“Down the White Rabbit Hole” Part 3

Tammy : sharing my experience in the open unit of a institution for youth, under the Juvenile Delinquent System.

I“But it’s no use now,” thought poor Alice, “to pretend to be two people! Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!” —Chapter 1, Down the Rabbit-Hole

When I was finally transferred to the open unit things got really bizarre! For the first couple of months I was heavily supervised and not allowed to go out side with out a worker with me. so it was still kinda like lock down, just more girls. I think they could hold up to 24 girls on that unit, and we shared rooms. I had a roommate, and I thought she was a, well we didn’t really get along, but I tolerated her.

It is odd to me to be on all this medication, because I do not really recall meeting with a psychiatrist while I was in lock up. However, I was so drugged up, sometimes it was hard to remember anything at all. Being in the open unit , did give me more freedom, I was able to go to the school rooms on the main floor, with out a staff member accompanying me. during class I would either write in my journal, which was pretty much all I ever did, or I would sleep due to the drugs conking me out. The Teachers never bothered me. As long as I was quiet they left me alone. Sometimes I would attempt to do the work, but my mind was so heavily drugged it was really hard to comprehend what I was supposed to do with all the X’s and Y’s. I preferred to just sit quietly and write, or sleep.

”And then she disappeared” Alice in Wonderland

I also, started going to appointments on the out side to see a psychiatrist named Dr. Maurice Blackman. I remember going into his office and they had a large observation room, and the kids in that room were absolutely bonkers. I recognized one of my old classmates from HillCrest, and when I talked to her she was just crazy, I was shocked! What happened to her, she used to be so calm and fun. Now she was bonkers. My Dr. Blackman started me on a new regime of drugs, and things went to hell in a hand basket. I would have to go to his office twice a week to get a needle in my hip, have no idea what it was, on top of the daily doses of pills I was on.

I started to hear people talk to me that were not there, and see shadows and things that were not people. Scared the heck out of me. I also, started to act out aggressively! I was not happy in this open unit surrounded by all these people! I never picked on the smaller kids, I always picked fights with the biggest girls and the biggest boys as being in open unit it was more co ed. No one ever met my challenges they always backed down.It was the drugs, that was not my nature at all. My case worker would discuss me with other staff and some times the girls would over hear her and report back to me.

I was thrown in to solitary almost weekly, stripped naked and put in a cell with nothing in it but a flat mattress. I spent a lot of time in solitaire, at the time I was locked up there was no set limit in how long you could be kept in solitary, you could be kept in there indefinitely if they wanted.The worst part about going into solitary was I resisted vehemently, and I was really strong, like crazy strong, I think the drugs had a lot to do with it. Typically three to four big burly men from the boy’s unit would come help the female staff put me into solitary. It was no easy feat, if they sat on me I just bucked them off, if they grabbed me I would swing them into a wall. For such a little girl I was scarily strong, and had no censorship what so ever, the drugs took away all inhibitions, I had absolutely zero fear and zero remorse. This was nothing like I was before I came here, my sister can attest to that. I think if my sister Tyra was able to visit me, she would not recognize the person looking back. Not because of how I looked but because of how I acted. I was no longer me

I know even then she would have still loved me. Tammy 2019

Dr. Maurice Blackman:

Dr. Blackman has been practicing for over 40 years.
CPSA Physician Details
Dr. Blackman was trained in Dublin Ireland at Trinity College and came to Canada after postgraduate training in Psychiatry in 1973. Initially he was employed as a Consultant Psychiatrist involved in youth and family care. Dr. Blackman then moved to the University of Alberta where he undertook the teaching of medical students and psychiatric residents, reaching the advancement to Clinical Professor of the University of Alberta. He also continued to consult with Alberta Health Services and developed a number of programs for severely dysfunctional youth and families.

KMedicine Hat News (Newspaper) – April 6, 1993, Medicine Hat, Alberta WestManagers gone EDMONTON (CP) — Two senior managers are no longer working at an Edmonton psychiatric facility for disturbed adolescents that was investigated last year for its treatment techniques. Both Dr. Maurice Blackman, the child psychiatrist who served as program director at CASA House, and nurse-manager Karen Pentelchuk have left the program, confirmed CASA president Margaret Shone. Shone also confirmed a consulting psychologist at the centre has been suspended for a week. Blackman resigned at the beginning of February for health reasons, Shone said, and Pentelchuk’s position was axed in a management reorganization

It is unbelievable to me that he practiced on youth for so many years, and even after YDC was shut down, he went to CASA house and continued, his practices there. He then resigned? How many often do we hear of people in positions of authority or power turning in their resignation , when things start getting uncomfortable for them.

The following are quotes from actual patients, and parents of patients of Dr.Blackman:

“THIS THING traumatized me so bad that I STILL have nightmares of the “care” that his GOONS gave to kids WAY back in the 1980’s. I remember telling him that the meds were CAUSING me to hallucinate. His response was “45 days solitary confinement. For talking out of turn and not asking with raised hand.” IT WAS A 1 ON 1 MEETING!!!! I was 10 years old. I TRIED to commit suicide 45 times while in his Care”

“My daughter saw this Dr years ago.. experience was traumatic. Sent her to the children’s mental heath at the Royal Alex after overdosing her on her adhd meds. She was seeing hair growing out of her finger tips. 9 year old on such a cocktail of meds.”

“This man nearly destroyed my 15 year old daughter when he ran CASA house. His method was to used candy to reward “acceptable” behavior or to put my child in a straight jacket and lock her in a padded cell for many, many hours at a time for unacceptable behavior.”

“I am starting a malpractice suit against this evil man. He must be stopped. Was a abused traumatized child but wouldn’t recognize my abuse instead accused me of drug use and threatened me to keep me locked up or incarcerated until I was 16 if I didn’t admit to the drug use. I was 13 and was very anti drug at the time and had never even been around it. While I was there I was lock in solitary confinement for 12 days, was stripped nude of clothing by two abusive nurses. I know their names and addresses. I compare him to Joseph Mangula using children as experiments.”

These are quotes from parents and actual patients he treated years ago. If you would like to read the full quotes, and more quotes I will post the link here:
https://www.ratemds.com/doctor-ratings/79352/Dr-Maurice-Blackman-Edmonton-AB.html?page=2

How this man was able to experiment and practice on trouble youth is beyond my understanding. Those dysfunctional youth they talk about were traumatized, abused children, calling out for help the only way they knew how, and in my opinion just continued to be a victim to those in authority over them.

Somehow I rallied and when I went to see this awful Dr. And I use the term lightly, I yelled at him, I am not going to come see you any more! He just calmly looked at me and said “you have no choice…” I was just a kid, stripped of rights, identity, dignity, and truth. I vowed to myself that enough was enough. Although, I still took my medication, I firmly believe I was a prescription addict, by this time. I acted out so violently and for hours at a time, any time I had an appointment to see this man, that I would be thrown into solitary. I never saw him again and the needless in the hip ceased. A victory for me, although it cost me dearly.

I am going to stop here, and do a continuation. please feel free to carry on reading if you wish, or stop here, but please do come back, there is more to share.

