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Editing done by:
Kayla Creedon and
Jamie Trescavage

Thanks to Kayla Creedon and Jamie Trescavage for all their help in editing my book.

I dedicate this book to my mother,
Sara L. Swanson, LPN.
She did the best she could
in raising us,
It just took me many years to
realize it.
Sara L. Swanson
1/07/1947 – 9/20/2000












This is where the picture collage
goes




I do have to admit, the childhood that I had made me a better parent to my children. I feel sorry for those that grew up thinking it is normal to abuse their children because of what they went through. Thank God I knew the difference between right and wrong. One day I hope there will no longer be abuse in this world. The more we talk about it the more people will learn it is wrong.






My Childhood and
My Reviews on Life



July 5, 2010 @ 10:05am (a)


We are always thinking of ways to improve ourselves and our lives. For me I started writing. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize this. For others, they read, go to church, travel to find meanings, and talk to others for help and comfort.

I tried all those except the traveling. I can’t afford that. They just didn’t work. It’s nice to be able to find help these days but back then before they believed you, you had to answer questions over and over again to make sure you weren’t lying.

All my life before my mom passed away, I was called a martyr, miss goody two shoes, and other names that at the moment slipped my mind. The person who did this to me was my mother of all people. I guess she didn’t like the fact that I tried so hard to do things right. I didn’t want anybody to be mad at me, so I tried to impress them or I tried to keep a low profile.

Writing this book, I hope, will help me to overcome the negativities in my life and to encourage others to step up and take control over their own lives. I can’t live in the past anymore. That’s all I can remember and it sucks. Life is so hard to understand sometimes, but we must continue on and try to find a way to be happy and productive in our lives.

“Please, whatever you do, don’t let others try to control you, step all over you, and put you down. These people have no right to be this way towards you. Just walk away and don’t look back.”

I’ve been dealing with my own “demons” ever since I was born, everyone has. Did you know it took me 41 years to figure this out? I thought I was put on this earth to have everyone adore me, help me and to love me. I didn’t understand why it was the opposite. I thought I was special and everyone will be there for me. At the beginning it was that way. I felt so much love from my mom and my dad. I was happy, but after a couple of years being on Earth, things changed. That’s where my story starts.

Ok, let’s get this clear and out of the way. People that are apart of your life and are around you are there to encourage you, support you, and love you through your life, so you won’t have to be alone to make your decisions. “Yes”, I say strongly, “you will make decisions that will make you feel the world is falling apart around you. It will be hard to deal with and if you don’t have the proper support system, it will not help to get you out of this slump you’re in. It will probably take years to get out”. I should know, I’m going through it right now.

These people; you shouldn’t assume are there to take care of you. They are there to support you. I myself don’t have this. If I do, it’s not that big of a support system. I grew up in a very negative environment. It took me just about all my life to realize I’ve been doing this all wrong. Now I have to figure out how to fix it or how to make it right so I can enjoy the rest of my life without negativity. If you don’t have a spiritual out look in your life you wouldn’t understand. The more negativity you surround yourself with, the harder your life experience is. Anything that affects you negative or not, will somehow affect everyone else in one way or another, even if you don’t feel it or see it. So, keep that in mind when your in your car cutting in front of somebody, honking your horn, or riding someone’s a**; that’s negativity and it’s not only affecting the person you are doing this to, in one way it’s affecting everyone else.

I started writing about 10 years ago. I told my favorite Uncle what I was doing. He said,” Writing a book isn’t a job, and to be able to sell a lot of copies, you would have to have someone famous to help promote it. You would have to have a company to publish it. You have to have something interesting to write about.” I thought highly of my Uncle and still do. So, I stopped writing. I thought to myself maybe he’s right. Anyways, who would read my book?

You know what? I love my Uncle. He’s a realist. And sometimes we clash because I’m not a realist I’m more of an idealist. But without him, life would be three times more difficult to deal with. He keeps me focused on the issues that need to be dealt with and he always shows that he cares for me. All he is doing right now is supporting me and helping me make up my own mind of what to do with my life. I hope that when this book is published and he reads it, he won’t be mad at me.

