At around 10 or 11 years old my father decided it was time for me to go to work so he started arranging babysitting jobs for me at 50 cents and hour.
After five or six hours watching a house full of wild hooligans, I would take my 2.50 home, and my father would relieve me of it. He had to work as a kid and pay for room and board, therefore I must too.
By the time I was 15 I was working approximately 30 hours per week babysitting and going to school. My dear dad got me a job at the local supermarket even though I was underage. So...I'd get up at 6 am..go to school til 3, go to work at the store until 8 and then babysit until 12 or 1am.
I suppose this in itself wouldn't have been that bad, but he wanted sex from me too.
By this time there were five kids, one of them special needs, and my mom was so far beaten down by his constant derisiveness that she was in her own little world and ill.
I turned 18 on June 25. I graduated high school on June 26, and June 27 I started my first full time job. I worked there long enough to save money to leave the state and arranged to move in with my recently widowed grandfather in Florida. It was heaven there. I still did chores; but chores for two is a lot less work than chores for 7. Grampa was thrilled to have me there and even though I got a full time job at a nearby bank, we spent lots of time together going out to eat, sightseeing, visiting old friends and so forth. Life was easy for the first time in my life and I was loving it.
Then my family came down for a visit. My mom was drawn and haggard. She looked like she was on deaths' door and after the vacation ended and they'd gone back to NY, I couldn't think of anything except how bad she looked. I decided I had to go back to NY and look after her and the kids.
I moved briefly back into the family home, got a full time job and did what I could to improve the situation. Of course it was unbearable...being around the old man again was more than I could handle and I realized I had to find my own place. Eventually, I moved into an apartment with a girl my own age in the closest city. I worked hard, paid my bills and partied way too hearty. Grocery money was spent hanging out at the local pub and new hippy clothes. I was having a wonderful time until the fast lane caught up with me not even a year later. I collapsed at work, lost my apartment and ended back with the fam.
As my health improved and my strength returned, my father decided to put me to work at his real estate office. I took over the position as receptionist/secretary and in his mind, this included my having to sit on his lap to take dictation. Can you even imagine?
I'd been talking to a boy that worked in the shop next door to the office and he asked me out. He was extremely shy and quiet, but he was very nice and I thought basically, anything to get me away from dad.
Through this shy quiet guy, I met who would become my first husband. It was at their shared apartment that I first met Jim. There was an instant attraction and I knew within my heart of hearts, I was in love. Little did I know he had that same kind of attraction to any female he came in contact with...but, as they say, love is blind. I felt tremendously guilty about ending Rich's (shy quiet) and my first date by falling in love with his roommate...but Jim didn't have a problem with it at all, and convinced both Rich and I it was destiny.

I've read many blogs supporting the war in Iraq and I take great pride in the fact that as Americans, we are free to hold and voice the opinions we persoanlly feel are right.

What I don't understand is, if you believe a war is right and you are of age to fight it, why aren't you?

