Ya know, I’m not exactly sure what kind of kid I was... I could have been spoiled; I could have been smiley... maybe quiet, shy, quaint, reserved maybe... I was most likely animated and poignan, but I will never really know what I was like as a child. My parents never sat me down and told me years later. Family policy: never reminisce about bleak days. This lack of background is mainly because my parents were always fighting... They were newly weds... and their conflicts consumed them. I do know a few things, and of those things, I can tell you I ballerina for some amount of time. My Grandma Kathy would by me all kinds of extravagant flowery dresses. I was her first grandchild and the first girl in two generations. I would were my favorite dresses in the biggest mud puddles I could find. I really thought that was a way to put them to good use. I played soccer as a young girl and picked dandelions to put in my hair during the duration of all our games, much to my dad's dismay. He would always take my baby sister Taylor and I to McDonalds every Saturday afternoon and I do admit, I still like McDonalds to this day.
So my family was Christian. They went to church, I think. I know my mother grew up in a devout Christ following family in the rural parts of some island in the Philippines. My father grew up somewhere in the suburbs of Maryland. She worked from sunrise until close at a little shop her family owned, to take care of her siblings and momma. My dad, the eldest of three boys, got voted best looking in his senior class. He played baseball and was a trouble maker. Both of my grandmothers had adulterous husbands who left them... both never to be married again... My grandmother Leticia became utterly sick physically because of her grief... which in turn left the store to my mother's care. My grandma Kathy never talks about it. I believe certain types of sin are hereditary, and this no doubt this was the generational curse that broke my family...
My mom went to beauty school with her best friend, my auntie Luz. The two of them made their dreams come true, and moved to America... "The land flowing with milk and honey." My aunt Luz married my uncle Tim. Tim had a best friend name Carl. One day, Carl saw my mom's face in a picture on Tim and Luz' refrigerator door and the rest is history...
They were very much in love. And I was born 8 months after their wedding. I know how gravely contradicting those two statements are. I think I could feel it within the dynamic of their marriage, no matter how ugly things got. It's so ironic! ...just like our whole existence would be apart from faith in the LORD. So I guess he cheated on her... a couple times... that generational curse no doubt, and I don't say that to displace blame. My mom was devastated... she often tells me on my birthdays, "It was just me and you all those years ago baby, I loved you so much, you were so precious to me. And it was just you and me...." I think I can still feel what she felt all those years ago. I imagine her holding and comforting her baby in an empty home. She must have redefined 'heart to heart' back then.
My dad was my hero. I loved him so much. He could just pick me up, and I would be filled with such joy. My sister and I were constantly making him things. Pop up cards, cards with little panels of paper you lifted up. Cards with strings and stickers. Pictures upon pictures. Just recently, my sister and I were having car troubles so we pulled over and found a scrap book full of things we had made for my daddy when we were little girls. My mom must have put it together. It was the absolute only thing in the trunk. It was just lying there... just lying there... We looked through it there must have been a thousand "I love you daddy’s. This particular day, at this particular time, we had been driving back from the courthouse. At the Phoenix city court that summer day, we saw my dad... for the first time in almost three years... the reason for the court date is probably the most personal part of my testimony... Since this is my first public release of my testimony, I'll keep it short.
So my family was Christian. They went to church, I think. I know my mother grew up in a devout Christ following family in the rural parts of some island in the Philippines. My father grew up somewhere in the suburbs of Maryland. She worked from sunrise until close at a little shop her family owned, to take care of her siblings and momma. My dad, the eldest of three boys, got voted best looking in his senior class. He played baseball and was a trouble maker. Both of my grandmothers had adulterous husbands who left them... both never to be married again... My grandmother Leticia became utterly sick physically because of her grief... which in turn left the store to my mother's care. My grandma Kathy never talks about it. I believe certain types of sin are hereditary, and this no doubt this was the generational curse that broke my family...
My mom went to beauty school with her best friend, my auntie Luz. The two of them made their dreams come true, and moved to America... "The land flowing with milk and honey." My aunt Luz married my uncle Tim. Tim had a best friend name Carl. One day, Carl saw my mom's face in a picture on Tim and Luz' refrigerator door and the rest is history...
They were very much in love. And I was born 8 months after their wedding. I know how gravely contradicting those two statements are. I think I could feel it within the dynamic of their marriage, no matter how ugly things got. It's so ironic! ...just like our whole existence would be apart from faith in the LORD. So I guess he cheated on her... a couple times... that generational curse no doubt, and I don't say that to displace blame. My mom was devastated... she often tells me on my birthdays, "It was just me and you all those years ago baby, I loved you so much, you were so precious to me. And it was just you and me...." I think I can still feel what she felt all those years ago. I imagine her holding and comforting her baby in an empty home. She must have redefined 'heart to heart' back then.