I don’t like it when the people I love and care about are mad at me. It hurts deep down inside. My Uncle has never laid a hand on me or showed any abuse towards me, which still is kind of confusing because my mom was abusive. They were raised in the same house. All I can come up with is we were a burden to mom, so my Uncle and his parents were the ones I truly loved. I’m so happy to have had them in my life.
All my life I’ve written little things here and there. Then I would stop for some reason or another. Maybe that’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m supposed to write. All my life I’ve had problems with grammar, spelling and making sense in my writings. I’m afraid I’ll fail in this as well. My English teacher in college failed me and told me I wouldn’t amount to anything. This was coming out of a Catholic Priest, of all people. Talk about a let down. I never finished college because of him. I’m afraid of people ignoring my book when they find out that someone with learning disabilities wrote it. This is what I had to deal with all my life. People look at you differently when they find out.

So, my first book will be about my life. Well most of it and what I can remember that is, then I’ll go from there. I want people to know me and what I went through. That way if something happens in their life that is similar to mine, they’ll have an idea how to cope with what is going on with them and know they aren’t alone.

I’m not a reader. I love to watch T.V. and movies. I will, however, read a fantasy or Sci-Fi book if it has really caught my fancy. I love country music but not as much as my T.V. My newest fetish is gaiaonline.com. I’ve been involved in it for a year now; I’m so addicted to it. I have a close net of friends on there. I met some of them the first day I joined. Most of them are younger than I, but they seem not to mind. I can spend all my time there because there’s nothing else to do. Oh my, they are getting free advertising from me.


I don’t have a degree in psychology, matter of fact I don’t have a degree in anything except early mechanics which isn’t much at all these days, but I do have the experience in this life to help others if I can. I’m not a well known author who knows how to write and grammar check. I’m just a regular person who wants to let others know what I went through. Maybe God wants me to write and it’s my calling, I haven’t a clue, but I’m doing it right now.






















My Childhood

It’s weird, when you’re a baby, you can remember bits and pieces of it. I mean the senses – what feelings you have and learn what they mean. I believe when you’re born into this world, you already know how to be, how to comprehend everything around you. You just have to be born to someone who will enjoy and love to support you in your life’s journey.

I didn’t really pay attention to my life until I was about two years of age. I guess it’s probably because life was simple and easy and loving. Then things gradually started to change. My dad wasn’t around that much. I didn’t get the attention I used to get. My mom didn’t seem to care anymore. Things weren’t the same. I started reacting to it. I didn’t talk, (well, didn’t want to talk) and couldn’t walk.

My mom and someone else, it could have been my dad, decided to put some sevens in my 7-up can, to encourage me to walk. I remember crawling back and forth to my mom and this other person, taking sips of 7-up. Then the taste changed, it reminded me of medicine. I didn’t like it. But they made me drink it. All I can remember is drinking a couple of sips out of it. I felt funny and I thought I was crawling to mom so she can hold me; I saw her clapping her hands smiling and saying “you’re walking”. I fell into her arms and fell asleep. What ever you do, don’t give babies alcohol!!! Adults may think its fun and entertaining but to a baby it’s not. It’s disgusting and it makes them feel sick. I had a picture of it to prove it, but I don’t know where it went to.

I didn’t feel like talking, there was nothing to talk about. So, why would you worry about a baby who didn’t talk yet? I could feel everything and see everything. There wasn’t any need for it. I got everything from mom or dad. They knew what I always wanted and needed somehow. (My mom told me I was lazy) Eventually I started to talk.

Mom, Dad, my sister (Gayle) and I went to a friend’s house. I liked it there. They had a pond in the back yard with a turtle and fish. Plus they had a pool too.

I remember being in the pool with my family. It was nice and bright outside with the sun reflecting off the light blue water into my eyes, I tried to protect my eyes with my arm. I like the water. For some reason we got out. My dad sat down under the homemade porch, it had palm leaves on the roof. I was left with him; my mom took Gayle inside the house. I started walking towards the pool. My dad said “Don’t go in the pool, you don’t know how to swim yet.” I saw a ball on the side of the pool. I sat down with my legs over the edge of the pool and they were in the water. I went to grab the ball and the ball moved so I leaned over to grab it and I fell in the pool. I sank, I couldn’t go up, I tried, I couldn’t breath, and then I felt the water going in my lungs. I’ll tell you this, drowning is so painful. The burning in your chest, like you have a bad case of bronchitis. Then I blacked out. I woke up screaming because my chest still hurt a lot and I saw my dad over me and my mom right beside me. I was 2 ½ or 3 at the time. Mom told me years later that it was my dad’s fault. “He didn’t watch you closely enough. He was so tied up with the newspaper that he forgot all about you.” She told me that it was her that screamed out to my dad and he realized what happened and dove in to the pool to get me. She said “You could have been in the pool for 5 minutes but I don’t know.” She was shocked that I remembered this stuff.