“Down the White Rabbit Hole” part 2

Cascade YDC lock down unit, was on this unit for over two and a half years, almost three. The longest any girl has been on this unit, to my knowledge. Tammy 2019

Falling even further down the Rabbit Hole, were I will land no body knows. Tammy 2019

I was transferred to my new permanent dwelling, A place called “Youth Development Center” in Edmonton Alberta. It was called “YDC” for short and that is probably how I will refer to it in this next segment. There were four units in YDC, the Girls units were called Cascade, which was the girls lock-down unit, will explain what that means in a bit. and what was called an Open-Unit,named Lowpine. The girls were given more freedom after being in the open unit for a while. It was not as secure as the lock down unit. Most Of my time was spent in the Lock down unit. I was still 12 when when I went to the Lock down unit, I turned 13 in YDC , we did not Celebrate birthdays at YDC. you will understand why in a bit

The Lock down unit I was on only had six rooms, and we did not share a room with any one. We were put into our own dorm and that was it. It was very much a lock down, we didn’t even go outside, They just did not have the staff to take us. We did have a big window though so were able to look outside. I didn’t like looking outside, it looked to big to me. I was very rapidly becoming institutionalized, which would affect and effect me for the rest of my life. We would eat our meals in our rooms, we were segregated from the other inmates who were in open units, so we only pretty much had interaction with a very small group of people.

I was put on various medications, which kept me so docile I would actually fall asleep in the middle of talking. My mouth was perpetually dry, and I could never get enough water to drink. I really had no idea why they put me on all theses medications since I was already a timid and withdrawn child, it made absolutely no sense! I know I was on a lot as one time the worker assigned to me freaked out and made the mistake of saying out loud”OMG we forgot to take her off the old medication and have been giving her new ones at the same time! She has been taking them all at the same time!” I asked her how many she told me over the course of the day I was taking 26 different types of medication! That is what the worker assigned to me said to another worker, I overheard her.

My brain felt shut off all the time, like my body was just moving of its own accord, with out any interaction from my brain. It was awful! My thoughts, if I had any, were so slow to come that I didn’t bother talking. Then there were times I would talk with rapid fire, just to get the thoughts out before my head exploded. At least it felt like it was going to explode. I honestly believe that some one was experimenting on me, and this would become even more true when I went to the open unit, and started seeing the psychiatrist associated with YDC. it was this psychiatrist that had been treating me ever since I went to YDC. This medicating with different medication went on for years. From shortly after I arrived till the day I left. They even diagnosed me as schizophrenic at one point, because the medication was giving me auditory and visual hallucinations.

At that time treatment for JD’s was medication. There was no talk therapy, or counselling when I was in lock up. I was just kept isolated in this block called Cascade. I didn’t really mind, I was so medicated and out of it, I really did not want to be around people any way. On the wall they had a board with all the things they observed during the day and you either got a star or an X. Things like Hygiene, interaction with others, attitude, Decorum ecetra. I can’t remember all that was on there but I think there was like eight different things they would evaluate during their shift. Apparently I was having difficulty meeting their standards, because they had to have a special evaluation system for me with 1 being very good and 3 being very bad.

I didn’t like being different from the others. It made me very uncomfortable as, that board was in the hall were all the Cascade inmates could see it. I felt ashamed. Being different was never a good thing, and I do not recall being a troublesome child, I think it was part of the experiment to see how I would react to being singled out. It was not to end up well for any one! The more they experimented and tried to single me out, the more my brain was switching off. I was going into survival mode, and was almost becoming feral. Scary as hell. Is this what they wanted? I do not know, but this is what was happening. I was changing from a quiet, timid girl into a feral child. I did not have any one touch me, hug or any kind of touching at all, it wasn’t allowed. The only time they touched me is when they restrained me and put me into solitaire, I will talk about that in a bit as that happened on the open unit, not the closed unit I was currently on.

Time just became one day meshing into another, if you were to ask me what day it was, I would not have been able to tell you.To this day I have trouble retaining dates, and have to look on my phone constantly to see what day it is, if I even care to know.Time for me is the seasons. Winter it is time to sleep , fall is time to get ready to sleep, spring is time to plan and start waking up, and summer is time to have fun and wake up all the way. That was my time, and how I lived my life. I am also nocturnal, as I spend all my time alone for the most part, and night time is when I come awake. I guess I am like that great Owl, always living in the night… I spent almost three years in Cascade, I would have to count back to remember, but it was a long time indeed.

All that Time I was on a lot of medication, and very drug out. Most of the teens that came to lock up were on the open unit with a matter of a few months, for me I was on the Secure unit for years. I really could not understand why?! I felt that I was being punished because I told on those men that had sexually abused me…what other answer could there be, I must be bad for doing that therefore I was being punished. Maybe I was being punished because I told that man that “If you ever touch my little sisters and brother I will find you and I will kill you!” The look in his eyes was one of pure terror, but I had been abused so badly that rage had to be stuffed down. Maybe that was why people were scared of me? I don’t think so, I wasn’t willfully mean. If I did act out it was simply a mode of survival, not maliciousness.

I can’t I had to face it, accept it, and learn a way to live with it. Tammy 2019

One saving Grace, all the workers on the closed unit were Women, and the men from the boys unit were never called to Cascade, there was nothing that the female workers could not handle, so I was saved from having to interact with men. The other girls for the most part stayed away from me, even though they were bigger, I think they were afraid of me. I do not know why, I had no intention or desire to hurt them, I just wanted to learn what it was to be a girl from them. I would watch them put on their make up and do their hair. I observed how they dressed, these were things I never learned from my mom, I learned from girls who were junkies and prostitutes.

There was a radio built into the wall, one Chanel as it went through the whole institution to all the units. I had that music on constantly when I was up, thankfully the other girls didn’t seem to mind, at least they never said anything to me. If I was in the common room the radio was on and TV was off, that was just the way it was. Because I had been on that unit for so long, maybe they thought I was the boss. Or maybe they were just scared of the ticking time bomb I was… I don’t know. I really felt nothing either way after a while, I was totally numbed out. That is not a safe thing to do to a child that has been traumatized so mercilessly. I mean really make it so they have no empathy, no worry no conscience? They really must have been experimenting on me! I wanted to get out, and asked my worker how long I was going to be there in that institution, she looked at me and just said bluntly till you are 21 years old. I was about 14 years old when I asked her, and another year and a half was to go by. We can legally keep you till you are 21 years old. I was floored, I was going to be institutionalized for ten years?! What did I do! Would I even survive it, and would it matter? My mom had cut off all contact with me, and would not allow my siblings to see me. By the time Tyra was old enough to come see me I may be a vegetable from all the drugs or dead by suicide.

You may be still wondering why they didn’t celebrate birthdays in the locked unit. We didn’t even have calendars in the locked unit. The days just passed into one day into another, the only reason I know how long I was there is because it is documented, and I seen the dates. I think they thought it best if we didn’t consciously recognize the passage of time, maybe it made us more manageable I do not know. It was a strange time, and a strange place.

I had a friend in YDC lock up her name was Sandra. She was 12 years old, and was a very odd child, but then I guess I was too. However, she would self mutilate, and that bothered me, as I did not self mutilate. She got mad at me once, because she told me she was going to swallow tacks. How she got the tacks I don’t know as we were not allowed stuff like that. I told her no, and tried to convince her not to do it. However, she insisted that she was going to do it! I was frantic, she would not let me take them away from her, so I told my worker and the staff restrained her and took all the tacks and anything else that could be dangerous to her from her room. she asked me”why did you tell on me”, she was so mad at me. “I told her because you are my only friend and I love you”. she forgave me after that I loved that sad little girl so much, I took her under my wing, at least she wasn’t scared of me, and accepted me for who I was.

