Disclosure
( this post contains cuss words and contains violent content)
Have you ever woken up and just thought to your self, how the fuck did I end up here.
Well if you haven't... then your life must be either very boring, or you haven't really lived yet. When I look back at My life I wonder sometimes, How the fuck did I end up in that situation. Most people love to blame others, but I know that through out this story, these things happened to me because I did not always make the best choice either. I am not writing this to put anyone on blast.. or to call anyone else out. I am simply sharing my story with the world. Take it or leave it... I will be fine either way.
When I was about 15 or 16 years old.. hard to remember exactly because most of these memories I have tried to purge from mind...I lived in central point Oregon. By this time in my life my parents had already divorced. I lived with my mother and two of my sisters and my baby brother( who is special needs) and things there generally were good. That is until the no longer were.
When my younger sister was about 10 years old, (She is about 4-5 years younger than me.) she started getting into a lot of trouble. Most kids this age, at least in central point didn't really have much to do, school only fills up so much of your day.
My sister and I use to fight all the time, mostly because I would get mad at her for stealing things from me. I know it probably wasn't the best way to go about these types of things, but when you are young you don't tend to think things through.
One day I had a bunch of friends over at my house, we were all in the living room hanging out. I can't quite remember what sparked this particular fight between me and my sister, but it was a full blown fist fight.
My mom stepped in and tried to stop us but, it only escalated in a fight between my mother and I. We moved from the living room into the kitchen, and that is were things took a serious turn. My friends sat in shock and awe as my Mom continued to hit me, even after I had stopped fighting back.
Things had gotten really out of hand, my friends stepped in and pulled me out of the house. They rushed me to their car and we drove away.
When we finally had stopped, we reached Vancouver, Washington. This was my first time ever in Washington.
I stayed there for a few days, and let the events of that day settle in my mind. I watched as the black and blue bruises covering my right side of my body turn grey and green. I had a black eye, a fat lip, I had bruised ribs, and a cracked collar bone. I didn't go to the hospital, I was afraid. I thought to my self, my mom has never beaten me before, damn she has only even spanked me like 3 times in my whole life.
I was in complete shock the whole time I was in Vancouver.
When I finally decided to go home, I told my friends that I would probably move to live with my dad. Just to give my Mom space during this time.
Little did I know, that while I was gone, my little sister had gotten her self arrested and was currently in Juvenile Hall for theft.
This had made things tense at home, and when I return, and told my mother I planned on moving out, she completely lost it.
I started packing my things, even while she was yelling at me to stop. I told my Mom that i was leaving and there was nothing she could do to stop me. Like most people, she got caught up in the moment and yelled at me " You are not leaving here, the only way you will leave is if your dead.". I know now that she didn't mean that she wanted me to die.
I was young, I was scared, I did what I though was to most rational and easiest way to get out. I took a glass cup and shattered it.
I grabbed a piece of broken glass and I slit my arm.
A good 3" inches across, it was deep but not deep enough to bleed out. My mother freaked out and called the police on me. My friends were still out in the living room, waiting, wondering what had happened. My mom stormed out and they had rushed in, they all stopped at the door when they saw the blood dripping from my arm. My friend/cousin Meagan started crying, I was too in shock from my own actions that I stood there frozen in time.
The police and ambulance arrived, I was handcuffed and placed in the back of the squad car. Before they shut the door they but a temporary bandage on my arm. We drove off to the Hospital, where I was placed in the room with the white padded walls. You know the ones reserved for people who have tried to commit suicide.
I sat in that room, alone for 2 hours, and then finally someone came in.
They questioned me, asked my about why I slit my arm, and about the bruises on my body. I confessed to cutting my arm, because well why would I lie. I didn't want to die, I wasn't trying to kill my self, I was trying to escape my mom.
They asked if I had given my self the bruises and cracked collar bone, and I told them no. That my mother had done it, and that I had witness to back up my story.
The lady took some photos of the markings on my body, and told me that she would send in someone else to talk to me.
After a few more interviews, they asked me if I wanted to press charges. I declined, because if I had done so, it could have meant that my sisters and brother might end up in foster care, or they would all be shipped to my Dad. Instead I told them I just didn't want to go home with my mom. So they arranged for me to live in a group home for a while.
I stayed in the group home for a little over 2 weeks, and when I was released I went back to my mothers. When I arrived I told her that I didn't want to stay, that I wanted to live with my dad. She agreed to let me go this time, so I packed my things and set out to live with my dad in Portland Oregon.
