My Story

I've been hearing about the reconciliation the Canadian government is involved in with the survivors of the residential schools wishing that people like me who survived the dysfunctions of foster care were included in those efforts.   If you read my first post you read that I was put into foster care. I was the ripe old age of 12. I was half way through grade seven.   I was told that the foster home was one of the best. The foster parents won awards for being good foster parents. That wasn't my experience.   My foster parents names were John and Billie. Billie was a nick name for the foster mother. Her real name was Dorothy.   Both John and Billie were drunks. They drank all the time. Billie sat at the kitchen table all day drinking her Rye and milk. She said that she drank it because it was like medicine. John worked as a bus driver in Vancouver. He coached the high school rugby team and the community softball league. They were both well know in the community as...

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 paren...