My first memory as a child is something I hold dear. This memory has a fairy-tale quality to it. I remember it as if it were yesterday—like I’ve been transported back in time to that little girl. The vibrancy, excitement, and sneakiness I felt then, I can feel now. I remember what I was thinking,seeing, hearing.This memory is the archenemy of the reality of my childhood. It shouts that everything was normal and that I was a just like any other little girl the night before Christmas.
My actual journey from childhood into adulthood was nothing short of a nightmare. There would be beatings, blood, fierce protection in the midst of abandonment, and women coming and going. Alcohol abuse, drug use, life on the run, empty fridges, and molestations from multiple offenders—these were all a part of the story as well…
