By just the age of 8 I can honestly say I had escaped death twice. Before the age of 25 I had escaped death twice more. I sit here at the age of 35, wiser with age and realize how blessed I really am. Those who know Me personally might say finally, something gets through to her. Reality is I’ve been known that it’s far from My time. I have not fulfilled the orders I was given yet, but it seems even when I’m hurting I’m growing through the pain.
When I look back at My life and near death experiences I have hard time Myself understanding how I survived this long. I often say that I witnessed My step-father’s death but never give any detail. I was 6 when one night, life changed. We were all asleep, My sister, cousin and I in one bed back in the bedroom, My mom and stepdad on the pullout sofa in the living room. The door was kicked open in the middle of the night. A knife-wielding teenager got into a fight with My unarmed stepdad who had jumped up when the door crashed open.
The guy had a knife, my stepdad just his fists, the teenager ended up stabbing My stepdad 13 times in the chest and upper body area. He turned for My mom after he had initially attacked My stepdad and she screamed that she had kids in here, please don’t hurt us. My mom was young; I think only 22 at this point. The kid could have killed us all. My stepdad used all his strength to fight that boy off, he fought him out the apartment and died on the hallway steps.
After My stepdad’s death, my mother came into a substantial amount of money. he had been older than her, and worked a great job. She received a lump sum insurance policy and SSI for her and My toddler sister for the rest of her life. She found herself strung out on crack or cocaine, I’m not sure which one. Ignoring her kids one day, my sister and I were upstairs waiting to be fed after begging multiple times. We were playing with a lighter and accidentally set the bed on fire. The whole upstairs was destroyed, I don’t know how I made it out the house, my memory has blanked but we both did.
In 2004, I almost lost My life twice, this time, I can chalk it up to the foul way I was living. I had lost My job and couldn’t find a new one for a few months before the holidays. I ended up stripping at private parties and having sex for money to pay the bills and take care of My 4-year-old son. One night I stupidly agreed to go to DC with some strangers to do a party because I was so desperate for the money. When we got there, everything went wrong from jump and the party was a bust. There were things going on that made Me uncomfortable and I think I was annoying people with My wanting to get back to Baltimore. I was totally afraid to be alone with these people and wanted to be dropped off before the one other girl who came from Baltimore.
At one point, the driver said he wasn’t dealing with Me anymore and ordered Me out of his car. I looked around, not having a clue where I was at 2 a.m. with no phone on Me. I refused. He told Me I was getting out of his car. I was more afraid of being left alone in the county in Baltimore than this hulking man in front of Me. That was stupid. He snatched my little ass up so fast and hard and threw Me up in the air. I hit the ground hard with a thud, he threw My purse and bag out on top of Me and left Me in the middle of the street like and animal.
I don’t know how long I stayed crumpled on the ground before I managed to pull Myself up and limp along the road trying to figure out where I was. Eventually, some cops saw Me, they barely believed My story that it was a bad date and the guy I was out with had thrown Me out because I wouldn’t put out. Somehow I managed to convince them that I didn’t need medical assistance, I just felt victimized and wanted to go home. I rode home in a cruiser that night. Weird because My memory has blocked that out until now. I would have told anyone I’ve never been in a police car, but I was, the night one helped Me. I could have been hit by a car, assaulted, raped or anything, but they got Me home.
A few months later I broke up with My on and off boyfriend of 2.5 years again. We had had a fight the night prior because I was horny and he had other plans to play midnight basketball. When he knocked on My door the next day I told him I was not interested in hooking up since he didn’t have time when I wanted t see him. Petty, but I was single, I felt I could say that. He felt differently.
That night I had invited another guy over and My ex broke in through a bathroom window, chased the guy out My apartment and then proceeded to strangle and beat Me until one of My girlfriends came in after My companion ran naked to the parking lot.
I pressed charges and prosecuted fully because he intended to kill Me. I’ll never forget fighting against him as he strangled Me, I screamed out, “You’re killing Me” and he responded, “I know.”
When I say in the last 10 years since I changed My life around I haven’t experienced anything near as traumatic as the first 25 years of My life. I’m moving closer towards My purpose; I can almost smell it now. In 2013, I had this talk with My creator that blew My mind, he told Me that My purpose was to live through all I had so I could share his neverending grace and mercy with all I meet. I come from such a humble start, sexually, emotionally and physically abused, no parental guidance, dealing with mental illness, young mom and fitting perfectly into so many other stereotypical categories. He told Me My trials and tribulations will help more people than I will ever know.
I’m constantly sharing bits and pieces of My life, knowing I need to stop playing and write a book. But again, I’d be doing what others want from Me and not what I’m ready to. Walking in your purpose is hard, so is sharing your life with strangers. I promise to keep doing both.
