Coping with Trauma: My Journey Through Stress and Depression

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.

The Changing Tide

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.

“The Sound Of Silence” Disturbed

one of my favorite songs, has much meaning for me.

Tammy:

SKID ROW: A look at the brutality, and unmerciful reality of children trying to survive on the street.

So there I was, dark was fast falling, had no idea what time it was, but I knew it was way past time when I should have been back at the institution checking in. I was on a subway bus with Tina, and had no idea what I was doing, or were I was going to go. I have never been on the streets before. Tina comforted me and told me not to worry she would help me. Tina was 14 years old, and I was about 14 and a half. She knew more of the world than I did, probably more than most adults did. Tina took me to her fathers home, who wasn’t there, and I began to relax and trust this girl. She told me things about living on the street as a runaway who was in the juvenile delinquent, system. She said “always say you are 18, never give your real name, and if they offer you a ride home decline.” She was talking about the Police, or the “screws” as they were called by the street people. I was so naive despite all that happened to me, I was about to enter a whole new world, of suffering and despair.

Trigger Warning Drug Descriptions:

Tina was the first to introduce me to needles, shooting up. She was the first to teach me how to mix the drugs, and flick the needle to make sure there was no chunks or air bubbles. She taught me how to tie off and raise a vein. If blood entered (flashback) the needle it was a hit. If you missed the vein it would abscess. This could lead to infections, or blood poisoning, which could led to death. Sometimes Tina and I had troubles and would take turns injecting each other, with the boost. The drug in the needle was called a “boost” because it would boost us for a couple hours so we could chase the high. We used what was most available and that was Talwin and Ritalin, they called it poor man’s heroin. That was a joke it cost 40 dollars for one Talwin and one Ritalin. You could share or just use it up yourself. Get one big hit or share with a friend. When you were taking up to 8 or more hits a day that was a pretty hefty price tag. However, most girls would take a hit every one to two hours, and stay awake three to four days at a time. So you can just imagine the money that was being made not only by the girls but the drug dealers.

In the beginning Tina never took me out with her, she always made me stay at her place and wait for her. I had no idea what she was doing, but she always came home with drugs, and because I was on prescription drugs for so many years, the transition from prescription to street drug was easy. I had not been doing drugs before I went into the Youth correctional Center, I became an addict. I began to look forward to Tina coming home, but she never pushed me to go with her in fact she didn’t want me to. We became friends over this sharing of drugs. We had much in common, as she was sexually abused as well, as a child. I would ask her what she did to get the drugs and she spoke candidly and with out shame about selling her body for money to get drugs.

Eventually she started taking me down to the drag, introducing me to some people, telling me to avoid others. The people she introduced me to, treated me with kindness and respect, something I never had in my life before and I wanted more of that! I also. enjoyed the freedom of being able to stay up as late as I wanted or not sleeping at all and watching the sun rise and hit my face. The night time on the drag was exciting and busy. You had people driving by and cops parked on the corners watching the activity, and people filling the bars and the sidewalks. Tina and I stayed mostly down by the York Hotel as that was were all the Colored people stayed and they afforded more protection to the girls. The cops rarely went down to the York end.Please do not be offended when I call my friends Black that is what they said they were so who was I to argue? I don’t know maybe back then things were different,especially on the Drag. We were all equal, but segregated at the same time, the girls could come and go as they please, regardless of their race. They were the money makers.

You have the Blacks at the York, “The Indians at the International and Royal. and Whites at the Imperial. That was just the way it was. Of course sometimes you seen them move around but very rarely, the whites pretty much stuck to them selves, as they were low man on the totem pole in actuality. It was pretty much the Blacks and Indians that ran the strip in regards to what ever deals they had going on. Typically the whites were there slumming. Not all but most. Just saying it like it was back then.

York Hotel, on the Drag. There was a sign that said no knives allowed. This is were I met Judge.
There used to be a YORK Hotel sign on the front in Big Red letters. So many of the hotels and buildings on the drag have long since been torn down.

It was dangerous on the drag, for every one especially the girls. I learned this very quickly after witnessing a murder, and a lot of stabbings. Mostly it was the men fighting men. I only had a couple of run ins with older prostitutes but they got run off dam fast.