My dad was my hero. I loved him so much. He could just pick me up, and I would be filled with such joy. My sister and I were constantly making him things. Pop up cards, cards with little panels of paper you lifted up. Cards with strings and stickers. Pictures upon pictures. Just recently, my sister and I were having car troubles so we pulled over and found a scrap book full of things we had made for my daddy when we were little girls. My mom must have put it together. It was the absolute only thing in the trunk. It was just lying there... just lying there... We looked through it there must have been a thousand "I love you daddy’s. This particular day, at this particular time, we had been driving back from the courthouse. At the Phoenix city court that summer day, we saw my dad... for the first time in almost three years... the reason for the court date is probably the most personal part of my testimony... Since this is my first public release of my testimony, I'll keep it short.
My dad claims that I am and always will be a drug addict. Due to that belief, he refuses to make good on an agreement my mother made with him ensuring my education, in place of years of child support. You have to understand, my dad had it all. When he left, my sister, mother and I had nothing... But my mom, having grown up in a 3rd world country knows well that when you give a man a fish, he will eat for a day, but if you teach him to fish... well, you know. My father and I lost touch after I was saved.... Before than day at the courthouse, it had been nearly 8 years since he'd seen the light in my eyes... I can understand how I must have hurt him... I wonder if he ever cried to God, saying “What’s happened to my baby girl!? Help us…” I like to imagine that he did, I wonder if he ever got an answer... Anyways, the book... Neither Taylor nor I knew how it got there.
My mom was, and is, a very gifted seamstress. She had sewed clothes her whole life long, after all. When my mom moved to America, she met a wonderful woman named Ms. Fairday. Ms. Fairday owned a bridal store and my mom, being the honest and hardworking woman she is, was quickly taken under the wing of Ms. Fairday. My mother worked for her for nearly a decade when Ms. Fairday became very weak in her old age and she offered my mom the bridal store...
At the same time this was happening, I was a budding 8 year old southern bell. And my father was offered and accepted a job in Phoenix, Arizona. I vividly remember, there was a hit song playing on the radio all the time called "There is no Arizona" the lyrics went
"He promised her a new and better life, out in Arizona
Underneath the blue never ending sky, swore that he was gonna
Get things in order, he'd send for her
When he left her behind, it never crossed her mind
There is no Arizona
No Painted Desert, no Sedona..."
I'm not sure why God did it that way... I think it was for my momma...
My parents had opted for a divorce... And for some long weeks, my baby sister would say, "Where is daddy?" "I miss my daddy." "Daddy... daddy...” until finally, my mom could no longer stand it. We moved to Arizona. My mom pursued an adulterous husband, and abandoned the dream of ever owning a bridal shop of her own. She settled on a singer sewing machine in an empty basement bedroom. She made us Halloween costumes for years and they were the envy of the neighborhood every October 31st.
My mom was, and is, a very gifted seamstress. She had sewed clothes her whole life long, after all. When my mom moved to America, she met a wonderful woman named Ms. Fairday. Ms. Fairday owned a bridal store and my mom, being the honest and hardworking woman she is, was quickly taken under the wing of Ms. Fairday. My mother worked for her for nearly a decade when Ms. Fairday became very weak in her old age and she offered my mom the bridal store...
At the same time this was happening, I was a budding 8 year old southern bell. And my father was offered and accepted a job in Phoenix, Arizona. I vividly remember, there was a hit song playing on the radio all the time called "There is no Arizona" the lyrics went
"He promised her a new and better life, out in Arizona
Underneath the blue never ending sky, swore that he was gonna
Get things in order, he'd send for her
When he left her behind, it never crossed her mind
There is no Arizona
No Painted Desert, no Sedona..."
I'm not sure why God did it that way... I think it was for my momma...
My parents had opted for a divorce... And for some long weeks, my baby sister would say, "Where is daddy?" "I miss my daddy." "Daddy... daddy...” until finally, my mom could no longer stand it. We moved to Arizona. My mom pursued an adulterous husband, and abandoned the dream of ever owning a bridal shop of her own. She settled on a singer sewing machine in an empty basement bedroom. She made us Halloween costumes for years and they were the envy of the neighborhood every October 31st.
