They never tell you about stress and the effects of it. For me it was hair loss and depression. I have found that I can not deal well with stress. After the death of Tammy I lost all my hair. I mean all my hair, from my head to my toes. It was a very sad time for me in every way possible. Then after Tammy’s death, I begun having issues at work. Thinking I was doing a good job when I was really doing a shitty one. It really hurt me to find this out. I had no one left that would understand me and let me just lose it, without judgment. I found that I was crying all the time, especially if I had to go to work. It was difficult for me. I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder. The issues had triggered it, and I was off work again.
During this time I spent a lot of my time in my bedroom. It was horrible. My younger sister, who I lived with, would call me downstairs. She tried to get me out of my room. I drove her crazy because I just did not want to be around anyone. The kids would come over to try and cheer me up, it just did not work. I just did not care anymore. I had to wear a wig, fake eyelashes, put on eye brows, it was really depressing. My nieces were amazing. They would do my make up and do my eyebrows. They encouraged me to get out of the house.
I would go shopping, which seemed to make me feel better for awhile but then the feeling went away. Then I had to deal with the financial costs of the shopping. It was just a really bad roller coaster ride. One minute you are high. Next, you are at an extreme low. Nothing seemed to consistently make you feel better. When I hit the lows it was almost unbearable. I would just sit in my room and work in my bible. I would listen to the bible to find the answers to the questions that I had. “Why is this happening, again?”, “Didn’t I suffer enough in my life?”, “What do I need to do to take this feeling away?”.
The bible studies continued for months, I listened to the bible three times. Each time was 75 hrs. I did attend church bible studies, to help me understand what I was going through. I learned that I had to be strong and courageous. I had to carry on no matter the situation. I also had to believe God has a plan. I attended the bible study once a week for three months. At least it got me out of the house. I took my niece to the bible studies to grade five class. She enjoyed it very much. I thought that after the bible study was done I would be all better but I wasn’t.
During one of the studies I had an epiphany, I was enabling my younger sister to be a alcoholic. I thought that I was putting healthy boundaries but that was not true. I was causing a lot of the problems myself. Now that I realized I was doing this to myself, what was the next step. What do I do now? I was not educated for this. I did not know how to make it not affect me as much as it did. How did I let it get this far? It all goes back to my childhood.
Growing up we just accepted the situation as it was. Our mother was a alcoholic, and drug addict. Us children did not have a say in the situation, it all centered around our mother. We made sure that the young ones were looked after, and that we had what we needed. We did not have everything we needed. We often lacked food and clean clothing. Most of all, we lacked emotional support.
Going to bed hungry was easy. Going to bed with a bruised bum was also easy. However, knowing that our pain brought her so much pleasure was the worst of all. I would lay in bed thinking that I was adopted because I was so different than her. I would just want out of there so badly. I wanted out so bad that I reported the abuse to my teacher, who called the authories and took us away. I remember that day so clearly because I was so happy not to be going home. I was running up the stairs, saying I’m not going home. It was one of the happiest days of my life.
Now that I am older, I thought that I had made peace with all my trauma. However, today I am suffering from trauma-induced depression. When I was diagnosed with this I cried and wondered why? I just want my past to go away, not show its ugly head all the time. The psychiatrist could not answer how long it would take to deal with the trauma. It scares me that it will be months as there is so much to go through. If you read the blog you understand why.
They say that it could take one or more sessions of EMDR to deal with only one trauma. How is it going to be having to deal with several traumas’. How will this all work? I just hope that it works well for me and I will be happy again. Not that I know what that feels like… As I have not been happy for a long time, I have forgotten what it feels like.
All the therapist say that you need to break the cycle. I am not sure if anyone of them have had the trauma that the clients have experienced. Then ask them to break the cycle. I realize today it is so much easier to follow the same route as I lived as a child. It is predictable, I know how to handle the dysfunction. I understand why my younger sister lives the life she lives. Now it is how do I keep the cycle broken. I have broken the cycle. I am the 25% that does not have an addiction issue. I suffer so much for breaking the cycle.
Am I coping with the trauma, I am not sure. It kicks me in the ass all the time. My hair is finally coming back after three years. I thought that I would be stable enough to continue working, but it is not the case. This trauma has affected my work, in a indirect way. It caused me to have depression, which causes you not to be able to function clearly. I have to be off work. I am not healthy to practice right now. My mental state is fragile. I just have my past to blame for it.
I will continue with the posts as I deal with this trauma. I will persist as the 25% of my family. I need to stay strong and be courageous to deal with these issues. I need to show the next generation that it is possible to live a life without having an addiction. It is a difficult job to bear but one well worth it. Just like Joshua in the bible he had to believe and had to strong and courageous.
I never imagined I’d be writing this about the loss of Tammy. Even now, the words feel unreal. She wasn’t just a part of this blog she was its heartbeat. Her unwavering encouragement, her fierce belief in me when I faltered. Those echoes still live in every post, every idea I dared to pursue because she said, “Keep going.”
During the final two years of her life, Tammy did everything she could. She went to her checkups like clockwork, and each mammogram came clean. We breathed sighs of relief. But what we didn’t know, what no scan showed was that the cancer was hiding, silently growing elsewhere in her body. That betrayal by her own biology is hard to accept.
She told me near the end that she was grateful, grateful that those last years were spent with her younger sister, Tanya, surrounded by a whirlwind of laughter and love. Tanya’s eight children adored her. Each one built a bond with Tammy that radiated pure joy. Even amid the storm, she found light in them. It’s hard. It’s cruel. But her love hasn’t left us, it’s woven into the fabric of our lives. Into this blog. Into me.
In the final year of her life, Tammy had fallen off the wagon. She was using drugs constantly and barely eating. Her body grew frail and skeletal, her energy drained, and each movement became painful. Walking was difficult for her, and it seemed like she was in agony all the time.
At the time, she was living in a basement apartment with her boyfriend. He grew increasingly frustrated with her declining health, and their relationship became strained. On Christmas, Tanya and I picked her up, we couldn’t bear to let her stay there any longer. We brought her home and refused to take her back.
In the new year, she had an appointment with the oncologist. When the prognosis came, it hit her like a storm: six months to a year left to live. She was in shock. Despite the diagnosis, she continued using drugs and drinking, perhaps trying to cope with the pain and the gravity of what was happening.
Tammy had one final dream, she wanted all of us sisters to live together during her last months. I didn’t know if I could do it. Tanya and I didn’t get along very well, and the idea of sharing such an intimate space felt daunting. It took me months to find a second job that I could manage while keeping my regular one.
Moving day was bittersweet. My bed was strapped to the back of the truck, and all my belongings were packed tightly into the cab. I was one step away from leaving my ex-husband behind for good. I knew I wasn’t coming back, but the full weight of that realization only struck me in that moment.
He didn’t kiss me goodbye. No “good luck,” no “take care” not even a nod of acknowledgement. Instead, he simply turned his back and walked away. As he reached the front door, he slammed it shut behind him without so much as a glance in my direction.
