Myspace, You tube, Facebook. Coming Into My Sexuality....

In my junior year of high school, I guess you can say one day I realized that I wasn't that bad looking. I stopped being afraid of my body and instead I started to embrace it. I remember the first time I posted a picture on line. It was like a rush to read the comments, to know that people found me attractive and wanted to get to know me, but most importantly it was exciting because my parents knew nothing about it. I immediately became addicted to the internet. I was on majority of the sites, name a site and most likely I was on it. I soon progressed from just taking pictures of my face to pictures of my body. Never naked pictures, I had enough sense to know not to do that, but all my pictures were sexy and very, very suggestive. I was in a period where I loved my body and I wanted to flaunt it. This was a far cry from the girl who used to double up on her bras to hid her breasts while growing up. My friends list grew bigger and bigger, mostly on Myspace. I had people who wanted me to model, people who wanted me to be in music videos, but I always declined because that just wasn't for me. Mostly though it was just people trying to get into my pants, and I could never blame them, my pictures were all about sex. I did however met a few people over the internet that are now very near and dear to me and I will be discussing them in an upcoming section. Then there was you tube. My time on there was very short lived, but I'm quite sure there are still some videos of my antics still out there. While many people might say that I was being thirsty and starving for attention, for me it was my way to defy my parents to control something, to do something that they weren't able to have a say in. Also it was somewhat a chain breaker for me, it freed me from the shackles of my childhood abuse, it made me love my self again, and not be ashamed of the way God made me.... today I'm only on Facebook, and I must say that while some may say my pics are still a bit sexy, they are way more demure than what I had posted before. These days my mouth is more dirty than my pictures LOL...

The Distance Between My Mother and I...

Now that I've discussed  all the partners I've had in my life so far, it is time for me to regress and speak about the relationship I had with my parents throughout high school and how that led to my infamous Myspace and Facebook days. To begin with, I had very strict parents. Throughout high school, I wasn't allowed to go on dates, wasn't allowed to go anywhere with friends, all my calls were tracked, I was stifled. I would go to school and hear how the girls went to the movies, or out partying and I remember longing to be able to go out just once and have some fun. My mother and I never got along for more than a short period of time. We would always but heads over things and my father never said anything, he would just allow her to make the decisions. After a while, I started to harbor deep feelings of resentment towards her. My last year in high school, things between me and my mother got worse. I was working at the library and I took over paying my phone bill, my mother still insisted on seeing who I was calling and I started to refuse her that right. I guess you can say that I was at the point where I've had enough of the constant control. Many people wondered why I would leave New York to go to college in New Jersey, it was quite simple you see, I had to get away, it was more of a need actually. I wanted to stretch my wings and I wanted to experience the world. Even applying to colleges was a fight with my mother. I clearly remember when I got the first of many college acceptance letters, my mother read the letter and in her ignorance shrugged her shoulders and said no scholarship??? I was so hurt, In my mind I had a picture of her wrapping me in her arms and telling me that she was proud of me, my mother never did those things, she always focused on what I could have done better. I went to school and spoke to my counselor at the time, Ms. Honey. She had a meeting with my parents in which she told my mother how ashamed she was that she didn't congratulate me on my acceptance into college, and couldn't she see what a huge accomplishment that was for me? After that meeting things got worse. After choosing Georgian Court University as the school I would be attending, there was an orientation that I had to go to. It was overnight and my mother refused to let me go, even though this is the school that I would be going to. She was afraid of all the things that could go wrong on my trip out there. So by not going to the orientation, I didn't get to register with the rest of my class, or get my own person academic adviser, setting me back before I even started. By the time I graduated high school, I was already counting down the days til college just so I could get out from under there grip of my parents. Now please note here, I am not saying that my parents should have allowed me to be wild and loose, but by being that strict, by not giving me any room to breathe, I did not know how to handle the world when I finally did go away to college because I was so sheltered and it made me rebel in the worst possible ways,hence Myspace, or I should say the internet.

The Men, After Shamar.