Sometimes the open units would go on field trips and leave the institution. I liked those times, because our unit would go down to the swimming pool and have some fun. One time when Sandra and I along with the other girls were in the pool. The boys from the lock up units were allowed in the pool with us and sometimes the boys and girls would be masturbating each other. I never did that, I didn’t want to. I saw Sandra face down jerking in the water. She had epilepsy. At first I thought she was playing a game, then it dawned on me what was happening! To my horror! I quickly swam to her and turned her over yelling “STAFF! STAFF! that what we called the workers. I saved my friends life not once, but twice, I miss her so much. the staff quickly did something to her, and she was taken to the hospital, she was having a Grand Mal Seizure. She was taken to a different facility and boy did she fight, she wanted us to run away together, of course I would have but I wouldn’t even have made it out the door. The only time I was not in arms length of a staff member was when I was sleeping. I never saw her again, I hope she had a good and happy life..

The next piece will be a sharing of when I went to the girls open unit: Lopine

Finding my strength

Tyra:

Social services must have found out about Harvey and we were on the move yet again. This time we moved to a small town called Warspite. The next town was Smoky Lake, this is the town that we went to school. We lived in this little house on a farm. There was lots of space for us to play or make hiding places. Our forts over the years would get more elaborate out in the bush. We would go where the bush was thick and a small space in the middle to bring the important stuff to. We spent hours cleaning the area when we had time.

Our mother’s addiction was so out of control that we locked up her medication and gave her only what was prescribed. While doing this we actually had a mom. She would actually come and help outside, and be part of the family. Those moments did not last forever, her addiction was too strong. She would manipulate us saying that she did not have her medications that day. When that no longer worked, she would break a glass and slash her knees and the neighbours would take her to the hospital for pain management and stitches. She said that she had fell on the glass, but how does this happen 3 or 4 times when you are an addict, the probability is really small. I also think the neighbor realized that there was a problem, but did not know what the problem was.

This is where I learnt to work. We began with having to do firewood. This was tiresome. We would bring wood out of the bush, stack it after it was chopped. That was ok, but then after all that work was done we had to put it on the trailer to take it to Edmonton to sell. This took hours as we had to make sure that the cords were separated, and stacked. When we sold it we would then again stack the wood for the people that bought it. It was so much work, but I did learn the value of a good days work. It is hard to believe that even today I enjoy stacking wood, it is relaxing.

Then we got our first pig, her name was Arnold. I know it is a male name but it just seemed to fit her. She was our dog. She would walk us to the bus stop, and sit there waiting for us to come home. I loved that pig, she really was special. I remember Tanya trying to ride her and Tanya ended up in the mud puddle. The laughter was loud and I treasured the laughter as there was not much. We spent hours doing chores for the pigs. Building pens, bringing poles out of the bush, pealing the poles then painting them. Wow looking back I wonder how I managed to get school work in. Oh ya it came second to the hard work. The work had to be done first then maybe you would have time for homework. This was so engrained in me even when I went to university I had to have my place clean all the work done before I could study. I find it kinda crazy now thinking about it because I just realized why I couldnt sit there and do my work if my house was dirty.

Gardening was new to me when we were at this new place, but I begun to love it. My goodness we had abundant food for the first time in my life. Ya it was work but I knew I was not going to go hungry again. Who really likes pulling weeds, well I do. I think this come from when Harvey tried to bribe me by saying ” give me a blow job and I will give you the rest of the day off” I just pretended that I did not hear him and went back to pulling weeds. I just could not believe that he had the nerve to start trying this shit with me. I do not know what the difference was between Tammy and I but he focused on Tammy. The only problem was Tammy was not there, so he was trying to groom me for his next victim. I would not have it and let him know it also.

It finally came time to harvest the garden. Boy was I happy. I picked so much and cleaned it for supper, and learnt how to blanch vegetable before freezing. Mom did participate in the harvesting of the vegetables but only some of them. Then she was back to bed. The work load just increased when she would go to bed, as I picked up the pieces of the family life.

Having animals was a blessing and a curse during this time. I had to do the chores outside, which included feeding many pigs, chickens, and milking the nanny goat. She provided us with milk on a daily basis, we did not do without unless I did not milk her. It was important that I milked her for the younger kids so they would have milk for their porridge in the morning. It became a routine to make porridge in the morning before school and feed the kids then make lunches. We did not get everything that all the children had for lunches but at least we had something.

The billy goat was a mean animal and we did not have fences to keep them in. This one day I hear Trevor screaming, I run outside to find that the billy goat was throwing him up in the air with his horns. I ran to get Trevor away from the goat and to protect him from it. I just could only imagine how Trevor’s tummy felt after being flipped so many times. But here it is I was filling the mothering role for my younger siblings.

I was scared of this billy goat, they were too, but as a big sister I was the protector. When I came for a visit, they took me out to see the animals. This goat started chasing me and I ran like my pants were on fire! We hid in a shad and Trevor the youngest tried to climb the shed door, and got stuck. I let out a roar off laughter at the silliness of it all. They all looked at me in wonder. It was the first time I laughed in years, and boy did it feel good. Tammy

Then came the day that Harvey really tried to abuse me. He took me in his arms and tried to french kiss me in the kitchen. I slapped him as quick as he had tried to kiss me, and stated “don’t you ever try that again”. I am not sure if it was the look that I gave him when it happened or the surprise of the slap but he did not try this again with me. After that incident I decided to ask mom about my biological dad, what he was like and where he was. This lead to me asking to move to his place and live there where I did not have to worry about being abused by the same man over and over again. It turns out it was one of the worse mistakes that I had ever made.

Moving to Manning was about starting fresh and learning to live with my dad. What really happened is nothing short of the abuse that I already endured in my life. My dad was gone working in the bush running a cat. I was left at home with his wife that was so jealous of me it lead to her physically abusing me. This one day I don’t remember the reason but she was so angry at me about something that she actually pulled me by my hair to my bedroom. I could not believe that I put myself in this situation again. Then the disgusting names that she would call me, the worst names you can think of, it was said to me. I did try and tell my dad but he did not believe me that it had happened, so I found myself all alone. Really alone cause I did not even have my siblings there to comfort me. Then there was the incident where she was drinking and taking prescription medication and proceeded to try and drive 3 hours to Meander River. My goodness I was so scared it was freezing cold outside, snow banks were large on the road side and we hit the ditch. I am not sure how many times we hit the ditch on the way there but when the trucker pulled us out the last time he said ” maybe someone else should drive?'”. All I remember thinking was “who can drive Colleen was 14, I was 13, Joey was 10, and Allen had congenital defect”. So it was decided that Colleen would drive the rest of the way to High Level, and we did arrive there safe but it was one of the scariest times of my life. My step mom was just as bad as my mom with the prescription medications, I was thinking ” it is just better to go back to my moms and deal with her than deal with a crazy person wanting to drive while totally intoxicated” I was not ready to die. I made a attempt to tell someone about the abuse I was enduring at this home. I told my foster parents that had me as a baby, and that I could not do this anymore, I needed to get out. They suggested that I go to social services, but I knew what would happen if I did that. So I tried to leave the easiest way I could.

