The Start of It All

From a very young age, I was the object of the wrong affection. I was abused by a couple of family members, so naturally, I was meant to have some issues, huh? Well, I grew to believe this and as far as I was concerned, it was the truth. My father wasn’t a father. Other men in my family weren’t really the stand up men they should have been either. I had no real example of a man in my life and no one to show me how a young lady was to be treated. I didn’t have a clue how to be good to myself and I blamed that on my lack of real relationship with my mother. But, that I knew of, my granny and mother didn’t have a relationship either. Kinda looks like the imitation of life. Anyway, I guess she did what she knew…and so did I.

As for my dad, I could never do anything right…not one thing. I was an overweight 11 something (I think)kid having to defend myself, not only against the jokes and torment from my loved ones, but also the anger and, later, lustful advances from the man whom gave me life. Is your dad supposed to “want” you; you know… being his daughter and all? I think not! I did everything to stay in his good graces so he wouldn’t be mad nor come after me like the #2 dish at the Oriental Dragon. I mean, come on. I later met family who were unknown to me but got well acquainted with everyone, including a male. I was a tomboy so it was nothing to ride off on bikes with him. Our rides would lead to abandoned places that gave privacy so he could do as he wished with me. I thought the touching was wrong, but I didn’t care. I liked it.

Age 19. Graduation. A time when you put on your big girl drawals and wear them well. A time when you are accountable and responsible for self. I wasn’t. I still lived with my mom who controlled my very being. I didn’t mind because I didn’t think I could take care of myself and she made that clear that I couldn’t. Anyway, I would sit with my mom on her job. I noticed that she was very chummy with a family friend. They had a conversation that went on longer than I thought it should have. I observed a transaction that I thought should have went in the register but instead it was put in her purse. I just knew my mom was stealing but I wasn’t asking her. He left and minutes later, I was sent home to clean and cook like normal. My mom came home and told me to get dressed because I was going out of town with a friend. I was like, “By myself?” She responded with a yes. Now, that just didn’t happen. I needed my YOUNGER SISTER to cross the street with me and now I’m rolling out by myself?!!! Hell yeah! I got everything together to leave. My mom was nervous acting. I asked who I was going with and she told me but I wondered why I had to go somewhere with my brother’s friend. I asked, “Why can’t my brother go?” She told me, “You aren’t going with ‘Such and Such’. He just needs a little company while he’s gone.” My eyes watered up. Why cry? He was a family friend and very married! I could not speak of my anger and fear because I was taught not to do that. I was taught to do as I was told. Always. I didn’t question. I did what I assumed was OK because of my mom. Later, I fell in love with that man. I later confirmed the money transaction that I witnessed from mom’s job. I say this because over the course of almost a year, I took several trips with instructions on how to meet. With every passing moment, the uninhabitable house we lived in became more and more liveable. You catch my drift? I was pimped out by my mom and my trips paid for home repairs. I didn’t care either. I was in love or so I thought. As easily as I fell in lust with this dude, he fell out of lust with me.

Years later, I became the center of attention of an uncle. He loved my siblings and myself; he went over and beyond doing for us; he was there when nobody else wanted to be. He was my favorite uncle and he would jokingly say that I was his favorite niece. He definitely catered to my every want. I never gave a second thought to it because, hell, he’s my uncle. But, a storm was brewing and the eye was on me. My mother and I had a horrific fight where she kicked me out and threw all my belongings on the lawn. I was embarrassed and collected what I could and took it to my brother’s house around the corner. On my last trip of gathering my things, my uncle pulled up. I’m crying and he was just the right comfort. He checked on me and gave me money when I needed. I was fine but not really. I really desperately wanted my mom. When I spoke to my uncle about what brought the argument on, he had ideas about everything and assured me that it would all be a thing of the past. I started feeling more independent from my mom because she had me on lockdown, mentally and physically, growing up. I was finally able to make my own decisions and I did. I had no help and a piece of a piece of a job. Nowhere to call my own, though. In the meantime, I kept my head up, went to work and stayed in contact with those who I “knew” loved me. My uncle loved me. He loved me so much that he gave the warmest and tightest hugs and the sweetest pecks on the cheeks and forehead. Eventually, those hugs and kisses became real. I knew this had to be wrong. But he was my uncle, who I knew loved and protected me. I couldn’t decipher my feelings, fears, or giddiness.  I did not turn away from his advances either and we were soon in a taboo love affair. I knew it was wrong but I needed him and he said he needed me. He knew he was out of order, too. I asked him about how in the world we thought we could get away with it and he shut me up by telling me that if anyone ever found out, our family would never talk to us again. “They will run us outta town,” he would say. The doozy was, “If you tell your mama, she’ll never speak to you again!” I wasn’t having that! I had still so desperately wanted my mom. I stayed silent. He became so aggressive that I grew uncomfortable and moved away when I got the chance. He found out where I lived and made his way there, but I lived in a place where visitors had to be announced. I never let him in and we never spoke of it again nor one another.