When Shamar died, there was a deep, bottom less, empty void inside of me. I was walking and talking, but it was as if I was not within my body, like I was looking down upon myself, trying to figure out how to come down. The one thing I hated the most was sleeping in that bed alone, I felt the need for company, any kind of company, because as long as someone was around me, it would keep me from losing my mind, keep me from taking my own life. First there was M.G. He gave me his shoulder to cry on and it felt good to be able to talk to someone anyone. Then came D. F. a real sweetheart. My daughter loved him. He started to get feelings for me and I had to end it, I at the time was incapable of feelings, had no intentions of being in a relationship, because half of me still believed that Shamar would knock on the door and tell me it was all a joke. He couldn't understand and I eventually stopped seeing him. Before I lost my apartment in 2010, I met another guy, who I would affectionately call my boy toy, J.B. He was a dark, chocolate skinned brother a stripper, who also went to school and had his own place. To this day he hands down has the biggest dick I have ever seen up close and personal. During my time with J.B. I was bouncing from place to place and he was my escape. I would go to his house, and chill, drink and watch TV. He kinda opened the door to the freak side of me, cause he was able to talk me into a threesome, two girls of course. I still keep in contact with him, because he was there in a time when my life was in utter chaos and his sex game is on point lol.  And now my most current lover. G. I remember our first kiss, it was in a club, and I swear when his lips touched mines, it was like we were the only people in the room. I have never felt such a strong, instant attraction to anyone before. With G. I have completely come out of my self, I have never been more comfortable around a man. Its like he knows just the right places to touch and I cant get enough. Quite honestly with him, its not only about the sex. I love every minute spent with him. Just being next to him, quells the raging storm in my heart. When I am with him I am happy and alive. I don't know where this is going to lead....

BF's And Casual Encounters Continued

So, who did I actually sleep with for the first time?? I was 18 and I remember the first time he came into the library,Trinidadian,  tall, skinny, long Indian hair down his back, I was in lust. At the time he was talking to a coworker of mine, but every time he came by I couldn't help but stare. They eventually broke up, and he would still come by the library. One day I asked if I could touch his hair and that's how we started talking. D.D.M. was the ultimate dreamboat to me, we would go to the park and I would just lay on him and we would talk for hours. Anyway, one day he asked me to come with him to his friends house so we could watch TV and chill. Things just sorta happened first we were kissing, then touching and then my stockings were gone, then my panties. At that point I became nervous and started to push him off, but he whispered in my ears to just relax. I would be lying if I said it was the best first time. He had no rhythm or maybe he was afraid of hurting me what ever it was, it was wack. My first time was on the floor in someone else apartment to a man a man because he was 26, who didn't know what he was doing. I slept with him three more times, and he didst get better, I was disappointed because the girls at school made it seem that sex was this wonderful thing and it just wasn't for me. I stopped talking to him when I came to Jersey for school. Then came K.N. my short stuff.  Light skinned, a thug in every way possible., but funny, romantic and smart at the same time. He wore me out. K.N. could literally go for hours. I stayed over by him one night and we had sex the whole night through, until I begged him to stop cause I couldn't go anymore. I never claimed him as my man, and later on he slept with my best friend and I stopped talking to the both of them for a long time. Then came college and yes you can say I experimented in a way I never thought I would. It was with a girl, S.M.B She was one of the popular girls on campus and I was drawn to her personality, she is one of those people that you just cant help but like. She had a girlfriend, but that didn't really stop anything sad to say, we messed around on and off, when ever her girl went away for the holidays. I have lots of love for her, because we were able to talk about any and everything, she will always have a place in my heart. Sadly, I still hadn't experienced an orgasm with any of these people, that is until I met Shamar.