It's one thing to voice your opinion but I read an awful lot of criticism about the people who don't support the war being unpatriotic and not worthy of their national identity. If you do believe the war is right and just, why aren't you there? I know people who have been harassed for their beliefs, and one guy who was fired for speaking out against the war at his job. At our local mall, people wearing T-shirts that had anti-war messages were escorted out when this war first began. It is our Constitutional right to express the opinions we develop as individuals; so if our rights are being violated due to our opinion, what is it we should be fighting for? I'm saying...sending me to blow someone up because they don't believe in freedom and then denying me that same freedom...what exactly is it that this war is about?
And I hate to say it, but a planet that can't evolve beyond bombing the crap out of each other ain't gonna make it anyway. There are other ways of forcing rogue countries into submission. Where would all of these fanatical countries be if no one bought their oil? Oh, but our economy is based on that oil...so are we at war because of fundamental differences in our belief systems? Or are we at war because people who don't agree with us have something we want? And if we no longer wanted their oil, what ammunition would they have to fight against us? For one thing, they wouldn't have any money. To admit the US has no other option but than to buy or steal oil from an enemy is saying we don't have enough brains and know how to come up with a different energy source. I don't believe that's true at all.
I want you to know, I am not attacking your beliefs or you. I'm just asking questions that seem logical to ask when peoples' lives are on the line. I want to know the truth. I have to wonder if that is too much to ask in these times; but how else can one make intelligent choices about what is right and wrong?
If this administration isn't doing anything wrong, why aren't they making pertinent information available to other agencies who have the right to know? We are asked to submit to the same thing. If we have nothing to hide, we shouldn't mind being monitored, right? Well, the same thing should go for the government. If they aren't doing anything wrong, why shouldn't we be able to know what's going on behind those closed doors?
I've heard people say they don't know enough or aren't well enough informed to made decisions that our government is only qualified to make. I say...we better get informed and what better way than an open dialogue between our elected representatives and ourselves? Whether one considers them self to be conservative or liberal, it is our job as Americans to know what's going on and make informed choices that not only affect us individually, but everyone on the entire planet.
Sucking down petroleum like there's no tomorrow will reap us just that..no tomorrow. What are you doing as an individual, to solve that problem?
Again, I'm not trying to bully anyone or insist they view the world the same way I do. I just am trying to raise questions that will take us all out of the box and encourage healthy dialogue between all factions. I am the first person to admit that I don't have all the answers..I don't even have all the questions! That's where you come in...and maybe between us, we can figure this mess out and find new and better ways to exist within this brave new world together without having to maim, kill and destroy. Perhaps I am an idealist...I'm okay with that. If none of us explore the possibilities and ask the hard questions, we will be doomed to donning uniforms and weapons until there is no one left to argue about who is right and who is wrong.

In good faith,
Pyewacket

My sister Diane Marie was born nine weeks premature in 1952. They had only just started using incubators with premies and did not know that a 100% oxygen environment would harm them.
Many children were born under these circumstances and suffered blindness, deafness or even brain damage.
My mother remembers my sister being so small that my father could hold her in one hand. The staff at the hospital told my parents every day for three weeks that my sister was not going to make it. My mom said Diane's legs, which were as skinny as moms' fingers, kept on a-kickin with such determination that she knew she would make it.
They didn't realize until Diane was about 4 months old that something was wrong. I thought that was a very long time to figure out that Di wasn't seeing after I had my own kids; but I think now my parents were more in denial than unaware.
Mom said I was quite pissed off at her when she came home from the hospital without the baby she'd been promising me. I remember when Diane finally did come home though...I argued with mom relentlessly about "my baby". She kept telling me Diane was hers and dads' baby and she was my sister, but I never accepted this explanation.
I was so attached to my sister that my mother could put Diane in her little "taylor tot" chair in the backyard, and I would stay by her side...mind you she was younger than a year old, and we are only twenty months apart. That's how young I was when I started looking after my siblings. It came natural to me to nurture, but it was also about protection. I remember feeling so strongly, that sense of keeping her safe from every harm.
Growing up with Diane was like growing up with an attached twin. I didn't go anywhere that I didn't take her arm and lead her along. I explained everything that I saw to her and we played our unique games when she couldn't join the group. We would think of a number, or a song..or a person, and the other had to guess psychically what the other was thinking. I believe this is one of the reasons I developed such a high level of sensitivity.
I honestly don't know what I would have done - what I might have become, if it weren't for Diane being there. Having her to focus on, to protect and watch over, kept me "here", kept my psyche from totally disassociating.
I consider her an angel sent to help me. Bad stuff was going on..and I was powerless to stop it. But I could hold Diane, and she would hold me back.
Diane and I were like glue throughout most of our childhood. Only school came between us, and that was just space. We continued to play our "guess what I'm thinking games" and this honed my senses in a way most people had no access to.
Diane graduated from college, majoring in the Spanish language and spending a semester in Madrid. Imagining flying across the Atlantic to a foreign country by yourself, without sight! I could never understand how she did things like geometry and calculus without being able to figure it on paper!
My sister has continually amazed and inspired me. She has been a major miracle in my life and deserves a whole page of her own in my "365 Miracles" thingy. She is a gleaming example of the fact that for every door that closes, at least two others are opened up. Thanks for reading!
Peace Pye

