My childhood trauma began at two years of age. My father was a heroin addict who convinced my mother to try this awful drug. He physically abused my mother and tried several times to steal me away. Once he called the police on my mother after she had finished a phone call with him saying she had taken three advil and wanted to go to bed. I was awoken in the middle of the night to several officers, paramedics and fire dept. at the foot of our bed claiming my father had called her in as a 5150. In front of me they asked my mother to get out of bed in her underwear and put her in a straight jacket to take her to jail for toxicology analysis. She was taken from me again, and I was immediately packed up with my grandparents and taken up north to stay with family out of fear that he was coming to get me next. My mother was cleared after three days in a padded room.

My mother who worked so hard to kick the monkey off her back and succeeded was hauled away in a straight jacket before my very eyes.

I remember laying in front of the front door screaming "I did not want her to leave" because I knew that if she did go to her so called NA meeting she would not return for weeks. As drugs were being sold right outside of these meetings. I would sleep on the floor next to my grandmother who always watched cheers and then taxi before going to sleep. To this day when I hear the opening song to taxi it stirs up a lot of sad emotions from wishing she was there with me.

My father would say "I am the son of Satan" was pure evil. My mothers heroin addiction via needle lasted for two years and by the age of 5 I knew how too cook heroin to extrapolate it into a syringe. Those are painful memories, and all of the spoons in the house were burnt from this process. However it does not keep me from moving forward.

And one more insight, on our way home from methadone clinic my mothers brakes failed as a grandmother and her grand-daughter decided to J- Walk in front of us. The little girl who was also about five rolled up on to the hood of our car and her face almost came completely through the windshield on my side. I will never forget that. She died instantly. The grandmother hit the curb with her head and went into a coma and then died as well. My mother was again taken to jail and told that if methadone was in her system she would get vehicular man slaughter. By the grace of God her drug screen returned clean.

Sorry for my long post but I wanted to share my childhood traumas. Thanks for reading if you do happen too.