I asked my Dad about it. He said “Tanya, I was watching you. I let you have your space. I warned you about the pool. When I saw you jump, I jumped in right after you. It was so quick. I got you breathing within 3 minutes.” Dad was even shocked that I remembered.

July 9th 9:30am

I called my Dad the other day to verify my memories about that day. He changed his story. He told me; I was on the side of the pool, sitting there. He got distracted and looked away for a brief moment. Then he turned back around and didn’t see me. He looked in the pool and I was there at the bottom just jumping up and down, moving all over the place. Dad grabbed me. He said “You didn’t drown. I got you before that.” I asked him about the ball, he said he didn’t recall a ball. Then I asked him, “Where were you?” he said, “I was in the pool.” I asked “How old was I?” he said “3”. When he told me that – I was a little bit confused. I thought to myself, how come I remember it differently? There was silence between us; I was trying to think of something to say. So, I said; “You weren’t in a chair reading a newspaper?” He started laughing a little and said “No at that time newspaper wasn’t important to me.” (It just now dawned to me it might have been Sandy in the chair reading a newspaper) I said; “So, my learning disabilities weren’t caused by my drowning?” He said; “No, and stop saying you drowned. Your disabilities were caused by your mother’s drinking all the time while she was pregnant with you and your sister.” In shock I said “Oh, wow, ok, that explains everything.”

“I remember going somewhere before kindergarten to learn how to speak and move my hands. I only remember a little bit about that. Do you have any knowledge about the school I went too?” He said “No, but I’m not surprised you had to go. Even, though you were a happy baby, you didn’t want to do anything.” Then there was silence again. He said, “Look I got to get going.” I said, “Well, if I need to call and ask questions, can I? I’m writing a book about my life.” I heard him chuckle and he said “Yeah, I guess so.” I told him I had nothing better else to do. So we said our good bye’s and love ya’s and hung up the phone. I’m still looking back at that moment. I can still feel the water going into my chest. Maybe when my dad was pulling me up a little bit of water got in. That’s what I can come up with anyways. Or maybe my dad didn’t want to tell me the real truth. Hmmm, makes you wonder, huh?

Here’s another little thing I did. I will have to call my dad to see if he was there or not, to determine if he was still with us and how old I was. I remember cutting my chin with a razor. I was trying to shave like my dad. I didn’t scream, but I was scared that mom would hit me. So, I tried to flush the razor down the toilet and try to stop the bleeding myself. In the process of doing that I flooded the bathroom, made a mess with toilet paper, blood, and water. It was everywhere, in the tub, walls, toilet, floor, sink, and mirror. My mom knocked at the door, I freaked out and started screaming, trying to hold door closed. That didn’t work, mom pushed opened the door, saw the mess and saw me. Frantically she asked what happened. I tried to tell her, but I guess she didn’t understand. She cleaned me up and took me to the doctors. I had to get five stitches, which wasn’t fun at all. I struggled against the doctor and the nurse. They gave me a shot to calm me down. That wasn’t fun either, they weren’t gentle at all. I guess I survived that because I’m still here.

My dad and mom got divorced when I was 3. After that I didn’t see my dad that much. Matter of fact, I hardly remember very much after that; just bits and pieces until the age 8. I remember dad coming to my 4th birthday, he bought me an orange race car. I played with it the whole entire day. I was happy. My dad got me something and I’m going to keep it forever. But, something happened. My mom took me out of it, I heard yelling. I saw my dad take the car away. He came back, I ran to him tugging on him to go get my car back. He picked me up took me to the swing set, kneeled down and said, “Don’t worry sweetie, you’ll get it back later, I promise.” He started swinging me….