Sometimes the older prostitutes would try to corral younger prostitutes and put them in a stable to pimp them out. The men would not tolerate this, and if the older women were caught doing this they were run out, at least they never came around no more. whatever happened to them, I do not know. Two older prostitutes tried to coral me, they held a knife to my throat and basically said you are working for us now.. I said ok let me go to work then. They let me go and I went straight to one of my male friends. Those two women were never seen on the drag again. The one other woman I had a run in was run off and her sister ended up on the lowest corner of the drag sniffing glue. I felt bad for the woman who ended up sniffing glue I tried to help her, and would buy her food and drugs, but she was so hard core, she just tried to take advantage. She probably never had any one show her kindness, just because they had a kind spirit.

I wanted to be saved, but I didn’t know how.
Tammy

Tina and I usually hung together but after she got mixed up with a drug dealer she spent most of her time with him. I heard she eventually married that man and had three children with him, and got off the drugs. I say good for her! I am happy for her if this is what happened. I just know that she didn’t come down to the drag no more and I had to make a new circle of friends. It was spring time so I really wasn’t worried about not having a place to stay, I would just get a room when I absolutely had to sleep usually after the fourth or fifth day of being up. Usually when my eyes were encrusted to were I could barley open them and my heart was beating out of my chest. That is when I would say ok time to come down and go to sleep. I would be up for so long that I would have a hard time telling whether it was day time or night time at dusk and dawn, and would have to wait for the street lamps to go on or off to tell. It would usually take 24 to 48 hours to finally get a good sleep and be ready to start again. I always made sure to have a fix(a needle) ready for when I woke up again. I did not like to go out sick. It was a very hard way to survive. Thankfully for me it was spring, so the weather was good.

I made good money and even had a client base that I did business with on a regular bases, and If I wasn’t hooked on drugs I could have had a pretty good life considering the life I had previously was not anything to be striving for. I had freedom, I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, with who I wanted. The men on the street that I was friends with were not sexual partners they were people who looked out for me and for that I would get them high with me. We did not have sexual relationships, our friendships revolved strictly around protection and drugs.

Sometimes some one who I let pick my up was an addict and we would spend a week or two together getting high and having sex. I mean that is what I did to survive… Before I was being sexually abused by men and only received pain and suffering now I was being sexually abused, but had drugs to dull the pain. The drugs made it a lot easier, but it was still very brutal on my mind, body and soul.

There were times I was beaten by the older prostitutes. One woman about 40 wanted my jacket. She ripped clumps of my hair out and blackened an eye. She got my jacket but she too just disappeared when A friend saw what happened to me. He was so angry, he slammed out of his house. I crawled i to his bed and slept for a solid three days. For some reason most of the hard core street people were very protective of me. Maybe because they knew I really did not belong there, but had no were else to go.

It wasn’t just the older prostitutes that would get violent with the youngsters that were trying to survive the street. Men that wanted to buy us would some times beat us rape us, even sodomize us. I will never forget the time my friend and I, she was 13, were invited to a drug dealers home, to party. It turned out that the only ones having a party were he two men. One of the men punched me and I fell to the floor, the pain was excruciating. I remember seeing him draw back to kick me in the head. All I though was don’t pass out, don’t black out, if you do you will die. There was an explosion of light and pain, I held on to consciousness, and laid there on the floor. While, I was being brutalized, the other man and my friend left the house.

The man gathered me up and took me to a couch in the living room, never saying a word to me. Stripped of my clothes, he sodimized me, that was the first, time that ever happened to me. I will never forget the pain or the shame. The mans friend came back, with out my friend, and said I want a turn. The man that just brutalized me looked at me, and I looked at him, waiting to see what was going to happen. The man turned to his friend and said no, shes had enough Im taking her back. I looked for my friend, but I never saw her again.

Sometimes men were looking for a young girl and since I looked like I was about 12 to 14 I would tell them 13, I got more work that way. Seems the men I met in my life always liked them younger. I also could ask for more, and these men typically became my regulars. Some of them would take me to dinner or dairy queen. Treat me like the kid I was. Most of the men were also married, which was good because I didn’t have to fight them to wear a condom. Some men refused, and I would refuse to be committed to a bargain. Just like my Needles, I always bought new ones. they only cost 2$ so I always bought one or two new ones.

