I was never taught healthy boundaries when I was little. I did
not know how to stand up for myself – or even say no when someone was doing
something I did not like. I let the abuse continue because I did not know any
other way. The relationship lasted 7 long years. Don’t get me wrong – we had
some good time. Once, we were driving home after a night of getting high and
my boyfriend stopped the car and ran up onto a hill to pick me a flower. Those were the
good moments. There were times that we were rolling in the money – the phone would ring
off the hook 24 hours a day. We always had a big roll of cash
and could do almost anything we wanted. Once, we took the children to the Stars
on Ice show in Victoria, they must have been 3 and 4 yrs old – and they were
picked to go out on the ice with the skaters and be pushed around in these cute
little boats out on the ice. They had the biggest smiles on their faces! Those
were the fun times. There were far less good moments though. There were the
times that I would forget to feed my children, times that we were so busy
getting high –that we never spent quality time with the children.
They were with us during those times, sure – but we were
too busy making deals and hiding in bathrooms getting high that we never spent
time or kept an eye on the children. I thank God that my children were kept safe
during those times.
I wish I had been taught healthy boundaries and how to stand up for
myself. I think I would have been able to make better choices if only I had been
given the tools to use. Instead, I let others take advantage of me – I had been
taught that I was merely a toy to be used by men. I was taught that I had to
give my body in return for love and acceptance. It took me many years to learn
that I was worth more. I still had a long road of pain ahead of
me.
The years spent with him were painful and full of fear. I was
taken into a world of drugs, violence and crime. I did more and more –hoping
that one day someone would take notice and get me out of that life. When I was
17, I found out I was 6 months pregnant with my daughter. I was 79 pounds– and
terrified. What if the drugs had hurt my unborn child? Would she be okay– how am
I going to get out of this relationship now that I was carrying his child? I did
not have anyone that I could turn to – he had made me cut off all ties to
family and school friends as a means of controlling me. One month later, he
was arrested for armed robbery and sentenced to 3 years in prison.
I went to my doctor and she told me that if I didn’t start to
gain weight she would have no choice but to hospitalize me for the rest of the
pregnancy. I quit using drugs and started to eat more. With the help of
paramedics, my daughter was born at home – healthy and beautiful. I continued to
stay off the drugs – that is until he came home from prison. The abuse and
drug use started again. We moved frequently over the next few years – on the run
from police and landlords. Life was not so great and my addiction to heroin and
cocaine grew.
We moved so many times – I can’t even remember all the places we
lived in. A few really stand out in my mind though. When my son was in grade 1
we had to move into a tiny little attic apartment on Dupplin Street in Victoria.
It was cramped and very warm in that apartment. It had one bedroom, a bathroom
and a tiny little kitchen with only enough room for a small stove and fridge. We
had no kitchen table. I don’t remember much of our time there, as I was always
high on both cocaine and heroin. I have no memory of ever cooking dinner for my
children or even caring for them. Only one day really stands out in my mind and
that is the day that I was so out of it on drugs that I passed out with my
daughter beside me. When my son came home from school nobody answered the locked
door. He returned to school – only 6 yrs old– and told a teacher. I woke up only
when the paramedics arrived. Social services was called and my children were
taken from me until a judge ordered them returned 2 weeks
later.
Later on that year we moved to Nanaimo – he had friends there
who would set him up with collecting drug debts. It brought in
the money – and we finally were able to move into a nice place again. The first
house we lived in was the top floor of a house. It was
spacious and had 3 bedrooms. There was a huge yard for the kids to play in and
finally it seemed like our lives were starting to become more normal. The drugs
soon called my name again and he was only too willing to share. I would be up
all night getting high then about 6am I would quit using – so I would have an
hour to come down before waking the children up for breakfast. It was very
stressful times – running on no sleep – the children knew something wasn’t
right.
We moved after about 6 months to a nicer house in Nanaimo.
This was a beautiful new side-by-side duplex – in a very quiet
neighbourhood. It was also half a block from our dealer’s house. I tried to make
our life work but the pull of the drugs was too much. He was becoming more
and more volatile as the days went by and very often he would lash out at me for
no reason. I learned to be very quiet and never say anything to set him off.
During this time, he was bringing girls home to get high with in the bedroom
while I watched the children in the living room. I was extremely jealous but
couldn’t voice that for fear of being
reprimanded.
