hard stuff.

This is a story about me, that a lot of people don’t know. It’s all so very long ago now, but with an upcoming birthday, i have been thinking a lot about it..

lets go back… er lest say july  2003 I was a 15 year old girl, dealing with life the best way I could… my grandmother (and guardian..pretty much my mother) passed away a few years earlier… I had had a very hard childhood living with my mother, and at the time of her arrest (when i was about 7-8) my sister and I had moved in with my grandmother. when she passed away, I went and lived with my father (my sister has a different father from me) and my sister stayed with my mother…

I knew how my mother was, and I knew I didn’t want to handle the emotional abuse, drug addiction, and physical abuse that came with being around her. I started high school  in 2002/2003 year, and I knew almost nobody. to make matters worse, the only person I knew at my new school, my step brother was in an awkward position as my father was in the middle of a divorce from his mother.

I was a 14 year old girl starting high school with no supervision who lost what was the equivalent of a mother figure for her. I soon started dating an older boy.. (is this going where you think it’s going yet?)

did I mention i was from a small town, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere where there was next to no sex ed? we dated for 9 months before we ever did anything…he was so much older and I thought smarter than me, when he said he couldn’t use protection, and that i shouldn’t worry, I totally believed him.

*eyeroll*

surprisingly, it took a full year before I got pregnant. I actually estimated that the baby was concieved, july 18th, 2003, the day before my 15th birthday. he was 18, but by some fucked up law in canada, that didn’t constitute statiatory(sp?)  rape. I didn’t believe in abortion

As soon as my father found out, he whisked me away to a group home for teen/young mothers ( although that was fine, considering when my mother found out, she tried to kill me ). most young mothers went in to the home at around 6 months pregnant, when they needed more help. I went in there at 2.5 months pregnant. it was agonizing. I was away from everyone I knew, at 15, living pretty much on my own except with the company of the staff… the Childs father fucked off pretty much immediately after he found out I was pregnant. I think from then to this day, I have seen him maybe about five times.

so I spent the next 9 months alone (I lived there 3 months after she was born)… it was hard, but I was so in love with my unborn child, no discomfort could have ever mattered at the time.

April 8th, 2004 at 11:47 am, after 13 hours of labour (ten without any form of pain medication as I was determined to do it naturally, and then failed lol) My daughter entered the world.

to be continued…


One response to “hard stuff.

  • Renée

    I really enjoyed reading your perspective. Being 15 myself, I did not have much of a good grasp on what was happening to you at the time. I am glad you are writting this down. I can’t wait to see what you write next. You should really write a book about your life! I love you and miss you! xoxo
    Renée

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