Oh sure...why not...my turn I guess....

Everyone seems to be having soul-searching moments lately...and I have figured what the heck...why not. I have posted pictures of me in a matching bra and panty set...so why can't I just put it all out there...

**This is gonna be a LONG post...childhood...issues...religion...uh oh...this is gonna be a bad first date...wait...its post 101...nevermind**

I was born in 1985. My parents were not married. In fact, I was the flower girl at their wedding...in 1988. I always felt, growing up, that they got married because they had me. My mother was always good at the fact to make sure I knew that I was an 'oopsy' baby. Things were okay, as far as I can remember, until my sister was born. I was 5.

I guess my dad felt pressured and stressed to provide for a family with two kids now, not just one. Not that he did much. He worked days. My mom worked nights. When dad was at work, mom was taking care of Sammi (my sister). When mom was at work, I was taking care of Sammi. Feeding her. Changing diapers. Remember...I was 5.

When I was 7 we moved to FL from MA...It was horrible...I was leaving all my friends...to a 2nd grader, it is totally devastating. I found out that my dad got "laid off" from work because he got caught doing cocaine on the job. We moved to FL, Dad became a truck driver. So he was never home. But he made enough, that mom didn't have to really work...so I didn't have to take care of my sister anymore.

Dad got hurt...In Jersey one winter, a truck door blew off the hinges and pinned him...he hurt his back and had permanent damage. He then went on disability and SSI. He got addicted to pain medications...went through some psychotic withdrawls...got diagnosed with schizoprenia. Was home...all...the...time.

Once he was home, I guess he didn't feel like a man anymore. He was unable to "bring home the bacon". Thats when it all started. The yelling. The throwing things. The hitting. The anger.

I got blamed for a lot. If I wasnt't born, then he wouldn't have had to start taking care of someone other than himself...and he wouldn't be in this predicament. Because of me, he was nothing. Because of him, I would be nothing. I kept my sister away from most of the abuse...as much as I felt she was responsible for my world falling apart and becoming hell...I didn't want her to end up like me. I took her beatings when I could. I got the verbal and physical abuse.


I remember one time we were getting ready to go grocery shopping. We all got in the van. I wanted to close the door...mom said okay...I went to close it and accidentally caught his hand in the door. I think I was 9. I got punched in the face with keys in his hand. Nothing punctured my face...but damn it hurt like hell. My mom just stood there...and watched.

We moved into a house that they bought. Dad got introduced to the neighbors...who were major pot-heads. Dad got into pot...BAD. Selling it out of the house. Always outside in his van...smoking.

In Junior High, I stole some of his pot and skipped school. Got caught, apparently 4/20 is a stoner holiday...I had NO idea. I got suspended from school for 3 days. My mom's response: "Well, I was saying at work that I wish I could go home and do laundry because it was so sunny out...thanks." Dad was so drunk and stoned one day when he drove me to school, that he drove up onto the side walk...flattened his two front tires...and just drove back onto the road after I got out and went home. Had NO idea how the tires got flat that afternoon, after I walked home because he forgot me.

High School I got into smoking and drinking with my dad...I wanted that attention that I got when I was little. Where he 'loved' me. Where he 'cared'. Where I mattered. I skipped school A LOT. Finally, when my sister asked my dad what dirty weed was, I decided that I needed to say something to mom. (again...I was protecting my sister) I mean, she knew...but I needed her to get it out of the house. My father said he would not leave and that he would not stop. My mom set it up with the local authorities to have him watched and that I was to continue to do everything that I always did with him, so he wouldn't suspect anything. (I got to do illegal activity legally!) He got pulled over for 'speeding' one day...they found the pot and paraphenelia. He was arrested. Mom got a restraining order.

Mom was always a backseat mom...I think she was afraid of what he would do to her...I heard the yelling and the fighting. I wasn't dumb. I was 15 at this time...I knew what the deal was. When dad was gone, she stepped in. She wasn't to sure on how to handle anything...so she let me do what I wanted. She also blamed me. Her family was ruined. Her husband chose drugs and stuff over HER. They wouldn't have had this issue if it wasn't for me.

I slipped into a deep depression. I would sleep for days. Stay up for days. Never went to school. Drank. I went and came whenever I pleased...I had no boundaries. I wanted rules. Tell me no...show me you care...

I was forced to see my father through visitation. He still did drugs. He still drank. He was still rude, abusive, bitter, and blamed me...for selling him out and for being the reason his life went to shit. His girlfriend was just as bad.

When I was 17, I realized, somewhat, that I needed out. I had to save myself...cuz no one was going to. I decided to go to Job Corps. I got my GED within 2 months (woulda been sooner, but in GA I needed permission from the state to take the test cuz I was a minor). I was always smart. I was good for awhile. Then I got back into the drinking. I could drink a 5th of Crown Royal daily. Not something to be proud of...thats for sure.