As I pulled out of the driveway, I caught one final glimpse in the rearview mirror. That house, that life, shrinking in the distance. And then I was gone.
While driving down the highway, my mind wandered toward the hope that maybe this new beginning would bring peace, especially for Tammy in her final days. I imagined a warm and supportive home, full of quiet joys. But reality met me with a harder truth.
When I arrived at the house we rented, Tammy was sitting quietly in a chair, her body frail and weakened. Walking was a true effort for her, she had no sensation in one leg, which she dragged behind her as she carefully navigated with a walker. Each step was a slow, determined shuffle, and every movement seemed to drain her energy.
One day, she asked if I could help her take a bath. I filled the tub with warm water and gently assisted her. Lowering her into the bath was a delicate process; her limbs trembled and her skin felt paper-thin. But in that moment, it wasn’t just about bathing, it was about dignity, care, and holding space for someone whose strength had been tested beyond measure.
Tammy couldn’t manage the stairs anymore, so she remained on the main floor. At first, she slept in a chair in the living room, it became her constant spot, day and night. Eventually, we got her a hospital bed, and it overtook the space. The sight of it sitting right there in the heart of the house made her declining health painfully real. It was a daily reminder that she was dying, and seeing it every time I walked into the room was gut-wrenching.
Tammy didn’t want to go to hospice; she insisted on staying at home where things felt familiar. Tanya and I agreed to honor her wish and care for her ourselves, for as long as we possibly could.
We created a ritual every night. The three of us would smoke a little pot, sink into our chairs, and laugh, really laugh. We’d reminisce about our wild childhoods, hilarious mishaps, and sweet moments that stitched our lives together. Tammy cherished that time; she looked forward to it each evening. It was when she felt most alive, surrounded by stories, laughter, and love.
During the day, I was working, while Tanya was home full-time. She carried the brunt of caregiving, tending to Tammy’s needs with unwavering dedication. Watching her hold it all together with such grace was humbling. Tammy’s passing hit Tanya especially hard; the emotional toll was immense.
The last three months were especially difficult. Home care aides visited four times a day, helping with everything from hygiene to pain management. The rhythm of their footsteps, the medical routines, it changed the entire energy of the house. But through it all, we held space for Tammy’s dignity and comfort.
Tanya and Tammy had good relationship, but it centered around drugs and alcohol. More drugs than alcohol for Tammy. I remember coming home one night to find that they were doing cocaine. I could not believe it, Tammy just stated that I should keep my nose out of their business. So I went to my room and in disbelief I went to sleep. When I asked Tanya about it next day, all was said was; “I hope when I am on my death bed someone will bring me a line of cocaine too.” I was in shock by her statement that I left with my mouth hung open.
Tammy’s condition was worsening she couldn’t move herself in bed. Her legs were paralyzed and she had no strength to pull herself to one side or the other. Tammy made the decision to go to hospice as she was requiring more care than we could provide in the home and decided to go to hospice. The main reason why she went to hospice is because she wanted to see Trevor, our brother. Tanya did not want him at the house that we rented, so Tammy knew she had to leave. Tammy wanted to see him before she past away. Also, she wanted to see her boyfriend. Tanya did not want him at the house either. Tammy was happy to go to the hospice so she could see the people she wanted to see to say her good-byes.
In Tammy’s final days, one of the hospice nurses pulled me aside and gently told me the truth: Tammy was dying. She urged me to gather the family so they could say their goodbyes. I informed everyone, and together we went in to be by her side.
Tanya couldn’t accept it. She kept asking Tammy pointed questions, trying to prove she was still mentally present. But Tammy struggled to respond, the answers weren’t coming. We tried to encourage Tanya to stop, but she couldn’t. Denial had its grip on both of them. Tammy herself was adamant that she wasn’t dying, even as her body clearly showed otherwise. Her abdomen had turned a deep purple, her legs were growing cold, and she was visibly fading.
The nurses did their best to help Tammy understand. They came into the room and gently explained that her time was near, but she refused to accept it. So I did what felt impossibly hard. As a nurse myself, I knew I had to be the one to tell her. I sat beside her and explained, as compassionately as I could, that she was dying. It was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do.
Tammy still resisted the truth. She told us she wanted to hold on until the New Year. But her body had other plans, it was simply too weak to carry her that far.
After that moment of clarity, everything happened quickly. Within just a few days, Tammy passed. Her family was gathered around her, and her nephew Conner, a pastor, stood near, quietly praying. When she took her last breath, I was told a single tear traced down her cheek, as if to say she wasn’t quite ready to go.
I don’t think anyone ever truly is. Maybe death isn’t something we prepare for, it’s something we eventually accept. And in that moment of surrender, I believe someone is waiting on the other side. Someone who gently reaches out, takes your hand, and guides you home.
May contain content that is triggering for some, self first.
Tyra:
Looking back through the years it is difficult for my sister and I to remember a Christmas that wasn’t plagued with addiction and abuse. This is true for the Christmas that we will talk about today.
People always say that Christmas is for the children and not really for the adults in life, I think that is because the children bring the magic back into the adults life for just one time of year. Children have the excitement of santa coming to see them and all want to stay up late waiting for him to show up. children wonder if they will get what they had hoped for the most for the whole year. This was true for us also.
In the beginning of the season was wonderful. we would put up the tree and decorate it as a family and sit and enjoy the lights like any ordinary family. There were a few gifts that were under the tree from friends and family but not too much as we were children of a welfare mom. Then the santa anonymous came to our home and brought our food hamper for the holiday season. We knew at least we would eat good during this time and there were a few presents that we received also.
Have a blessed and Happy Christmas and Holiday.
The Christmas excitement was in us this year, not sure what made this year better that in the years but us kids were just in the Christmas spirit. Maybe it was because our little brother was of the age to have the excitement and carried over to us older kids. we would play with each other and behave wondering what santa would bring to us this year.
Christmas morning came early for us as our mother could not wait till we woke up, but to her surprise we were already awake waiting for the call to open presents. I do not recall all the presents that we received that year as there were so many of them, but remember the tree being full of presents, more presents than I had seen before. The one gift of mine that I do remember was the sleighs we received to play outside. Tammy remembers the nurses watch she received that year also. We were always playing outside whether it was to build snow forts or ramps for our sleighs to jump. those memories bring a smile to my face.
I wanted a strawberry shortcake doll so badly. I felt hurt and confused as why mom would give Tammy one. Tyra 2019
We would build the ramps so high that we would fly in the air and land on our tummys and take our breath away. We would get up laughing and walk up the hill again and try it all over again. Looking back I am surprised that we did not get broken arms and legs from the crazy down hill slide me made. it took the whole community of children to build and went that one was made we would make another more extravagant one for the older children to play on. Wow what a time it was, to be a child and just play without no danger in mind.
Then came the alcohol in the scenario and that is when this Christmas took a turn for the worst. Our mother just could not seem to enjoy any of the seasons or celebrations without alcohol, there needed to be alcohol for it to be a celebration. For us children we just wanted a quiet family season with no worries about fights and other distractions. to my dismay it did not happen.
