughter. She lives with my ex-boyfriend, Jason, b/c that's the only father she's ever known, and one day when she's old enough to start asking questions, I am going to tell her everything, I won't deny her that. She has a right to know, but I know that the time's going to be right when she starts asking questions and is old enoug to understand what she's asking about.


~shrug~ So, that's my past in a nutshell. The bad parts, anyways. Oh, there's good stuph, too, but not much. I love my children with everything that I am, no matter WHAT the circumstances were when they came to be part of my life.


I still have nightmares of when I lost my son and oldest daughter. I still have nightmares of being sexually abused as a lil kid. Andy never once raised a hand to me, and I had nightmares that he and my dad's nephew were involved in torturing me. :( THAT one hurt, b/c I know Andy would never do that. When he finally found out what was going on with Jason and I, and what Dream Walker had done, he wanted to teach them both a lesson in how NOT to treat a woman.


~shakes head~


I wish I didn't ever have to experience this, but at the same time, I am kinda glad I did, b/c it's made me a very strong person in the long run, and my experiences have helped me to help other people who've endured this.


So, that's it. That's why I self-mutilate. For punishment, to feel... That's all.


I have found closure with my Dad, with Dream Walker, and with Jason. Dream Walker was through the e-mail he'd sent. Jason was through watching him with Jessi, how he is with her. He's a wonderful father toward her, and I can't thank God enough for that. My Dad, b/c of a story he'd told me.


The story goes, the day my son died, 10 June 96, he was at home sitting there just doing nothing, just relaxing. The second my son died, he got up, picked his guitar up and played "HOBO'S LULLABYE," a song he sang to me and my brothers when we were very young. As I type this, I can hear his voice singing us to sleep and playing that song on his guitar. He told me this the evening of my son's funeral. We'd buried Wolfgang in the daytime, and that night, I was in my old room, just having some me time, to sort through my emotions and what-not, and Dad came in and told me that story.

When we hugged, I just silently forgave him of all the bad he'd done. I've forgiven him even more when my 2 older brothers died. It's real sad that it took something that awful to happen to bring my dad and I closer. :(


I thank you for reading this.. And if you're just going to pity me, then bugger off. I am not looking for, nor do I like, pity. I am just coming out of the shadows and sharing with all of you, as you have done with me. I feel a lil better, and I apologize if there's any typos on my part, I just don't have the energy to go back and fix them all...