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Living in Squalor!

  I head downstairs, the overwhelming scent of mold permeates throughout the room. Garbage and wet clothes are scattered everywhere and makeshift hammocks adorn the ceiling. A dirty rabbit hutch reeks of urine and feces, and the rotting smell of dead mice or some other mysterious animal buried beneath the filthy ruble burns my nose. As the intense aroma penetrates my eyes, they begin to water incessantly, I don’t think I can handle this. With a trash bag in one hand and plugging my nose with the other, I proceed down into the dingy basement. I  begin wading through the plethora of items in my path, deciding what to keep and what to throw out, I’m disgusted at what I see, my mother would have never let it get like this.  I stand, staring at a massive pile of clothes laying on the damp floor by the washing machine. It feels like just yesterday my mother died and suddenly life went from living in splendor to living in squalor. For me, living in “splendor” didn’t mean living ...
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THE HISTORY OF INNOCENCE

Welcome to History of Innocence, a unique blog  here for you to explore. The History of Innocence has added such value to my life, and I love having the opportunity to share my experiences and thoughts with my loyal readers. Read on, and I hope that if you have had similar experiences that you are able to gain something from this blog. I want you to know you are not alone and you are loved!

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Living in Squalor!

  I head downstairs, the overwhelming scent of mold permeates throughout the room. Garbage and wet clothes are scattered everywhere and makeshift hammocks adorn the ceiling. A dirty rabbit hutch reeks of urine and feces, and the rotting smell of dead mice or some other mysterious animal buried beneath the filthy ruble burns my nose. As the intense aroma penetrates my eyes, they begin to water incessantly, I don’t think I can handle this. With a trash bag in one hand and plugging my nose with the other, I proceed down into the dingy basement. I  begin wading through the plethora of items in my path, deciding what to keep and what to throw out, I’m disgusted at what I see, my mother would have never let it get like this.  I stand, staring at a massive pile of clothes laying on the damp floor by the washing machine. It feels like just yesterday my mother died and suddenly life went from living in splendor to living in squalor. For me, living in “splendor” didn’t mean living ...
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Never Alone!

Click, I shut the door behind me, I lean my back up against it and slowly inch down to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest. I rest my head down on my knees and draw in a deep breath, please leave me alone, just let me have a moment to myself, a moment of solace alone in this bathroom. I can feel the cold tiles beneath me, the icy chill sends shivers up my spine, my teeth chatter and I rub my arms, it’s always cold in our house. I pull myself up off the floor and turn on the shower. I disrobe and stare at myself in the mirror, I’m disgusted at what I see, an instant desire for self-mutilation takes over me, to cut and remove every part of me that he is attracted to. I turn my ahead away, I can’t look anymore, the more I look at myself the more I hate what I see. I try and lock the door, I drop my hand and bow my head, the lock doesn’t work. I pray that I can have 30 minutes of undisturbed silence, time to collect my thoughts, and give my body a chance to recuperate from the const...
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Foster Care

  When I was taken from my home in the middle of the day, I was panic-stricken. I was scared of what was going to happen next. I had so many questions and the uncertainty of my future frightened me. I spent a short stent with a nice family in the city. From what I can remember it was a young couple, and they had two children; a teenage boy and a toddler. They made every attempt to make me feel welcome and at home.  Coming from poverty and having such a distressing background, it was hard for me to acclimate. They effortlessly included me in everything like family gatherings, games and activities. On the outside I appeared to fit in well. It was easy for me to force a smile. I was good at playing pretend and acting as if nothing was wrong. I was used to hiding my pain, internalizing all of my anguish. I would do this for years to come.  They would pry quite a bit about my home life, I think they were trying to find a way to connect with me or maybe they were just tryi...
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