~*~STRONG ENOUGH~*~

First off, I'll tell you about how I grew up. My mother got married to my father at a very young age (15) and had my sister. I came along when my mom was 17. My parents divorced when I was just a baby. When I was a toddler, my mom got married to Carl, my stepdad, and within a couple years, I had 2 younger brothers. From as young as I can remember, I was always being told I was trash because I was my father's child. I don't know why my sister wasn't told this....she was his child too. Maybe it's because I looked so much like him, I really don't know. Anyhow, my earliest memory is when I was about 3 or 4 years old and we had 2 pet guinea pigs, one male and one female. The female was pregnant. Very early one saturday morning, I heard the female making some awful noises from their box so I went to check on her and she was having the babies! I got so excited!!! I ran into my mom and stepdad's room yelling and jumping up and down......they had to come see Twinkie's babies! Boy, was that a mistake.....

My stepdad came flying out of the bed, grabbed his belt off a chair in their room, and said I was "gonna pay" for waking him up early on a saturday. I remember running from the room and diving into my bedroom closet, trying to hide from him. I could hear him going through the house screaming for me to "come get what I had coming to me". I remember hearing him come into my room.....and standing outside my closet door.....and knowing it was going to open and he would pull me out. I don't think I need to tell you what happened next.

As the years went by, the abuse (both physical and emotional) continued.....getting more and more severe. During my 7th grade year of junior high, I got an F in my P.E. class because I wouldn't dress down. But, I couldn't because I had bruises all the way from the middle of my back down to my knees. If I dressed down for class, someone would have seen them.....and they would have known what happened. I wasn't ever allowed to tell anyone what my stepdad did. He worked for the government at a nuclear facility which was very high security. If he lost his security clearance, my family would lose everything. Which is why I kept my mouth shut.....I couldn't stand the thought of ME being responsible for my sister and brothers losing a home. I was always told that I would never amount to anything.....that I was trash. So, once I left home at 16, I did everything I could to prove my parents wrong. I stayed in school and got the best grades I could. Yes, I married young but I don't see that as a bad thing. I got 2 beautiful children out of it. I worked 2 jobs and went to college. Unfortunately, when my kids were 4 and 5, my marriage fell apart. Yep, my parents blamed me for that too. I swore I would never ask for their help, or anyone else's for that matter. I didn't care how hard things would be for me, I was determined that I was going to take damn good care of my children and provide them with the life they deserved. I refused to go on welfare.....no way. I decided to go back to school again because what I originally had gone to college for was something I no longer felt was right for me. But, I had a major problem. Because I had used student loans, grants, etc when I went to college the first time, I wasn't able to get them a 2nd time. I had no idea how I would be able to pay for my schooling.....until one day I got a phone call.

My friend John is a photographer and called me up one day to tell me about how he was going to be doing a photo shoot with the cheerleaders for a pro football team...he was so excited! I kinda mumbled under my breath that I wished I could do modeling. He heard me.....and that's all it took. John bugged me for the next 2 months straight....telling me how I could make alot of money doing photo shoots. So, I did.....and at the time, it was amazing. I was having my picture taken......and getting paid for it! The bad part was that 90% of my photo shoots were either lingerie, bikini, or nude. No, I'm not proud of this fact....it made me feel so cheap. The ONLY reason why I did it was because I had 2 babies at home that needed food in their tummies and a roof over their head........and I needed a way to pay for college. It didn't take long and I had enough money saved up to cover my schooling costs and living expenses.

During this time, I also met a man named Benito and started a relationship with him. At first, things went very well......we rarely ever argued. But as time went on, he became more and more jealous of what I was doing for a living and he started getting a bit abusive. Things progressively got worse but I was scared to turn him into the police. He would threaten to kill me if I told them. Then, I found out I was pregnant also. I didn't know what to do.

