Part 2

If you are new to the blog start in the April post....

About a year after being released from the hospital, after I had gone through some physical and speech therapy to regain what I had lost from my illness, I was molested by my biological father, at 2 1/2 years old. I have found that even now 23 years later this is something that I struggle to write about. This man that should have been the one to teach me softball, taken me on daddy-daughter dates, and threaten my dates at the door, turned into a dark shadow that has haunted me for years.
My parents had separated shortly after I left the hospital because he had an affair with my nurse while I was in the hospital, along with other women. He was also extremely physically and mentally abusive to her.
One night while my mom was on patrol in Seattle, my grandmother was giving me a bath, I told her that my daddy had hurt my bum, when my grandmother questioned me about it and asked me where he had touched me I showed her and told her what happened. My grandmother told my mom what I had told her. The only thing that I remember from that night is the bubble bath ice cream cone that sat in the corner of the tub.
My mom took me to a hospital to have the doctors examine me. I remember more of that visit than I wish too. I remember the happy childlike pictures that hung on the walls, the size of the room, where my mother stood as the doctors examined me. I remember the satin little girl panties I was wearing. I can still see the view I had as I was lying on the examination table. There were doctors and nurses looming over me, a male doctor standing in the front. I remember my knees being up, and the doctor moving my legs apart so he could check me. I don't remember much after that. The doctors concluded that the abuse had gone on for several months. There was tearing, bruising, etc that showed forceful signs of rape. Rape. I cannot even begin to imagine the horror that my mother must have felt to hear this. Rape at such a young age, is so common, yet unfathomable.
At the time this was happening, my mother was working as a police officer for King County, Washington. Being a pretty woman on the force may have its perks but it can also be what almost gets you killed. I'll tell you more in my next post.

The beginning of a warrior's tale Part 1

I said awhile back that I wanted to share my story, this is where it begins.

When I was 18 months old I was diagnosed with Spinal Meningitis. There were several children that came down with the illness at the same time. I was given a 3% chance of surviving. The doctor told my mother she should start planning for my funeral. My mother, a woman of great strength, refused to listen. My fever was so high that I was on an ice bed for months. I had a tube in my chest, a tracheotomy, I.V's in both hands in various places, a tube under my belly button, and others. I lost the blood supply to my feet and lost 3 toes on each foot which grew back even though the doctors said there was no way they would. During my stay in the hospital all of the other children with Spinal Meningitis died. One little boy survived but was left mentally disabled and in a wheelchair, if I remember right I was told he later died. I was the only one left. The doctor said I should have been a vegetable for the rest of my life, or at the very least deaf, blind, or both. But I survived. I was left learning how to walk and talk again, a small feat for being granted a chance at life, my survival was nothing short of a miracle.

I was released from the hospital 3 months later, free of any disability. Little did I know that the infidelity and horror had already begun, and the worst was yet to come.

I still bare the physical scars from the many tubes and I.V.'s that were placed in my body to keep me alive. My toes are a visual reminder every day that I survived. Some people may think that I should be embarrassed about my toes because they don't look normal, but they make me unique. Sure I have days when I am self conscious about them, But I know that i wouldn't feel the same with 'normal' toes. They are a part of my story, my battle to survive.

Healing Journey

I've had this feeling lately to be free. Free from a past that has haunted me for years. Free from the anger it has inflicted on my heart. My journey is one of physical & mental healing from years of torment, and also one of accepting and forgiving things that were done to me. Some of you may know of my struggle, but only part of it. It is so complex that many people do not believe it when they hear it. It resembles something out of a movie. But through these struggles I have learned alot, even if it has only been in recent years. A friend once told me that I have an old soul, the things I have experienced have given me a wise soul in some respects I suppose. The anger that I have felt has consumed me, and that is a hard thing to admit. It has damaged my health to the point that I was told my body was shutting down. I had to run on adrenaline for so many years unable to have time to heal just struggling to survive that my body had had enough. It's only been recently that I have found the strength to heal. Even my own husband didn't know the story, and was so lost as to how to help me. The experience has left me unable to have more children, but I see it as a blessing, that my journey through life is not to have many children, but to help those that I meet, to help them overcome their trials. There are times that I have to sit back and say no. But I believe that God carried me through my past so that I may be a strength to others in the future. I hope that you will go on this journey with me and be patient with me as I struggle. I promise I am not crazy, I am just trying my best to heal for myself and my family. I want to share my story so that it can be heard, so that others know it is possible to survive even the worst trauma. I know that there will be those that shrug it off, and that's fine, there are those that do not want to believe that things that happened to me actually happen, but they do. I ask you to listen with an open heart and mind, and to keep me in your prayers. God bless, Cheri