BF's And Casual Encounters

This part of my blog is the most intimate and revealing of my life. I will refrain from putting full names, how ever I will be using first name initials. I will not be talking about Shamar, my daughters father in this section, because he will have a section devoted completely to him. I know you know the saying, when a woman tells you her sleeping partners, you need to add at least ten more to the list, to that I say do as you must, but I am honestly and willing recounting all the sexual encounters I have had in my 24yrs of life. So let me begin. Thanks to the abuse from my cousins, I was knowledgeable in the ways of guys and what they really wanted at the end of the day. I perfected my game of teasing and manipulation, I would reel them in, only to hurt them because I wanted to share the pain, (more like inflect  it actually) I suffered at the hands of my cousins. My first every puppy love as its called was J.L.B. I was in the seventh grade in Jamaica and he was a Senior. When ever I saw him I would get all girly and giggly. He was the person who gave me my first kiss, I was sitting on the sofa beside him, and he just leaned over and kissed me. I was so flustered, that I jumped up, and ran home. Looking back now, I cant help but think about what was going through his mind when I did that. That was all I shared with him, because I left Jamaica that summer to come back to the U.S.  Shortly after starting school back up here, I met another guy, K.D.K. I was 14 and he was 20. He was tall, Jamaican, funny, full of life, a nice sexy body, willing to go to the ends of the world for me. He was the one who showed me how to french kiss properly, I would sneak him into my apartment when my dad left to go bet on horses. K.D.K. fell in love with me, he is one of the first guys that actually fell head over heels for me, but I felt nothing for him in return. He was just an amusing past time, I would laugh at how he would drop whatever he was doing just to come see me. K.D.K. stayed on the outskirts of my life all through high school. Things at times got pretty steamy between us, but I never slept with him, although I thoroughly enjoyed the blue balls I gave him. In my junior year of high school, I started drifting away from him, as I was talking to other people, this made him upset and he would stalk me, sit out side my school, drive behind me as I was walking home, leave me messages on my phone, singing me songs, it got to the point where I told him that if he couldn't control him self and relax I would have to tell my parents or the police about him. He calmed down and I kept him around as a friend. M.B. was a boy, I call him a boy because I was always attracted to older men, and he was two years younger than me, worked at the supermarket around the corner from my house. I just used him so that he would carry my bags for me when I went shopping. The only thing we ever did was kiss and after a while I got bored with him. He, however is the first and only guy my father caught me with, (no not in that sense), keep in mind how strict my parents were., I was walking back from the supermarket and M.B. had his arm around me and my father nearly had a heart attack. I played it off and told my dad that he was just the guy who worked at the supermarket and he was helping me with the bags. My mother, shockingly enough told my dad that she knew him and that he was a good kid. M.B. moved to Philly in 2005, he stayed in touch with me for a while, but when I stopped returning his calls, I lost touch with him, until I found him again on Myspace, where I learned that he was an expectant father. G.G. I will never forget him. I would walk home from work and walk on his side of the street on purpose. He was tall, nice hair, another Jamaican. He excited me because he was a bad boy, the type that my parents tried to steer me far, far away from. One day he chased me down the street, wrote his number on a match box and told me to call him. I would go to his house sometimes instead of going to work, or I would lie and say I had a project for school just so that I could go see him. At first all we would do is kiss, because that's all I would allow, honestly that's all I knew how to do and at the time I was 17yrs old. After a while, I guess he got tired of that and made a rule in which I couldn't get into his bed unless I took my clothes off. At first I refused, as I was still ashamed of my own body, but then I obliged and I would be in my panties and bra around him. The one memory I will have of G.G. is this, one day I was at his house and I was on top of him kissing him, he reached inside my panties and finger popped me, I was so shocked and ashamed that I literally jumped off him, and landed on the floor. He was looking at me like I was crazy and to this day we still share a laugh over it. I cant really say how me and G.G. stopped talking, it just sort have happened, He was the first guy that I gave the title of boyfriend to and he  is one of the few guys that I had true feelings for....

Skool Dayz

When I came back to the U.S. my parents decided that catholic school would be a better choice for me. So in 2001 I was enrolled into St. Catherine Of Genoa. It was hard for me to adjust because it was the 8th grade and everyone knew everyone. I was the true outsider. Anyway, after a while I made friends and fell into the American way of schooling. While I wasn't the smartest person in my graduating class, I did pretty well, even made student of the month a few times. The only significant thing that I can recall in my one year at St. Catherine was 9/11. I remember we were in religion class and for the first time ever, the city was QUIET. It was like everything was at a stand still, that was what first alerted me that something was wrong, I mean Brooklyn is NEVER quiet. Then the office started call students one by one to tell them that their parents would be coming to pick them up. When my dad came for me and my brother ( oh yea, we were going to the same school) he refused to tell us what was going on. When we got home, I turned on the TV and saw the second tower going down, at first I thought I was watching a movie, I saw people jumping out the towers, the the towers crumbling I couldn't believe it. That is something that I will never forget. I graduated from St. Catherine in 2002 and restarted my high school days. At first I was going to go to a public high school, till at the last moment my mother decided to get me into Catherine McAuley, an ALL GIRLS high school. McAuley wasn't half bad. In the beginning of my freshman year, I was in a group of friends that consisted of five girls, however as the years progressed, that group some how got smaller until I only had one single friend who I did everything with, Patricia. In high school, my name never left the honor roll list, it got to the point where it seemed as though my parents was so used to me being up there that they stopped caring when I would come home and say that I made the honor roll once again.I was in everything, Art club, math club, essay writing club, even became a cheerleader because it was something to do and it keep me away from home just a little while longer. I was inducted into the National Honor Society in my sophomore year of high school, that was a big accomplishment for me, for I was proving to myself that I just wasn't another pretty face. I cant say that I knew my classmates very well and I'm sure they would say the same about me, because I never took the time to know any of them, It was always just me and patty. Sometimes I wish that I had taken the time to know them better, seeing what amazing women some of them have turned out to be. I stayed out of trouble, kept my grades up, and made sure that I had enough extra curricular activities to make any college happy when I started filling out their applications. In fact the only time I came close to being in serious trouble at school was when I played a prank on this girl. I called her mother from the clinic I was volunteering at , and told her she was pregnant. It was harmless fun for me, but her mother came to the school  after they figured out who made the call. I was called to the principals office, I thought for sure my parents would be involved but nothing much came of it. In the ending of my junior year, I got a job at the Brooklyn Public Library as a teen peer mentor. I was part of a program called Teen Edge that aimed at having fun programs in the library that kids could attend and hopefully it would keep them off the streets and out of gangs. It was a very good job, I met a whole new group of friends, got the chance to express my self more, and I felt that I was really influencing some of the kids that came to the program. But even there the curse followed me, one day my boss Ralph came up to me and told me that he needed me to go with him to the Brownsville Library cause they needed help there. When we arrived to the destination, I say that we were no where near the library and he said that He wanted to take me out to dinner, catch a movie and the maybe go back to his house for drinks, I was only 18 at the time. I politely told him that we would have to do this some other time, because my brother was coming to the library and if he didn't see me he would tell my parents and I would get into a lot of trouble. He took me back to Linden and made me swear not to tell anyone, as soon as I got back into the library, I told my other supervisor what had happened. A week later, after a meeting with the higher heads of the library , he was fired. I resigned from the library in July of 2006, because I would be going away for college. So, as you can guess in 2006, I graduated from Catherine McAuley with an academic scholarship to Georgian Court University, another all girls school in Lakewood NJ, and it is here that my life took the ultimate plunge.