In 2005 my grandpa died of cancer. My grandma and my grandpa (on my dad's side believe it or not) were my rocks. Better than my own parents. He had been sick...went into remission...went on vacation to see his other sons in November...came back to FL in December..thought he got a cold from the PA winters. His cancer was back. With a vengence. I was supposed to go home January 21st to see him...I had the flu, so I stayed in GA...at job corps. He passed away on the 29th. I never got to say goodbye to the only positive male influence I ever knew. That still hurts. I miss him every day. My dad showed up to his wake drunk. He called me 3 weeks later crying that his dad died. 3 weeks after that his girlfriend died of a drug overdose on the kitchen floor as he was passed out drunk.


In 2005 I left job corps, in May. I went back home. Signed up for college, had to start all over because of class level reasons. But whatever. I met my now husband in August of 2005. He was the first person I let see the pain and shit I had to endure at home.

I developed a routine. Wake up and leave by 7AM to make it to school by 815. School from 815-1. Work from 3-8. Will's house from 830-11PM. Home at 11...bed...then do the same thing the next day.

One night I got locked out, I walked outside to smoke a ciggie after I got home from Will's house...and they locked the door. I slept in my car. The next night I walked in and was asked why I didn't do the dishes, sweep and mop the floor. It was my job. I was never home...I slept in a garage. My bed was in the garage. No A/C...No heat...I was never home. I called Will crying. I couldn't do it. At 2AM that night, I moved in with him.


July of 06 was the last time I saw my dad. He had gotten jumped on the 4th of July and was in the hospital. My grandma told me. I went to see him. I hadn't seen him since 2003. He looked horrible. Drugs and alchy ruined him. His diseases controlled him. He asked to move in with me. I couldn't do it. I knew he was homesless at this time, but I could not bring that abusive situation around Will or Kali.

He moved to PA. Last thing I knew he was living in a half-way house where he rented a room. In a ghetto in Philly. He died in early March of 2008. No one found him until mid-April.


My mother and my sister are very judgemental of me. I think I am better than them. I am a bitch. I am the reason why they struggle. I don't know what pain and hurt is. My mom got left, and it was my fault. My sister didn't have a good dad and that was my fault. The marriage and divorce was my fault.


I protected my sister through so many things. I sheltered her from more pain than she would know what to do with. I was 5 when I became and adult and cared for her. I was an alcoholic by 18. I did drugs when I was 13 until I was about 16. I have been raped. I have been beaten. I have been made feel for my whole life that I get was I deserve because I bring so much pain and misfortune to those around me. I was afraid to have friends. But yet, I dont know what pain is, because my life is perfect and I think I am better than everyone.


I have learned, that no matter what I do...I will not have their love and acceptance. I used to want it. I used to need it.

I don't anymore. I went to church when I was younger...but never understood any of it.

I met my hubby. He is a preacher's son. He grew up in the church, he has a hunger and a thirst for the Lord that made me insanely jealous. He had been through so much, but, it didn't seem to cause him pain. He gave it to the Lord he said. Prayer. Forgiveness. Peace.

I was baptised and saved in May of 2008. Honestly, even then I didn't lead a life I should have, not really until recently. I didn't get it. I was still "I got this, I can do it".

7 months ago my rock left. I was DEVISTATED. The Tuesday before he left, a local church did a FAITH visit to my house and invited us to church. That is what I call divine intervention. I plugged in. It was mainly military families. They all understood the pain, separation, lonely-ness and all the emotions on what it is to go from wife and mother...to an alone and scared wife and mother.

Today wrapped up a Ladies Bible Study by Beth Moore entitled Breaking Free. It was 13 weeks for us, with video and discussion time. It was the most amazing 13 weeks in my life. I have learned that God and His son Jesus are not just beings we are to worship. It is PERSONAL. It is about me and Him. I am his eternal bride. He loves me, before I even loved myself. When I felt I was worthless...He loved me and had a plan for me. He loves me for my faults, my irritibility, my frustrations, and my joys and triumphs. He wants me to love others as He loves me...no matter the pain and disappointment that they put me thru...

That is one of the hardest things that I have to work with...and pray about. Not loving and forgiving them is not causing a rift between me and them, that will always be there...it is putting a rift between My God and myself. It's like a big slap in the face. "Oh I think you're great...thanks for loving me even when I am a total screw up and do stuff I shouldn't and thanks for saving me...but I can't forgive or love them...they did my so wrong" :::SLAP::: They don't even have to know I forgave them. He knows my heart.

Once I have realized it is a personal relationship between Him and I...I have a greater peace. A higher tolerance. A knowledge that if I give it to Him, He will answer my prayers...in His timing...not always mine. Not always how I want either.

It's a growing process...it always will be. I by NO means am perfect. I still swear, not as often, but I do. I still get annoyed at the stupid stuff. I still let little things get to me. I have to learn and pray for patience every day. I pray for peace, acceptance, and success with my family.


This post is probably all over the place. I hope you can piece together what you can out of it. I am not pushing my beliefs on anyone...each is entitled to their own, but my love for the Lord is HUGE now, and I have to share that.

Thanks for reading if you made it thru...just a lil bit of my life story...just you wait...I will do a HAPPY one of me and the hubby...thats just as long...but romantic, silly, and fun all in one!

xoxox,
Nikki