When I arrived at my Fathers everything was great, his new wife greeted me with open arms, and introduced me to here children. Living with my dad was awesome, I didn't enroll in school while I was there, because I stayed home, and helped to babysit my step siblings.
After a about a year of living there, which puts me at about 17- going on 18, my Step mom took a turn for the worse. She became more and more aggressive towards me, we would constantly fight about how I disciplined her kids, which all I ever did was put them in time out. She however thought her kids were perfect and didn't need time out. I agreed to no longer put them in time out if it was that big of an issue.
Things calmed down for a bit but not for very long. About two weeks before my 18th birthday, my step mother and I got into an argument. You would not believe the reason why either, it was because I gave her stupid fucking spoiled little demon children some fucking ice cream. Why did I give it to them, well I couldn't put them in timeout for not listening, so i bribed their good behavior with some ice cream.
When she got home and saw that, she lost it, she yelled at my dad and at me, and then she did something no one ever thought she would do.
That bitch.. told my Dad to choose her, or to choose me.
Sadly, my dad choose her.
Why? Not even to this day.. I don't know the answer to that. Maybe it was because my Dad was reliant on her support, my Father was until the day he died an Alcoholic,Druggie. Maybe he knew he wouldn't be able to take care of me with out her. Either way he kicked me out, and I at the young age of 17 became homeless in Portland.
Like most people who are thrown into situations out side of their control I did what i could. I got a job working for the National Democratic party, as a canvasser, they paid me pretty good, but not good enough to get a place to stay every night. Basically I made just enough money to eat and that was it.
I had one friend during this whole time.. Jesse DeBra.. I didn't tell him at first that my Dad had kicked me out. Or that ever night since that night, I had ridden the Max from Gresham to Hillsoboro which is about 33 miles each way every night because I was to afraid to sleep at night. Portland is not the safest place at night, they have one of the largest homeless populations, and the crime rate is high at night. More people go missing along the max line, then anywhere else in Portland.
I had ever reason to fear for my life while I was homeless...
One night while riding the max, something happen and the train had to be emptied, so it could be worked. It dropped me and a few other stragglers in a pretty shady part of town. I was just a few stops from downtown Portland, over by Skidmore Fountain. I was headed back from Hillsboro when the max stopped, and I decided to continue on my way back to Gresham.
I was walking along under the bridge, where they normally hold the Sat/Sun market.
I though I was alone, but I wasn't.
I saw two men, who saw me from a far and instantly started yelling cat calls at me. They approached me, and asked me if I wanted to spend some time with them. I decline.. I started walking backwards, looking for a place to escape, a place I could run to, in order to get away. These men did not accept my answer, and continued to harass me. One of them noticed that I was searching for a way out, and he made his move. He grabbed me, and shoved me to ground. I screamed, I kicked.. I did everything I could do. I can remember now that while this was happening I only thought to my self, please just don't kill me. I knew that they were going to rape me... and I knew that they were going to kill me.
Just as the second man started to rip my clothing off, a group of local street kids, about my age turned the corner. I watched them come around the corner, and I locked eyes with one of them, a Boy named Charlie. He immediately ran towards the guys who had me pinned down. Just as quickly the remainder of his friends jumped in, they started beating on the two men who had me held down. A girl name Sarah, helped me put my clothing back on, and asked me if I was okay. I replied that I was fine, that I would be fine. If those kids would have came even 30 seconds later, that man would have raped me.
Charlie and Sarah and their friends, scared off the guys who attacked me, the offered to walk to over to the bus stop that would take me back up to Gresham.
I thanked them, and told them that I owed them my life... they simply smiled and said that they don't allow that on their streets. That they knew If I had been the one to find someone else in that position that I would have done the same. I agreed, we parted ways, and I never saw them again.
I have never told anyone about this night in Portland. Not a single person knows besides those who were involved, not even my best friend at the time knew about this... this is a secret I have kept locked behind velvet lips. Never allowing it to slip from my mind, and be heard by ears who either don't care to hear it, or wouldn't understand it.
The Bus finally stopped at the QFC just by my Father house. I was to shaken to go to him, because I figured he would just turn me away. I went to the pay phone and used the last of my money to call my friend. I went to his house and told him everything, well almost everything....
I remain homeless in Portland for just under 8 months...
where I learned to speak in silence...
