My #MeToo story.

With the #Me Too movement making such an impact on people's live and so many people standing up and telling their stories I thought it was my turn to tell my story. Some of my story I have kept secret not wanting people to look at me and feel sorry for me and thinking I'm broken. Because really I'm not. I've used what has happened to me to grow and be an example to other people. I used to tell my kids that I could be the worst hooker drug addict down town Vancouver and have every excuse for being down there. I am strong I am woman hear me roar. I'm ready to let my secret out. I will probably be some what unpopular with some people after they read this but I don't really care. It's my story and I have the right to tell it. And wouldn't you know it I'm sitting here watching "The View" and they are talking about this very topic right now. To my earliest recollection my #Me Too story starts with my mother at the very early age of 11. My parents divorced when I was very young maybe when I was in grade five. Apparently my mother didn't take this very well because she kept saying to us, my sisters and I, "You better be careful, your dad said he was going to be the first one to have sex with you." I mean really who says stuff like this to there children. I for one can say that my dad never tried anything sexual with me. After my parents split up my mother decided that she couldn't live in the same town has my dad. So she moved my younger sister and I from the small town of Terrace, BC to the big city of Vancouver BC. I think my mother was just one of those bitter women who used their children to punish their ex's but that' a whole different story. Shortly after we moved to Vancouver my mother started going to single's bars and bringing men home. The first guy she bought home was a man named John. He lived with us on and off for fourteen years before they got married. And wouldn't you know it they are still together. Needless to say I do not associate with my mother but again that is a whole different story. We lived in this tiny basement suite, my mother, my sister and I. You came into the living room where my mother and who ever she was with slept. From the living room was a combination kitchen dinning room where my sister and I slept in a double bed. You had to go through the this room to get to the bathroom. This man was a drunk. My mother bought him home drunk the very first night she met him at the bar.I don't know what she was thinking. Man oh man I still get mad when I think about this. He was so drunk when he came home my mom would have to put him to bed or they would go to bed and have sex. I don't know and don't really want to know. He would get up to pee in the middle of the night and walk into our room naked. We would wake up to seeing this naked man standing in the corner trying to pee. We would call our mom to come get him and she did. I don't know why she didn't kick the son of a bitch out. Sometimes he would try to crawl into bed with us. Usually on my side to the bed because this was closest to the corner where he tried to pee in was. Yup and again I had to call my mother to come get her boyfriend. I was eleven years old in grade six. I don't know why but I remember feeling kind of special to get this kind of attention while I didn't want him in my bed. I've tried to figure out why I would feel special getting that kind of attention. I think it was because I had already spent my live feeling unwelcomed into this world, unwanted and unloved. My dad had his favorite and my mom had her favorite and I wasn't either of them. My mom always said they couldn't afford me. Maybe that's why I felt special at this kind of attention. I don't know maybe? You would think that a mother would get rid of a boy friend if he behaved like that but oh no she kept him. We later moved from that small place into a bigger one. And yes he came with us. I remembered we rough housed with him like we did with our dad. Except there was one exception. He grabbed our boobs. I remember telling my mom to tell him to stop. My mom said that he was just playing. So I guess to her this was ok. I remember my sister and I used to grab each others boobs. I don't know why. Maybe because we were acting out. A mother is suppose to teach a child to have boundaries and respect their bodies. Not tell them it's ok if a man gorps you because he's just playing. Did I tell you that I was eleven when my brought him home and my sister was nine? I heard years later that John had sex with my sister. I asked my mom if this was true. She said yes but he was drunk. I guess that made it ok. So it was ok for a man to grab your boobs when he was playing and to have sex with a young young girl because he was drunk. Yup like I said they were together on and off for 14 years before they got married, I was always afraid that he would try to have sex with me. As time went by I remember yelling at my mother. I don't know what about. My mother's way of dealing with her troubled child was to first take her to a shrink and then when that didn't work she through her young daughter out of the house into a foster home. Yup that was me. Thrown in a foster home which by the way wasn't any better. But a different part of my #Me Too story. Through the years John grabbed my ass every time I walked pasted him. This continued right up to the time I was 24 when I got married. I told my mother this once. She said, "He did not!" My mother and I don't talk anymore. She disowned me several years ago, when my kids were little. Before my little one was born. I'm ok with this. I'm actually glad. I wasn't at first but as I started to work on myself and look at my life I saw how I was protecting my children by not having this man in our lives. I didn't want this man to hurt my children as he hurt me when I was a child. I saw my mother at my nephews grad in 1999 all she said to me was I should be happy because he, being John, had been sober for 3 years. Oh that's wonderful he's sober and they are pillars of their community but what about the damage that he did to me and my sister. I watched an Oprah show where she talked to men who had been sexually abused. One man told his story how he was sexually abused and his mother knew about it. Oprah said to the mother, "Same on you!" I say to my mother for not protecting your children, "Shame on you!" So ends this part of my # Me Too story. The secret is out.