Its year 2000 and I’m running around with my cousins at grandma’s house. Grandma’s house was the happiest of my childhood. Grandma always had the hook up; stocked up freezer with all the ice cream and popsicles you could think of, unlimited supply of cheese balls and hot Cheetos, hot dogs and eggs for breakfast with warm and soft flour tortillas, and all the love, hugs, and kisses you ever wanted. That woman was a saint!
It wasn’t until my parents had their first house built. It was 2007, new house, new neighbor friend, new life! It was exciting at first... My parents married at a very young age and had my sisters and I very young, once their new house was built that meant parties. If they weren’t having parties they were going to them. EVERY weekend.
One night while they were away at a party,
something happened to me that would change me as a person forever.
I don’t remember much. I remember that I was lying on the small couch, my hair was down, it was dark outside, and I was wearing lavender purple silky pjs. My eye got heavy and I could hear the sound of an episode of room raiders on the TV playing in the background. I can’t tell you how long I was asleep, and I can’t tell you what time it was or what day of the week.
I can’t point out how long it took me to realize what was happening, but I can say that I woke up with the most horrible pain...
he jumped off of me, pulled up his pants and walked away.. I jumped up, pulled up my pants and ran to the room. I locked myself inside, as he sat on the other side telling me “if anyone finds out, it will hurt worse next time”. I cannot tell you how long I sat and waited, but when my parents got home, I opened the door, ran to my dad and said to him “he cannot babysit me anymore!” and when he asked me why, I looked over at him as he glared at me and I said…. “Because he was watching MTV”. Knowing that my parents did NOT let me watch MTV, that’s all it took for my dad to never, let him watch me again. That didn’t mean that the abuse ever stopped. What happened that night never happened again, but the touching and grabbing happened every time he was in my presence. It didn’t stop until he moved far away. But that didn’t mean that things got any better that just meant there was a whole lot of healing that my heart had to go through.
I never did tell my parents about this, to this day they still do not know. A part of me has forgiven and would like to continue with my life without hurting my soul the way it was hurt that night. A part of me refuses to tell my parents for the simple fact that they do not deserve to be blamed. And another part of me would like him to rot for what he has done to me. I try my best to not hold anymore hate in my heart. Growing up since then, I became such a depressed and troubled kid.
My mother quickly got over the party phase but my father just got worse. There were times that I didn’t see my father for days! I still remember waking up early Sunday mornings, getting in the car and driving all over town looking for my dad to see where he was or if he was even alive... My dad had a tough childhood and I never understood why he was the way he was until I knew what he gone through.
But, that is not my story to tell. My mom struggled for many years just to keep a roof over our heads and food in our mouths, While my father spent all of his money on drugs and alcohol. For many years I saw her cry, he abused verbally and physically. It took a toll on her and prevented her from being the mother I know today. I had such an ugly image of men because of my father and the sexual abuse I went through as a child by that family member. So when I was younger I was afraid of any man who had a “crush” on me or even tried to talk to me. I always thought that their intentions were bad. I always thought that all they would want from me was sex, or to abuse me. I was such a dark, lost and depressed girl. I hurt a lot of people, I was rude, self-centered and I made myself out to be a person that I wasn’t; to ultimately protect my heart. I am not proud of the person that I was before.
When I was 15 going on 16 I met a man that changed my life forever. I began to date a guy who showed me such a pure and gentle love. A love that you only see in the movies; I defiantly took that for granted at first. I was so nasty, distant and I didn’t try nearly as hard to love him as he did me. He was late to classes to walk me to mine, he walked across town during the summers just to see me for 10 minutes, and he made me small gifts, left me love notes, and woke me up with the sweetest texts. Even when he moved 4 hours away, he traveled that distance every weekend to see me for just a few minutes. He showed me a love that I never knew existed. In the first 3 years of our relationship he was very patient with me. I was a broken and difficult person to be with but he managed and loved me through it all. One day I pushed him too far and we went our separate ways. We were separated for about 4 months and we were both doing pretty well separated. One day we decided to have one last fling, and I became pregnant.