I have made a number of statements in the chat room that have initiated gasps from other visitors. I feel I should tell you all a little about my life, which has not been average at all in some ways, and very average in others. Much of what I must write will no doubt be upsetting; so I warn you now, if you are very sensitive..you might want to skip this post.
Some of the major influences in my life that have shaped who I am are my sister Diane who is 20 months younger than me and blind; the fact that I was sexually abused by my father (and others) as a child, and the fact that I am extremely sensitive in most ways, and maybe a little obtuse in some others.
I came from your typically dysfunctional family; and even though this includes extremes, I don't think I'm that unusual from most people I have met...meaning, everyone experiences extremes. Unfortunately, child abuse itself isn't as rare as one would hope.
My mother was an icon of morality and my father was sociopathic, and probably even schitzophrenic, but highly intelligent. I doubt there are many people in the community I grew up in who would suspect the level of my father's deviance; and I never told a soul until I was well into my 20's. However, he was eventually busted for financial misdealings and spent time in prison. My parents were divorced in the early 70's and my mom probably would have died had she not left him. She certainly is not left unscathed by his malicious behavior.
I am not either. I still have residual effects and I have sought help many times though my adulthood. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and have also suffered deep depression at times. I have dealt with these problems in any way, shape or form which provided relief; including attempted suicide. Sometimes I have taken medications, but generally I want to regulate my own psyche and use them only for short periods of time when I can't get myself out of depression, or start experiencing panic when something trips one of my hidden switches. I have worked ..very hard, to eliminate these things from my life. I have also had to realize that some things never go away and you just have to learn to live with it. I consider myself a survivor. At this point in my life, I have learned to appreciate everything that made me who I am. I'm not sure I would change anything if I had the chance. I know things that many people don't know...only because of what I have gone through...and this has enabled me to help others..so. It is important to me that I provide an ear, a shoulder, some sympathy, share some anger..whatever it is that's needed by the person I am with at any given moment. I always felt so very alone and that was the major turning point in my life, when I realized I was not and infact, never could be! I don't want other people to have to feel that absolute abandonment...so I try to be "there" for them. I feel that if my experience can help even just one other person who is in the same boat...then it has been worth it.
Some of the things that make me feel proud are, that I have stopped the cycle of violence that existed in my family for generations; that I beat the odds, which for sexually abused women is 15/85. 85% don't succeed in overcoming the odds. They become prostitutes, drug addicts, suicides, institutionalized or dead. Being in the 15% feels pretty good to me...and motivates me to change those odds for others.
That's as much as I will tackle this time around...it is enough for a first chapter and believe me, it's only the beginning. I would like to close by saying I forgive my father. He is the product of his own hell and one of the 85% who haven't made it. I pray for him and I've encouraged him to face the issue with me; however, you can't reason with a delusional human being and my last attempt was thwarted by his response that it was not good to "renew old acquaintances". When I asked him why, he said it was because I had never sent him a birthday card (which wasn't even true)...so..prayer is my only tool. That's one I had to turn over to the Powers that Be.
Thanks for reading this and looking inside a fearful person, but a person who has decided to stand face to face with that fear anyway. It is my fondest desire that you gain something positive from my experience...whether that be a sense of belonging, motivation, inspiration...whatever. I don't want you to feel bad ..this is a story of success, not horror...well, some horror - that leads to success! Fact is..I feel good. I continue to love and be loved..and that's the bottom line for me. If these horrors have done anything, they have created in me an even stronger drive to become and grow...and that can't be bad.
Peace Out