My first day of school in Arizona, my parents dropped me off at Laguna Elementary School (why they didn’t walk me to my class, BEATS ME!) but I ended up caught in a coyote lockdown, sitting smack dab in the middle of the common area, shedding crocodile tears on the concrete while the huge alarm went off. I was escorted into my class huffing and puffing, red eyes and all. That pretty much sums up my grade school experience... I was weird, and I was always embarrassing myself.
I was in 6th grade the first time I smoked marijuana... I ended up friends with a boy whose older brother was a dealer. By eighth grade, I was high. Every day.
I went to Desert Mountain my freshman year, I had trouble. I went to Red Mountain High School my sophomore year and I had more trouble. At Red Mountain, I was in theatre and choir. In choir, I made friends with a boy named C.J. We hit it off right away. I remember one night, we were at the movies. He came out of the closet that night to me by the concession stand. I also made friends with a girl named Maddie, Lauren and a boy named Ryan. Lauren and I used to put pills she stole from parents of kids she babysat in a bag. We used to mix and take them before class. That was the year I first tried and fell in love with oxy cotton… my drug of choice.
I was in 6th grade the first time I smoked marijuana... I ended up friends with a boy whose older brother was a dealer. By eighth grade, I was high. Every day.
I went to Desert Mountain my freshman year, I had trouble. I went to Red Mountain High School my sophomore year and I had more trouble. At Red Mountain, I was in theatre and choir. In choir, I made friends with a boy named C.J. We hit it off right away. I remember one night, we were at the movies. He came out of the closet that night to me by the concession stand. I also made friends with a girl named Maddie, Lauren and a boy named Ryan. Lauren and I used to put pills she stole from parents of kids she babysat in a bag. We used to mix and take them before class. That was the year I first tried and fell in love with oxy cotton… my drug of choice.
Now Ryan was a Christian… And it really beats me why he was friends with a druggie girl and a gay boy. I know it was a God thingJ. Ryan took me to church with him sometimes. He never beat me with a bible or tried to make me change my ways… He would go along with me when I left the sanctuary in the middle of services. It was a really big church. Even though we often left the sanctuary, the whole campus was in a cloud and no matter where we were, it felt different. And I remember distinctly feeling that… presence.
C.J. would call Ryan and ask him what the bible said about homosexuality… I remember one time I was on three way with them. C.J. was crying, admitting that he knew he wasn’t born this way. I didn’t say a word… I just lay there, wide-eyed while Ryan presented the gospel. That year, my parents fought a lot. C.J. ran all the way to my house one night after I called in tears and he nearly had an asthma attack on my front porch. We laid on my roof and watched the stars. That year I know God slowed it all down and because of the magnificent splendor of the stars, I started to contemplate our existence. The seed was planted. And I moved on to junior year.
The first half of my junior year, I attended three schools: Saguaro High School, Sierra Vista Academy and finally I wound up right where I started, Desert Mountain High School. I honestly don't remember which one came first. I do know that after I attended DM again, I left because of the sting of gossip and rumors… I finally knew what other people had been thinking, and I drove me into a deep depression. Every time I switched schools, my mom supported me. She truly believed it would be the beginning of a new life for me, every time... The faith she had in me during that time in my life, is still to this day, unmatched. Even my dad faded out of the picture at this point. I think he thought he had failed me... I guess that’s why he’s so happy with the new family he has now. It’s his chance to "do it right". But my mom stuck with me. She waited out the storm. Her blessings are like the sands on the sea shore today. She is an honorable woman... but I will get back to that later.
Around this time of my life, all the days and weeks and months had already blended together. I was miserable. I was utterly oppressed and the weird thing was that it was the work of my own hands that brought my utter destruction. I was captivated with the darkness. I was infatuated with my misery. I thought no one could understand the twisted workings of my soul. My drug use was out of control... If we were in a sea of people and one other person in the sea was an addict, I could swear we'd have found each other before you could figure out where I went to in the first place.
I have virtually no recollection of my family during those years... I remember I hated coming home because my parents were always asking, "Where have you been?! WE ARE WORRIED SICK!" They'd be punishing me as soon as they saw me coming down the street. And rightfully so; I was impossible to track down. I'd go missing for days or even a week at a time. I could hear my sister crying over me whenever I slept at home. She was just a small girl... two and a half years younger than me. She pleaded with me to stop. She was miserable when I got high in my room... She told me when she could smell that I had been smoking weed in my room... By that time, I could not eat or sleep without being high. Wow, what the neighbors must have thought... But Taylor never ran to tell our parents like you would expect... she just cried... and cried. I really do wonder why she didn't run to them... I guess they had their own problems... and after all, my family was helpless to help me...