It was the week after the greatest Christmas that we could remember, to turn to the worst Christmas we ever had. I think my sister and I would give all the gifts back if we could not have gone through the loss of our innocence this same Christmas.
Our mother and her boyfriend of the time, went to a party and of course they were drinking. The story went that our mother did not want to come back home so her so called boyfriend decided to leave her there and came back home alone. I do not recall much more about this night, so Tammy will share more about it, in her piece.
We had such a beautiful tree that year.
Tammy:
I do not recall any Christmases were it was memorable before or after this one. Typically mom would either skip Christmas or we would get a gift basket from charity. I really didn’t mind charity, as when you are hungry, if food is offered you take it. This Christmas was different, her man was a working man and made good money. We had a beautiful decorated tree, and nuts and candy. We even had stockings. I was so happy. I thought maybe we were going to be like regular people. I had a couple of friends and one did not come from a dysfunctional home, that friendship did not last though. The blame for that rest squarely on my mothers shoulders.
However, I have a bad habit of going on tangents. That year we had turkey with all the trimmings. It was delicious! We were sent to bed, and as expected we had a hard time getting to sleep. My sister and I stayed up late, softly talking and giggling. We were determined to stay up and see Santa. However, like most children we fell asleep. To wake up really early to sneak up stairs and see what Santa brought. If I would have known our Santa was a devil in disguise, I would have never asked for a thing. However, being a child I was so exited, all the brightly wrapped packages, and two sleds for riding down hill fast,
We made ramps so we would fly in those sleds, air born for a few seconds, then ouch! Hehe was worth it. Tammy 2019
Our mom, her man and the younger ones came down stairs, and the young ones were so excited. They were so giddy, prancing around like little elves. I was happy for them. I do remember looking at our mom, and she looked happy. Her eyes were shining, and she had a smile on her face. I think she really loved that man, but the price was so costly. I still can not put my mind into a set we’re I would ever be ok hurting a child, or letting some one else hurt them.When it came to loving me she was heartless.
We unwrapped our presents, and I was confused. Why was I getting items Tyra wanted. I was really confused and upset too because I could see Tyra really liked the stuff I was getting. She did get a watch too, but she liked mine better. Honestly, I liked hers better, but to trade would have infuriated our mom. So we made do and enjoyed the day. We went sliding on those last very red sleds all day! Pink cheeked and happy we tumbled into the house wet from the snow, but warm from the exertion.
Things soon went back to normal, our normal. Mom would stay in her room all the time and her man had free reign of the house, and us kids. He was such a vile, repulsive man. I had no good will for him, but at the same time I was scared what he could do to me, or even worse my siblings. I hated it when mom would abandon us and let him get away with his odious behaviours.
Sadly, my Christmas was ruined, in fact I did not celebrate Christmas ever again. There was just no reprieve from abuse, especially from him!! I was torn between running away and leaving my siblings behind, or staying to be destroyed bit by bit for a mans twisted desire to possess and ruin. He just would not relent, not even during a holiday meant to honour family and goodness’s. He hurt me again when mom was not there. He said she was not there, but maybe she was just on the other side of the wall passed out on drugs and booze. I Was going to my place in my mind, I could run away in my mind, and then what he did would not matter. I told myself this, even though it mattered, it mattered a lot.
This Flight Tonight”… “blackness blackness dragging me down”. Nazareth
Our mother and her man went to a party, Tyra thinks it was a New Years party. I am sure she is correct in her memory, as dates are hard for me, I tend to tell time by the seasons and the weather. I heard the door close, upstairs, and rushed up to meet our mom. However, the only one standing there was that monster, disguised as a man. I stoped dead in my track, dread filled my body and made it tingle with fear. This was going to be another night of horror and pain. My soul retreated even deeper into my secret place, my mind screamed silently, run away, run away. I was paralyzed, crippled by my mothers teaching me I had no choice, no value, no reprieve. I was not allowed to have boundaries, therefore I had none. Our mother created the perfect victim, me. Just even writing that statement down, makes me profoundly sad, the lessons she drilled into my very being were to haunt me well into adulthood. Even to this day, I fight my demons, sometimes I win sometimes I don’t, but I never surrender.
I went back down to the basement, we’re I slept with my sister in a big bed. I always felt safest when I was with her. However, in our house there was no safety in numbers, and no were to hide. Mom’s man was on a mission, hell bent to get what he wanted, and it was me he wanted. Sometimes I wonder what goes through a grown mans mind when he is sexually abusing a child. Then I think, I really do not want to know, because if I did my mind might shatter irreparably forever, because their mind must be even more frightening and dark than mine.
Calling me, demanding my presence, every time he said my name, my feet would move towards him, while the rest of my body wanted to disappear, never to be found again. I went though, for fear that my sister would be targeted if I didn’t. I remember looking at the Christmas tree, and remembering how magical it looked. Now it reminded me of a gaudy, and grotesque bar I seen on tv once. The smell of his alcohol stink didn’t help matters. He demanded I drink with him, I had drank before, sips of my moms tia Maria, or sneaking a beer or two. However, this was different, he wanted me to drink so I would be more compliant while he went about his dastardly deeds.
I remember eating chestnuts, now if I eat those, they turn to fouled goods in my mouth, as they remind me of the night Christmas became a nightmare. I would go downstairs and I hid behind the furnace, hoping that he would get tired of this cat and mouse torture. However, he wouldn’t give up, and when he targeted my sister, I knew my time had run out. I could not sacrifice my sister, for one night of reprieve. I took a deep breath, and stepped forward, and accepted another night of hell and anguish. I was ten years old, Tyra was seven, and I felt like I had already lived to many lifetimes, for the short amount of years we had been on this earth.
Stripped of boundaries, self and dignity. Robbed of choices and self determination. Feeling like I was going to shatter into a million pain filled fragments. He took my body, my childhood, my innocence. I knew to much, yet not enough. I could regal you with the horrors of suffering, pain and abuse, but for the life of me, I could not tell you how to save yourself. I could teach you how to survive, but not how to live. A flash of brilliant white pain, the penetration, the invasion, the sickening feeling of being smothered. I am hurt… I am going away now…
Tyra and Tammy wish you all a very merry Christmas!
This covers in more detail events that were shared in our memoir. If you would like to join us on our healing journey, please, feel free to star, “two sisters perspective, or the beginning of our memoir “ The Beginning” It is Christmas, and I am happy and I want you all to be happy too. I want you to create memories that will last forever, as I will be doing the same. “So have yourself a Merry little Christmas.” Enjoy, be blessed, eat lots of Turkey.
After leaving the last foster home, I would ever be in, we were sent back home. This was a cycle that was repeated often through out the years. I really lost count how many foster homes and receiving homes I was in over the years. For awhile things were not too bad. I was growing up fast and even made a friend, although she was much older than me. I even had a boyfriend, although he was too old for me too, but mom seemed to like him. I sure knew she liked his brother, as one time she got really drunk and tried to have sex with my boy friends brother on the couch. I was so humiliated, my boyfriend just pulled his brother up and took him home. I had to wonder if it would be like this with all my male friends I may have. He was a nice young man though, he took me to the movies and out for ice cream and stuff, I liked it, but I didn’t like him the same way he liked me. I am not sure if I was even capable of liking a man that way. However, I did like him as a friend, he was fun to be around, and I think if things would have been different, I may have grown to love him.