In the midst of having a new residence, I found new friends and of course, new men. I ran into a guy that was so the! He was cute, dark, athletic build and a smile that could melt any item of clothing off of your body!LOL Anyways, I moved him in with me immediately and we were together. Well, he started showing signs of abuse that I neglected in order to be with him. It became full out physical abuse that lead to us almost killing one another. I eventually got the courage to leave him alone only to land in the arms of another guy. He was abusive as well except it was emotional. When was this cycle ever going to end? No time soon. Since men didn’t respect me and sure didn’t respect myself, I gave myself the so called power and respect I needed. I became my own full time pimp/whore. Why not? No one was going to have any power over me ever again. I had it and I called the shots. My last shot call ended with me almost getting shot by a man that I helped to rob. Now get this…I had just gotten baptised less than 10 hours earlier! So, it goes to show that no matter how much church you attend, if you don’t have the true Power of the Lord Jesus Christ, you are doing just that…attending church.

“What in the world were you thinking?” you might ask. I tried to survive. I tried to give self gratification, power, respect, and love. I never got it. Not that way. It was not until 2005 that I attended beauty school and eventually a church with one of my classmates. I was drawn in by the dance team so, at least, I could say I had some Jesus in me.LOL Anyways, that didn’t really matter because I was still doing other things like fighting, hurting people that hurt my friends and family and just being a complete mess. One classmate gave me this book called “A Knight in Shining Armor” by P.B. Wilson, that details how to love yourself like God does, how to let Him wine and dine you, take an oath and begin your 6 month Reconstruction of which you have no contact with men; just complete focus on self and the Lord. I took my oath and began my journey.  Eventually moved away from my home after I met a couple at the church 5 months into my Reconstruction. They felt I was supposed to move in with them free of charge. They said, “God told us to offer our home to you.” I was a dear caught in headlights! “God told you?” I thought. Well, OK. I did and life took off for me. Now, I had still sworn off men but felt that it was OK if I tippy toed off the path for a moment. Well, God definitely showed me that He is real. The same day that I decided to talk to a guy that I met online, my friend had a deep talk with me. God told him that I had broken my promise to Him. Now, nobody knew what I was doing. Nobody! So how did he know? God told him that my vow was to be kept. He asked me what my vow was and I told him that 5 months ago, I swore off men for God, the God I had no clue that really existed, in order to be a better woman and live a life that I knew people (including myself) couldn’t live…a life devoted to Christ. I wasn’t a real Christian at the time and my life was smoke and mirrors. My friend said that he knew he couldn’t keep letting it go without talking to me that day because the Lord pressed it upon him. Since that day, the love and support my new family gave, plus the love that I knew came from the Lord Himself, gave me the balls to live a life that didn’t mix pleasure with true friend and companionship.

I have only grown stronger and becoming more so everyday. Men smile at me because most of them think I’m cute and others think I’m pretty…pretty dumb, until I open my mouth when the subject comes up. Then, rather than be amazed, they are defensive. My life offends them. I don’t throw my lifestyle in their faces nor anyone else’s for that matter. I do, if asked, explain why I took the stance that I have and whether well received or not, I speak the truth that for me, has been my foundation. I hope and pray that anyone who reads this is blessed, encouraged and speaks out to possibly help self and others. If you don’t agree with me nor believe the words that I speak are true, that is fine. I will say what I’ve been saying for years. “It’s not my job to convince you. It’s my job to live the life that God has given me faith to live through Jesus Christ.

May the Love of God be with you all,





4 thoughts on “The Start of It All

  1. Hmmm. I don’t read long posts but I have decided to read all yours. Thanks for sharing your private life with the world. We need to talk personally. I coordinate a ministry to teenagers in Nigeria and you have a lot to offer. We have a World Virginity Day where we promote sexual purity and more…let me not type too long. Please let’s connect. I’m Timi. Email:

    Liked by 1 person

    • Wow!!! I am overwhelmed by your response. It is truly the Lord who answers prayers. My last post, about my abortion, was geared towards my strong desire to help people. I never knew how our with what. Now, here we are. I actually got concerned about my posts being “long winded” but said it didn’t matter because it happened and someone needed to know that they aren’t alone. The year before last, I was the guest speaker at a sex trafficking conference fit my professor. I’d never spoken before and didn’t think my story was as “deep” as others. After it was done, the whole room came to me with stories related to mine and how they loved that I gave a voice. Lol I will be delighted to share. Thank you!!!


  2. Reblogged this on The Dream and commented:
    I saw this post on timi blog and decidesbto reblog it too. I hope it bless both the guys and ladies out there. Its a little long but I do hope you will patently took the time to read it.

    God bless


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s