Soon after moving in to this house I found out that I was
pregnant. I had already made up my mind to leave him but just hadn’t figured
out how to do it without him coming after me and killing me. When I found out
about the pregnancy, I knew that I had to make a decision that could ultimately
be the death of me. I knew that I had to have an abortion but I also knew that
if he found out he would kill me. I didn’t say anything and we continued to
live the lives we were living for a few more months. The abuse from him grew
worse – and I was desperate to just get out of that life. I didn’t care if I
lived or died anymore – I just wanted out.
Christmas eve was when the breaking point came. He was out
getting high with his girlfriends while I sat at home decorating for Christmas
morning. He finally arrived home very early Christmas morning – and he brought a
hooker with him. They went into the bedroom to get high and do whatever else
they were doing – and I made a decision to tell him about the baby – that I was
having an abortion and that I was leaving
him.
I knew that he would kill me, but I just didn’t care anymore. A
few days later I made an appointment to have the abortion done – I was now 20
weeks pregnant and my doctor told me that if I had waited any longer it could
not be done. I told my boyfriend and he surprised me by not freaking out. He even took
me to the hospital to have it done and picked me up afterwards. I tried not to
think about the baby I was killing – a baby that I later named Michael. I knew
that because I was so far along that he actually looked like a baby – to this
day I still think about that day and wonder what he would have been like had I
not killed him.
He took me over to his dealer’s house after we left the
hospital – and we got high. We stayed high for over a week. I know the children
were with us – however I have no memory of taking care of them while I was high.
Very often, there would be someone’s teenager at the houses we were getting high
at who would care for the kids – make sure they were fed and were safe. We were
not being parents – we were too busy killing
ourselves.
A few weeks later, we ended up at that same house – but this
time I was asked to take the kids for a drive while they discussed business.
When I returned half an hour later I saw the house surrounded by police and
ambulances. I was terrified that something had happened to him –even though he
beat on me I still loved and needed him. I didn’t want to live without him
because I didn’t think that I would survive. After so many years of being abused
and told I was no good I really believed
it.
I drove past the house and a block away he jumped out of the
bushes – I pulled the car over and let him in. He told me to just drive. I did,
however soon found us being pulled over by the police. Our children were in the
back seat of the car – I was driving and he was in the passenger seat. The
police ordered us to pull over which I did. They jumped out of their cars – they
had us surrounded – and they had big guns that looked like assault rifles. One
officer came to my window and held the gun to my head – and ordered me to turn
the car off. I reached my hand to turn the key however he slapped my hand away
and yelled at me to freeze. The gun was right in my face. My kids were screaming
in the backseat – he was being pulled from the car and thrown on the ground
and I had a gun to my head. It was in slow motion – I thought that they were
going to kill us – until I saw that they were filming the entire arrest. At
least if it was on film they couldn’t just kill us – that’s what I
thought.
He was arrested and charged with attempted murder and held at
the police station. The children and I were held at the station while they
questioned me. I didn’t know what had happened. They showed me pictures of the
victim – at first I denied knowing him – but when they told me that they had us
under surveillance and knew that we knew this person I said that he did look
familiar but I still didn’t know what had happened. I really didn’t know. I had
my ideas but they didn’t need to hear
those!
I was told that this was a possible homicide investigation, as
they didn’t know whether the victim was going to live or die. I guess he had
been shot point blank in the gut and left to bleed for quite some time before an
ambulance was called. The victim had told police initially that my boyfriend had shot
him. I guess he was scared that he was going to die. He didn’t die – and my boyfriend
was eventually found not guilty of the attempted murder because at the trial the
victim couldn’t remember who shot him.
Life in Nanaimo after that was pretty scary. We both became so
paranoid that there would be retaliation for the shooting that we ended up
moving back to Victoria. However – once back in Victoria – the drugs use became
even more and I soon found that I HAD to be high all the
time.