I am feeling kind of broken right now, not because of the memoir, but because I got tangled up with a right fighter. Someone who refuses to listen to sound reasoning, information, or data, because, yup you guessed it, they are always right.
“That man,” I can’t say his name with out becoming ill,was not in the picture yet, not in a permanent way he wasn’t. Mom and I shared a room, we each had a single bed. She also liked to wear my clothes, as I was filling out some what, at least my bottom half was, I bemoaned the fact that I really didn’t have any boobs. I was still very young though, and was not even menstruating yet. The man that sexually abused me for years would come over and visit, although he really wasn’t supposed to be around us, but he came any way. He strutted around all puffed up like he was a real some body. His rictus grin ever present. I hated him, I still hate him.
When he wasn’t around mom drank a lot, one time she got drunk and was drinking in our bathroom, and fell. She didn’t spill her drink but she couldn’t get back up. she called me for help, when I was unable to lift her, she threw her drink in my face. That hurt my feeling so very much. She just laughed and I smiled a sad smile, what else could I do. She was a lot easier to be around when she was drinking, than when she was high on her pills. At least that was what I thought. She seemed to be happy when she was drunk for the most part. I think in some ways I hated her too, which hurt me deeply, because I also loved her.
Sometimes she was a tearful drunk, and would call her family and cry to them over the phone. I suppose deep down she was in pain too. However, I can not with any reasonableness, excuse what she did to me or my siblings. She destroyed me, my mind was severely broken. I would never be the same nor would I ever recover. Honestly there was nothing to recover. I was being sexually abused at the age of two. I sat down and tried to recall how many men that I could remember sexually abusing me. I am able to recall six, men sexually abused me before I had even reached the age of 12. Two of those men were close relatives. One being my natural father and an uncle. The other four men were not related. Out of all those men, only one was convicted and that was because of a decent man that would have killed my abuser, if the police were not called. Harvey of course mom was aware of but chose to look the other way, and stand by her man.
Mom had always been a promiscuous woman, except when she was with “HIM’. “He” seemed to be the only man that she loved, it is ironic to me that the most abusive man to us is the one she stayed with, and the men that were the kindest to us only lasted a couple of weeks at best. Our Mother was definitely deranged and had serious issues. The only time I ever recall my mother telling me she loved me was one night when she was sloppy drunk, but that one time I will always remember not because she said it, but because she could only say it when she was sloppy drunk. The only time I heard her laugh when she was sober, was when she and all us kids played tiddly winks. I will always remember that laugh with fondness and a ache since that was the only time I ever remember her really laughing. We were all on the floor, and she was winning, she rocked back with her head back and just belted out the most beautiful laugh I have ever heard. Her eyes were shining and her smile was beaming. That memory is forever ingrained in my mind. It is the one and only fond memory of her that I can recall.
Our mother loved flowers, I think her favourite flower was posies. Tyra 2019
One of the men was the one that sat at the kitchen table with my mother, sat me on his lap and penetrated me, I was three, Tyra was just a baby. This was just before we were taken to our first foster home. There was also the blonde man, who made me touch his man hood, and molested me. The man I do not recall, when I ended up in the hospital with trauma. That would have been about age six and a half possibly seven. Hector who was tried and convicted. I was eight. My uncle whom was intoxicated at the time. Not excusing him just sharing his state of being, when he hurt me. I was eleven. And one young adult woman, who was a sexual predator, that took advantage of my vulnerability and broken mind. Lastly we had the most vile and sicking man, that raped me off and on for three years. As I was removed from the family home and placed in care off and on during that time. I think he was the,most awful man, I already told you I hated him, but I want to say it again I absolutely detested him. From the information I gathered, and my own memories, and those of my first foster mother, and Tyra, and other family members. Some who say my father may have been sexually abusing me even before the age of two as he had me from the age of one, till I was two and a half. More on my dad later on. As he did not have contact with me again till I was about 19
That was Eleven years of my life, that I had been sexually abused by multiple men. Sometimes with my mothers acknowledgement. My time with my siblings was fast approaching an end. Tammy
I recall one night when mom was drinking with the man across the street, Us children ran back and forth across the street all night. It was actually fun. As night fell and the younger ones got sleepy and went to bed, I was still awake, and that man came over to our house. I recall he and my mom got into a argument about how good she would be in bed, and she said to him “Come on then I will show you!” He just looked at me and grinned and went into the room my mom and I shared. After they were done, he just laid in the bed with my mom smoking a cigarette. My mom yelled at me to bring her a pad. “I was so disgusted with her and him!” The smell was gagging to me! I don’t know if he got tired of laying with her, or she kicked him out but after he left mom yelled at me to come to bed. I was so glad the little ones were sleeping and did not witness this despicable display of promiscuity. However, I seriously didn’t understand the impact incidents like this have on a child. Displays of promiscuity, immodesty, overt sexual deviant behaviours, these were normal occurrences in our home.
The bar was just a few blocks away, so Mom had easy access to it, and she made good use of it, sometimes she would stay out so late I would go get her and get some one to go in and bring her out so I could walk her home. She must of had men buying her drinks, because she never had a lot of money being a welfare mom our whole lives.
In our house food was a one time thing at the beginning of the month she would fill the fridge and cupboards, making sure to buy a large bag of flour if we were out and a couple jars of cheez whiz, and lard. This was so I could bake bannock in the oven for the kids lunches when we ran out of food, which we always did, Then it was bannock for lunches and macaroni for dinner, and water to drink.
I did babysit and make a little money, but mom, always “borrowed” that to go out drinking, so there was very little I could do. Mom was not a person you ever said no to and kept your hide intact! One time I was walking her home we were walking in the middle of the road and she had her hands in her pockets and she fell, and couldn’t get up and a car was coming! I ran towards the car, thank God they stopped, Mom struggled to get up and I apologized to the person but he just looked at me threw his window like I was a bug that crawled up out of a hole. We made it home safe, once again. I think the look of disdain on that mans face, impacted me a lot harder than I realized, I no longer wanted people to look me in my face.
Another time I had to go get my mom, we were almost home and she fell into the hedge bushed pulling me with her. She was laughing, I have to admit I laughed too we probably looked pretty foolish! I always waited up for her when she was drinking , because sometimes she would bring home a guy, and I didn’t want to be in our room if she did that.
It was about this time I started smoking cigarettes, it was a way to have something in common with my mom. They made me feel ill, but so grown up at the same time. Now years later I wish I had never started, it is just another dirty habit I have to try and over come. Coffee too made me feel sick, but when mom let me drink it I would, just to be more like her….However, when she let me drink alcohol, well that is different story as you will soon see.