When I was 6 months pregnant, I was very sick and my doctor had ordered me to quit the job I had taken since I obviously couldn't be doing modeling. But, since Benito refused to help out with the bills, I had no choice but to keep working. On June 27th, 2000 I came home from work around 4:15 pm. Since I got home before Benito did, I always had to have dinner ready for him when he got home......or all hell would break loose. I had been up all night the night before because we had been arguing and I didn't get any sleep. When I got home that day, I was absolutely exhausted. I sat down on the couch for a moment with every intention of just relaxing for a few moments before I started dinner. Well, those few moments ended up being a couple hours. When Benito got home a little after 6 pm, there I was sound asleep on the couch.....and no dinner on the table. I was woke up by being dragged onto the floor by my hair. I remember seeing his foot coming down on my face, and feeling him slam a boot into my stomach. Then I passed out.....I don't even remember screaming....

Luckily, my neighbor Trish heard me scream and came running across the street. She had seen numerous times what Benito had done to me so she knew something was up. Trish said that when she got to the door and looked inside, Benito was sitting on my stomach and was pummeling my face and head. She screamed for him to stop and she said he jumped up then and came running towards her. She ran back to her place and called 911. She said he jumped in his truck and took off. I vaguely remember being put into the ambulance. The next thing I remember was being at the hospital and going down a hall on a gurney. I asked the nurse where I was going and she said they were taking me into surgery. I asked if my baby was ok and she wouldn't answer me. Then I passed out again.....

When I woke up, I immediately asked about my baby. I could barely move....the pain was excrutiating....but all I cared about was finding out if my baby was ok. The nurse said "I think I better have the doctor come in and talk to you". So, the doctor comes in.......and informs me that my son was born alive......but was brain dead. They had done every test imaginable and it was confirmed.....no brain activity whatsoever. He had been deprived of oxygen due to my placenta rupturing when Benito attacked me. The doctor said they were keeping him alive with life support machines. I asked if there was any chance of survival. The doctor said they could probably keep him alive for a month or so on the machines, but no......he wouldn't make it past that. I knew right then that I had a very difficult choice to make. I made everyone leave the room so I could think....and pray. I'm not what you would call a religious person but I know God listens to all prayers.....and I really needed him to listen this time. I prayed for his guidance to show me what I should do. I know this may sound silly to some, and I don't really care, but I know dang well that after I prayed, I heard someone tell me "Send him back to me". I knew right then what I had to do.

I called the nurse and doctor back into my room, and told them my decision. But, I wanted to be able to hold my son at least once. So, while the nurses were preparing him to be taken off life support, I signed the papers giving permission. That was the hardest thing I have EVER had to do. The nurse wrapped my tiny baby boy in a blanket, put a cap on his head, and brought him in to me. He was still alive.....barely. I took him in my arms and sang some lullabies to him. Within a couple minutes, he took his last breath, and was gone. He died right there in my arms. I felt like a huge piece of my heart died that day also. I was so angry......at Benito, my family for not being there for me (they didn't even come to the funeral), but mostly at myself. I blamed myself for what happened! I should have stopped the abuse a long time ago.....but I didn't. Now, my innocent child was taken from me by a brutal and sick person! It's taken me many years to get over this....and in some ways, I'm still recovering. I haven't had the support of my family and I managed to push away alot of my friends simply because I wanted to wallow in my misery and shut everyone out. But then I met Stephanie.....

Stephanie was a victim's advocate/counselor with the domestic violence shelter here in my town. When it came time for me to testify against Benito at his trial, I was scared to death and someone in the prosecutor's office called Stephanie and asked her to contact me. She has been a Godsend. If it wasn't for her being there for me and helping me thru the last few years, I can honestly say I wouldn't be here. She helped me realize that I was NOT at fault for Brendan's death or for how my parents abused me as a child. She helped me learn to trust again and that I was strong enough to get through ANYTHING life happened to throw my way. I had been surviving pretty much on my own all my life....and she helped me see that I could overcome anything. I thank God for her each and every day.....

Now, I'm sure alot of you will ask why I'm telling you all such personal things about my life and what this has to do with a poker community. But, I'm sure many of you feel the same way I do. Railbirds is NOT just a poker community. We're one big dysfunctional family! We're there for each other when we need someone to talk to........whether it's about poker or life.

I wrote this blog because I know there are many many women out there that have gone through the same things I have. I want them to know that they CAN heal......and that if they ever need anyone to talk to, I'll be there for them.

I was strong enough to do this......so can you

Below is a poem that Stephanie suggested I write when I was working on the issues I had about my abuse as a child. It's called "Whispered Scream"