I could no longer care for my children – and the day came when I
had to make a decision. I was on the run from the police and could not take my
children with me where I was going. I called my sister Karen and she agreed to
take them for a short period of time while I sorted out my life. The day I left
them at my sisters was the most painful day of my life. They stood –my son clutching
his little sister’s hand tightly – they had big fat tears sliding down
their faces – I slowly walked away. I knew I would not be coming back for a long
long time.
not know how to stand up for myself – or even say no when someone was doing
something I did not like. I let the abuse continue because I did not know any
other way. The relationship lasted 7 long years. Don’t get me wrong – we had
some good time. Once, we were driving home after a night of getting high and
my boyfriend stopped the car and ran up onto a hill to pick me a flower. Those were the
good moments. There were times that we were rolling in the money – the phone would ring
off the hook 24 hours a day. We always had a big roll of cash
and could do almost anything we wanted. Once, we took the children to the Stars
on Ice show in Victoria, they must have been 3 and 4 yrs old – and they were
picked to go out on the ice with the skaters and be pushed around in these cute
little boats out on the ice. They had the biggest smiles on their faces! Those
were the fun times. There were far less good moments though. There were the
times that I would forget to feed my children, times that we were so busy
getting high –that we never spent quality time with the children.
They were with us during those times, sure – but we were
too busy making deals and hiding in bathrooms getting high that we never spent
time or kept an eye on the children. I thank God that my children were kept safe
during those times.
I wish I had been taught healthy boundaries and how to stand up for
myself. I think I would have been able to make better choices if only I had been
given the tools to use. Instead, I let others take advantage of me – I had been
taught that I was merely a toy to be used by men. I was taught that I had to
give my body in return for love and acceptance. It took me many years to learn
that I was worth more. I still had a long road of pain ahead of
me.
The years spent with him were painful and full of fear. I was
taken into a world of drugs, violence and crime. I did more and more –hoping
that one day someone would take notice and get me out of that life. When I was
17, I found out I was 6 months pregnant with my daughter. I was 79 pounds– and
terrified. What if the drugs had hurt my unborn child? Would she be okay– how am
I going to get out of this relationship now that I was carrying his child? I did
not have anyone that I could turn to – he had made me cut off all ties to
family and school friends as a means of controlling me. One month later, he
was arrested for armed robbery and sentenced to 3 years in prison.
I went to my doctor and she told me that if I didn’t start to
gain weight she would have no choice but to hospitalize me for the rest of the
pregnancy. I quit using drugs and started to eat more. With the help of
paramedics, my daughter was born at home – healthy and beautiful. I continued to
stay off the drugs – that is until he came home from prison. The abuse and
drug use started again. We moved frequently over the next few years – on the run
from police and landlords. Life was not so great and my addiction to heroin and
cocaine grew.
We moved so many times – I can’t even remember all the places we
lived in. A few really stand out in my mind though. When my son was in grade 1
we had to move into a tiny little attic apartment on Dupplin Street in Victoria.
It was cramped and very warm in that apartment. It had one bedroom, a bathroom
and a tiny little kitchen with only enough room for a small stove and fridge. We
had no kitchen table. I don’t remember much of our time there, as I was always
high on both cocaine and heroin. I have no memory of ever cooking dinner for my
children or even caring for them. Only one day really stands out in my mind and
that is the day that I was so out of it on drugs that I passed out with my
daughter beside me. When my son came home from school nobody answered the locked
door. He returned to school – only 6 yrs old– and told a teacher. I woke up only
when the paramedics arrived. Social services was called and my children were
taken from me until a judge ordered them returned 2 weeks
later.
Later on that year we moved to Nanaimo – he had friends there
who would set him up with collecting drug debts. It brought in
the money – and we finally were able to move into a nice place again. The first
house we lived in was the top floor of a house. It was
spacious and had 3 bedrooms. There was a huge yard for the kids to play in and
finally it seemed like our lives were starting to become more normal. The drugs
soon called my name again and he was only too willing to share. I would be up
all night getting high then about 6am I would quit using – so I would have an
hour to come down before waking the children up for breakfast. It was very
stressful times – running on no sleep – the children knew something wasn’t
right.
We moved after about 6 months to a nicer house in Nanaimo.
This was a beautiful new side-by-side duplex – in a very quiet
neighbourhood. It was also half a block from our dealer’s house. I tried to make
our life work but the pull of the drugs was too much. He was becoming more
and more volatile as the days went by and very often he would lash out at me for
no reason. I learned to be very quiet and never say anything to set him off.
During this time, he was bringing girls home to get high with in the bedroom
while I watched the children in the living room. I was extremely jealous but
couldn’t voice that for fear of being
reprimanded.