School, wasn’t an issue, since she never asked my how I was doing and as long as no one called her to complain she was fine to me. Well as fine as our mother was to any of us on any given day. I was back at HillCrest so It was cool even made a girlfriend, although she was a bad influence on me. I also, made some very unlikely friends who were bikers. I never drank or did drugs with them or had sex with them for that matter. I did a titties pic with them, which was a tradition they had that all females that went to the animal house got a titty pic. That was pretty tame considering the hell I had already been through. Remembering back to having my young girl breasts exposed and photographed, I didn’t want to, but I felt on a visceral level I had no choice. I remember a man bending down and putting my child breast in his mouth, and the other bikers laughing and cheering. I just plastered a smile on my face and withstood my victimization.
“There is no greater loss that the loss of innocence, before maturity is ready to be received. I knew then that My mother never loved me, either because she was incapable of love or because I was unlovable, I couldn’t conceive a mother not loving her child, so it must be the latter”. Tammy 2019
I did go cruising with one of my biker friends was good fun. One time I said I wanted to skip school and he picked me up on the corner and took me to school for a week, and said if you skip; no more rides kiddo. This was the gang that I supposedly was in, how ridiculous was that! Just because these people could look rough and rode bikes. These people were so family orientated! Children were sacred to them, especially babies. Sure they took a pic of my boobs, what little I had, but that was part of their culture, you may not understand it, but it really is just about belonging. They had a wall covered with women I was the only really young one, but I looked older than I was. So they may not even known how old I was. However, they were respectful to each other and the women. Unlike my mother. I didn’t drink, nor did I do drugs, unless it was to smoke pot with my mom or drink with my mom. On my own I did not do these things. I didn’t like the way pot made me feel, when I was high on pot Tyra would look at me funny and it made me nervous lol.
When my mom found out that I had a friends that were bikers she demanded I take her to were they met. I refused at first, willing to take a beating to keep their secret. I would not see them any more if it meant keeping her away from them she was such a Bytch! She was also a consummate liar. She told me, she wasn’t mad she just wanted to see it, I thought fine I will show her were it is, there is no way in hell they are going to let her in lol. I was right she came home one night madder than hell and said I went to that place you showed me and they wouldn’t let me in! I told her mom of course they didn’t let you in, they don’t know you, or who you are. A few days later she demanded I take her to that place I showed her and get her in. I refused and she backhanded me across the face, I just calmly said mom I do not go there any more or see any of my old friends from their any more. When that didn’t work she switched tactics and said “sweetheart” I am just curious to see these people. I said ‘why mom?” “They never caused me any harm and I never did drugs or drank with those people.” She said I just want to go and see it and I do not want you to call me “mom” I want you to call me “Jackie and say I am your sister. I said fine and took her. she ended up drinking and flirting with some guy there and bringing him home. She sent me home after being there for about a hour. She was so manipulative and hurtful towards me. I accidentally called her mom a couple of times so they knew who she was. I walked home, it was quite far and very late, she got a ride home with the guy she picked up at the “animal” house, which was a bikers hang out in Edmonton way back when. It was not a gang hang out either, it was just people that liked to ride Harley’s and drink beer together. Mom just said it was a gang to get me removed from her home.
At that times liqueur stores were not open on Sundays, and bootleggers were in full force. Sometimes mom would use the bootleggers, and take me with her. They would give us free drinks, and when I drank those drinks I felt so much better. I didn’t realize how dangerous it was to be drinking with these kind of men with or with out my mom. Who knows if they roofied us or not…maybe that was moms plan all along a way to get booze without paying cash for it.She did some really insane things when it came to us children, so I put nothing past her, for what she would do for her drugs and alcohol.
That “Man” was slowly but surely weaseling his way back into our lives. He would take us all camping, mom loved camping. He was still abusing me, sometimes he would come in to the bathroom when I was in there. He told mom to tell us not to lock the door because what if we slipped and fell how would they save us? What a bunch of bull, but I learned not to take baths when mom was totally out of it on her pills. she was abusing them so bad now she would be out of her mind most of the time. I didn’t always succeed, but more often than not I did.
Because Mom was drinking and abusing her pills so bad she had what they called a nervous break down. What ever it was, she ended up in the hospital for about two weeks. That time away from her was such a relief! We could even let our guard down a little bit. I could rest and not be doing all the things responsible adults do to maintain a happy home. Even though mom was in the hospital “He” would come and try to take me to the hospital to see her. I did go with him once and he abused me before even going to see her! The next time, he came I said lets take all the kids, he said no, just you or no one. Suzie our homemaker said “just go with him, see your mom it will be fine.” She really didn’t have a clue I’m sure. At least I like to believe she didn’t. After that time I told her what he was doing when he took me out of the home to see my mom. She really didn’t want to hear what i was saying, however, after that she did not force me to go with him, and he ended up taking all of us too see mom. Maybe that was his way of saying see, I do take all the kids. He just gave me a hateful glare.
Child protective services told my mom that Harvey was not allowed to live with us while I was in her home. So, when mom came home from the hospital I was told by a social worker to pack a suitcase for when I went to school the next day as I would be leaving her home.. They were not going to pick me up at home, I had to go to my school and leave my suitcase in the office. Who does that! I never even got to say good bye to my siblings!! That “man” moved back in as soon as I was out of the house.
I was heartbroken, I did nothing wrong, I was a good kid. I never gave mom any problems, in fact I spent more time looking after her, and the house and the little ones, than I did myself. However, she wanted her “man” back, and he was not allowed to live with her while I was in her home. I was told this by the last and only social worker I ever trusted, Karen P. However, mom was so adept at lying and manipulating she got her way. I am not sure why CPS said he could not live with us while I was there, but , I have a sneaking suspicion they knew the truth and were trying to protect me. If mom never lied in court that man would have gone to prison! The Ultimate Betrayal to me was removing me from my home so my abuser could move in. This was my mom’s choice… I was removed and taken to a receiving home, this is were my Journey takes me on my walk alone.
Old Whyte ave.
Old Whyte ave.
‘New Whyte Ave, a real hot spot for night activity now, one of the go to places for a night out on the town.”
Before I leave you dear friends to work on the next piece I had a memory resurface that I and Tyra really wanted to share with you. It is about our youngest sister. A day before picture day she got it into her mind that cutting her hair to have no bangs was a great idea. See, I didn’t have bangs, my hair was parted down the middle, all I really had were cow licks lol, hated those seriously. She was in grade one at the time, so really didn’t know any better. She also, seen a friend of our mothers shave then pencil in her eyebrows. apparently, our youngest sister thought that was really attractive too! So, you she shaved her eye brows off too!! She came down for school the next morning to show me her handiwork. I could not help my self.. I laughed at her. I couldn’t help it, she looked perpetually surprised! (HEHE) I tried to help by trying to pencil in some eye brows with my pencil crayons, it didn’t work though. I told her to show mom, as maybe she could help. By this time my little sister was crying her eyes out and I felt so bad for her! She just wanted to look pretty, If I was older I would have been flattered she wanted no bangs like me, being young though I just saw the humor of the situation.