I told my dad the things that were happening and he did not believe me so he asked grandpa. Grandpa stated that things in the house hold were not good and reinforced that the incidents did happen. When dad came home and confronted my stepmom there was a big fight. It ended with my step mom leaving, moving to Meander River. The time that we were alone together I thought was good there was no drama, no abuse, and we were connecting. I do not remember how it came about that I moved back to my moms, just that I ended back up in Warspite on the farm.

One of the most painful wounds that can not be seen is the invalidation and disregard for our truth. Tammy 2019

Back on the farm my siblings were happy to have me home. I was happy to be back with them. The work load increased for me but I did not care I just did what I needed to do and move on. This one day I lost my temper telling Trevor to quit touching my butt, it triggered something in mom. She sat me down and begun asking questions for the first time ever. I told her what Harvey was trying and doing to me. She appeared to be upset about the situation. Mom must have talked about it with Harvey and there was tension in the air. Not long after Tammy came for a visit and it was at the right time. The visit must have made mom realize that we could be taken away again because of Harvey and decided to leave him.

Acceptance of Disorder

Tyra:

During this time of year we all look back at what has happened in our lives and think of areas that we can change or how to let go of hardships that we have gone through. I have had many hardships in life, whether it is from abuse as a child or a messy break up to learning how to contain my emotions during conversations. Most people who know me would say that I wear my emotions on my sleave but I always thought that I was good at hiding, I guess not.

This one year close to Christmas time I was told that I was manipulative. Me manipulative, I had to look the word up to see what it ment and how I needed to change to make it right. Manipulative meaning: exercising unscrupulous control or influence over a person or situation (Oxford dictionary). Now that we have the meaning down lets examine my behaviour that would constitute being manipulative.

During our childhood years we did not have much control over our lives and situations that we were put in. So how would a child in those situations act or even learn to be manipulative. Well I did learn and was good at it. During my teen years I learned how to manipulate the people around me to provide me with the needs that I needed at that time. Did I know what I was doing? No, I did not know what I was doing until someone pointed it out to me.

I strive to be the best me I possibly can. Tyra 2019

Learning to live and not be manipulative was difficult for me as it was the only way I knew how to survive in the world. Having to learn to be a productive individual in life and not have that control is difficult as you make yourself vulnerable. Being vulnerable was a not a high point for me as I wanted to have control over all aspects of my life and those that choose to be in it with me.

The only control I seemed to have was to make people do what I wanted them to do. But why would that make me a bad person? It doesn’t make you a bad person just one people did not want to be around for the sake that you may take their free will away from them. I still do not understand that but I guess perception is the name of the game here. I always thought that I was thoughtful and kind to other people for I did not want them to feel the way I did deep down.

Influencing people could be looked as a good thing also, whether they realize it or not. I most definitely did not have any harm in mind if I influenced their decision to participate in an activity or not. I thought that I just was following the lead in many situations as that is what I had learnt as a child. Follow what is going on and do not rock the boat and no one will get hurt.

So being manipulative was a survival technique that I needed to get through the life I was living as a child. As an adult this behaviour was frowned upon and there I was again trying to figure out how to survive in his new world that did not understand me. I had to let go of all that I had learned and relearn new coping skills to get me through. Little to my surprise it lead me down a dark road of depression.

Our mother suffered from depression and I did not want to be anything like her do I ended up being in denial and refused treatment at my own expense. I was so scared of becoming the person that she was that I refused treatment with medication as I may become an addict just like her. I knew I needed help but to what degree I was not sure.

I suffered for years with depression and the black outs, but I was stubborn stating I did not need the help of medication like my mother. Until the day came that I was really having trouble functioning in life I knew them it was time to make a change and a drastic one it was.

Silence Hurt’s

Tammy:

I had many years of happiness and fulfillment at the shelter. I felt wonderful working with women and children that I could understand and empathize with. It was my purpose in life to be there to comfort, educate and above all encourage. Encouragement is so important to me, not because we lack courage, but some times we need others to give us the “en” courage.

When I walked out of the crisis shelter for the last time, something happened. It was just to much. I had enough. I was done. I shut down. I slammed my mental door shut, be damed with the world, I was not giving any more pieces of me. What was left I was keeping. I resigned myself to my truth, which was, “you got hurt, you will be hurt, you will always hurt.“ Well, that was not going to happen, I refused, at least I tried to refuse. However sometimes the heart and soul, has other ideas, and your intellectual side is out voted.

I still have my buckets of water, think I always will. I have a strong will to be there for others, I just had to learn to be there for my self too. Tammy 2019

I spiralled into a place so dark and empty, it was a terrible place that I never wish to go to again, not even for a short visit. I stopped bathing, and only would wash if I could not stand my self. I refused to leave my home and refused all visitors. Although, I really only had one friend, who really cared about me. She has been my friend for over twenty years. The through thick and thin she has always been there for me when I was ready to let her in. I was a expert at sleeping, I could sleep any were up toward Eighteen hours. The down side was sometimes I wouldn’t be able to sleep for days. I loved sleeping, I lived in my dreams, at least till the nightmares took over.

The consequences of the abuse I suffered and the repetitive placements in foster care, group homes and finally institutionalization is, I have attachment and bonding issues. There is a disorder that describes attachment disorders, reactive attachment disorder, which typically is a result of severe neglect or abuse at a young age. Usually the abuse is from the mother. It is a symptom of complicated post traumatic stress disorder. The complicated just describes some one who has has a long history of trauma, abuse. We’re as PTSD is being diagnosed by some Drs. And Psychiatrists as being a one time event. Irregardless any mental illness and injury, is a difficult and painful process of recovery and healing, the best we can.The symptoms of PTSD may include symptoms that overlap with BPD. Depression runs in our family, our mother was diagnosed with manic depression, and was being treated for that disorder. However as already shared, she was a prescription addict and her illness as going untreated because of her abusing her medications. So falling into This abyss was not difficult, the difficult part was, can I get out of it?

“I remember when I lost my mind” Gnarls Barkley

Days, sometimes weeks would go by, unwashed, forgetting to eat, because I did not feel hunger, sleeping for hours, or mindlessly playing games on the computer. Reading book after book. Anything to escape looking at what was happening to me. I felt empty, the one time I did break down, it was so painful, I shut it down with a bang. Another trait I was good at, disassociating from myself, a coping skill I honed and perfected as a child. I was suffering, I was so depressed that It was slowly killing me from the inside out. I wanted absolutely nothing, I was so shut down, I couldn’t even rally up enough empathy for myself to reach out for help. What I was feeling was so overwhelming and painful, I could not afford to allow myself to feel it. So I opted to feel nothing at all. No anger, disappointment, love, fear, nothing, I truly gave up and did not care any more. I was a vessel filled up with pain and could hold no more, sorry, this Woman is “out of order”.

