I Despised Her. I Became Her.

I was a sweet and innocent girl that came from what I thought was normal. Having two parents in the household, with a lot of abuse and fighting happening on the weekend. Always hearing 'WHY THE BILLS AIN'T GETTING PAID?! WHY YOU SPENT THE MONEY UP?! YOU'RE GAMBLING!'And the abuse went on and on until the courage came from a single mother of five at the time. She couldn't do it no more.

My mother gave me up to my dad because when he came around, he wanted to control her household, telling her who she could and couldn’t have around his child. So she decided to let him take me with him. While living with him, I was threatened to not tell anyone that I was being abused by my stepmother while he was at work; I was told that if I spoke up, I’d still be stuck there with her.

So that went on for a while. I started having resentment and anger towards my mother. I would be dressed up waiting at the window for her to come and she would never show up. She would never show up. I would fall asleep all dressed up. I got tired looking out of the window. She never came. I experienced broken promises early on, long before picking up. I developed abandonment issues. I suffered with low self-worth because I felt as though I wasn't good enough. Why did she keep her other kids but didn't keep me? I began exploring different religions, including Jehovah's Witnesses. My grandparents were Christians, but I couldn't understand why God would allow these things to happen to me. And I couldn't tell anyone what was going on.

Mind you, my dad was an alcoholic. At nine years old, the man that I loved, the one I looked up to... while my stepmother was giving birth to my baby sister.... my dad was upstairs raping my stepsister. October 31st 1979 my life changed. I was devastated. I was left behind again because she took her children and left me there with him. So once again there I was, not feeling worthy.

The abandonment.

The rejection.

And that went on and it went on and went on.

People used to call me the church girl.

Eventually, I had no other choice but to go live back with mom and I had to endure the pain of "that's not your mother that's our mother". Trying to find a place inside a home that I'm supposed to be comfortable in and welcomed, but that didn't happen.

So I was drawn to people who were doing things I wasn’t used to, and I wanted to be a part of it. I didn't want to be that church girl. I didn't want to be that Jehovah's Witnesses person any more. I had lost my faith in God, and I remember that’s when my journey began; me trying to fit in with the "in" crowd. Getting introduced to different things. I was introduced to mind and mood altering substances, starting with marijuana, the gateway drug. I remember being a little girl and not understanding what they meant when they said things like '37 50'; those were the numbers my mother and them used when they were talking about copping drugs. I was introduced to a lifestyle and didn't even know where my life was going to go. I remember them always bringing my mother around because she would always be passed out and they would be putting ice on her. I didn't have a clue that it was from her ODing. So many times we stood there crying, wanting them to save her. I remember all that anger I had towards her. I became her. I despised who she was, the things that she was doing, all the things that she had done.

I remember somebody lacing my drugs, giving me some 'love boat' and a man and

his friend took us somewhere... and he left out to go to the store and his friend raped me.

And I was too scared...

My mom is a person I'm supposed to trust with everything, and I was too scared to let her

know what was going on me. And I held that in for a lot of years because I blame myself. I told myself that now somebody is doing what my father did to somebody else, to me.

I changed everything about me. I didn't want to wear feminine shoes anymore. I remember boxing up two boxes of shoes. I used to want to be a model but all that went out the window because I felt as though it was my fault. I felt like if I hadn’t dressed that way or looked that way, it wouldn’t have happened. I was overwhelmed by emotions I didn’t even realize I had, but I buried them with drugs. Drugs gave me a false sense of comfort, until my life spiraled out of control. I used to despise drugs, but one day I found myself using them. I was scared people would find out, especially my mother.

No matter what it is, no matter how deep or dark the pain may be, you don’t have to suffer in silence. Reach out. There’s more help available today than there was all those years ago. There are hotlines and people you can talk to. Don’t hesitate to reach out. Even if it’s a stranger on the street, get the help. You need to release that pain. I’m here for you, and you can make it through.

12/30/2005. Tyreka has 19 years clean. This year will make 20.

-Tyreka

*Note: Transcribed from video and lightly edited for clarity.