Kountry Lyfe

Haven't written anything in a while. Life has been kinda busy. So far I have gotten positive and negative feed back about this blog. There are many whole feels as though this should stay private and the world doesn't need to know me this personally. I believe that in writing this blog, I can finally get everything off my chest and hopefully move on to being truly happy. so with that being said, where was I last time?? oh yea, I was talking about my childhood abuse. Now its time to lighten the mood a little, because not all my days in Jamaica were horrible. I was living in a small town called Clarks Town, in Trelawny. It was very rural, a very far cry from Flatbush, BK. My aunt Sis owned land, on that land she had her house, her daughter Rose's house and three houses to the front which she rented out. my Uncle, Mr. Gordon, I never called him anything but that, I don't know why was a mechanic and he worked from the yard. My aunt also had a grocery store attached to the front of the house and that is where most of her income came from.We had pigs, chickens and a whole back yard filled with many different trees. We called it the Garden. Everyone knew every one, it was the kind of place where as a kid you could to all your neighbors houses for dinner, because it was just that close knit. There was no washing machines, no cable anything like that. I had to wash my clothes by hand with a scrubbing board, most Caribbean people will know what that is. I will tell you this though, there is no fresher scent that having you clothes dry in the sweet breeze that is a constant o the island. I quickly made friends with the kids that lived the closest to me and every evening would consist of us all out side running, playing hide and seek, cricket, football( soccer) , marble or just simple ring games. it was these moments that made me the happiest, carefree, just a child having fun. Even now as I sit here remembering I have a huge smile on my face, and a slight pain in my heart because sometimes I wish I could Go back to those days. Every Saturday I would go to the market with my aunt to get the supplies we needed for the week. Even though life was hard there, it was peaceful. I finished 6th grade and was accepted into William Knibb High School. Shortly after I started high school my uncle got sick, I now know that he was suffering from Alzheimer after a few months in the hospital he passed away. I can say that his death did not really affect me too much because at the time he was still a relatively new person in my life. My aunt was never the same after he died. She started accusing me and Sandy of stealing her money, her drinking got worse and pretty soon, we were sort of fending for our selves. I Sill made it a priority to make it to school each day and after my first year of high school, I was first in my class. Sandy and my aunt got into a fight one day over money and my aunt told Sandy that she had to get out. So it was just me and my aunt. In the year 2001 I came back to Brooklyn for  the summer and decided that I did not want to go back to Jamaica. I begged my mother to let me stay, she spoke to my father and they both agreed that I could stay. When My aunt heard that I was not coming back she didn't take it very well. She told my mother that she was very selfish, how could she take me away when she knew that i was all she got. My aunt passed away a few months later, I was not able to go to the funeral because my mother said there wasn't enough money for two tickets. The one and only time I dreamed of my aunt was shortly after her funeral , in my dream, she sat beside me in my class, looked at me and shook her head and said " you couldn't even come and see me one last time??" I never dreamed  her again and to this day I strongly believe that I somehow broke her heart and that is why she died so quickly. So In the year 2001, I was Back In America, and that was the last time I saw the island of Jamaica.