Soon after moving in to this house I found out that I was
pregnant. I had already made up my mind to leave him but just hadn’t figured
out how to do it without him coming after me and killing me. When I found out
about the pregnancy, I knew that I had to make a decision that could ultimately
be the death of me. I knew that I had to have an abortion but I also knew that
if he found out he would kill me. I didn’t say anything and we continued to
live the lives we were living for a few more months. The abuse from him grew
worse – and I was desperate to just get out of that life. I didn’t care if I
lived or died anymore – I just wanted out.
Christmas eve was when the breaking point came. He was out
getting high with his girlfriends while I sat at home decorating for Christmas
morning. He finally arrived home very early Christmas morning – and he brought a
hooker with him. They went into the bedroom to get high and do whatever else
they were doing – and I made a decision to tell him about the baby – that I was
having an abortion and that I was leaving
him.
I knew that he would kill me, but I just didn’t care anymore. A
few days later I made an appointment to have the abortion done – I was now 20
weeks pregnant and my doctor told me that if I had waited any longer it could
not be done. I told my boyfriend and he surprised me by not freaking out. He even took
me to the hospital to have it done and picked me up afterwards. I tried not to
think about the baby I was killing – a baby that I later named Michael. I knew
that because I was so far along that he actually looked like a baby – to this
day I still think about that day and wonder what he would have been like had I
not killed him.
He took me over to his dealer’s house after we left the
hospital – and we got high. We stayed high for over a week. I know the children
were with us – however I have no memory of taking care of them while I was high.
Very often, there would be someone’s teenager at the houses we were getting high
at who would care for the kids – make sure they were fed and were safe. We were
not being parents – we were too busy killing
ourselves.
A few weeks later, we ended up at that same house – but this
time I was asked to take the kids for a drive while they discussed business.
When I returned half an hour later I saw the house surrounded by police and
ambulances. I was terrified that something had happened to him –even though he
beat on me I still loved and needed him. I didn’t want to live without him
because I didn’t think that I would survive. After so many years of being abused
and told I was no good I really believed
it.
I drove past the house and a block away he jumped out of the
bushes – I pulled the car over and let him in. He told me to just drive. I did,
however soon found us being pulled over by the police. Our children were in the
back seat of the car – I was driving and he was in the passenger seat. The
police ordered us to pull over which I did. They jumped out of their cars – they
had us surrounded – and they had big guns that looked like assault rifles. One
officer came to my window and held the gun to my head – and ordered me to turn
the car off. I reached my hand to turn the key however he slapped my hand away
and yelled at me to freeze. The gun was right in my face. My kids were screaming
in the backseat – he was being pulled from the car and thrown on the ground
and I had a gun to my head. It was in slow motion – I thought that they were
going to kill us – until I saw that they were filming the entire arrest. At
least if it was on film they couldn’t just kill us – that’s what I
thought.
He was arrested and charged with attempted murder and held at
the police station. The children and I were held at the station while they
questioned me. I didn’t know what had happened. They showed me pictures of the
victim – at first I denied knowing him – but when they told me that they had us
under surveillance and knew that we knew this person I said that he did look
familiar but I still didn’t know what had happened. I really didn’t know. I had
my ideas but they didn’t need to hear
those!
I was told that this was a possible homicide investigation, as
they didn’t know whether the victim was going to live or die. I guess he had
been shot point blank in the gut and left to bleed for quite some time before an
ambulance was called. The victim had told police initially that my boyfriend had shot
him. I guess he was scared that he was going to die. He didn’t die – and my boyfriend
was eventually found not guilty of the attempted murder because at the trial the
victim couldn’t remember who shot him.
Life in Nanaimo after that was pretty scary. We both became so
paranoid that there would be retaliation for the shooting that we ended up
moving back to Victoria. However – once back in Victoria – the drugs use became
even more and I soon found that I HAD to be high all the
time.
I could no longer care for my children – and the day came when I
had to make a decision. I was on the run from the police and could not take my
children with me where I was going. I called my sister Karen and she agreed to
take them for a short period of time while I sorted out my life. The day I left
them at my sisters was the most painful day of my life. They stood –my son clutching
his little sister’s hand tightly – they had big fat tears sliding down
their faces – I slowly walked away. I knew I would not be coming back for a long
long time.