This is hard for me to tell and this tale might seem scattered, but I'm hoping that this story will help others.
I remember when I was about going 6 going on 7, when I can remember meeting the woman who gave birth to me. She was sitting at the kitchen table at my maternal grandmother's "wake". This was my first time dealing with death and my world had been turned upside down at losing my grandmother, a woman who had advocated for me and helped saved my life.
I can't remember who pointed her out but I was in disbelief because this woman looked like my real sister from afar. I thought that folks were playing a joke on me. I would find out in the following months that this was definitely not a joke.
Now before I go on, I would like to give a back story.
The woman who gave birth to me was named Carol, an alcoholic who drank throughout her whole pregnancy with me. My real father Steve who is now one of my better friends in life was at the time, more into the partying scene and wasn't ready to take responsibility. He told me that he tried to make it work with my mother but I guess they just didn't love each other. Either way it didn't work out.
My mother tried to get rid of me a few times by drinking herself into drunken stupors and doing risky things like sledding down a hill on her belly while pregnant with me. Hospital records show me being born slow and unresponsive to the doctor's check over of me due to being high on Valium that Carol was taking for her anxiety. This was in Trail, BC. A few months later, we'd be moving to Ontario. Where my Ojibwa family lived on a reserve 2 hrs NE of Thunder Bay, it was called Rocky Bay.
Within a few months, my God Parents had taken me in cause my real mother was too much of a drunk to take care of me. Plus I was apparently colicky and Carol was having a very hard time looking after me. My grandmother Mary, the mother of carol, advocated for a safe place to be. About a year later, my aunt and uncle ended up taking me in and they became my mom and dad and it would stay this way for the rest of my life.
But something changed after my grandmother passed away. Carol all of a sudden wanted to be part of my life. The following Christmas after my grandma passed, or maybe it was the Christmas after, it all kind of blurs. Carol brought a big box of toys for me. How exciting. It had remote control cars, toy soldiers, toy guns and more. I don't remember getting so much at once. My parent's weren't well off so this kind of attention was new to me. A month or so later. Carol approached me during a visit and asked me about things I wanted. I mentioned I wanted more toys, to learn gymnastics and Karate. Carol promised me all these things and more.
I just had to come live with her. Carol spent some time convincing me but it didn't take much as she was making it sound like I had won some sort of lottery if I came with her. When I approached my mom and dad, they relented and allowed me to go. I was excited and nervous. I did not know that I would be walking into a nightmare.
Me and Carol went to Thunder Bay. It was a small apartment that we lived in. I didn't have a bedroom and shared a bed with her. The first night I stayed, I watched on as Carol drank and became emotional about finally having me after all these years. She cried, I thought she was just emotional and didn't think much of it. The next night she drank too but this time she seemed a bit perturbed and snappy with me. This would soon evolve into more.
I think I was about a week in, maybe less when I got a backhand for looking at her wrong. I wasn't even sure what I did. That evening she turned scary. I was eating dinner when she came up from behind and slapped the back of my head, I nearly choked and started crying. When I tried to ask why she was doing this, she slapped me again for talking back. I was then told to sit down, face my meal and to not look up. Carol started pacing back and forth behind me. I was sobbing.. "Whack!!" to the back of my head. Carol screamed at me to eat my meal but I was so scared of choking... "Whack!!", another slap to the back of my head. Carol screamed louder to eat my meal, so I took small bites and kept my eyes forward. All while having Carol pace back and forth behind me, slapping me hard in the back of my neck every so often. I was scared I was gonna die.
That night when I went to bed, I started wishing to go home. What had I done?
The next day, I was sent on an errand to the store. I was given a list and was told to bring all the change back. I remember being at the store and seeing a toy I wanted. I knew I had to bring the change back so I asked the clerk if I could have it. Maybe it was the loud music in the store but I totally misinterpreted this person, you will find out why in a moment.
I headed back to the apartment, excited to have my new toy, I can't even remember what the toy was. Carol asked me how I got the toy and I told her the clerk gave it to me, well why did the clerk give it to me? Cause I asked her for it. This pissed Carol right off. She grabbed her walking cane and struck the back of my legs. She then marched me down to the store to give the toy back. I went to hand it to the clerk when the clerk told my mother that it wasn't a gift, that I had purchased it with the money I had for the other items. Well this pissed Carol off even more, apparently I was now a liar and a thief even though i somehow believed that the toy was a gift and that I hadn't bought it.
We got back to the apartment. I got slapped around some more and had my legs beat with her walking cane. By the time the evening was done. I was out in the street in my pajama pants waving down a cab to get him to call the cops. They showed up awhile later and I was hauled off to a foster home. My new home for the next 9 months or so.
**to be continued.
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