( this post contains cuss words and contains violent content)
Have you ever woken up and just thought to your self, how the fuck did I end up here.
Well if you haven't... then your life must be either very boring, or you haven't really lived yet. When I look back at My life I wonder sometimes, How the fuck did I end up in that situation. Most people love to blame others, but I know that through out this story, these things happened to me because I did not always make the best choice either. I am not writing this to put anyone on blast.. or to call anyone else out. I am simply sharing my story with the world. Take it or leave it... I will be fine either way.
When I was about 15 or 16 years old.. hard to remember exactly because most of these memories I have tried to purge from mind...I lived in central point Oregon. By this time in my life my parents had already divorced. I lived with my mother and two of my sisters and my baby brother( who is special needs) and things there generally were good. That is until the no longer were.
When my younger sister was about 10 years old, (She is about 4-5 years younger than me.) she started getting into a lot of trouble. Most kids this age, at least in central point didn't really have much to do, school only fills up so much of your day.
My sister and I use to fight all the time, mostly because I would get mad at her for stealing things from me. I know it probably wasn't the best way to go about these types of things, but when you are young you don't tend to think things through.
One day I had a bunch of friends over at my house, we were all in the living room hanging out. I can't quite remember what sparked this particular fight between me and my sister, but it was a full blown fist fight.
My mom stepped in and tried to stop us but, it only escalated in a fight between my mother and I. We moved from the living room into the kitchen, and that is were things took a serious turn. My friends sat in shock and awe as my Mom continued to hit me, even after I had stopped fighting back.
Things had gotten really out of hand, my friends stepped in and pulled me out of the house. They rushed me to their car and we drove away.
When we finally had stopped, we reached Vancouver, Washington. This was my first time ever in Washington.
I stayed there for a few days, and let the events of that day settle in my mind. I watched as the black and blue bruises covering my right side of my body turn grey and green. I had a black eye, a fat lip, I had bruised ribs, and a cracked collar bone. I didn't go to the hospital, I was afraid. I thought to my self, my mom has never beaten me before, damn she has only even spanked me like 3 times in my whole life.
I was in complete shock the whole time I was in Vancouver.
When I finally decided to go home, I told my friends that I would probably move to live with my dad. Just to give my Mom space during this time.
Little did I know, that while I was gone, my little sister had gotten her self arrested and was currently in Juvenile Hall for theft.
This had made things tense at home, and when I return, and told my mother I planned on moving out, she completely lost it.
I started packing my things, even while she was yelling at me to stop. I told my Mom that i was leaving and there was nothing she could do to stop me. Like most people, she got caught up in the moment and yelled at me " You are not leaving here, the only way you will leave is if your dead.". I know now that she didn't mean that she wanted me to die.
I was young, I was scared, I did what I though was to most rational and easiest way to get out. I took a glass cup and shattered it.
I grabbed a piece of broken glass and I slit my arm.
A good 3" inches across, it was deep but not deep enough to bleed out. My mother freaked out and called the police on me. My friends were still out in the living room, waiting, wondering what had happened. My mom stormed out and they had rushed in, they all stopped at the door when they saw the blood dripping from my arm. My friend/cousin Meagan started crying, I was too in shock from my own actions that I stood there frozen in time.
The police and ambulance arrived, I was handcuffed and placed in the back of the squad car. Before they shut the door they but a temporary bandage on my arm. We drove off to the Hospital, where I was placed in the room with the white padded walls. You know the ones reserved for people who have tried to commit suicide.
I sat in that room, alone for 2 hours, and then finally someone came in.
They questioned me, asked my about why I slit my arm, and about the bruises on my body. I confessed to cutting my arm, because well why would I lie. I didn't want to die, I wasn't trying to kill my self, I was trying to escape my mom.
They asked if I had given my self the bruises and cracked collar bone, and I told them no. That my mother had done it, and that I had witness to back up my story.
The lady took some photos of the markings on my body, and told me that she would send in someone else to talk to me.
After a few more interviews, they asked me if I wanted to press charges. I declined, because if I had done so, it could have meant that my sisters and brother might end up in foster care, or they would all be shipped to my Dad. Instead I told them I just didn't want to go home with my mom. So they arranged for me to live in a group home for a while.
I stayed in the group home for a little over 2 weeks, and when I was released I went back to my mothers. When I arrived I told her that I didn't want to stay, that I wanted to live with my dad. She agreed to let me go this time, so I packed my things and set out to live with my dad in Portland Oregon.