One day I came across a picture of me in my car and the memory came back. I think I was about 12 years old. I asked mom what happened to my car. She told me that I ran it into a wall and I ruined it. A little later I asked my dad what happened to my car. He told me that mom made him take it back because I was a little girl and not a boy. He didn’t want to but he took it back. So I believe what my dad said. I remember it like it was yesterday.

Since my dad didn’t come around much after the divorce, I would cry constantly. My mom would yell at me to stop crying, sometimes she would send me to my room until I stopped crying. She never held me or tried to calm me down. Sometimes she would hit me and say here’s something to cry about, now go to bed. Some nights I would go to bed without eating dinner.

We moved to South Dakota, to an apartment complex. It had stairs and to make it interesting to us, mom would get us to sing the fire truck song, I think it was. I remember the feeling and the motion of it but not the lyrics of the song to get us to walk up the stairs.

My next door neighbor was my age, but I can’t remember his name. He was my best friend in the whole world. We would go to each other’s places to play. You couldn’t tear us apart…. I would tell him my deepest secrets. Even the times I’d get into trouble. He told me a couple of tricks to make mom feel guilty, but they never worked. He came to my Birthday party. I was unhappy at one point. I think it was because I didn’t get what I wanted. I got a crying doll instead. Mom made me wear a dress and I hated them with a passion, but my best friend was sitting next to me so I cheered up a little.
It seemed like it wasn’t my party. I couldn’t do what I wanted and mom controlled everything. So, I just spaced out for a while and pretend I wasn’t there like I was an empty shell. I found a way to deal with unpleasant situations. I just froze or emptied my mind and just shut down. It was easy. I tried to tell and show my best friend what I do when I get yelled at or punished. But he didn’t catch on. He just laughed at me, saying it was silly, but to me it worked very well. I found a way to manage my life in a way, so for most of my party I wasn’t really there. It was mom’s party anyway.

Mom met this guy named Kent. I remembered him because he drilled his name into us. She married him; well that’s what she said. When they would fall asleep, my sister and I would leave our room and go to the kitchen to find something to eat and to drink. Mom would keep her favorite breath mints on top of the fridge. My sister at the time was only 3 and she climbed up there and got the breath mints. We ate a few and hoping mom didn’t notice. The next night all hell broke lose. Mom asked Kent if he took some of her breath mints he said no. Then she turned to us, we just shrugged our shoulders. Kent grabbed us and sat us next to him with a belt and threatened to spank us if we didn’t tell him. So we told him. He made us sing the Indian song: One little, two little, three little Indians… four little, five little, six little Indians,…seven little, eight little, nine little Indians… ten little Indian boys…. That’s all I can remember. If we couldn’t sing the song all the way we would get hit. We were crying and crying we tried to sing it all, he was about to hit us and mom told him no, they had enough. We went to bed. My sister and I hardly ever talked to him again.

One day, mom had to leave and she couldn’t find a babysitter so Kent said he would baby-sit for her. So my sister and I were playing in our room. He called us in to the living room. He didn’t have any clothes on except his underwear. We asked where his clothes were. He said “they are dirty; I took them to the laundry room. They’ll be clean soon. Come here, let’s play a game.” He made us sit on his lap. I didn’t like that to well, so I struggled to get away. I did and I ran to my room. I heard my sister screaming, I was yelling and crying to get her to come here. After a little while she came running into our room, we shut the door pushed our bed against the door. He was yelling at us to open it. We climbed on our dresser to look out the window to see if we can see our mom. We stayed there for a long time, I asked her if he hurt her, she said yes. It was almost dark and we heard the front door open. Mom was yelling at Kent, I guess he fell asleep on the couch without his clothes on. She came to our door, knocked softly, and said, “Open the door pumpkins”. We replied with a no. Then I heard more yelling and the front door slamming. My sister and I were screaming and crying and then we heard a knock at the door again. Mom said “He’s gone now and he won’t come back anymore. You can open the door now.” Even though we were exhausted my sister and I got enough energy to move the bed a little for mom to come in. She turned on the light and we ran to her and we cried together. She said nothing like this will ever happen again. Mom took us to the doctor’s to make sure we were okay. I was okay, but my sister on the other hand had signs of redness.