“Out of order” This thought came to me and it fit. Tammy 2019

When I look back at that time, and I have to share this lasted for seven years!! I was in this state for seven long years. I will never get that time back, so I look at it and learn what I can from it, and use the experience to relate and empathize with others. Hopefully, I can save them the time I had lost, to untreated mental illness and complicated issues. It is hard to imagine being in that state so long, but I had a supporter of my illness. My partner, he enjoyed my exclusivity and dependance on him. I was his young wife, and he had me all to himself. He would do all the shopping, never disturb me when I was sleeping. Do all the menial chores. Above all else he would chase people away, people like family that were concerned, friends that wanted to know were I was. He was my biggest advocate for my illness. I didn’t think of it that way at the time. Years later looking back, I can see that this was indeed the case.

I am not going to leave you hanging, there is more, and I do want share. You may be wondering why so long? Why suffer in silence for so long. There is varying and complicated reasons why we sometimes suffer in silence. Toxic shame, is a huge motivator to keep silent. Dysfunctional Learned coping methods. Untreated Mental illness, symptoms and behaviours. Addiction, whether using or not, the behaviours we used as addicts can surface with a vengeance. Fear of involuntary commitment. Been through that when I was eighteen. I have a fear of being incarcerated, nice place or no, it is not voluntary. Also, having some one encourage the mental collapse does not help. Those are a few of the reasons, why. Not a comprehensive list by any means, but hopefully it is a start to the question why. The fact remains that if you are suffering in silence, there is a multitude of people, including my self and my that want to be there for you and do not judge you. Please, reach out, and keep reaching out, some one will be there for you. I will cover more about this dark time in an adjacent piece. There is hope.

I had Hope so “I held on for another day, …
Barely breathing, …with a 💔 broken heart that is still beating.” Lifehouse

If you haven’t already please feel free to start at the beginning intro “Two Sisters Perspective” or if you wish to start reading our experiences “The Beginning” Thank you so much for your support. Tammy and Tyra

Kids Help Phone
Chat Services: kidshelpphone.ca
Text Services: Text “CONNECT” to 686868 (also serving adults)

http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html You can find a list of crisis lines available to you, were ever you reside.

https://www.iasp.info/resources/Crisis_Centres/ a international list of resources available for you and me.

Home Coming

Tammy:

As I said previously, my sister and I were with our foster parents for three years. so I was six when I went back to live with our mother and Tyra was three. You are probably wondering were was my father or Tyra’s father was during this time. I will of course let Tyra speak about her own Father, but as for mine I had some contact with him, but it was very limited. I am not sure of the circumstances, but he was not in my life after the time I was brought back to my mother from my foster parents. from vague memories I can only infer that it was not a good relationship, although the memories are hazy the feelings about the memories are extremely strong, and as an adult I can infer many things. It wasn’t till much later in my Adult life that I had any substantial contact with my Father, which I will speak about later on in our Blog. Just to Clarify all the siblings have different fathers other than my youngest brother and I who have the same Father.

I do remember when my mother came to get us. she brought crayons and coloring books. Big fat crayons. I remember, because, I broke my yellow one and it upset me very much =(. To a six year old who is confused and bewildered breaking a crayon is a huge deal. I could not understand why I was again being uprooted to go back with this woman, who was by now pretty much a stranger to me, although I must of remembered something because my foster mother stated I Begged to stay with her, and not go with this other woman. She had a man with her, although I can not recall who the man was. I do believe it was Tyra’s father although I could be wrong.

Things went badly very quickly. The horror was that because our mother had fought so hard to get us back, she became very adept at hiding abuse… Our mother was very heavy in to alcohol and I am sure pills, although I did not become aware of the pills until I was older. The alcohol was very prevalent though. As I was six years old, there are things that I remember, probably because some of the memories were so horrific.

You may be wondering if I still peed the bed after being with my foster parents for three years. The answer was yes, I pee’d the bed until I was about ten or eleven years old =(. extreme abuse can do this to a child. Many young children lose bladder/bowel control following sexual assault. It can be frustrating for parents and cause extra work. … Bedwetting can also result from feelings of helplessness when children feel a loss of ownership and power over their body when it has been used by someone more powerful than they are.

The bed wetting is important for me to share because it was so shaming to me. Although the reasons for my doing it were horrific in the extreme, outsiders would shame me because they felt it wasn’t normal for a six year old and, older, child to be bed wetting. They were right it wasn’t normal but instead of helping or investigating they shamed me. I would just implore any one who knows of a child that wets the bed beyond the normal years to investigate it before righting it off as laziness or just being a brat. I am not, nor have ever been, lazy or a brat.

I share my voice with you, so you can share yours with me. Tammy 2019

Within the first year of being home I was sexually abused twice by men that I remember. I even remember his name, because to me it was such a odd name; she called him Guy. I didn’t realize until I was Older that it was French and the proper pronunciation was Gee not guy even thought it was spelled Guy. He had Black hair and blue eyes. he was wearing jeans and a white dress shirt and smelled nice. He was not, however a nice man. in fact he was a despicable man! My mother had a kitchen table pushed up against the wall, with one chair on the end and one on the side.

For some odd reason I was dressed up in a red dress and white leotards. It was really odd… since we didn’t go to church and had no special place to go… As an adult I really have to wonder if my mother dressed me up for this occasion. If she did, her depravity knew no bounds =(.

I recall my mother siting in the side chair, and the man sitting with his back to the wall on the corner of the table, facing outward towards to kitchen. Our mother sat in the other chair facing the man. My mother had me come over and introduced me to this man. Nothing strange right? She told me to sit on his lap. She told me, to do this and since she was my mother I obeyed. I was a meek child so of course I did as she told, with out making a fuss.

If I share my pain with you, please share yours with me, we are not alone. Tammy 2019

“Trigger Warning: graphic sexual abuse please be aware.”

I recall sitting on this mans lap and he did something to me that caused me a white hot pain in my little girl parts. He inserted his finger into my vagina. I recall the pain and the bewilderment, as I looked into my mothers eyes and she just watched and said nothing, She said nothing!!! My soul shattered, it exploded with a silent scream. I uttered no sound what so ever, I complied and my soul died. I blacked out after that moment, although I have vague memories of movement and being carried… I really do not care to remember any more than that, I’m sorry but I can’t and wont take you and me through the whole horror of what happened, I just do not recall any more details vividly.

My mother and Uncle’s wanted to go out to the bar. However, they had a dilemma. No baby sitter and no one wanted to stay behind. However, one man volunteered to stay behind and watch me and my sister….my mother didn’t even question it, she was ecstatic that she could go party and feel safe knowing her children were being Watched…. If I sound ominous it is because it was. I have to beg the question what mother would leave a strange man stay with her little girl’s, while she went to the bar? Apparently our mother would and did.

After my mother and Uncles left, I was in my little cot, not sleeping just being aware, “Beware”. This man was huge, well at least to me he was, and well muscled. He had blonde hair down to his shoulder,and was wearing a tan vest. The vest looked like tanned leather and he had no shirt on. If he is reading this do you think he knows who I am talking about? I hope so, and I hope he twists with the agony of what he did to a little girl! My innocence was already gone, so when he came into my little space I knew it was not for a good reason. He took off my green turtle neck shirt. I recall saying to him why he wanted to do that since “I don’t have any boobies”. I suppose I was hoping that would deter him from what ever vile deed he was planning on. It didn’t deter him. I was about six and a half years old this second time, and my innocence was shattered. He took out his penis and had an erection. I recall the shape, size, color everything! I even remember the color of his pubic hair. He told me to touch his penis to take it in my hands. Of course I complied, isn’t this what my mother taught me to comply, with out complaint or tears. God intervened! A vehicle came up the road and its head lights shone in the window! He got scared and hastily put my shirt back on, inside out mind you. I told him this and he said it didn’t matter to just get into my bed and go to sleep.

