Dreams and Hummingbirds

I looked at my daughter this morning as she ran to play with her friends, and felt goosebumps. She knew I was watching her, and blew me a kiss. To think, I almost missed this. This child, this life.

live a brave life

 

I was born into an abusive family. Despite this I was a dreamer. I saved myself by taking deep strolls through fairyland, where everyone was kind and spoke gently. My best friend’s parents reported my father to the authorities when I was a young teen. I was desperate to get away from that which was hurting me. My father saw a lawyer, and I was put into a private clinic, signed over to their care so the authorities would close the case. I was fourteen years of age. Alone, and the youngest person in there.

They couldn’t find anything the matter with me, but kept me nonetheless. An adult in his thirties, a drug dealer, became obsessed with me. He kidnapped me one day, and I was thrown off a building, three stories high. My spine was shattered in parts, but my soul was intact. He didn’t have a hope of taking that from me. I had to lie still in  a rotor bed, so I had plenty of time for self-reflection. I was to become a writer, my soul instructed.  I began schooling by correspondence, and adored the work they sent me. I continued with my studies throughout the next few years, whilst undergoing a string of surgeries.  I had two at seventeen to save my life, as my heart and lungs were being crushed after my bone grafts collapsed.

I married young, and dreamt of having a child. I suffered grade four endometriosis, and my only option would be IVF. I had three attempts at one clinic, and on the last failed attempt, I fell to my knees in despair. Then one day I heard a ‘thump’ at the front door as the local paper was delivered. There was an ad for a clinic that had just opened. They were doing a talk that night. I knew I had to go along.

I signed up, and they eventually retrieved one precious follicle. That follicle housed a perfect egg, and that egg became my daughter. It hasn’t been easy. I almost lost her at nineteen weeks, and was in a wheelchair by the end of the pregnancy. I brought home a newborn without family around, and a husband who worked fourteen hour days, six days a week.  I went into premature menopause after hemorrhaging during further surgery when my daughter was three years old.

There have been many dark times in my life. There has also been a child who is extraordinary, sublime friends, six pet birds and seven guinea pigs. I released a book last year, Lived to Tell. I am so glad I did live to tell. Its okay to feel angry. I let the anger propel me to work hard in my rehabilitation throughout the years. I have learnt to be kind to myself, and allow myself time away when the world gets too much for me. I am not embarrassed to hug people, to look deep into their eyes.

Some of the things us brave girls go through aren’t fair. I know how hard it is to rebuild your life, but I promise you, it’s worth it. When you have teetered on the edge of life, and had your basic human rights stripped away, the trill of a little bird enthrals you. Sunsets and sunrise have you gasping. Nothing is ever taken for granted. It is a gift for having survived a dark dream.

your life is a canvas...make sure you paint yourself a whole lot of colorful days

 

Brave girls, if I can endure and heal my fractured heart, I know you can do it too. I am so grateful to be alive. I feel my story has only just begun. Listen to your heart, brave girls. It knows who the right people are to have in your life. It knows what to do.

Believe in your dreams. You aren’t given a calling in life, without being given the tools to help see it to fruition.

Never give up and never give in.

Comments

  1. Monica says:

    I am so glad your spirit led you through………. I don’t know what to say, but I am inspired by your story. Thank you

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