My friend saw me in the hallway and ran to me. He told me he heard us crying and he wanted to come over to see how I was but his mom wouldn’t let him saying it was none of their business. I told him, I wished he did show up, then none of this would have happened. Mom’s voice changed when she was talking to his mom. I guess she was pretty upset that her neighbors didn’t do anything. But I’ve found that a lot of people are like that. They don’t want to get involved or don’t want to be bothered when it came to arguments and violence. In a way it kept my friend safe but in the long run we got hurt. Look, if by any chance you hear arguing, things being broken, someone you know is crying, don’t wait for everything to calm down to see if every thing’s okay. Go and stop it. If you’re scared to do that call the police and have them stop it. Abuse is an invasion of your personal being. Absolutely no one deserves to get hit or get insulted with words. If you are in that situation get out of it now and get help. If you don’t know who to turn to ask a friend or call Human Resources and if it’s really bad call the police.

Next thing I knew it, we were driving very far away, and we ended up somewhere in the country. We moved to a farm away from everyone. I didn’t see mom packing up our things or anything like that. There was no sign of moving again. It’s like we just got up and left. Mom was good at doing that.

Nothing but fields upon fields of grass and what ever else was growing there. I remember taking a bus to school vaguely but that’s all I remember about that. The house was old, a lot of yard to play in. It had cows, pigs, and a lot of cats. Inside the house there wasn’t electricity or running water. The bathroom was outside and it stank. I know the kitchen really well. She would make me clean the dishes at the age of 5. What kind of mother would do that? To warm up the water, mom would put some water in a pan and heat it up on the wood stove. Anyways, the kitchen had a wood stove which was used to heat the house, and cook too. I had to put wood in it once in a while as well. We had to take baths in the kitchen in a big bucket or tub or what ever you want to call it. Once a week mom would take us to town. She would play bingo and we would try to as well. She was really good at it. On one of the nights we were supposed to go out, we couldn’t, there were cows all over the driveway and around our car. Mom told us to sit on the fence and don’t get off until she told us too, the cows can be dangerous. So we sat there. Mom went inside to call the farmer. She came back outside and stood by us. Talking to us about what cows do and what they are good for. She even told us about a time in her life where she would tip the cows in the middle of the night, while they slept. She warned us not to do that because it’s very dangerous and the cows will get mad. She told us that the cows sometimes would have trouble getting back up and if they couldn’t get back up, they would die from suffocation. She told us how the cow had two stomachs and that’s why they eat all the time. She said “All they do is eat, sleep, and poop that’s it.” We got to pet one cow because it came to us. It felt weird, very course and soft at the same time. The farmer got there and moved the cows out of the way and we left. Mom stopped at a store on the way to where we were going and I remember picking out a packet of Chiclets and my sister I believed picked out a pack of Wrigley’s gum in the yellow pack.

Mom met someone and brought him home. I don’t know much about him. I remember seeing them run upstairs and there were a lot of laughs. My sister and I were in the living room playing with these plastic round things with four legs. You can build off them, make them as tall as you want or try to make a building with them. It was getting dark, and mom came down with a candle and said it was time for bed. So we followed her upstairs. The next morning, we saw this guy sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette, asking mom what was for breakfast. Mom said, “Well the kids are having cereal, I have to go get milk from a cow.” She went outside and the man followed. I was sitting on the living room floor with my sister playing with those blocks. I heard yelling; I looked up and saw two shadow figures outside the covered window. I saw this guy grab my mom and hit her really hard in the face. I ran outside and started hitting him; he got a hold of me and threw me against the house wall. Mom yelled, “Get out, get out! You son of a b***h!” He left. The farmer came running up when he heard the noise. On the porch I found a tooth. I picked it up and gave it back to mom. She had lost one of her front teeth. The police showed up and took pictures of mom. She went to the dentist and they fixed her tooth. I guess all they had to do was put it back in. This is all I can remember about this event. Next thing I knew, we were packing up our things and moving once again.

We moved to a house next door to a hospital and a few blocks away from a school. I started school in the fall. So two weeks before school started, she would walk me to school back and forth, so I can get use to the routine. I would be starting Kindergarten.