To say the least mom was really angry! It was picture day and she wanted those pictures of Tanya! Tanya crying, said she didn’t want to go to school.. mom made her go any way. I did feel bad for her, but when mom said something it best you obey and do what she says or suffer the consequences, not sure if mom bought those years photos or not.
May contain content that is triggering for some, self first.
Tyra:
Looking back through the years it is difficult for my sister and I to remember a Christmas that wasn’t plagued with addiction and abuse. This is true for the Christmas that we will talk about today.
People always say that Christmas is for the children and not really for the adults in life, I think that is because the children bring the magic back into the adults life for just one time of year. Children have the excitement of santa coming to see them and all want to stay up late waiting for him to show up. children wonder if they will get what they had hoped for the most for the whole year. This was true for us also.
In the beginning of the season was wonderful. we would put up the tree and decorate it as a family and sit and enjoy the lights like any ordinary family. There were a few gifts that were under the tree from friends and family but not too much as we were children of a welfare mom. Then the santa anonymous came to our home and brought our food hamper for the holiday season. We knew at least we would eat good during this time and there were a few presents that we received also.
Have a blessed and Happy Christmas and Holiday.
The Christmas excitement was in us this year, not sure what made this year better that in the years but us kids were just in the Christmas spirit. Maybe it was because our little brother was of the age to have the excitement and carried over to us older kids. we would play with each other and behave wondering what santa would bring to us this year.
Christmas morning came early for us as our mother could not wait till we woke up, but to her surprise we were already awake waiting for the call to open presents. I do not recall all the presents that we received that year as there were so many of them, but remember the tree being full of presents, more presents than I had seen before. The one gift of mine that I do remember was the sleighs we received to play outside. Tammy remembers the nurses watch she received that year also. We were always playing outside whether it was to build snow forts or ramps for our sleighs to jump. those memories bring a smile to my face.
I wanted a strawberry shortcake doll so badly. I felt hurt and confused as why mom would give Tammy one. Tyra 2019
We would build the ramps so high that we would fly in the air and land on our tummys and take our breath away. We would get up laughing and walk up the hill again and try it all over again. Looking back I am surprised that we did not get broken arms and legs from the crazy down hill slide me made. it took the whole community of children to build and went that one was made we would make another more extravagant one for the older children to play on. Wow what a time it was, to be a child and just play without no danger in mind.
Then came the alcohol in the scenario and that is when this Christmas took a turn for the worst. Our mother just could not seem to enjoy any of the seasons or celebrations without alcohol, there needed to be alcohol for it to be a celebration. For us children we just wanted a quiet family season with no worries about fights and other distractions. to my dismay it did not happen.
It was the week after the greatest Christmas that we could remember, to turn to the worst Christmas we ever had. I think my sister and I would give all the gifts back if we could not have gone through the loss of our innocence this same Christmas.
Our mother and her boyfriend of the time, went to a party and of course they were drinking. The story went that our mother did not want to come back home so her so called boyfriend decided to leave her there and came back home alone. I do not recall much more about this night, so Tammy will share more about it, in her piece.
We had such a beautiful tree that year.
Tammy:
I do not recall any Christmases were it was memorable before or after this one. Typically mom would either skip Christmas or we would get a gift basket from charity. I really didn’t mind charity, as when you are hungry, if food is offered you take it. This Christmas was different, her man was a working man and made good money. We had a beautiful decorated tree, and nuts and candy. We even had stockings. I was so happy. I thought maybe we were going to be like regular people. I had a couple of friends and one did not come from a dysfunctional home, that friendship did not last though. The blame for that rest squarely on my mothers shoulders.
However, I have a bad habit of going on tangents. That year we had turkey with all the trimmings. It was delicious! We were sent to bed, and as expected we had a hard time getting to sleep. My sister and I stayed up late, softly talking and giggling. We were determined to stay up and see Santa. However, like most children we fell asleep. To wake up really early to sneak up stairs and see what Santa brought. If I would have known our Santa was a devil in disguise, I would have never asked for a thing. However, being a child I was so exited, all the brightly wrapped packages, and two sleds for riding down hill fast,
We made ramps so we would fly in those sleds, air born for a few seconds, then ouch! Hehe was worth it. Tammy 2019
Our mom, her man and the younger ones came down stairs, and the young ones were so excited. They were so giddy, prancing around like little elves. I was happy for them. I do remember looking at our mom, and she looked happy. Her eyes were shining, and she had a smile on her face. I think she really loved that man, but the price was so costly. I still can not put my mind into a set we’re I would ever be ok hurting a child, or letting some one else hurt them.When it came to loving me she was heartless.
We unwrapped our presents, and I was confused. Why was I getting items Tyra wanted. I was really confused and upset too because I could see Tyra really liked the stuff I was getting. She did get a watch too, but she liked mine better. Honestly, I liked hers better, but to trade would have infuriated our mom. So we made do and enjoyed the day. We went sliding on those last very red sleds all day! Pink cheeked and happy we tumbled into the house wet from the snow, but warm from the exertion.
Things soon went back to normal, our normal. Mom would stay in her room all the time and her man had free reign of the house, and us kids. He was such a vile, repulsive man. I had no good will for him, but at the same time I was scared what he could do to me, or even worse my siblings. I hated it when mom would abandon us and let him get away with his odious behaviours.
Sadly, my Christmas was ruined, in fact I did not celebrate Christmas ever again. There was just no reprieve from abuse, especially from him!! I was torn between running away and leaving my siblings behind, or staying to be destroyed bit by bit for a mans twisted desire to possess and ruin. He just would not relent, not even during a holiday meant to honour family and goodness’s. He hurt me again when mom was not there. He said she was not there, but maybe she was just on the other side of the wall passed out on drugs and booze. I Was going to my place in my mind, I could run away in my mind, and then what he did would not matter. I told myself this, even though it mattered, it mattered a lot.
This Flight Tonight”… “blackness blackness dragging me down”. Nazareth
Our mother and her man went to a party, Tyra thinks it was a New Years party. I am sure she is correct in her memory, as dates are hard for me, I tend to tell time by the seasons and the weather. I heard the door close, upstairs, and rushed up to meet our mom. However, the only one standing there was that monster, disguised as a man. I stoped dead in my track, dread filled my body and made it tingle with fear. This was going to be another night of horror and pain. My soul retreated even deeper into my secret place, my mind screamed silently, run away, run away. I was paralyzed, crippled by my mothers teaching me I had no choice, no value, no reprieve. I was not allowed to have boundaries, therefore I had none. Our mother created the perfect victim, me. Just even writing that statement down, makes me profoundly sad, the lessons she drilled into my very being were to haunt me well into adulthood. Even to this day, I fight my demons, sometimes I win sometimes I don’t, but I never surrender.
I went back down to the basement, we’re I slept with my sister in a big bed. I always felt safest when I was with her. However, in our house there was no safety in numbers, and no were to hide. Mom’s man was on a mission, hell bent to get what he wanted, and it was me he wanted. Sometimes I wonder what goes through a grown mans mind when he is sexually abusing a child. Then I think, I really do not want to know, because if I did my mind might shatter irreparably forever, because their mind must be even more frightening and dark than mine.