I was thinking last night as I went to sleep, about writing a book describing all the "miracles" that I have experienced in my life. Truly, I experience miracles every single day. I'm not talking about huge, ultra phenomenal occurances like have happened at places like Lourdes; I'm talking about little pieces of life that happen so quickly, most people don't realize it's miraculous. Let me give you an example of yesterday's miracle.
I was on my porch, watering my plants. (There is a picture of my tiny queendom in my gallery). Anyway, I'm standing there pouring water into hanging planters and a hummingbird came hovering up. I have a feeder and they have been draining it quickly these past few days. I suspect they are preparing for their trek south. But this little girl...buzzed up infront of my face..about 12 inches from my nose, and just hovered there, looking at me. I couldn't believe it and I knew that if she realized I was a human, she'd split lickedty quick. After peering at me for seconds..she buzzed up to the feeder and drank her fill. The miracle is..she didn't leave. She buzzed back down and hovered in front of my face again..almost as if she were thanking me for the food. To me...this kind of thing is totally amazing. This is not my first peaceful encounter with hummingbirds. One became trapped on our front porch several years ago. It was a tall porch with windows near the bottom. She was up in the rafters panicking...and I was terrified she was going to hit the roof so hard she would injure herself. Finally I got a step ladder, and from that, climbed up on the plant shelves my partner had built for me. I stood as tall as I could and just held out my hand to her. I must have coaxed her gently for close to a half hour and I could see she was becoming exhausted. Finally I moved my palm right under her and said, "Please let me help you". She landed. I couldn't believe it - I was holding a hummingbird in my hand. I slowly began the climb down, fearing any jostle would send her airborn again, but she sat there calmly. I finally reached the entranceway and held my hand out into the air. She just sat in my palm, her two shiney little black eys focused on mine. My heart was racing and tears were falling down my face like a summer rain. I was overcome that this tiny creature was trusting me and allowing herself to be held by a human. Finally, after drinking each other up with our eyes, I gave her a little upward push and off she went...but not too far. She lit on a nearby branch and continued to look at me. I don't know how long I stood there locking eyes with her, but I felt as if God him/herself was standing between us with a big smile.
Holding that miniature critter was one of the most incredible moments of my life...feeling that trusted filled up my soul til foam was coming out my ears!
What I've learned...and I learned it the hard way, believe me; is that every moment we are alive, God is trying to communicate with us. Every single thing that happens to us is that...we just aren't paying attention. The trick is to train yourself to listen and watch very deeply. Don't just see what happens infront of you, let it into your soul, because that's the only place we can really hear the voice of the Divine. Literally everything on earth is evidence of a higher consciousness, but the only way to perceive it is to be vulnerable..open, hopeful and with the innocence of a child. If you can't believe it's possible in the first place, chances are you won't notice even if it kicks you in the butt. It is scary. It is frigtening to allow ones'self to be that accessable and there is always a possibility that you will get hurt being that open...but over time those hurts and pains grow into wisdom and the ability to get something good out of every occurance you connect with.
That may sound easier to do than it actually is; but it's worth it. As one purifies their own being of negativity and allows the possibility of goodness to come in, more goodness comes in! And this is a question I have always asked myself: if I calm the chaos within me, will the chaos outside of me subside? I believe I can now answer that question with a resounding yes. If I can influence my own small space in that way by being calm, imagine what this planet would be if every person on it did the same thing!
If I am tense and uptight, I am unable to perceive the good things around me and make things that shouldn't be difficult..so. However, if I remain centered and relaxed, I not only perceive the goodness, but am capable of producing my own...and, if something negative does enter my space, I am far more able to deal with the problem effectively.
I hope, if you are reading this, that it will give you hope. Living without it is not living...so please, if you are feeling alone and hopeless, trust me...just a little and look around for a miracle. It may take awhile before your eyes get accustomed..but I feel I can promise you that your miracle will come...mine did, and never stopped!