The first week of school mom would walk me to school and walk me back. Then after that I had to do it by myself. I was constantly late to school. One day the principal came to my class, took me to his office and had a chat with me. He brought out the wooden paddle and showed it to me. He said “Tell your mother, if you’re late to school one more time, you’ll be spanked with this.” I told my mom, and she said, “Well then, don’t be late”. The next day, I realize I was going to be late to school. I got to this house that was next to the school, I looked and all the kids were going in. I thought to myself if they see me I will get into trouble and I don’t want to get into trouble, so I ducked behind the bushes in the houses yard and waited. Trying to figure out how I was going to fix this. The person who lived in the house came outside and I ran away to the school. I didn’t know what else to do. I went to my room, but the teacher wouldn’t let me in and she sent me to the office. The principal paddled my bottom. He sent me back to my classroom crying. I couldn’t sit down, so I laid my chest on top of my desk, my legs and feet holding me up and I cried and cried. The teacher yelled at me to stop crying and to start doing my work or she’ll call the principal again. I didn’t listen. I couldn’t do anything. I was in so much pain, I didn’t know what else to do. Another teacher heard the noise and came to check. She saw me at my desk and saw the teacher yelling at me. She came in and grabbed me, then took me to the nurse. On the way there, I was trying to get away screaming, “Don’t take me to the principal’s please.” She stopped, kneeled down and said “We are going to the nurse to call your mother. Now be quiet so the principal doesn’t hear you.” I was lying in the nurse’s bed and my mom came in. I don’t know how they kept it quiet from the principal. The nurse told her what happened and I wasn’t able to concentrate at school today. My mom looked at me, put her hand on my chin and asked are you all right. It took all the energy in me to try not to cry but it didn’t work, I started to cry real hard and said no. My mom told the nurse to take care of me for a few more minutes and that she had to talk to the principal. I said no, no please no. Mom said “Don’t worry I won’t let that man touch you again.” I heard her yelling all the way across the hall way. Then she came in got me and we went home. I took a few days off of school. Then she took me to school a couple of times. The last time she picked me up at school, she told me that I will be able to walk to school now. She got the principal fired and that my teacher will be treating me a lot better. The teacher would yell for me outside every morning to get my attention. She would wait there until I got to the door. I was never late to class again, though technically I was. A few weeks went by. I was happy, enjoying school, playing in the school yard, then one day I was playing on the jungle gym bars. I slipped and hit my head on the bar and fell to the ground. I got a black eye from it. The kids around me laughed at me. They didn’t get help. I just laid there crying and holding my face. Then someone yelled at everyone to stop and get away; then picked me up and took me to the nurses. It was really painful. I had a black eye for about a month. The kids stopped playing with me. I had no idea why.

One day on the way home two boys stopped me. They were a couple of grades higher than I. They wanted me to pull up my skirt so they can see under it. I told them no. They threatened to beat me up if I didn’t. I still said no. So they started punching me, hitting me, pushing me down. I covered my face with my arms and curled my legs up, to try to lessen the blows. A high school kid comes up, throws the boys off me and told them to leave me alone. They ran off. He picked me up and helped me walk home. He said he knows the boys and he’ll talk to their parents for me. I don’t remember
his name. Mom was waiting for me on the porch, she saw me walking with this boy and saw some of my clothing ripped. The boy said he had to pull a couple of boys off me. My mom was even more worried for me at this point. She asked him if he could walk me home for awhile. He said sure, not a problem. He walked with me for about three weeks. The last day he walked with me, he said that it was time for him to go. He couldn’t walk with me anymore and not to worry, no one will hurt me again. I started to cry, he made me feel safe and I was going to lose that. I didn’t want to go to school anymore, I was afraid, but mom made me go anyways.

We had cats and one day mom noticed we had skin rashes all over. Gayle had it real bad on top of her head and ears. I only had blotches of it. Not to bad. Mom took us to the doctors, the doctor didn’t know what it was and sent us to a friend of his that was a Veterinarian and that’s where we found out we had ringworm, so we had to put cream all over us. One day, I was walking home from school, I saw a white truck outside our house and a person taking a cat to it. I started running to him and screaming, “What are you doing with my cat?” Mom came out and said, “I was hoping this would be done before you came home. Our cats got sick with ringworm and they can’t be saved. They had to take the cats.” I was so upset, I cried; I prayed to God, please take me home. I don’t want to be here anymore. Please!!!! Then I fell asleep. When I woke I was hoping I wasn’t here anymore, but I was wrong. I felt disappointed at the fact that God didn’t take me back home. I was sad for a very long time. I didn’t talk to anyone and I kept to myself.