When tricks beat me, there was little I could do, but get the hell out of there and pray I didn’t get killed. Sometimes the younger girls would disappear and you would just know in your gut that they were not in a safe place, not on this earth any way. The youngest prostitutes I ever met were a brother and sister, the boy was eight, and deaf. His sister said she was ten. I talked to her for bit, and they confirmed that they were “working”. The boys sister spoke for him. How.. how does this happen? I knew how it happened but it still broke my heart to know there were children even younger than me out there too. I do not know were they went, I think maybe they got run off because they would draw to much police attention. Maybe a pimp picked them up and made money off of them. The last alternative was just as tragic as the first two.

One time I was raped by a man who said he was a police officer off duty. He had a badge and a gun so I wasn’t going to argue. I just let him do what he had to do then got away. of course I let the other girls know about this guy and to steer clear of him. Being raped was just part of the brutality on the street. Once there were two cops behind me walking a beat, and all they said to me was how is it going sweet cheeks. Sometimes they would stop me and ask how old I was, I gave the standard answer Tina told me to give, “18”. if they asked for ID I simply told them I did not carry ID because I didn’t want to get robbed, they usually left me alone after that.

After I stopped hanging out with Tina so much, my favorite person to hang with was Brandy. She was a transgender prostitute who had not gone through the transition. Probably because she couldn’t afford it. she however, was addicted to drugs like me, she was still very beautiful but was pushing 40. the typical life expectancy of some one who lives on the street is 40. That is old for living on the streets. It is a harsh, brutal, unforgiving life. The younger you were the more likely you were to die young, if they didn’t make it past the first couple of years. Contrary to what most people thought, you really did not see a whole lot of young people, I mean any one under the age of 16. Most were in there late twenty’s or early thirty’s. the younger people could have been going else were I don’t know, but I was happy with my friends down on the drag.

Sometimes a client would want me to move in with them so they could look after me. I tried it a couple of times, but I felt trapped, like I was part of their property. I didn’t like it and would end the relationship, and go back to my friends and the street. The summer was a lot of fun for being on the streets any way, I hung with a lot of different people, got into trouble sometimes but survived. Hooked up with a man named Judge, which was a mistake, I wanted to leave him and he held me over a third story balcony, and threatened to drop me head first.. I told him I would stay so he didn’t throw me over. of course I moved down to the other end of the drag, until he cooled off and got another girl to mess around with. He really did not want to get caught in a middle of a war with the men on the drag, because I was friendly to every one, so he just left me alone.

That summer passed by so quickly, however on sunny day really sticks out in my mind. I made the mistake of thinking about my family. Tears streamed down my face while I was completely silent. I didn’t know were my family were, and I was completely and profoundly alone, I knew that it was just me against the world. If I died I would not cross these peoples hearts or minds very often, and not with any genuine sorrow. It was the most empty and vast feeling of loneliness that I have experienced in my short life. That day, was the last time I ever cried for many many years. in fact I forgot how to cry!

The people that I was surrounded by were dangerous. I met a man that I became friends with, but who would get crazy when he was over tired or to high. One time he slammed my head on the table in the restaurant we were at. I guess I should not have suggested he get a few winks, as he had been up for about four days. I found out from a friend that he was just released from prison for murder. It didn’t even cross my mind to be scared.He would take me to his girl friends house to give me a few days rest, and we would all get high on pills so I would not go into withdrawals. It was actually kind of fun to be babied for a few days. Even if he was a murderer. However, even he wanted something on return and crawled into bed with me to collect.

A building on skid row, that the girls would rent rooms out By the hour, night or week.