Calling me, demanding my presence, every time he said my name, my feet would move towards him, while the rest of my body wanted to disappear, never to be found again. I went though, for fear that my sister would be targeted if I didn’t. I remember looking at the Christmas tree, and remembering how magical it looked. Now it reminded me of a gaudy, and grotesque bar I seen on tv once. The smell of his alcohol stink didn’t help matters. He demanded I drink with him, I had drank before, sips of my moms tia Maria, or sneaking a beer or two. However, this was different, he wanted me to drink so I would be more compliant while he went about his dastardly deeds.
I remember eating chestnuts, now if I eat those, they turn to fouled goods in my mouth, as they remind me of the night Christmas became a nightmare. I would go downstairs and I hid behind the furnace, hoping that he would get tired of this cat and mouse torture. However, he wouldn’t give up, and when he targeted my sister, I knew my time had run out. I could not sacrifice my sister, for one night of reprieve. I took a deep breath, and stepped forward, and accepted another night of hell and anguish. I was ten years old, Tyra was seven, and I felt like I had already lived to many lifetimes, for the short amount of years we had been on this earth.
Stripped of boundaries, self and dignity. Robbed of choices and self determination. Feeling like I was going to shatter into a million pain filled fragments. He took my body, my childhood, my innocence. I knew to much, yet not enough. I could regal you with the horrors of suffering, pain and abuse, but for the life of me, I could not tell you how to save yourself. I could teach you how to survive, but not how to live. A flash of brilliant white pain, the penetration, the invasion, the sickening feeling of being smothered. I am hurt… I am going away now…
Tyra and Tammy wish you all a very merry Christmas!
However, it is Christmas, and I am happy and I want you all to be happy too. I want you to create memories that will last forever, as I will be doing the same. “So have yourself a Merry little Christmas.” Enjoy, be blessed, eat lots of Turkey.
After leaving the last foster home, I would ever be in, we were sent back home. This was a cycle that was repeated often through out the years. I really lost count how many foster homes and receiving homes I was in over the years. For awhile things were not too bad. I was growing up fast and even made a friend, although she was much older than me. I even had a boyfriend, although he was too old for me too, but mom seemed to like him. I sure knew she liked his brother, as one time she got really drunk and tried to have sex with my boy friends brother on the couch. I was so humiliated, my boyfriend just pulled his brother up and took him home. I had to wonder if it would be like this with all my male friends I may have. He was a nice young man though, he took me to the movies and out for ice cream and stuff, I liked it, but I didn’t like him the same way he liked me. I am not sure if I was even capable of liking a man that way. However, I did like him as a friend, he was fun to be around, and I think if things would have been different, I may have grown to love him.
“That man” was not in the picture yet, not in a permanent way he wasn’t. Mom and I shared a room, we each had a single bed. She also liked to wear my clothes, as I was filling out some what, at least my bottom half was, I bemoaned the fact that I really didn’t have any boobs. I was still very young though, and was not even menstruating yet. He would however , come over and visit, although he really wasn’t supposed to be around us, but he came any way.
When he wasn’t around mom drank a lot, one time she got drunk and was drinking in our bathroom, and fell. She didn’t spill her drink but she couldn’t get back up. she called me for help, when I was unable to lift her, she threw her drink in my face. That hurt my feeling so very much. =( She just laughed and I smiled a sad smile, what else could I do. She was a lot easier to be around when she was drinking, than when she was high on her pills. At least that was what I thought. She seemed to be happy when she was drunk for the most part.
Sometimes she was a tearful drunk, and would call her family and cry to them over the phone. I suppose deep down she was in pain too. however, I can not with any reasonableness, excuse what she did to me or my siblings. She had always been a promiscuous woman, except when she was with “HIM’. “He” seemed to be the only man that she loved, it is ironic to me that the most abusive man to us is the one she stayed with, and the men that were the kindest to us only lasted a couple of weeks at best. Our Mother was definitely deranged and had serious issues. The only time I ever recall my mother telling me she loved me was one night when she was sloppy drunk, but that one time I will always remember not because she said it, but because she could only say it when she was sloppy drunk. The only time I heard her laugh when she was sober, was when she and all us kids played tiddly winks. I will always remember that laugh with fondness and a ache since that was the only time I ever remember her really laughing. We were all on the floor, and she was winning, she rocked back with her head back and just belted out the most beautiful laugh I have ever heard. Her eyes were shining and her smile was beaming. That memory is forever ingrained in my mind.
I recall one night when mom was drinking with the man across the street, Us children ran back and forth across the street all night. It was actually fun lol. As night fell and the younger ones got sleepy and went to bed, I was still awake, and that man came over to our house. I recall he and my mom got into a argument about how good she would be in bed, and she said to him “Come on then I will show you!” He just looked at me and grinned and went into the room my mom and I shared. After they were done, he just laid in the bed with my mom smoking a cigarette. My mom yelled at me to bring her a pad. “I was so disgusted with her and him!” The smell was gagging to me! I don’t know if he got tired of laying with her, or she kicked him out but after he left mom yelled at me to come to bed. I was so glad the little ones were sleeping and did not witness this despicable display of promiscuity. However, I seriously didn’t understand the impact incidents like this have on a child.
The bar was just a few blocks away, so Mom had easy access to it, and she made good use of it, sometimes she would stay out so late I would go get her and get some one to go in and bring her out so I could walk her home. She must of had men buying her drinks, because she never had a lot of money being a welfare mom our whole lives.
In our house food was a one time thing at the beginning of the month she would fill the fridge and cupboards, making sure to buy a large bag of flour if we were out and a couple jars of cheez whiz, and lard. This was so I could bake bannock in the oven for the kids lunches when we ran out of food, which we always did, Then it was bannock for lunches and macaroni for dinner, and water to drink. I did babysit and make a little money, but mom, always “borrowed: that to go our drinking, so there was very little I could do. Mom was not a person you ever said no to and kept your hide intact! One time I was walking her home we were walking in the middle of the road and she had her hands in her pockets and she fell, and couldn’t get up and a car was coming! I ran towards the car, thank God they stopped, Mom struggled to get up and I apologized to the person but he just looked at me like a was a bug that crawled up out of a hole. We made it home safe, once again.
Another time I had to go get my mom, we were almost home and she fell into the hedge bushed pulling me with her. She was laughing, I have to admit I laughed too we probably looked pretty foolish! I always waited up for her when she was drinking , because sometimes she would bring home a guy, and I didn’t want to be in our room if she did that.
It was about this time I started smoking cigarettes, it was a way to have something in common with my mom. They made me feel ill, but so grown up at the same time. Now years later I wish I had never started, it is just another dirty habit I have to try and over come. Coffee too made me feel sick, but when mom let me drink it I would, just to be more like her….However, when she let me drink alcohol, well that is different story as you will soon see.