I never told my mother what this man did, some how I instinctively knew that if I did it would just cause me more heartbreak. So I kept my silence, till now. I am sharing it with you, even though it is dreadfully hard and scary for me.

As for our mother, she was just a presence a scary one, like a spirit. She was a cold woman, there was no I love you’s or hugs. However, she was there and made sure social services did not get their hands on us again. As you will see in future posts she failed in her endeavor.

There was other instances of sexual depravity, however, none that I recall as vividly as those two instances.

Good Times: I recall playing with my sister in the grass in our back yard. was great.. until I broke out is painful itchy hives all over my body lol. Is there poison ivy in Alberta? lol. In any event I had a good day with my sister, I laughed and felt joy being with her, I love her so much. We also had rabbits and a hutch. I think having rabbits is so cool. Both I and my sister have a strong affinity for animals. I have three dogs, who Love me to pieces and it is reciprocated.

The summers were so much fun, playing outside with my sister. Our third little sister was born too, but she was so little. I don’t really recall much about her till we moved to the city, but yet again I get ahead of my self =), your just going to have to wait for that part. So yet again we come to the end of this Day, but we just started so don’t go far as we will be back =). As always be gentle with your self and even gentler with others. LOVE

The most precious gift is the love of a child, those who break that child’s heart and soul will have a day of reckoning, this I believe. Tammy 2019

THE YOUNGER YEARS

Tyra:

The younger years for any young person is difficult to remember, seeing I was 3 1/2 4 years old the memories are vague. The only incident that I do remember is falling out of a tree and banging my head. I don’t remember the falling but remember being in the hospital. I never called my biological mom “mom” when I was younger, I always called her by her first name. This caused a lot of problems I was told. So when I was in the hospital I kept asking for my mom, this was not my biological mom it was my foster mom that I had previously been with. She was the only mom I knew from a young age. The only way they could calm me down was to call her and let me talk to her. I do remember the phone call and I was crying wanting her to come and get me and take me home. She knew she could not do that, and of course I did not understand but did listen to her to take my medicine as prescribed. Our foster parents were dealing with agonizing guilt after the phone call I was told at a older age. Wondering what they could have done differently, to prevent the situation that we were in. I do not recall how long I was in the hospital but I ended up going back to my biological moms home, where I did not want to be. This would not be surprising as Tammy is telling the incidents that were going on with her. You can not tell me that I did not see some of the incidents that were happening, just too young or traumatized to remember.

Tammy stated above about our fathers and where were they when this trauma was going on, well from what I have been told my father was trying to find me. My mom took off and did not tell anyone where she was going, and us a youngsters did not have a way to tell anyone about where we were. Social services have failed us children in a horrible way. They would not give any of the people that wanted to help us any information about where we were. Everything was kept quiet like nothing every happened. We all know today that so very much happened in our lives. Our foster parents told us later that they have asked to have contact with us but were told later that they could not talk or see us. This hurt them immensly. I do thank god every day that they did not quit trying as in later years to come we accually got to spend time with them.

God bless everyone. Have a wonderful day and there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Continue to read as new posts will be coming soon. God Bless.

55618302_413694516131463_5716391064823136256_n sister 2 — Tammy and Tyra

Divine intervention

Tyra:

Going back through the memories I realize I have missed an important event that has made me whole again. Prior to moving up north to my safe haven I had a life changing event. It all happened January 1, 2000. The year of the Y2K scare and everything was to be new again. This was so true to me. It is difficult information and difficult to believe but as lord is my witness it happened to me.

It all begun because I saw a psychic and she said that I needed to meditate, and relax. So here I was in the middle of the floor in my apartment legs crossed and hands on my knees like they do on TV when they meditate. What happened next was way out of my control.

There I was sitting in a candle lite room taking 3 deep breaths to get in the relaxed state that you need to be in to meditate. Then there was a voice that came to me and said “I am not done with you yet”. I jumped up and said “I don’t want to do this right now” but I guess the voice knew that I was really ready to go through what ever they had in mind for me.

Looking back at the whole situation I just think what a gift it had been to have the guide come to me and make me whole again. So there I was sitting on the couch with my head in my hands, saying i just did not want to do this. It was not so much not wanting to go through it, it came down to believing what was happening to me.

The voice said to me to open the first door in my heart and let the little girl out. This was not easy as they were locked away for so long that felt comfort with them there I knew they were safe. So I did open the first door and let her out. She was scared of what might happen to her as she was vulnerable now in the open. This little girl had all the abuse emotional, physical, and mental abuse that came from our mother. I had to feel the pain and the voice would tell me to let it go. I just remember crying like I never cried before. I just felt so much pain and anguish after letting her out that I could not contain my emotions. Letting go of the pain and suffering that little girl experienced lifted a huge weight off my shoulders.

“Be gentle with me, for my heart hides so many wounds that never bleed.” Alexandr Vasilu -Author of Blooming

By letting go of that pain made me realize that I was not responsible for my mother’s disfunction, her behavior was her own and only hers. We may have paid a price for the dysfunction but I did not need to justify it or be ashamed of it because it was not my behaviour. This was a pivotal step for me as I would always justify or make excuses for the behaviour of our mother to people that knew the whole situation, amd so much shame came with those conversations also. The release of that shame was like waves flowing through me and seemed like forever but in reality it was just a few minutes.

There was not much time between the episodes so there was no time to just relax and forget what was happening to me. The voice said the other door needs to be opened also, this one was more difficult as it dealt with the pain of losing my innocence. There would not be anything that could happen that could bring that back for me but maybe some comfort knowing it was not my fault. I opened up the door and the little girl inside was carrying a big pink teddy bear, that used to be my security blanket that I took everywhere when I was young. Then I heard the voice again say “feel the pain and then let it go” I just remember thinking who wants to feel the pain again but I had to do it for the little girl so she could be free. I sat there with my head in my hands and cried and cried, then took 3 deep breaths and said let it all go, with every exhale I was letting go of the shame and blame that comes with sexual abuse. The voice also said for any issue that I blamed myself for and caused me pain the feel the pain and take 3 breaths and let it go. I found out that there was incidences that I blamed myself for that was way out of my control but still blamed myself.

I do not know how to emphasize how important it is not to blame yourself for your parents short comings, but I also know how difficult it is to not see the other side of the pain. Pain and suffering from a young age is difficult to let go as you are to young to understand why it happened to you. It also does not matter how often you’ve been told “ it is not your fault” you have to go through a cleansing process like I did so you can let it all go. It was one of the most difficult, painful, but rewarding experiences of my life.

After the whole situation was done I felt so free, free like a bird that could fly. I finally leaned back on the couch and looked up to the ceiling and saw the face of my uncle moving back and forth. I said thanks for helping me clean my head of the blame and shame that I suffered for all those years. Thanked him for being my guide to making me a better person.

“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings”. Lao Tzu

The Beginning

Tammy: Spring of 1972

I was three and Tyra was six months old when we first came on the radar of social services. It wasn’t people being malicious or taking revenge, there was a serious problem. Sadly by the time the social services removed us, I was already severely traumatized. I do believe back then there was two options for a child like me, a regular foster home or institutionalization. I am not sure if I benefited or not from the regular foster home. However, I do believe I was grateful to not be in my mothers home.