I was dying and I didn’t care. I weighed a whopping 102 pounds. Had sever pains in my ribs, and a cough that would not go away. I was dying, and the people in my circle were having none of that. It was the coldest part of winter when Suzette said come on little girl it is time, you’re dying and you are too young to die, I am taking you to a safe place. I balked, oh hell no, no more institutions. She said no I am taking you to a friends place in Wainwright. Me and Suzette hitchhiked in the bitter cold from Edmonton to Wainwright in our skimpy clothes, and By the Grace of God we made it there alive, barley. Suzette knew getting me off the drugs was going to be an issue, so she gave me two hits over a period of three days, I slept a lot. When I finally got up I was feeling a lot better. Still very weak but better. The first thing she did was hand me a beer. I do not even think I cross addicted, I think I was already predisposed to alcoholism, same stuff, different pile. As soon as I took that first swallow of Beer, I was hooked, and the drugs went away, I found my ambrosia. I wanted to go back but Suzette said stay here and heal come back when it is warm. you are still very sick, she said. It was my body shutting down from the drugs and the weight loss. Like an anorexic, my body was saying I am giving up do something! I was saved by an old prostitute that would probably be dead with in the year.

When I was in Wainwright there was a young man who would not leave my side even when I was sleeping. Suzette stayed for five days to watch over me and get me past the danger zone I guess. This young man that hovered over me really had no idea what he was in for. Being a small town young man, he really did not know anything about what it was to deal with a traumatized mentally ill teen who was hooked on hard drugs. However, Suzette left him in charge of me.Because hard drugs were not as prevalent in Wainwright I adapted and my drug of choice became alcohol. He was a pot head , but I didn’t like pot. Pot made me paranoid so I just drank and only smoked up with him on very rare occasions.He held down a steady job at the wainwright hotel, and did his best to care for me.

Old Wainwright Hotel were K.B worked in the restaurant, and the Old historical clock in the middle of the four way.

I hate to say it, but I put that young man through hell, however, he tried his best to save me, but I wasn’t sure I could be saved at that point. I was in deep with drugs and alcohol, and never had a loving intervention in my entire life. To say that I was insane when drinking is to put it mildly. I was blacking out when I drank, more often than not and would have no recollections what so ever what I had done. All I felt was a foreboding shame that what ever I did was not good. This new life style was so alien to me, I did not know were I fit, and even if I fit any were. I could not come and go as I pleased, but I did, and suffered his wrath. Most people slept at night and worked during the day. I roamed at night and slept during the day. This was not working out at all!

I did however, have one true friend, who seemed to understand me better than any one and did not judge me. That was Russel.D. People called him Rusty, I never did, but will for the sake of simplicity. It seemed I always tended to call people by their given name not shortened versions or nicknames, I never understood why I did that. Rusty became a trusted friend and I was able to be myself around him, perhaps this made K.B. mad I don’t know. the relationship between Rusty and I was platonic. He even eventually got a really awesome Girl friend. I will call her D. Rusty loved D you could really tell, and I loved them both. I was happy for both of them. Then the tragic happened! Rusty was accused of sexual molestation of a minor. I could not believe it! Now I was torn! Really! How? When?! I was mortified. The day that tragedy struck is forever emblazoned on my heart. Rusty, came to the house Kim I were living at, he really wanted to talk to me, he was so upset. I didn’t know at the time what he was upset about, but I wanted to be there for my friend so I would have heard him out. I am not sure what I would have done if he confessed to me, but he never got the chance to do anything, as K.B yelled for me to come to the bedroom Now! I told Rusty I would be right back! K.B never really yelled at me like that ever before even when I was at my worst, so I really took notice. You know I really do not even remember what K.B said to me that was so important. When I went back out Rusty was gone, and my heart sank. Somehow I knew that my friend was leaving me…I told K.B I was going to go look for rusty, but K.B said no!

Graphic content:

A few hours, we heard the news. Rusty had taken his own life, by blowing his head off with a shot gun in his girl friends bathroom. She was the one that found him, I am so sorry D! Rusty why there? I found out later he did it there because he left everything to his little girl, and did not want the mark of suicide on the house he left her. He really had no one else but D. and me. There certainly was no way he could do it at my house with K.B and his friend there. All his so called friends went to the funeral as well as me and D. All they talked about was the suicide and the accusation, saying that prob meant he was guilty. He deserved a fair trial just like any one else, despite what happened to me in my past, he still deserved his day in court. Rusty used to always wear a ball cap and K.B put the cap that Rusty took off before he took his own life. I though that was so callus and morbid, everyone laughed, except me. I was heartbroken that a man was so broken he would resort to such a violent death. I think that is the day I started pulling away from K.B and his group, and began withdrawing into myself. Not too long after Rustys suicide, it came out that the allegations were false. This was also the day that an job opportunity came up.

