My early years

Life began for me in October of 1976.

I was born to a nurse and a firefighter/farmer. Raised on a farm in a small town nestled down in the bottom corner of Michigan.

My life revolved around my love of horses. I began riding when I was 5 and showed horses right up through high school. At school I was a good student, always A's and B's, honor roll, a lot of extracurricular activities. Pretty average. 

What was not average was my home life. For 15 years I never heard my parents tell each other they loved one another. I never saw any hand holding, hugs or kisses. Two people who were living together in order to give us a stable home, yet they hated one another. More often than not they ignored the presence of each other. We would go entire meals without a single word being spoken. I had one younger sister, no brothers. Which added anger to the fuel of the fire for my father.

Growing up on the farm meant chores. It meant someone to help my dad farm and take over some of the work load from him. My sister and I represented the boys he could not have and because of that he withdrew away from us emotionally. I reflect on my childhood and I never once remember my father telling me he loved me. No embracing, hugs, or sweet lullabies came from the man. He was a disciplinarian in every sense of the word and we were both more terrified of him than anything else. He was scary when he lost his temper and that seemed to happen often.

My mother struggled with depression and while she had moments of a kind and loving mother, she had severe mood swings which often led to a lot of yelling. I never felt close to my mother, in fact I felt hatred toward her. She turned herself to the bottle early on in her life and I remember a mixture of Jack Daniels and Coke was always ready in the refrigerator.  She was the last of many children and had always felt labeled a mistake baby. Her mother died early on in her life and to this day I have felt that impacted the kind of mother she was to her own daughters.

We didn't do the typical family activities so many healthy families engage in. The tension was so extreme we did not even take family vacations together. I was about 14 when I noticed my dad parking next door at my grandmothers house and walking across the street to the neighbors house. At first I didn't think too much of the sight until I saw it happen more and more often. Before long I had clear suspicions my dad was having an affair with our much younger married neighbor who would often babysit us. It would later be determined infidelity was something which happened throughout my parents marriage.

It was close to Christmas and my mother was on a cruise with friends. My sister and I were home alone as often was the case. My father came into the house, sat us down, told us of his affair and plan to leave my mother. Before leaving he asked us not to repeat this to her until he could. And he left. So began my deeply rooted trust issues with men. I was hurt, I felt betrayed and alone. I had my sister, though I felt empty and full of despair.

My parents divorced and as most freshman in high school I began to act out. I fell into a deep depression before being hospitalized for a month as a result of attempting to take my own life. I had no where to turn. I struggled. I fought for some sort of familiarity. 

Luckily my rock throughout my early years was my grandmother. She was the most kind and genuine woman I have ever known. Throughout all the battles with my mother, her drinking, yelling, crying ... I never heard my grandmother say a negative word about her, even in the times I wished so badly she would. She was good, all the time. She was caring, compassionate and kind. I gravitated to her to get through the times where I literally had no parent.

It was right before I left for college. I heard screaming in the driveway around 10 or 11pm. I walked out to see my mother parked recklessly off the driveway, door open, lying on the pavement. She was crying, screaming, hysterical and heaven knows what else. Seeing her in a drunken state after driving herself home endangering all those around her and herself pushed me into a place emotionally detached from her completely. I wanted away for her, from the person the alcohol made her become. I went away to Michigan State and I never looked back.

College ... drinking, parties, booze and a LOT of it. I was a train wreck. I was ill prepared to face what new found freedom I had. I placed myself in dangerous situations with men I did not know. I would drink until passing out ... even to the extent I had my stomach pumped a month into my freshman year. I was a mess. I was lost. I struggled to find myself and my identity. I had no clear goals or ambitions. I just lived one weekend at a time. By my second year I was facing final probation with a grade point of 1.7/4.0. If I did not achieve a 2.5 or better I would be asked to leave the university. Slowly I changed my habits. I settled on Criminal Justice and I excelled. I ended up starting a relationship with my best friend and upon graduation we married. Though because of all the feelings of betrayal by my father and issues with trust, and bouts of depression our marriage ended nearly as quickly as it began. It would led me into the darkest few years of my life ... 

But soon I would find the light, or I should say He would find me.