I am going to be absolutely honest, I don't know how far I am going to be able to go with this, but somehow I think it would be good to open the coffin and bear some skeleton's.

I am told that I suffered trauma from the time I was only months old. I lived in the house with a Mother, Father, 2 Sisters and 1 Brother. My Father was very abusive towards my Mom so I am told. I only have one memory of him abusing her, I think they tried to shelter me from it as best as they could since I was the baby of the family. The next oldest sibling is 11 years older than me, so I was an Ooops baby that my mom had late in life. My mom tells me that I had a full beer can thrown into my head at approx. age 18 months and took stitches, she never knew what I did to piss him off, but I did something. She would never dare ask as he would have turned on her.

Well, he left home when I was 4 1/2, but I can remember a final fight that they had and I remember crying and sitting on the bathroom sink while my sisters tried to comfort me as they fought. That is my last and only image of my father other than seeing him once at my Grandma's funeral many years later.

After my Father was out of the house my mom had to find a job. Mother worked all the time leaving me with my one Sister alot. She is 13 years older than me. My sister was wonderful to me for a few years, then she got pregnant and something happened. She changed. My sister would tell me to be quiet, and she ment cease existing. She would slam my head into the wall over and over because she was in a bad mood. But, worse than the physical abuse I endured daily was the mental abuse. By the time I was 8 years old she had me in such a mess. I started to have nightmares/night terrors and the school made me see the school shrink. My mother had no clue, nor did anyone else in the house. My Mother had suffered a nervous breakdown when my Dad was gone, so she was literally useless to me during that period. My Mom tried to jump out of a moving car going down the expressway and I had ears, I heard it. Then my sister told me that the reason my Mother and Father had split up was due to me and that the reason my mother tried to kill herself was my fault. Well, my sister had the baby and he was a doll. My mother still worked all all all the time, so I watched the baby constantly even though I was still a baby myself, I had no clue that at 8 years old you should not be left alone with a baby for hours on end. My sister would make me watch him so her boyfriends could come over and she would have sex with them. I would watch the baby. Then when I had to go to school, she would write a note and take me out so that we could go meet with a boyfriend and she would leave me in the car with a infant/diaper bag/and a soda while she would hop into van in the same parking lot and leave me to tend to him in a hot car for several hours. I have not even touched the tip of the iceberg, but this is enough for now.