Suicide was to become more prevalent in my life. Tammy

A man approached K.B and asked if he wanted to manage a restaurant in Smokey Lake, for him. He said yes, and I agreed to be on the wait staff. It is Ironic that I was following in my family’s wake, like I was being guided by some unseen force. I do not know if they were already gone, but I assumed they were. I didn’t remember how to get to were they lived any way, and any inquiries I made of the locals turned up nothing. K.B only managed the restaurant a couple of months before he was replaced. We stayed in Smokey lake though. I supported him and his two friends on my tips, and wages. for the first time in my life, I was trying to live a decent life, and save up money and build a home with out drinking. Although I still drank on days off to excess it was a lot less than when I was in Wainwright. However, I was still an ugly mean drunk, so I do not blame him for throwing in the towel. What I do blame him for is taking all my possessions that I slowly had collected, all my tip money, and taking money from me that he had no intention of using for what he said it was for, and leaving me with a bill at a gas station for cigarettes and snacks that I knew nothing about.He also took all the jewelry I had slowly been collecting, I loved jewelry of all kinds, and paid for it all my self. He wiped me out and just left me with a few clothes.

I did track him down in Wainwright a few days later, I hitchhiked from Smokey Lake to Wainwright, boy was he surprised to see me! He had told me we both were moving back to Wainwright, that was why he took all my stuff. He lied, he just stole everything I owned in the world with out any remorse or regret. What kind of person does that?! When I confronted him, he told me it was over, and he had some one else. I said give my things back. He refused, I didn’t think of going to the police, as authority and I did not mix well. I left and went to Edmonton to stay with a girl friend that was K.B.s friend and then became mine.

I stayed with my friend for one month, but I ended up going back to the streets. I am sad I left, but I left because I did not have the heart to try again, even though I did get a job and was trying. I was giving up, what would be would be, and I would just accept what ever came my way. The Next segment, I will talk about what happened when I went back to the Drag for the second time, as a young adult. I was 18 years old now.

Were Angels Dare not Tread. I dared to go, because I had very few choices, and none of them were good. Tammy 2019 LOVE

The Ultimate Betrayal

Tyra:

When we moved back in with our mom we were living on Whyte Ave and just a block to my school. It was summer time and we played outside in the garage all the time, it was our fort. When life was getting too much us kids would go out there and basically hide. Mom was not very active in our lives we were a paycheck to her and that was all. She could say she loved us and I do think she did but in a very perverted way.

Sleeping has become a major problem. Mom would sleep all day, would not get up to look after the young children, not saying I was old. She would just stay in her room and read and sleep. I remember laundry day. We had a old ringer washer, so we washed the clothes then put them in the tub to rinse then put them through the ringer and out on the line they went. This was to make sure we had clean clothes for school, or just to change.

Mom decided to bring Harvey back into our lives as she could not be without a man. Not long after he came into our lives mom ended up in the hospital for a nervous breakdown. During this time we had a homemaker to look after us. You have to remember this is only a few months after we were back in mom’s care. We loved Susie, she was amazing we did not have to do all the chores we were doing. we just needed to clean our room and help with dishes. This was just luxury to us.

During the time that mom was in the hospital Harvey was in our life. He would be lurking around the house and Susie did not like it. Susie sensed there was something wrong with this man. His grey hair, beady blue eyes, thin, not too tall and a viscous grin on his face. Susie’s intuition was right on the money and she watched us kids like a hawk, but Tammy was left vulnerable to this man. I can only speculate what she was thinking, maybe that Tammy was older and could protect herself or she would tell someone if something did happen. Perhaps Susie thought it better to sacrifice one and save the rest. Having been told that he would not be in our life again, when he came back and mom let him, I felt very angry and the betrayal was deep.

I remember coming home after school and Tammy was in her room, laying on her bed and Harvey was sitting at the kitchen table with this smug look on his face. I knew what happened, and I could not prevent it. Tammy was his target and he would go right after her. During this time we would go out to the lake and I remember watching Tammy looking out of the window, wondering what she was thinking. Was she thinking that it was a mistake coming back to mom, or was she thinking that the lies that were told by the adults would forever condemn us to a life of pain and suffering.

