#MeToo Con. Con.Con. Con.

Still struggling writing this. It takes a lot of convincing myself to write more of this saga. But I keep thinking I should write it. Maybe if I write it I'll get it out of my head completely and not think about it any more. I think maybe to break up the sting of this I'll share one of my poems. Please if you read the poem don't read it and feel sorry for me. I am not broken and don't need to be fixed or pitied.

                                                         I’m a Survivor

I am a survivor.

And what I have to survive

There has been no end.

And all through it all I can see

That you were my friend

And you never did let me down.

Always your hand protected me.

You guarded my heart and didn’t let it grow hard.

As a child I survived lack of love and neglect.

I had to survive and when I was five I begun to fight.

But I know I wasn’t far from your sight.

I remember the days I memorized your word.

I really wanted to impress someone.

Name the books of the bible sure no problem.

I really wanted to win that prize.

It was around that time I thought I’d be a nun.

I begun to know just how awesome you were.

And even then you were my friend.

A child’s not to young to know you because I remember

Calling out to you, “Please God don’t let my dad kill my mom!”

I know you heard all my prayers.

When I was a teen and things were still all wrong

You still were my friend and many times my only one.

At times there was no one else to around

And I had to stand on my own.

But I always knew you were close by.

Through I dabbled in the drugs and drank a little to much rum

And wondered around I know you were there.

I remember the days when you were the only on I could talk to

And to you I’d run.

I survived the touches of too many men,

The thrill of having to live with a drunk one,

My sister on the streets and having no fun,

The violence of being misunderstood and told just where to go.

I survived knowing that there was none of that mother’s love for me.

I moved from here to there and finally when I was

Just sixteen I got a place of my own.

I looked in the strangest of places for love.

But you were always with me and to you I’d run,

Cause I knew you’d always listen to me.

I had a baby when I was just nineteen

And you guided me to protect him and made sure he’d grow.

He was born just a little might

But you gave him a real big name.

It was shortly after that; I was on my own again.

I heard you call my name.

And I began to grow in your wonder and feed upon your word.

I know I cried a lot because I thought I was on my own.

I wanted the comfort of strong arms around me

But I wasn’t really alone you were there

And I was growing in your wonder.

And yes through those times I had to be a survivor

It helped make me strong.

Then came the really hard times and

I wonder how I made it through.

I know it was your lifeline that kept me alive.

Those words I had hid in my heart they shone through.

That man I was married to. At times I thought I’d die.

I survived through hell and torment,

Stabbed by his words, cursed and abused.

And to my horror at times he’d even use your word.

In those times I sure was confused.

How could it be somebody would treat me this way and in your precious name?

All I wanted to do was follow you and do some on some good.

You blessed me with two more bundles of joy

And put your mark on them.

I know you were there and watched over me.

It was your words that I had hidden in my heart

That I’d call out to you.

I suffered lack of money and fear of hunger

But always you came though.

I don’t think I ever ran out of milk

And my cupboards were never completely bare.

And you always gave us nice clothes to wear.

You were my strength and redeemer

And under your wings you hid me and rescued me from my tormentor.

You redeemed me and to you I knew that I could always run.

Your hand protected me and didn’t let my heart grow hard.

Now at times in my life

When things seem so hard I must remember that I am a survivor

And you won’t let my heart grow hard.

When live seems so uncertain and things are clouded

With thoughts of all that is uncertain and the insecurities that go with that

Along with self doubts and regret of undone accomplishments

I got to remember live is never just a quiet lay on the rug

And I’ll always have to be a survivor and to you I must always run.

And you’ll always be my friend and your hand will always protect me.

And my heart won’t grow hard.

If I fear others will leave me or use me for no good end

I’ll always have you as my friend

And your promises never come to an end.

At times I know I must disappoint you

And try to hid my face from you,

I turn my back and watch you from the corner of my eye.

But always your hands are open to me

And you’d never beat me for the wrong things I do.

All you say is, “Hey, I paid for that too.”

Is there no end to your love for me?

My own shortcomings and self-condemnations

Can’t even bring it to an end.

And when my heart cries to you for its desires you will

Listen and protect me and won’t let it grow hard.

Yes I am a survivor and will survive to the end.

© Patricia Penner

    If you read my last post you'll remember that Hank and Vikki decided to set my dad up with Vikki's mom. That I guess would have been OK if it had all been done right. But it didn't go to good for me any way. 