I was taking my sweet time getting home, I wasn’t in a rush. I got to the steps to my house and there was a lady sitting on the porch with dark sun glasses on. Mom opened the screen door and said “Meet our new roommate, her name is Ruth. She’ll be staying with us for a little while. Now say hello.” I said hello and ran into the house. Another big surprise, in the living room there was this big, huge dog. A Saint Bernard!!! I looked at mom and asked, “Is he ours, can we keep him?” Mom said “We are only taking care of him for a while, until his owner finds a place to stay. So don’t get too attached to him.” My sister and I had so much fun with him. We tried riding him; he didn’t like that at all. He tried to snip at us, but we knew he didn’t want us to ride him so we stopped doing that. We would give him hugs and when he was lying on the floor we would put our heads on him and lay down with him. He was so soft, if I could I would lay there all day long.

Ruth came in from outside she had to have mom help her in. In her hand was a cane, a white long cane with red at the bottom. She sat down in a rocking chair and mom put the T.V. on. Ruth took her glasses off. I saw her eyes. I said, “What happened to your eyes?” She said “What, what do you mean?” I said “ Your eyes are almost all white.” She said “Oh, that. Well, I’m blind, I can’t see. I haven’t been able to see since childhood.” OH, I said. “Do they hurt?” She chuckled and said. “No, they don’t bother me.” I remember mom taking her to places and helping her out every once in a while. We would eat dinner together at the table and Ruth would ask how our day went. She seemed like a very nice person. I started to like her and looked forward to coming home just to see her and to sit next to her. One day I came home and she wasn’t there anymore. I asked mom where she was. Mom told me she was at the hospital and doesn’t look like she’ll be coming home. I started to cry. I loved her, she was nice to me. To this day I still think of her. I really don’t know what happened to her, I can only speculate.
The dog was finally gone and that made me sad as well. Mom said it was about time because the dog ate her out of house and home and she didn’t know how much more she could take of him.

At the end of kindergarten, Mom told us we were moving back to Tucson Arizona. I didn’t want to move. So I packed up all our things (my sister and I) that I can carry and move out. We went a couple of blocks, my mom’s neighbor saw us walking and pushing our things. She asked “What’s wrong, why are you running away?” I said “My mom is moving back to Tucson and we don’t want to go. So, can we move in with you? She said “Let’s have some cookies and milk and we’ll talk about it.” My sister and I were sitting there, eating and drinking our milk and cookies, and then the lady came in and started asking questions, like she was worried about us and was trying to be our friend type of thing. Then we heard the door bell. We didn’t think anything about it because we thought we walked pretty far away and didn’t think mom knew her. Boy, were we wrong. She found us, the lady called her and told her where we were at and to wait a little while, while we ate our cookies.

The outcome of my baby years were down right negative. No child should ever go through what I went through. I can’t believe I remembered all this. I know there’s more but I have no one to tell me about it. However, my Dad did say that one time mom left us at the babysitters for over six weeks and the babysitter finally called him to pick us up. But when he showed up, Mom was there, so he left us with her. Sometimes I do blame my Dad for not being there for us. If he was there maybe things would have been better. I thought that way for years. It’s really not good to dwell over the past. Remembering the past is all right as long as it doesn’t interfere with your life, but in a positive way instead. Like learning from the mistakes and possibly make things better for yourself or others that may enter into your life later on. How would you handle it in this situation? Well, I grew up hating my mom and being very afraid of her. That’s how I handled living with her. My sister, that’s another story. She didn’t handle it too well. She started making up another world for herself. As I continue to tell my story I’ll continue to write about her. Let’s just say, I’m the lucky one. It’s really too bad that you can’t read this book when you are a baby. It would help you handle the negativity in your life. God gave my mom an opportunity to love, cherish, and care for us to the best of her ability, instead she just gave up and did what ever she wanted and didn’t think about the consequences her actions would be towards her children. I cannot tell you how many times I have screamed out to God to help me and asking him, “Why me?” Maybe I was put here to open my mom’s heart and show her what life is supposed to be. Or maybe I was put here to experience this difficult life, either set forth by me or my mother. I will only know when I finally go home.