Our mother was a prescription drug addict and a alcoholic, so she made choices that did not bode well for me or my sister. The choice she made, that led us to being removed from her home was she went on a four day bender. Leaving my sister and I alone to fend for ourselves We survived by me getting water from the toilet in one of those leggs cups that had the pantyhose removed. For those that remember those. According to the reports I was able to get into jars of jam and bread, which we subsisted on. I shudder to think how my poor baby sister fared during this time, but apparently I did my best to feed her. Apparently even horse radish was not off the menu. I just can’t imagine being so hungry, I was willing to eat horseradish.

A sisters love can not be measured, it is measureless. Tammy 2019

Apparently our mother had a twinge of guilt or fear, I do not know which, but she did come back and took us to a neighbors house and left us there. She left us there for two weeks. She abandoned us again, however, this time social services were called. We were removed from our mothers home and placed into the foster care system. So it begins.

Who called or how they found out about us I am not entirely sure. All I know for sure is we were alone and we survived a horrible ordeal. As I said I was already traumatized. My foster mother stated I spent my time rocking back and forth for hours on end. She stated I did not want to be touched or cuddled, and would stiffen up if any one tried. I was not potty trained and peed the bed nightly. I would gobble my food like it was my last meal…..

I knew things that no three year old child should know about men and women and their sexual behaviors…I have vague memories, but am wont to stay away from those repressed memories, I think the horror might destroy what I have managed to save of myself. The memories I can not repress are bad enough to deal with. Needless to say I was a very difficult child to love, no fault of my own. I should have been receiving specialized counselling and therapy, but in those days that wasn’t really done, especially since we lived in such a rural community and it would have been a hardship travel wise.

The barbie dolls though!! Eyes bright And beaming smiles. I always had and a sense of calm and pleasure; I spent hours by myself playing with those beat up barbies. Making them beautiful and successful, and happy. They never judged me, never were unkind, always willing to play with me, and had the patience of a saint! They became my best and only friends.

I still love Barbies, they remind me of a time when I could just be a little girl. Tammy 2019

It was really hard on my foster parents and their children, having a traumatized child in their home. I understand really I do. They were entrusted with a task of caring for me, when in reality they were woefully unequipped to care for a child that has been so wounded at such an early age, that specialized care was necessary, but not recieved. This was a failure of the social services not them! In the 70’s and eighties, it was a very bad time to be in the child welfare system. So many children were put in situations, not because they were ideal, but because there was no other options.

I recall one night again, I peed the bed. My foster father had his limit. He was so frustrated, understandably so. He grabbed me by the arm took me out side and as he was pulling me down the drive he asked me if I was a little pig and did I want to sleep with the pigs. Crying I said no, but in fact I really did, because I thought it would be better for me if I slept with the pigs. Really, I wasn’t scared of them and I kinda liked them, I gravitated towards animals. To me they were safer than people.

Another time I was really thirsty and asked one of the boys if I could please have a glass of water. I wasn’t supposed to have water after eight o clock, because of the bed wetting. However, he did get me a glass of what I thought was water. It was a plastic cup and felt warm to the touch, so I was confused. Water is usually cold, no? I was so thirsty though I took a drink of the warm liquid. It was not water, it was urine. This hurt my heart deeply. I wasn’t mad, I understood in my childish way why he did it and I accepted that perhaps I deserved to be treated this way. Even at this young age the connection between the urine filled glass and my bedwetting was not lost on me. However, even though I understood, my soul did crack a little more.

I had good times too though. My foster mother, who also became my GOD Mother, is an amazing cook and was very kind and loving to me. I love her, it hurts me to say that because Love has hurt me so deeply in the past that I’m afraid of it. However, I love her so much I am willing to accept any pain if it means loving her, to the best of my ability.

They had a Shetland pony named Tiny. I loved Tiny so much!! They had a big platform you would walk up to get to a clothes line, I would climb up there and get on Tiny lol. Sadly I was not a very good rider and Tiny like any opportunist would head straight for the garden, especially the carrots. There I would be calling my Foster mother for help to come rescue me and Tiny from the garden hehe. she would laugh and tell me wait until you are bigger to ride tiny so you wont get stuck in the middle of the garden.

Riding and talking with Tiny was the shining light in my world. Tammy 2019

We did was go to church. Can you imagine all us little kids trying to sit through a sermon that felt like it was going on for hours. My foster mother used to carry cough drops with her and would give us one when we got to restless. I still like cough drops once in a while. She told me that she wanted my sister and I to be baptized but due to the law she was unable to do that for us. However, as I will share later how she She helped me get baptized.

Tiny was not the only opportunist, my little sister and I would raid the garden every chance we got. We loved the carrots and peas. The first time we raided the garden, our Foster mother caught us eating carrots with the dirt on them. She said are you not going to wash the dirt off? I was so scared of the trouble I was in, so you can imagine my astonishment when she was willing to be my accomplice, and helped me wash the vegetables. It really makes me wonder, what happened at such a young age that fear was the primary emotion, when it came to being “caught” with food. Is this normal? I am speaking about a carrot, not candy, or cookies or the coveted cake, but a carrot. Something most children would turn their nose up at, especially a dirty raw one…

Since my sister recalls so very little about this time, since she was so very young, I will not dwell on it much longer. However, I would like to say that I love my foster mother, and my foster siblings very much and thank each and every one of them for opening up their home to me and my sister and keeping the door open through out all the years.

We hear enough negative and soul crushing words from outside, let’s not do it to ourselves too. Tammy 2019

25 Percent 2 Sister’s Perspective

Tammy and Tyra

Some people may wonder why this memoir is called 25 percent. Let us explain why. There are four of us, the 4T’s. Tammy, Tyra, Tanya and Trevor, in that order. We are 100% dedicated to each other. We lived in the same house, same reality, different outcomes. There was so much abuse that we were all aware of, but there was also hidden abuses done to each of us that was secret. So secret we didn’t even tell each other, believing we were protecting each other. Only each one us know the full extent of what happened to ourselves..

The abuses we suffered affected each one of us, but the effects are different. If some were to see us all together, they would be shocked how drastic the differences are. Tammy, being the oldest received the brunt of the abuse. She is broken, but has come to a place were she has adapted, and lives her life, she is mended-spirit.

Tyra, suffered abuse and was sexually abused, by the same man that abused Tammy. However, Tyra had a foundation of normalcy for her earliest years. Therefore, she had a sense of self, boundaries and was able to assert herself. She had known a normal, healthy family in the foster parents, that had Tammy and Tyra had for three years. Tyra has anxiety and depression, but she is high functioning. She is bent, but not broken. She is the 25percent. The one out of the four able live in society and function.The two youngest, live in the shadows of society. They live a life of an unimaginable existence. They are the lost ones. They are the fragmented one and the shattered one.

Tyra:

I always knew I was different, I even thought that I was adopted at times. I knew at a young age that I was living a life I didn’t want to lead. This attitude really caused tension in the house with my mom as she did not understand why I wanted to be different, she did not see what she was doing as being destructive for the 4 children she had.