School, wasn’t an issue, since she never asked my how I was doing and as long as no one called her to complain she was fine to me. Well as fine as our mother was to any of us on any given day. I was back at HillCrest so It was cool even made a girlfriend, although she was a bad influence on me. I also, made some very unlikely friends who were bikers. I never drank or did drugs with them or had sex with them for that matter. I did a titties pic with them, which was a tradition they had that all females that went to the animal house got a titty pic. That was pretty tame considering the hell I had already been through. I did go cruising with one of my biker friends was good fun. One time I said I wanted to skip school and he picked me up on the corner and took me to school for a week, and said if you skip; no more rides kiddo. This was the gang that I supposedly was in, how ridiculous was that! Just because these people could look rough and rode bikes. These people were so family orientated! Children were sacred to them, especially babies. Sure they took a pic of my boobs, what little I had, but that was part of their culture, you may not understand it, but it really is just about belonging. they had a wall covered with women I was the only really young one, but I looked older than I was. So they may not even known how old I was. However, they were respectful to each other and the women. Unlike my mother. I didn’t drink, nor did I do drugs, unless it was to smoke pot with my mom or drink with my mom. On my own I did not do these things. I didn’t like the way pot made me feel, when I was high on pot Tyra would look at me funny and it made me nervous lol.
When my mom found out that I had a friends that were bikers she demanded i take her to were they met. I refused at first, willing to take a beating to keep their secret. I would not see them any more if it meant keeping her away from them she was such a Bytch! she was also a consummate liar. She told me, she wasn’t mad she just wanted to see it, I thought fine I will show her were it is, there is no way in hell they are going to let her in lol. I was right she came home one night madder than hell and said I went to that place you showed me and they wouldn’t let me in! I told her mom of course they didn’t let you in, they don’t know you, or who you are. A few days later she demanded I take her to that place I showed her and get her in. I refused and she backhanded me across the face, I just calmly said mom I do not go there any more or see any of my old friends from their any more. When that didn’t work she switched tactics and said “sweetheart” I am just curious to see these people. I said ‘why mom?” “They never caused me any harm and I never did drugs or drank with those people.” She said I just want to go and see it and I do not want you to call me “mom” I want you to call me “Jackie and say I am your sister. I said fine and took her. she ended up drinking and flirting with some guy there and bringing him home. She sent me home after being there for about a hour. She was so manipulative and hurtful towards me. I accidentally called her mom a couple of times so they knew who she was. I walked home, it was quite far and very late, she got a ride home with the guy she picked up at the “animal” house, which was a bikers hang out in Edmonton way back when =). It was not a gang hang out either, it was just people that liked to ride Harley’s and drink beer together. Mom just said it was a gang to get me removed from her home.
At that times liqueur stores were not open on Sundays, and bootleggers were in full force. Sometimes mom would use the bootleggers, and take me with her. They would give us free drinks, and when I drank those drinks I felt so much better. I didn’t realize how dangerous it was to be drinking with these kind of men with or with out my mom. Who knows if they roofied us or not…maybe that was moms plan all along a way to get booze without paying cash for it.She did some really insane things when it came to us children, so I put nothing past her, for what she would do for her drugs and alcohol.
That “Man” was slowly but surely weaseling his way back into our lives. He would take us all camping, mom loved camping. He was still abusing me, sometimes he would come in to the bathroom when I was in there. He told mom to tell us not to lock the door because what if we slipped and fell how would they save us? What a bunch of bull, but I learned not to take baths when mom was totally out of it on her pills. she was abusing them so bad now she would be out of her mind most of the time. I didn’t always succeed, but more often than not I did.
Because Mom was drinking and abusing her pills so bad she had what they called a nervous break down. What ever it was, she ended up in the hospital for about two weeks. That time away from her was such a relief! We could even let our guard down a little bit. I could rest and not be doing all the things responsible adults do to maintain a happy home. Even though mom was in the hospital “He” would come and try to take me to the hospital to see her. I did go with him once and he abused me before even going to see her! The next time, he came I said lets take all the kids, he said no, just you or no one. Suzie our homemaker said “just go with him, see your mom it will be fine.” She really didn’t have a clue I’m sure. At least I like to believe she didn’t. After that time I told her what he was doing when he took me out of the home to see my mom. She really didn’t want to hear what i was saying, however, after that she did not force me to go with him, and he ended up taking all of us too see mom. Maybe that was his way of saying see, I do take all the kids. He just gave me a hateful glare.
Oddly, enough child protective services told my mom that Harvey was not allowed to live with us while I was in her home. So, when mom came home from the hospital I was told by a social worker to pack a suitcase for when I went to school the next day as I would be leaving her home.. They were not going to pick me up at home, I had to go to my school and leave my suitcase in the office. Who does that! I never even got to say good bye to my siblings!! That “man” moved back in as soon as I was out of the house.
I was heartbroken, I did nothing wrong, I was a good kid. I never gave mom any problems, in fact I spent more time looking after her, and the house and the little ones, than I did myself. However, she wanted her “man” back, and he was not allowed to live with her while I was in her home. I was told this by the last and only social worker I ever trusted, Karen P. However, mom was so adept at lying and manipulating she got her way. I am not sure why CPS said he could not live with us while I was there, but , I have a sneaking suspicion they knew the truth and were trying to protect me. If mom never lied in court that man would have gone to prison! The Ultimate Betrayal to me was removing me from my home so my abuser could move in. This was my mom’s choice… I was removed and taken to a receiving home, this is were my Journey takes me on my walk alone =(
“There is no greater loss that the loss of innocence, before maturity is ready to be received. I knew then that My mother never loved me, either because she was incapable of love or because I was unlovable, I couldn’t conceive a mother not loving her child, so it must be the latter”. Tammy 2019
Old Whyte ave.
Old Whyte ave.
‘New Whyte Ave, a real hot spot for night activity now, one of the go to places for a night out on the town.”
Before I leave you dear friends to work on the next piece I had a memory resurface that I and Tyra really wanted to share with you. It is about our youngest sister. A day before picture day she got it into her mind that cutting her hair to have no bangs was a great idea. See, I didn’t have bangs, my hair was parted down the middle, all I really had were cow licks lol, hated those seriously. She was in grade one at the time, so really didn’t know any better. She also, seen a friend of our mothers shave then pencil in her eyebrows. apparently, our youngest sister thought that was really attractive too! So, you she shaved her eye brows off too!! She came down for school the next morning to show me her handiwork. I could not help my self.. I laughed at her =(. I couldn’t help it, she looked perpetually surprised! (HEHE) I tried to help by trying to pencil in some eye brows with my pencil crayons, it didn’t work though. I told her to show mom, as maybe she coulod help. By this time my little sister was crying her eyes out and I felt so bad for her! She just wanted to look pretty, If I was older I would have been flattered she wanted no bangs like me, being young though I just saw the humor of the situation.
To say the least mom was really angry! It was picture day and she wanted those pictures of Tanya! Tanya crying, said she didn’t want top go to school.. mom made her go any way. I did feel bad for her, but when mom said something it best you obey and do what she says or suffer the consequences, not sure if mom bought those years photos or not. LOVE.
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