Molestation and Abuse Cont.

The way the room was set up, our beds were right across from each other. It started with him reaching across and running his hands over my body, again i would pretend to be asleep. I started to hate my self because I believed that I was doing wrong and that was why this was happening to me. I started to hate my looks, my hair the way my body was because I thought as a result of me being pretty, this is what was happening I would pray to be ugly all the time. One night I was awoken out of my sleep to find Sean with his hand in my panties, while jerking off. I was so shocked, I jumped out the bed and ran to the door determined to tell my aunt because I just couldn't take it any more, as I reached for the door, he grabbed me and told me don't be stupid, who do you really think the would believe?? me or you?? the one who they dumped back down here because they didn't want you any more, today i would have shrugged him off and told my aunt, but back then I was scared from the fact that I thought it was happening because of me and also because of the fact that I really thought that my parents didn't want me any more. Again I said nothing, I started sleeping as far away from him as I could, with the sheets wrapped around me tightly so that if he tired anything I would feel it, I still sleep like that to this day. Another cousin of mine Dickey would visit from time to time and he was the worst of them all. He was at least 30 ish married with kids. He would sleep in Sandy's room when he came and he would pull me in there , drop his pants and tell me to stroke him. If I refused to do it he would pull me on top of  him, force me to sit there while he gyrated his hips under me until he came. Again as with the other two, I learned how to avoid him when he came around. The last and final incident I had with Sean happened when I fell outside and got a nasty cut on my leg. He insisted on putting dressing on the cut because he said it would get infected if he didn't. As he was dressing my cut he flung my dress up looked at me and asked " are you wearing a pad?? how dat pussy so fat???"  I snatched my leg from his grasp and ran out, he moved a few months later and I was able to breathe a little easier. Some of you must be saying how on earth did I go through all this, or maybe is this even real, Rest assured when I started writing this blog, I made a promise to recount everything in full, completely honest , no matter what the cost would be if the people who knew me the best, who I would eventually mention in this blog would get upset. I believe GOD gave me strength as my greatest  weapon, I have always known even as a child, how to bear things, store them away and not let them break me. This strength will be tested to its fullest when my fiance passed away, but I am getting ahead of my self, that is much later.The indecent behavior didn't not end at my cousins, there was the neighbor who lived next door, who would try to lure me with candy, or try to feel me up when my aunts back was turned, the guys who would hang out with Sandy, but I truly believe that the abuse from my cousins scarred me the worst. I had a deep seated hate for men, at times I still feel that rage shimmering inside me. To this day, I am still very self conscious of my self, and sex sometimes bring back flash backs. I would layer my clothes when I stared growing breasts and filling out my shape in fear that it would attract even more abuse. I hated my self,  and blamed myself for everything I would say maybe if I was ugly, maybe if i was truly family this wouldn't happen to me.... It forced me to grow up way too early... to know sexuality at a time when I should have been enjoying my child hood. It made me feel dirty and unclean, like I wanted to take my skin off and wash it wash it all off me.  But I couldn't do that of course, so I did the next best thing... I buried it deep inside, smiled and made my aunt and parents believe that I was happy, I couldn't, didn't want to be called ungrateful.

