” Tana I want you to go back to a time before all of this happened. When you were a little girl and you felt loved. Can you do that for me? What do you see?” The woman with the blue suit asked me as she pushed her glasses up to her face. “Tana? What do you see?” With a long sigh I start to explain what would be considered a laundry list. No details just bullets of what happened. ” My Mommy and Daddy fighting. I see broken glass frames and my Mommy crying. Then the police come and take me away.” It was simple, she asked what it was like before THIS had happened and that IS what happened. I never told her about the baths or the late night visits to my room… I couldn’t.”(excerpt from my book)
::: This is extremely personal and at times may be too much for someone to read. I hope more so than upsetting you, you can feel closer to my experiences in life. Pass judgment if you wish. Had you of never been told this you would never know this. Remember the next time your on a bus, train or walking down the street – everyone has a past..::
It’s almost 6:30am and I find myself rustling through papers. I am looking for documents I need for finishing my book. At times reading through my psychological from when I was a child becomes too much. Its one thing to know what you think about yourself and the events you encountered, but to have a stranger with a PHD write about you makes me sick.
“Tana suffers from extensive sexual abuse trauma. It seems as if Tana is able to speak of the sexual encounters without reacting. She is unresponsive to her emotions.” 1998 Clinical Report
They have no idea how easy it has become. I am so desensitized from it and the world. I find myself watching the news sometimes and not once wincing at the horror I see on TV. What have I become? Is this my dark passenger? I deal with loss and grief in the most inhumane ways, as I have been told. I seem bitter and cold. Recently I lost a dear friend of mine – yet I could not find tears. This is not because I was not sad but because I know people will leave me. They always do at some point.
I consider myself to be two-faced. Before you or anyone else takes this out of context let me elaborate the reason I picked the term two-faced. On the outside I have a beautiful polished mask that allures people. They see what I want them to see. The girl who has her shit together. But under it is a darken and damaged soul. Growing up I was always popular. I had a great deal of friends in school. I loved everyone! I was apart of sports and clubs and loved it. It was a front of what was going on. No one knew I left school everyday 15 minutes early just to make it to the doctor. For six months in 6th grade and 7th grade I would leave and go to therapy at 2:45 everyday. The teachers knew however my fellow classmates did not.
While in the sessions I would talk about school and how my “home” life was going. Home life meaning my foster parents house. That is another amazing fabrication that not many people know. Luckily for me the town I lived in was so small that I was blessed enough to never have to leave schools when I was placed into a different home.
It’s funny how the one person you need most has been around the corner all along. I lived 10 minutes from the place I once called my hell. After I was taken away from my mother I went and stayed with family. My family was no longer able to care for me due to recent events in their lives. I stayed with a various group of families. One foster mother stating that she could not have me in her home because I refused to sleep without my door being locked. Another said that when I did fall asleep the screaming in my dreams woke her up at all hours of the night.
They say the best is saved for last! This is true but before you get to the last you must have a horrible one. The next home I was placed in was with a woman and a man who had a baby girl they adopted and a teen age girl. The teen age girl shall be called Princess, since she was a self-proclaimed one. Princess would always try to get me to be her bitch. Asking me to do this and that. Get her this drink and find her this shoe. I refused. The foster-mother would beat me and send me to bed without food. On the weekends I was forced to wake up at 5am and feed the dogs. Rain or shine I would be out there. How could it be I could go from being molested every night of my life and escape that hell only to find this one. While there, my mother would write me. The evil woman I was forced to call Miss Emily would read them out loud and skip parts of the letter saying it would upset me. I was hurt. I wanted to know what my mother said. My mother never touched me and hurt me but its true her words stabbed me like 1,000 needles. It was her illness and I was able to see past that.
Emily continued to take my letters for weeks. One day after I came home from therapy I said I would kill myself if she did not let me have my letters. She called 911 they took me away. I was sent to a hospital only to be pushed into a drug induced state of euphoria. I could not speak most of the time. The drugs were so strong I just slept. The day turned into a week and then two. Until it was time for me to return back to hell. Before returning to Emily’s house we had a visit with the therapy center. They wanted to do a family meeting. I was asked why I wanted to die. I told the doctors about what had gone on. Emily and Princess let their true colors show. The therapist expressed her concerns for me staying in that home. She at one point told the foster-mother she needed to report the abuse. The foster-mother made threats to the therapist. DEFACS could not find a placement for me at the time so I was sent to private therapy center.
While there I experienced which to me now would be considered funny, but at the time horribly scary. My roommate was an open lesbian with the hots for me. I would wake up from drug induced sleep with someone breathing over me. Let me just say this is no fun. I would yell for a staff member. She would come in the room and the bitch was already in her bed! I looked crazy! I spoke to my case worker many times that week begging for her to find me a home. She said she found one but I could not go there until the next day. Later that day a staff member came and told me a gentleman was here to get me. His name was Paul. He was older with gray hair. He was in his early 50’s. He spoke with a soft voice. “Hi Tana, I am Paul. You will be staying with my wife and myself tonight. Lets grab your bags.”