I would always ask mom, why can’t you be like other moms out there?” All there was was silence in the room. At times she would break down and start crying and say she did not know why. Then I would back down and let her proceed with her dysfunctional behaviours.

The constant conflict between us has made me a defensive individual, this causes issues in my daily life. Now that I am 48 years old I realize where this behavior comes from. Is this behavior easy to change “No”. I have been working in the helping profession for 20 years now and still have issues with feeling attacked. The only difference is I am aware of this and know what triggers it. Taking a deep breath and walking away from the situation is the easiest solution but also the hardest.

Tammy:

Hi and Welcome , I am so happy you joined us. My name is Tammy. This journey we are on can be heartbreaking, funny, frightening, uplifting, and so many other things. Life is ever changing and hopefully so are we. “To change is to live, To live well is to change often” I think that the only thing that really makes my life different is that I survived it. As our journey progresses you will see why I say that.

I am not of the school that one persons pain is worse than another. I am not of the opinion that ones abuse is worse than another. I am not of the thought that one tragedy is more tragic than another. WE are precious and priceless and there is no price tag on us. Our pain should not be measured, our suffering does not need to be weighed and our fragility should be respected, and our strength be honoured. We are not a case, we are unique individuals with commonalities. My spirit was broken by trauma and mended by love. As Fragile as I am with the strength of God, a loving family and friends, and kind strangers I will not only prevail I will flourish. I will always be mended-spirit.

I was Born October 30. 1968, I am told that was a good year. I really wont say much about my parents at this time other that I had them and they has serious unresolved issues. So it begins. A lot of what I do not remember has been filled in by asking foster parent and social workers that I have had over the years straightforward and blunt questions, and getting files through the freedom of information act. Some may ask, Why? why would you want to know? My answer is simple wouldn’t you want to know why you are different to a point were living “normally” is not possible?

I mean I am sure there are millions of people who do not self medicate, have living nightmares, do not leave their house unless they absolutely have too, can count any friends on one hand. Hear voices calling them in anger and having a startle responses. Beginning a new medication and telling your sister you feel odd in a good way and realizing that maybe just maybe this is what happy feels like? I don’t know, I just know it does not hurt. The verdict is still out on normalcy, thats because for me I feel my normal, but my thoughts and behaviours are not. I am a master of sleep I can sleep around the clock. Most people would say who the hell would want to do that!! Me, I do, I live in my dreams and my waking hours are my nightmare. I am, sure there are people out there that can relate.

I am a “vulnerable” mentally ill person. This makes interaction with society and people almost impossible. As a vulnerable mentally ill woman, I can tell you, there are a lot of people who take advantage and abuse, people like me. The people that take advtange and abuse are not always the rougher side of society. They are the people society considers healthy normal people. I do not understand this, but I know it is happening, and many are suffering because of it.

I will strive to be the best possible me. I accept me, and even like me, unless I go to the dark place, then not so much. It is a good thing to strive for healing, growth and Spiritual peace and this I will do until I say good bye.

“I live in my dreams, because there I am whole, it is my waking reality that is the nightmare.” Tammy 2019

Thank goodness for my sister, she loves me just the way I am and understands why I am the way I am. I will do my best to explain it to you, if you are still wondering your own Why, maybe we have some answers for you. LOVE

Would love to hear your comments and thoughts as we Travel down the road less traveled, and were Angels dare not tread.

Unlikely Angel cont:

The events and opportunities I received at the shelter were numerous,and I would like to share more of them with you. One of the things that happened at the shelter due to hard work and dedication is, our average yearly capacity skyrocketed. How did this happen? one of the most significant changes was we started getting referrals from the professional community. Most notable was mental health and child welfare. They wanted their clients to come to this shelter specifically, due to the implementation of programming and successful advocacy work. They also wanted the second step program utilized by those it would most benefit.

The second step program being a yearlong program to help women and children get a solid footing under them before embarking on the road of independence. They also had an assigned worker, who would follow up with them after they had left the next step program. The chances of success were much greater for those women that completed the second step program, and I was thrilled that we were fortunate enough to be able to offer it, even to a few select few. As there were only four units available.

I was also offered an opportunity to be acting director, and was able to procure three brand new donated computers. I also managed to eradicate a loan debt the shelter had due to a very tough year. I found I really did not like the director position due to the fact that my time with,the women and children was severely limited, and they were my joy. I however, did the best job I could despite not being happy with the position, or the challenges and struggles associated with it. I did however, enjoy the networking with other Directors at the ACWS meetings. I was also invited to speak and help the provincial shelters acquire more funding. The invitation being extended by Jann Ryder. I was flattered indeed!

I was also, nominated to be the chairperson for the committee of First Nations Women’s Issues. I really wanted to decline this position as I had so much on my plate, but the other Directors insisted that I would be a great chair person and bring a lot to the table. I don’t think every one was happy with this nomination and subsequent vote but it went forward. I suppose it was positive exsposure for our shelter.

The on reserve shelters also approached me to be their spokesperson in Ottawa. I was flabbergasted. Surely there was some one more experienced and knowledgeable to speak to congress on behalf of on reserve shelters funding, issues, and challenge. I am sure there was, but the on reserve shelters wanted me, and were willing to share the bill of travel, accommodations, and food. I was blown away, was this really happening to me? The girl that was so afraid to talk to her clients she avoided them by cleaning

I had come so far in what seemed to me a very short time. When I think about it, it really was a short time, but the time of my life. My partner though was not happy with the amount of stress it was putting on me. He would constantly badger me to quit and find a different job. He didn’t like some of the board members that he met and would constantly let me know this adding to my stress. I had no one to talk to or guide me on this road I was on, and was finding myself getting lost on the way.

I think the board realized that a lot of my potential was being lost amount the paper work and they diligently were looking for a permanent director. I knew this and expected to go back to crisis intervention work, and secretly prayed that they would find some one soon. They did eventually find someone, and told me to my surprise that they were creating a new position for me. I was to be Director of Programming! I would have more freedom to implement program and do more fund raising for said programming. My schedule would be more flexible and I would be able to choose the times I would be available. Also, my pay would be substantially increased. I was thrilled!! This was exactly what I wanted!! All my hard work was paying off I was so happy. Then the hammer fell and smashed my dream.

I was absolutely flummoxed, the greatest opposition to my becoming a director of programming was my partner. He did not see it as a positive step or a promotion. He saw it as demeaning and a demotion. I told him I never wanted the director position it was stressful too demanding and not my cup of tea. I even told him all the benefits of the new position. He didn’t want to hear it, I think he took this change as a personal affront to him rather than a opportunity for me. I was torn, was he right and my inexperience with then world I was now in blinding me to realities, or was my heart right, and becoming a program director best for me. Seeing my hesitation my partner brought his friend into the discussion, who was also on the band council. This only made the situation harder for me.

In the end I caved to the pressure of my partner and friend and tired to keep the position of director. It was a huge mistake, not only because I did not want the position, but by doing this I was refusing the position I wanted. In effect because the director position was closed and the the other position was being rejected I was effectively resigning from the shelter. I didn’t know this, but if I was thinking clearly I would have seen this was the case. I was feeling so hounded and berated by my partner and his friend that I didn’t think things all the way through. I ended up losing everything. He was pleased, I was not. My heart broke, and I do not think I ever fully recovered or forgave. More about that in the next segment.