Molestation and Abuse

Through out this blog, I have made several comments on my looks. It is not because I am a conceited individual, it is because I had to get you to see what my looks brought upon me. As I said before I did not know how to start talking about this chapter in my life, so I decided that the best thing to do was to just jump right into it. Here it goes. I cant exactly remember when the sexual abuse started between me and my male cousins. I have tried to think back and the first memory I have is of my cousin Sandy making fun of me saying i didn't have any hair down there and that something must be wrong with me, and how I was just a little girl. One day I was talking a shower, and Sandy came in and took my clothes, Her and my other cousin Ryan who was also older than me ripped the shower curtain open and stood staring at my body, making fun of the fact that I had no breasts and how boyish my body was, although Ryan was laughing and pointing, I saw something else in his eyes, something that told me this would not be the end of it. At the time, Sandy and I shared a bed because my other Cousin Sean  occupied the front room and even though that room had two beds and was next to my aunts, at the time I felt safer sleeping with Sandy. I soon learned how ever that Sandy and Ryan would mess around, I guess they were into that stage in life when they were exploring their sexuality. Ryan would come into the bed every night and he and Sandy would fool around, and i would turn my back to them. my aunt GOD bless her soul had no idea that this was going on. For a time Ryan ignored me and I was thankful for that. It didn't last long though. Soon he would turn to me in the bed and press his hard on into my buttocks, I would close my eyes and pretend to be asleep when this happened. But then he got bolder and bolder, he would reach his hand under my shirt and play with my chest while stroking himself, eventually it lead to him going inside my panties. Sandy got very jealous because he was not giving her the attention that she used to get so she told people at my school that I was sleeping with Ryan. He denied it, as did I in fear of what people would thing of me.  Things progressed to where he wanted to actually sleep with me, I begged him not to and told him he could put it between my legs instead because I was afraid... I didn't know what sex was. This continued for the majority of my stay in Jamaica, you may be wondering why I never told my aunt or my parents?? Ryan told me they would never believe you, Im blood and your adopted, they would just kick you out the family. So I kept my mouth shut. Sandy and I got into a huge fight one day and my aunt decided to separate us. I was now to share the big room with my cousin Sean. I thought this would be better for me, I mean Ryan would not be able to come into this room and start anything right?? WRONG. Slight leap into the future right here, I have a daughter who is three, her father passed away in 2010, and quite honestly I do not think I will ever be able to trust a guy around her not after what I have been through. Any guy who keeps harping about how pretty she is, or they want to spend time with my daughter is immediately on my shit list, because every man that has commented as to how pretty I was as a child has in some way, shape or form tried to defile my body. Anyway, back into the past I go. a few weeks into sharing the room with Sean..... he started to molest me as well.

Back To JA

This part of my life will be very difficult for me to write mainly because of what happened to me. in the year 1998 i went back to Jamaica with my parents. I thought it was a normal family vacation, i did not know that my family planned to leave me behind when the trip came to an end. The trip lasted for three weeks, everything was carried out like a normal vacation, we went to the beach, visited family we haven't seen in years etc, etc. at the end of week three i went to the local , market with my aunt, this was the diversion that my parents came up with, so that by the time i came back home, they would have been gone, however i guess my aunt miscalculated when they were leaving and we came home just in time to see my parents putting the last bags in the car. i ran up to them and asked them where they were going and where was my bags, it was then that they told me i would be staying with my aunt for a while because they just could not handle me any more. they hopped in the car and drove off, and so started two and a half of the most hellish years of my life. Now where my aunt lived was straight country, Clarks Town Jamaica. im talking pigs, cows, people planting their own crops, killing their own food. i REALLY looked out of place. a good friend of mine described what it was like for him when he first say me. he said i was " pretty like new money". from day one i stood out, one because everyone knew that i was from America, and two, because i was high yellow, with" coolie" hair. at first i was sad that my parents left me like that, but you know how a child is, easy to rebound and move on. my aunt enrolled me into the local elementary school, and i eased into country life. gone was the washing machine and vacuum cleaners. i had to was my clothes by hand with a scrubbing board and my aunt was the type that if it wasn't washed right, she would rip it from the line, drag it through the dirt and make me wash it again. living with my aunt at the time was my cousin Sandy not blood related. she hated me right off the bat. she thought i was too privileged and hated when people would tell my aunt how pretty i was. she left all the cleaning up to me so once again i was doing all the cleaning in the house. the one thing i hated was cleaning the floors, for those true Jamaicans you will know what i am talking about, i had to use a coconut husk, get down on my knees and shine the floors manually, that was not very pleasant. every Saturday morning i had to go to market, it was a literal market where they sold food, clothes, anything you could think of. my aunt ran a food store out of her house and i often ran the store with her along with Sandy. my aunts was married but her husband was very sick and he passed away a year after i came back to live with them. at school, i had no problem fitting in the work was easy and i was at times way ahead of the students in my class, yes i became the teachers pet once more. my aunt didn't put any stock into school, she never made past elementary school, so i had to be sort of a parent to my self when it came to getting ready for school, doing my homework and passing my tests. i had no one to help me, even though Sandy was older than me, she was no where near my intellectual level and at times i had to help her with her work. life in the country was hard but at the same time some parts of it was good. to be able to breathe the fresh air, lay down outside under a tree and watch the clouds roll by, listening to the rain pouring outside while eating a big bowl of home made chicken foot soup, yes there was some good times, but i must say the bad things definatly out shadowed them. i gave you the background because i wanted you to see how different my life had suddenly become. i ummm... really don't know how to start talking about the bad part honestly... its been locked away for quite sometime. so please be patient.