I was 18 years old when I found out I was 3 ½ months pregnant with my son Xavier. Being pregnant was the most beautiful thing that I have ever been through. I was working Part time at farm and fleet, going to school full time and doing the best I knew I could do trying to prepare to be a single mother. My boyfriend (my ex at the time) and I had a mutual understanding when it came to our son, but he was absent throughout my pregnancy. I guess to him it wasn’t so important to be part of my pregnancy but more important to work and prepare to be there once he was born.
It was on February 10th 2013 at 8:12am and at 36 weeks along, that my son came into this world with a still heart. I was never aware that still birth could even be possible. For months after losing my son I didn’t know what my purpose was in this world. I spent most of that time high off of prescription pills, slept my days away and cried all night. I quit my job and struggled to finish school. Losing my son will always be the worst thing that I have gone through; it’s something that I haven’t been able to heal with even 6 years later. In August of 2013 I also went through a miscarriage. I got pregnant too soon after my son was born and miscarried another little boy at 15 weeks. Losing a child in any kind of way is heartbreaking and life changing but when I went through that miscarriage I was at a stage of pure numbness. I felt nothing, thought of nothing; I never knew I would ever feel like I was just a small speck in this world with no emotion or care to even be alive. Depression hit me in the most terrifying way; so much that I feared myself.
After losing my son and having my miscarriage, I tried my best to get back on my feet. I got a new job, went for daily walks and hung out with friends; at night is when I felt the most pain, the most fear. I would lie in my bed with tears falling down my face, screaming, scratching my arms and pulling my hair. It’s not something that I am proud of but it’s something that I know I am not the only person going through. I’d hear noses in my head, “there’s no more heart beat, he’s gone” nurses running in and out of the room, my mom’s loud scream, and my own voice in my head “why me”. The sound of a babies cry pierces my heart and takes my breath away. Even to this day it does. It broke my heart but prepared me to be a strong person for the rest of my life.
In 2014 I lost my cousin who was like a little brother to me; to suicide, the pain I felt after losing him made me realize that my mental health was really important and I didn’t want anyone to feel the pain of losing me that I had felt losing him. He was my best friend and someone that would light up your day with just one smile. His girlfriend was pregnant at the time of his death and in March of 2015 my God Daughter was born, I knew that for her, I had to be the strongest I could be.
In 2017 I lost my grandmother and my god mother on the same day just hours apart from one another. I feel like year by year my heart has been broken time after time. Losing a family member is always so hard but these specific people had special places in my heart, these family members were ones that I always said I wouldn’t be able to live without. My cousin, my god mother and my grandma were the three that had such an impact on me as a person. My cousin was my best friend whom I told every secret to, he stayed up at all hours of the night with me talking, and he didn’t go a day without contact with me. My god mother was so hands on when it came to raising me; she never missed one birthday, Christmas or big event in my life. Living in Dallas Texas, even with times being rough with money she always managed to be there for anything and everything I needed. My grandmother was a popular woman in the community; she had a heart made of gold and always put everyone before herself. She had a big role as a second mother to me; I will never know love the way she showed it to me.
It’s at night, that I close my eyes and hear my grandmother singing me lullabies, softly rubbing my face as I fall asleep, saying “I love you momma”. It is at night that I hear the sweet voice of my god mother saying “aye mi cria” (oh, my creature) and I can still feel her warm hugs and the smell of her. She always smelled like freshly brewed coffee and laundry soap. I can still hear my brothers laugh and I smile every time I think of how he would hide at all corners of the house and I would walk around the corner and BAM he would smack me with a pillow, a water balloon, a sock full of shaving cream and sometimes even raw meat! Ha-ha those are the things that I miss most. These are the memories that hurt to remember, that take my breath away and take me down in seconds.
It’s at night that I become the loneliest and all of those amazing memories hurt my heart and turn me numb. It’s at night that I remember when I heard about all of them passing away each time. It’s at night that I think of my son and what he would look like at this time in life. It’s at night that I remember him jumping off of me and being in that pain. It’s at night that I am most afraid of. Most people count the hours, minutes and seconds for their days to be over, but I dread to lay my head down at night and close my eyes. My boyfriend, now of 9 on and off years is the one who carries me in his arms at night when I cry. Even though I have learned to love him and treat him better than I did in my younger years, even with everything I put him through back then, he still chooses to be with me. In the past couple years I have spent every single day learning to love myself and give myself credit for making it this far. I still struggle every day and I still have nightmares every night, but every morning when I wake up I try and make it better.