When I arrived at my Fathers everything was great, his new wife greeted me with open arms, and introduced me to here children. Living with my dad was awesome, I didn't enroll in school while I was there, because I stayed home, and helped to babysit my step siblings.
After a about a year of living there, which puts me at about 17- going on 18, my Step mom took a turn for the worse. She became more and more aggressive towards me, we would constantly fight about how I disciplined her kids, which all I ever did was put them in time out. She however thought her kids were perfect and didn't need time out. I agreed to no longer put them in time out if it was that big of an issue.
Things calmed down for a bit but not for very long. About two weeks before my 18th birthday, my step mother and I got into an argument. You would not believe the reason why either, it was because I gave her stupid fucking spoiled little demon children some fucking ice cream. Why did I give it to them, well I couldn't put them in timeout for not listening, so i bribed their good behavior with some ice cream.
When she got home and saw that, she lost it, she yelled at my dad and at me, and then she did something no one ever thought she would do.
That bitch.. told my Dad to choose her, or to choose me.
Sadly, my dad choose her.
Why? Not even to this day.. I don't know the answer to that. Maybe it was because my Dad was reliant on her support, my Father was until the day he died an Alcoholic,Druggie. Maybe he knew he wouldn't be able to take care of me with out her. Either way he kicked me out, and I at the young age of 17 became homeless in Portland.
Like most people who are thrown into situations out side of their control I did what i could. I got a job working for the National Democratic party, as a canvasser, they paid me pretty good, but not good enough to get a place to stay every night. Basically I made just enough money to eat and that was it.
I had one friend during this whole time.. Jesse DeBra.. I didn't tell him at first that my Dad had kicked me out. Or that ever night since that night, I had ridden the Max from Gresham to Hillsoboro which is about 33 miles each way every night because I was to afraid to sleep at night. Portland is not the safest place at night, they have one of the largest homeless populations, and the crime rate is high at night. More people go missing along the max line, then anywhere else in Portland.
I had ever reason to fear for my life while I was homeless...
One night while riding the max, something happen and the train had to be emptied, so it could be worked. It dropped me and a few other stragglers in a pretty shady part of town. I was just a few stops from downtown Portland, over by Skidmore Fountain. I was headed back from Hillsboro when the max stopped, and I decided to continue on my way back to Gresham.
I was walking along under the bridge, where they normally hold the Sat/Sun market.
I though I was alone, but I wasn't.
I saw two men, who saw me from a far and instantly started yelling cat calls at me. They approached me, and asked me if I wanted to spend some time with them. I decline.. I started walking backwards, looking for a place to escape, a place I could run to, in order to get away. These men did not accept my answer, and continued to harass me. One of them noticed that I was searching for a way out, and he made his move. He grabbed me, and shoved me to ground. I screamed, I kicked.. I did everything I could do. I can remember now that while this was happening I only thought to my self, please just don't kill me. I knew that they were going to rape me... and I knew that they were going to kill me.
Just as the second man started to rip my clothing off, a group of local street kids, about my age turned the corner. I watched them come around the corner, and I locked eyes with one of them, a Boy named Charlie. He immediately ran towards the guys who had me pinned down. Just as quickly the remainder of his friends jumped in, they started beating on the two men who had me held down. A girl name Sarah, helped me put my clothing back on, and asked me if I was okay. I replied that I was fine, that I would be fine. If those kids would have came even 30 seconds later, that man would have raped me.
Charlie and Sarah and their friends, scared off the guys who attacked me, the offered to walk to over to the bus stop that would take me back up to Gresham.
I thanked them, and told them that I owed them my life... they simply smiled and said that they don't allow that on their streets. That they knew If I had been the one to find someone else in that position that I would have done the same. I agreed, we parted ways, and I never saw them again.
I have never told anyone about this night in Portland. Not a single person knows besides those who were involved, not even my best friend at the time knew about this... this is a secret I have kept locked behind velvet lips. Never allowing it to slip from my mind, and be heard by ears who either don't care to hear it, or wouldn't understand it.
The Bus finally stopped at the QFC just by my Father house. I was to shaken to go to him, because I figured he would just turn me away. I went to the pay phone and used the last of my money to call my friend. I went to his house and told him everything, well almost everything....
I remain homeless in Portland for just under 8 months...
where I learned to speak in silence...
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