When mom got out of the hospital her behaviour did not change. She still went to bed and stayed there. Looking after us was not her priority, she wanted what she wanted. I am not sure if Tammy told her that Harvey was abusing her or what happen but she was sent away again. I was thinking my sister is gone again, what did she do???? I asked and was told that mom could not handle her and that she was involved with a gang. I did not believe what she said it was just a excuse to send Tammy away again. Here I was once again fighting this battle on my own, for the good of the younger kids.

“*In the end, some of your greatest pain, becomes your Greatest strength” Tyra 2019*

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

“The Sound Of Silence” Disturbed

one of my favorite songs, has much meaning for me.

Tammy:

Skid row: ADULT CONTENT:

So there I was, dark was fast falling, had no idea what time it was, but I knew it was way past time when I should have been back at the institution checking in . I was on a subway bus with Tina, and had no idea what I was going to do or were I was going to go. I have never been on the streets before. Tina comforted me and told me not to worry she would help me. Tina was 14 years old, and knew more of the world than I did, probably more than most adults did. Shje took me to her fathers home, who wasn’t there, I began to relax and trust this girl. She told me things about living on the street as a runaway minor, who was in the system. She said always say you are 18, never give your real name if they ask, and if they offer you a ride home decline. She of course was talking about the Police, or the screws as they were called by the street people. I was so naive despite all that happened to me, I was about to enter a whole new world, of suffering and despair. Perhaps I was fortunate not end up with a pimp, on skid row there was no pimping, girls choose who and what they wanted to share with whom and when. At least that was my experience.

Trigger Warning Drug Descriptions:

Tina was the first to introduce me to cranking. She was the first to teach me how to mix the drugs, and flick the needle to make sure there was no chunks or air bubbles. She taught me how to tie off and raise a vein, and hit the vein and check to see if it was indeed a hit. Sometimes we had troubles and would take turns hitting each other, with the boost. The drug in the needle was called a “boost” because it would boost us for a couple hours so we could chase the high. We used what was most available and that was T’s and R’s, they called it poor man’s heroin., but that was a joke it cost 40 dollars for one and one. you could get one big hit or share half and half with a friend. When you were taking up to 8 or more hits a day that was a pretty hefty price tag. however, most girls would take up to a hit once to every two hours, and stay awake three to four days at a time. So you can just imagine the money that was being made not only by the girls but the drug dealers. Food became an afterthought. however, no drug that could be shot up was off the table.

In the beginning Tina never took me out with her, she always made me stay at her place and wait for her. I had no idea what she was doing, but she always came home with drugs, and haven been on prescription drugs for so many years the transition was very easy. I began to look forward to her coming home, but she never pushed me to go with here in fact she didn’t want me to. We became friends over this sharing of drugs. We had more in common as she was sexually abused as well, as a child. I would ask her what she did to get the drugs and she spoke candidly and with out shame about what she was doing.

Eventually she started taking me down to the drag introducing me to some people, telling me to avoid others. The people she introduced me to, treated me with kindness and respect, something I never had in my life before and I wanted more of that! I also. enjoyed the freedom of being able to stay up as late as I wanted or not sleeping at all and watching the sun rise and hit my face. The night time on the drag was exciting and busy. You had people driving by and cops parked on the corners watching the activity, and people filling the bars and the sidewalks. Tina and I stayed mostly down by the York Hotel as that was were all the Colored people stayed and they afforded more protection, and the cops rarely went down there. Please do not be offended when I call my friends Black that is what they said they were so who was I to argue? I don’t know maybe back thing things were different,especially on the Drag. We were all equal, but segregated at the same time, but the girls could come and go as they please, regardless of their race.

It was dangerous down there for every one girls included. I learned this very quickly after witnessing a murder, and a lot of stabbings. Mostly it was the men fighting men. I only had a couple of run ins with older prostitutes but they got run off dam fast.