While in the car he drove and held his index finger over his lips like he was in deep thought. I was terrified. I had not been alone in a room never-the-less a car with a man in forever. I was too afraid. He seem harmless but everyone seems harmless. An hour or so later we pulled into a neighborhood with houses two and three stories high. We pulled into the drive way of a brick house. “We’re here!” He said. “Let’s grab your bags and get you some food.” I walked in a a woman about 5′2 stood at the door with her arms open and said ” Hello Tana! I am Jan.” She had the most amazingly calming eyes and voice. She looked like a saint. ” I want you to meet my sister and brother-in-law. They are in town with us now. Put your things down and lets eat!”
While at dinner they asked me what I liked and told silly jokes. This felt like a family. Is this what normal was? Later I was introduced to their niece who was struggling with cancer. She was now living with them. It was her sister’s child. “Tana I am sorry to say I can only offer my couch but its a bed if you would like.” I smiled. “Thank you. It will be fine.” Later that night as I was getting read to take a shower Jan told me she had left some things in the bathroom for me. I walked in and saw a yellow towel folded to perfecting with a tooth-brush and tooth paste waiting on me. “Tana feel free to use anything in the bathroom and if there is something you need let me know! I am sorry to say I don’t have any more combs or brushed but I will get you one in the morning.”
I did not sleep. I laid there wishing that the following day I would soon find a family like this. A family that could love me. A place where I could sleep and my bedroom door not have to be locked. “Tana, Tana its time to get up!” I must have at some point drifted off from the medication. I was on a set list of pills to take. One for my depression and one for my insomnia. “Here lets grab you some juice so you can take your meds! Is Apple Juice ok? ” I nodded and smiled. She truly was what someone would want in a mother. She was humble and caring. After taking my meds we got my bags together and went to her car. My heart waved good-bye to what seemed like heaven.
On the way to the DEFACS office she stopped at CVS and got me a comb and brush. “Tana, do you see anything else you might like?” I smiled and said no thanks. “How about some food?” We pulled up to the Chick-fil-A parking lot and went to the drive through. I ordered and began to eat while we drove. We were almost to DEFACS before I thought I would fix my drink and the stubborn straw! I hate their cups to this day! Damn Styrofoam! I busted the bottom of the cup. It started to leak in her car. I was horrified. She laughed and opened the window. I poured it out and began to nervously say how sorry I was. She took my hand and squeezed it and said “It’s fine Tana it’s just a car.” (while thinking of this I am starting to cry.) I could not believe it. I was not going to be beat or punished for making a mistake. Her hands were soft and a bit cold, but it warmed my heart.
As we pulled up to DEFACS I saw my case worker and said goodbye to Jan. She told Danette I was a very sweet girl, very charming and funny. She gave me a hug and kissed my head and said “I hope I get to see you again…”
My next home was a complete disaster. I was hit and slapped and treated horribly. If you remember what I said before there is always the bad before the good. After what would be considered my second attempt to commit suicide I was placed in the hospital for a month. I was drugged everyday to sleep and to eat. I was watched to make sure I ate. I had to wait an hour before going to the bathroom after every meal. My life was stored in a medical chart. The month was over and it was time for me to leave. I was happy and yet sad. I was watching the news that day and Aaliyah ( 2001) had died. I kept thinking what an amazing singer she was and how horrible it was. As the girls around me cried I sat there and waited to leave. “Tana your parents are here for you!” A nurse yelled. My heart started to beat fast. MY PARENTS! What? I got up and turned around….
There he stood. His white button down and his gray hair. “Hey Tana! How would you like to come and live with me and Jan?” At that time I felt as if my heart was about to burst. I was going to have a home. A beautiful home and a family to love me! This was fate! I had endured a horrible childhood to find a family to love me. I can now sleep without the fear of being hurt. I had found happiness… for now.
Jan and Paul are still in my life. I call them Grandma and Grandpa. We have been a family almost ten years now. They are the reason I am able to write this. If it was not for them I would not be here. This is for you <3
- To this day I can not sleep without my doors being locked. I check them before I go to bed. Though I was never hurt again as a child I still to this day can not find a way to sleep without my doors being locked. Even my room door.
:: I hope you liked this. I wanted to give a little insight into who I am and why I respond to things the way I do. I am not shy or ashamed of my life. I will shed more into my life and my book later on. This is more so a sample of what my book will be like. I don’t want to make it to rated R. I would rather you wait till I finish my book and pick it up. ::
- Tana
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