  As I told you before the night that we all met I was 13 turning 14 in two months and was allowed to get absolutely drunk. I spent most of the night making out with Ronnie who was 16 days older than me. Then later that night I was sexually assaulted by Hank. That was a night to remember and not in a good way. I still sit and shake my head when I think about this. Where were the adults in my life and why didn't my dad say anything?

   The following weekend my dad, Marie, Vikki and Hank all went to Prince George BC to pick up some of Marie's furniture because she was moving to Terrace.

  Well guess fucking what. These adults thought it was a good idea to leave two thirteen year olds to play house. They left me and Ronnie to look after Vikki and Hank's baby. 

  Now tell me who would leave two hormonal thirteen year olds to play house especially after they have been making out on the couch.

  That.s right you guessed it. I lost my virginity that weekend. Two months before I turned fourteen. Till this day my kids still don't know how old I was when I lost my virginity. I was way to young and didn't want them to follow in my path so I never told them. I am happy that they were well into their teens before they lost theirs. 

 Losing my virginity wasn't a great experience. Not only was it not a satisfying experience. it was quite painful as well. I had the most painful stomach ache the next day.

  Not that long after that week end me and my dad ended up moving in with Marie and Ronnie. And again I got to ask what the hell was wrong with the adults in my live. Marie and Ronnie were living in a two bedroom bungalow.  Me and \Ronnie shared a room. My dad and Marie's room was right across the hall and they didn't seem to know what was going on right across the hall. Ronnie and I continued our sexual relationship. It wasn't a relationship that I enjoyed. I participated but only because I was afraid to say no. Ronnie had a very bad temper. He even bullied his mother. One day I said something that he didn't like and he slammed me against the wall and threatened me. I was afraid of him after that. 

  At one point Marie was became aware that we were having sex because she put me on the pill. She said that my dad didn't know. I don't know if he ever did. 

  I guess Marie found out about me and Ronnie having sex because I thought I was pregnant and told Vikki and Vikki told Marie. It was after that conversation the Marie said that I should go on the pill. 

  Nope my dad didn't know that either. 

    As you might have guessed Marie isn't one of my favorite people. Who in their right minds puts a 14 year old girl on the pill for having sex with a boy that was suppose to be her step brother. That whole situation just makes me sick to think about it. I never did consider him my brother step or other wise. I wonder what my dad would have done if he knew? I wonder if he would have stayed with Marie for so long?

  Marie had three sons. Ronnie was the youngest. Lyle was nice he treated me like a brother. He never did anything to hurt me. I'm sad to say that Lyle killed himself a few years later. I was nineteen. 

  Wayne was the oldest boy. He was well into his twenties when I met him. I had a sexual relationship with him too. That makes me sick to my stomach. I was fourteen when that started and he was way into his twenties. Sometimes I go onto his Facebook and see what a creepy old man he looks like. I Sometimes I feel like sending him Facebook messages asking him how may other fourteen year old girls he's had sex with. I mean who did he think he was. 

  I remember romanticizing about him. He had been married before. His wife left him. He never got over it. I romanticized that he would fall in love with me and we would go off and get married and live happily ever after and he would never think about his wife again. That never happened. 

  I used to think that he really cared about me. That he was one person that really did because he yelled at me one day told me to think about someone else besides myself. I know now he wasn't yelling at me because he cared about me. I really don't know what got him mad that day. His mother was in the hospital maybe he was concerned about her. 

  I protected Wayne for a long time. My sister would ask me if I ever had sex with him. I don't know why she always asked. But I never told her a thing. I didn't want him to get into trouble. I don't know why he was a dirty old man. 

  The sexual relationship with Ronnie eventually ended.  We moved into town to a bigger place. I had my own room. Wayne and Ronnie had to share a room Ronnie lived closer to his girlfriend and I had my own boyfriend.  

  I remember the last time I was with Wayne. I was suppose to spend the night with my boyfriend over at Ronnie's girl friends house. We went to bed and had sex. It was very satisfying or something. I just  remember feeling gross. I decided to go home. I walked home in the middle of the night. Wayne was there. I crawled into bed with him and had sex. I liked being with Wayne I felt safe when I was with him. I felt connected. I never felt connected or loved growing up. I guess now a days they would say that my relationship with Wayne was consensual. But was it? I was fourteen when it started. To young to have sex never mind sex with a man well into his twenties. 

  Both my mom and dad had there favorites and I wasn't one of them. I had many relationships with older men in my teens. 

 Bit this is enough for now.