Sometimes the older prostitutes that were running out of youth would try to corral younger prostitutes and put them in a stable to pimp them out. The men would not tolerate this, and if the older women were caught doing this they were run out, at least they never came around no more, whatever happened to them, I do not know. Two older women tried to coral me, they held a knife to my throat and basically said you are working for us now.. I said ok let me go to work then. They let me go and I went straight to my male friends, those two women were never seen on the drag again. The one other woman I had a run in was run off and her sister ended up on the lowest corner of the drag sniffing glue. I felt bad for the woman who ended up sniffing glue I tried to help her, and would buy her food and drugs, but she was so hard core, she just tried to take advantage. She probably never had any one show her kindness, just because they had a kind spirit.

Tina and I usually hung together but after she got mixed up with a drug dealer she spent most of her time with him. I heard she eventually married that man and had three children with him, and got off the drugs. I say good for her! I am happy for her if this is what happened. I just know that she didn’t come down to the drag no more and I had to make a new circle of friends. It was spring time so I really wasn’t worried about not having a place to stay, I would just get a room when I absolutely had to sleep usually after the fourth or fifth day of being up. Usually when my eyes were encrusted to were I could barley open them and my heart was beating out of my chest, that is when I would say ok time to come down and go to sleep. I would be up for so long that I would have a hard time telling whether it was day time or night time at dusk and dawn, and would have to wait for the street lamps to go on or off to tell. It would usually take 24 to 48 hours to finally get a good sleep and be ready to start again. I always made sure to have a fix ready for when I woke up again, I did not like to go out sick. It was a very hard way to survive. Thankfully for me it was spring, so the weather was good.

I made good money and even had a client base that I did business with on a regular bases, and If I wasn’t hooked on drugs I could have had a pretty good like considering the life I had previously was not anything to be compared to . I had freedom, I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, with who I wanted. the men on the street that I was friends with were not sexual partners they were people who looked out for me and for that I would get them high with me. We did not have sexual relationships.

Sometimes some one who I let pick my up was an addict and we would spend a week or two together getting high and having sex. I mean that is what I did to survive… Before I was being sexually abused by men and only received pain and suffering now I was getting paid for it. The drugs made it a lot easier too, but it was still very brutal on me some days.

Not all dates were friendly, there were many times I was raped, even sodomized and thrown from a vehicle. What could I do I was a minor, a run away, who was I gonna tell? The system didn’t want me any way, didn’t they set it up so I would end up here, by sending me out alone? Was Tina even a coincidence? Why was she on that bus, when it was no were near her house or the place she worked to get her crank? It’s hard to not think conspiracy, when my worker expected me to die on the street, a girl in lock up over heard her say that. Not sure exactly what they were talking about, but it was about me and that was what my worker said.

There were times I was beaten by the older prostitutes, who again just disappeared when I told the men on the street. For some reason most of the hard core street people were very protective of me. Maybe because they knew I really did not belong there, but had no were else to go. When tricks beat me, there was little I could do, but get the hell out of there and pray I didn’t get killed. Sometimes the younger girls would disappear and you would just know in your gut that they were not in a safe place, not on this earth any way. The youngest prostitutes I ever met were a ten year old brother and sister team, the boy was eight, and deaf. His sister spoke for him. How.. how does this happen? I knew how it happened but it still broke my heart to know there were children even younger than me out there too. I do not know were they went, I think they got run off because they would draw to much heat. Some pimp probably picked them up and hid them and made money off of them.

One time I was raped by a man who said he was a police officer off duty. He had a badge and a gun so I wasn’t going to argue. I just let him do what he had to do then got away. of course I let the other girls know about this guy and to steer clear of him. Being raped was just part of the life style. Once there were two cops behind me walking a beat, and all they said to me was how is it going sweet cheeks. For the most part the police left the girls alone. Sometimes they would stop me and ask how old I was, I gave the standard answer Tina told me to give, “18”. if they asked for ID I simply told them I did not carry ID because I didn’t want to get robbed, they usually left me alone after that.

Not every day was a work day, I managed to save up money so I could just have fun every once in a while. However, if a regular asked for me of course I would go, that is just good business. There were no cell phones but they did have a land line they could call and reach me either though my friend or I would answer directly.