Count down to JA

Now i know you are wondering how exactly did hell break loose? well let me tell you. one day at school i got into an argument with a girl over some shoes that i was wearing. i made it through the day, patiently waiting for the 3 o clock bell. i rushed outside, grabbed the girl by her hair and started beating the crap out of her, this is the one and only fight that i would get into during my whole school career. teachers eventually came out and pulled us apart, the girl, Ashley( that was her name) was bleeding from a blow on her head that i gave her with my shoe.  because it was after school and off school grounds, there was nothing that the school could really do, but my teacher took it upon her self to call my dad and told him what i had down. i took my time walking home from school that day because i know what i was in store for. when i finally reached home my father looked at me shook his head and told me that my mother would deal with me when she got home. my dad then proceeded to give me a twenty dollar bill to go to the Golden Crust bakery on Church Ave and buy some bread. All the way to the store " you mother will deal with you when she gets home" kept echoing in my head. as i passed the train station, something with in me broke and i decided that i was tired of the beatings, so i hopped on a train, with no idea where i was going.  i rode the train all the way to the last stop, till this day i have no clue as to where i was. i walked around for hours until i found a McDonald where i ordered a burger and a shake and took a corner table way in the back of the store. i stayed in the McDonald until it started to close then i was back on the streets. i walked and walked until i was tired and took a seat on the sidewalk.  eventually people started looking at me because i was well dressed, which met that i wasn't homeless so i must have been lost. after a while the cops came and asked me if i was lost, i immediately  started crying and admitted that i was in fact lost. however i did not tell them that i had ran away from home, for i was in such fear as to the kind of beating i would get if i should go home. instead i told them that i was kidnapped, i wove a fantastic tale which ended with me being dropped off on the street side. the cops took me to a children"s hospital where i would stay for about three weeks( it was the best three weeks of my life at that time) . while i was at the hospital, my parents were contacted and they were investigated because of course the cops knew i ran away and they wanted to know what would have made me want to run away from home. i was released from the hospital back to my parents but i didn't know that a deal was made between them and child protective services. the deal was either send her back to Jamaica or if another incident happened, then they would have to come in and take me away. my parents chose to send me back to Jamaica...and that decision would forever scar me.

New Start Continued

Through out this tale i might regress a few times as bits and pieces of things long buried jumps back to my current awareness, so just bare with me. Now after that beating i suffered because of my brother, feelings of resentment started to grow and as each day passed i started looking at Winston less as a brother, but more as the reason why my life wasn't the fairy tale i thought it was going to be. It almost became a need to get attention from my parents, i started stealing money from the little by little nothing major just enough to pig out at the corner store.... however it would progress to me stealing valuable pieces of my mothers jewelry , and stealing stuff from the very same corner store in which i would squander my parents hard earned money. Of course as you can guess i didn't get the type of attention i wanted, i would get severely beaten each time i committed an offense ( though i admit these were all my doing). the beatings were so bad that when i went to school, i could not sit down with out grimacing in pain, it didnt take long for my teachers to notice. one day as i was in the bathroom, my teacher came in and asked me to raise my shirt, i complied and she say the huge black and bluse marks all over my back from a very recent beating. she asked me what had happened and i told her i was bad and my parents punished me for it. later that night as we were sitting down to eat, child protective services came and spent over an hour talking to my parents. of course when they left i got another beating for calling down people on our household, and they told me how ungrateful i was, and that they wished they had never adopted me if they knew i was gonna be so much trouble... now please note here, this is not something that you want to tell a child who already feels as thought they are being a burden more than everything else. after this incident i calmed down and things went smoothly for a while. i got to know my neighborhood and everyone soon knew the pretty little light skinned girl that lived on linden. at around eight, i began what you can call the litany of chores in my house. i was in charge of doing the grocery shopping, which sometimes didn't go too well. picture me around seven, eight struggling with bags of food. In every store on my block there would be an old perverted man leering at me as i shopped. in the corner Korean store there was this one guy especially that would corner me every time i came in and tried to kiss me, i would go home and tell my mother and she in turn would just brush it off because sometimes they would give me a discount on food., and then there was Juinor the guy who owned  the supermarket on Nostrand and Rogers, he was infatuated with me since i was seven and would always want to hug me and would always tell my mother i would be his future wife, my mom would laugh but i didn't find anything funny about the whole situation. anyway i learned to  avoid being alone with any of these guys and after a while it became normal for me to come in and feel them undressing me with their eyes, me.... not even old enough to hit puberty. at home i was in charge of cleaning the bathroom, dusting and vacuuming every Saturday morning and i had to sweep the house every night before i went to sleep. if for some reason i didn't  wash something clean enough they would wait until i went to sleep then they would wake me up to go and wash it all over again.... now did my brother have any chores or responsibilities??? of course not. i grudgingly accepted that this was my fate and resigned to living as such. things carried on this way for quit a while, i hated home life but excelled at school, by twelve  i had over fifty plus certificates ranging from student of the month, most improved etc. i was chosen to read a speech at the renaming of my public school, it used to be PS 181 but was renamed John Steptoe Elementary School, my picture was in the paper, lil ole me on the stage two pigtails, doing what i do best reading. that is one of about four or five times that my parents would ever tell me that they were proud of me.... then all hell broke loose....

