“You can’t even imagine the kind of childhood I had. Locked in a basement. Tortured. Sexual stuff. I was in fourteen foster homes. I started doing drugs and drinking as soon as I could get my hands on the stuff.
I got it together. I graduated, got a beauticians’ license and eventually, bought my first little place. The cat jumped up on the neighbor’s stovetop and hit the burner switch on. That is what they said at the Fire Station after both of our houses burned down. I never liked that cat, or the neighbor, but they both lived. My dog didn’t make it. I loved that dog.
I built a new house up on our own where I raised my daughter. I cut way back on the drink and drugs. I was a good mom, wanting her to be safe in the ways I was never safe. On the way home from school, she was raped and ended up pregnant with twins. She did not want to have anything at all to do with those babies because of what had happened. I am raising them for her, but now I don’t see much of my daughter. She is addicted to heroin.
They say God never gives you what you can’t handle. Honest to goodness, I can’t handle much more.
I called Carson asking about getting help for my daughter, and instead, I ended up getting a whole bunch of help for myself and the twins. I still hold out hope for my daughter.
Maybe I could handle more, if I need to, with my Carson team. Sometimes I think God sent them to me.”
Story by JAC Patrissi