Sometimes a client would want me to move in with them so they could look after me. I tried it a couple of times, but I felt trapped, like I was part of their property. I didn’t like it and would end the relationship, and go back to my friends and the street. The summer was a lot of fun for being on the streets any way, I hung with a lot of different people, got into trouble sometimes but survived. Hooked up with a man named Judge, which was a mistake, I wanted to leave him and he almost threw me over a third story balcony. I told him I would stay so he didn’t throw me over. of course I moved down to the other end of the drag, until he cooled off and got another girl to mess around with. He really did not want to get caught in a middle of a war with the men on the drag, because I was friendly to every one, so he just left me alone.

I liked this guy who had been in jail, they called him Junkie. I liked him and we were together for a short time. However, I never stayed with any one long, I was just incapable of bonding with any one on any significant level. He asked a friend about it and he told him, “that is the way she is Junkie, if you try to tie her down she will just run away from you. She will always be your friend just not your significant other. that is just the way she is, don’t worry man she will come around once in a while get high with ya, then go do her own thing again.”

The people that I was surrounded by were very dangerous. I met a man that I became friends with, but who would get crazy when he was over tired or to high. I found out from a friend that he was just released from prison for murder. He would take me to his girl friends house to give me a few days rest, and we would all get high on pills so I would not go into withdrawals. It was actually kind of fun to be babied for a few days. Even if he was a murderer.

A building on skid row, that the girls would rent rooms out of.

I did however, have one true friend, who seemed to understand me better than any one and did not judge me. That was Russel.D. People called him Rusty, I never did, but will for the sake of simplicity. It seemed I always tended to call people by their given name not shortened versions or nicknames, I never understood why I did that. Rusty became a trusted friend and I was able to be myself around him, perhaps this made K.B. mad I don’t know. the relationship between Rusty and I was platonic. He even eventually got a really awesome Girl friend. I will call her D. Rusty loved D you could really tell, and I loved them both. I was happy for both of them. Then the tragic happened! Rusty was accused of sexual molestation of a minor. I could not believe it! Now I was torn! Really! How? When?! I was mortified. The day that tragedy struck is forever emblazoned on my heart. =( Rusty, came to the house Kim I were living at, he really wanted to talk to me, he was so upset. I didn’t know at the time what he was upset about, but I wanted to be there for my friend so I would have heard him out. I am not sure what I would have done if he confessed to me, but he never got the chance to do anything, as K.B yelled for me to come to the bedroom Now! I told Rusty I would be right back! K.B never really yelled at me like that ever before even when I was at my worst, so I really took notice. You know I really do not even remember what K.B said to me that was so important. When I went back out Rusty was gone, and my heart sank. Somehow I knew that my friend was leaving me…I told K.B I was going to go look for rusty, but K.B said no!

Graphic content:

A few hours, we heard the news. Rusty had taken his own life, by blowing his head off with a shot gun in his girl friends bathroom. She was the one that found him, I am so sorry D! Rusty why there? I found out later he did it there because he left everything to his little girl, and did not want the mark of suicide on the house he left her. He really had no one else but D. and me. There certainly was no way he could do it at my house with K.B and his friend there. All his so called friends went to the funeral as well as me and D. All they talked about was the suicide and the accusation, saying that prob meant he was guilty, which is not the case, he deserved a fair trial just like any one else, despite what happened to me in my past, he still deserved his day in court. Rusty used to always wear a ball cap and K.B put the cap that Rusty took off before he took his own life. I though that was so callus and morbid, everyone laughed, except me. I was heartbroken that a man was so broken he would resort to such a violent death. I think that is the day I started pulling away from K.B and his group, and began withdrawing into myself. It was also, the day that an job opportunity came up.

The Ultimate Betrayal

Tyra:

During the time that mom was in the hospital Harvey was in our life. He would be lurking around the house and Susie did not like it. Susie sensed there was something wrong with this man. His grey hair, beady blue eyes, thin, not too tall and a viscous grin on his face. Susie’s intuition was right on the money and she watched us you kids like a hawk, but Tammy was left vulnerable to this man. I can only speculate what she was thinking, maybe that Tammy was older and could protect herself or she would tell someone if something did happen. Having been told that he would not be in our life again, when he came back and mom let him, I felt very angry and the betrayal was deep.