New Start

Well, lets see.. the year was 1993 and i stepped off a plane to face a whole new world. there standing waiting for me was my new mom, my new dad and my new baby brother Winston. i cant say that i was scared, i was filled with joy, joy to be away from the horrible people who had hurt me so much. from the very start my mother was fascinated by the pretty little light skinned girl with long indian hair that she could now call her own. she kept me groomed very well, i always wore dresses, with sandals to match, and matching barrettes. i guess you can say i was a show piece. soon after i settled down into my new life, my mother discovered that i could not read, not of no fault of mine, you see back home, no one took any stock into whether or not i was learning in school. i remember this phrase my mother said very well : you cant have such a pretty face and not have and book learning. there began the long grueling process of teaching me how to read. now back in the, my mother did not know about tutors, she did it her way and believe me her way was the HARD way.  every morning before my mother went to work she would give me twenty words to learn before she came home. i would spend all day studying because i knew what would happen if i miss spelled, or got stuck on a word. for every word i missed i would get a lash across my back from a very thick belt that she had just for me, sometimes she would tell me to hold out my hand and she would hit me until my hands were red and swollen, and then there were the times when she got so fed up that i would get an all out beating, welts and bruises all over my body. it was the same case when i would read or i should say attempt to read a book with her... sometimes i was already anticipating the lashes and that would make me stutter and stumble over the words. this carried on for many months until somehow, i started to make progress with my reading and spelling, up until this day i honestly believe that the reason why i learned to read so well and fluently was because i wanted the beatings to end. BUT let me make this very clear, if it wasn't for my mother teaching me to read, yes it was harsh, i would not be here today writing this blog and for that i will be forever grateful to her. i remember the very first book i read, it was entitled "The Little Princess" and after that book, i fell in love with reading, for majority of my life after that i was always buried in a book, it was my way of escaping the life i was given. i started school and was immediately classified as one of the smartest of my grade, i was always entering reading contests where i represented my school and i never placed lower that third, i was the ultimate teachers pet, but while every thing was rosy in school, it was another story at home. My brother Winston was getting all the attention and i guess that made me mad and i started to resent him. some how i would always get blamed for what he did even if my parents knew that he was wrong. on day i believe he was around six or seven, my brother took a picture of my father in his younger days out of its frame and ripped it to shreds right beside my father as he sat watching tv. as you can guess i somehow got the blame, my father said that i purposely sat and watched him rip his picture up. for that whole day, everytime my father walked pass the empty picture frame he grabbed his belt and whipped me, that was the first and last time that my father ever beat me and it was one of the worse beatings of my life, then when my mother came home she beat me to, in the shower and sent me to bed, at that moment in time i swore i hated my brother....

The Start

On Oct 12, 1987 a woman who i will never really know gave birth to me in a tiny room in Jamaica. although it is said that our memory is not very strong when we are younger.... i sometimes still have flashes of her face. my mother was not able to care for me as she was addicted to drugs, so i was adopted by my mothers best friend. the single most strongest memory i have of my mother is this: i was about five sitting on my new adoptive family's porch when my mother comes flying up to the house yelling through the screen that she had made a terrible mistake and she wanted her baby back... i was then ushered into the house and that was the last and final time i say or heard from my mother. my new adoptive parents lived in the US, so i had to stay with relatives in Jamaica until the adoptive process was final. the lady that i stayed with hated me...the food that my parents would have shipped down to me, i never got she would give it all to her son and would force me to eat pig skins and tripe. yes i remember her well miss. loveless how ironic is her name???? it was also in that household where the sexual abuse would begin. again at this time i was around six and every night her husband would visit my bed.. and well im sure you know the rest. finally the adoption process went through and i came to the United States Of America in the year 1993, new parents, new world and most shocking of all a new baby brother....