I had become enslaved to my addictions. I was as thin as a rail, or thinner. Any attempts to cage me in, failed miserably. I was unstoppable... crafty, and clever. I was a 13 14 15 16 year old with no source of income, somehow supporting a hundred dollar habit, not including gas and food. And as you can imagine, I was a thief. Even my friends didn’t know the extent of my dependence on mind altering substances. Some of them could quiet for weeks at a time... while I was scrounging for money and rides and gas and ways and means to get more. I used whatever I could get my hands on, usually by myself, everyday, several times a day I got high.
I have no doubt my problems affected my parent’s marriage and our family. I am still repentant about these things... I eventually tried to run away. I put ALL my clothes in the trunk of a car I had just been given (how I found favor with my parents to receive a car in the first place, I don’t know) I did go through short phases where I would gain trust back by attending Narcotics Anonymous. I often manipulated my mom into believing that I wanted to change, which was a bleak half truth... because I did. But deep in my heart, I knew I wouldn't (of my own power). I ended up sleeping on the floors of some hippie semi-friends of mine for a short while. I was raped one night after drinking with them... It took me a long time to finally call it that. The next night, a similar thing happened
Then one day, I went back home to take a shower and get the rest of my things. I fully intended on living in my car. Driving away, getting a job at a dinner in a little nowhere town and chasing my demon until I was fully "satisfied". By some miracle, my parents came home as I was hauling my things into my car. They tried to take my keys from me. As a result, I became as violent as I have ever been in my life. They called the police on me. And that became the day I spent my first night in rehab…
That first night, I slept in a cold blue room in a cold blue hospital gown. I shared a room with a girl whose name I won’t mention… She had taken a razor to her arms legs and chest in an attempt to commit suicide to herself. She was pregnant. And she screamed the whole night long. I had a couple run-ins with rehabilitation facilities and ‘mental institutions’. One big and sassy black girl I met told me that she was the queen of the universe and that her boyfriend was with her, but he was invisible. She claimed that he was impregnating her during one of our group counseling sessions… They are experiences that still to this day, I can’t believe are mine!
While I was going in and out of these facilities, I was attending Narcotics Anonymous. By this time I had already dropped out of high school. I planned on getting my GED (which did in fact take place, a while afterwards.) In the daytime, I was being locked up at home. My parents were afraid that I would go out again and overdose if I went to public school. I went to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting at the North Scottsdale Fellowship called Step in Time every night at 7 o’clock. I would hardly ever speak. When I did, I cried. And I don’t like crying in front of people…
While I was going in and out of these facilities, I was attending Narcotics Anonymous. By this time I had already dropped out of high school. I planned on getting my GED (which did in fact take place, a while afterwards.) In the daytime, I was being locked up at home. My parents were afraid that I would go out again and overdose if I went to public school. I went to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting at the North Scottsdale Fellowship called Step in Time every night at 7 o’clock. I would hardly ever speak. When I did, I cried. And I don’t like crying in front of people…
I had reduced to smoking weed alone. I was still miserable, and now that I wasn’t drinking or taking pills, I was aware of my misery more than ever. Every night I would attend the meeting. Every night, after the meetings, I would drive to the park to smoke marijuana, otherwise I couldn’t sleep. On Wednesday nights, I saw the same group of young people who were about my age, playing volleyball. They were so joyful, so full of life… and I thought to myself, “What have I done…”
So every night, at the park, in my car, I started to pray… I CRIEDD OUTT, “GOD, SAVEEE MEEE! HELP MEEE! Please…” I let myself cry… I let myself fall apart. I admitted I needed help, not at the meetings like they suggested,… but to God… I figured if anyone could hear me, not just listen, but really hear me, it’d be him. And I felt more and more like a slave to the bonds of addiction each and every day…
One night, before the meeting I decided to smoke a joint. So I went out back into the ally way and lit it up. No sooner than when I lit it, did a cop pull up, put me in cuffs and haul me over to the police station. My parents bailed me out, and they started to contemplate what else they could possibly do, if anything, to change my gravitations.
So every night, at the park, in my car, I started to pray… I CRIEDD OUTT, “GOD, SAVEEE MEEE! HELP MEEE! Please…” I let myself cry… I let myself fall apart. I admitted I needed help, not at the meetings like they suggested,… but to God… I figured if anyone could hear me, not just listen, but really hear me, it’d be him. And I felt more and more like a slave to the bonds of addiction each and every day…
One night, before the meeting I decided to smoke a joint. So I went out back into the ally way and lit it up. No sooner than when I lit it, did a cop pull up, put me in cuffs and haul me over to the police station. My parents bailed me out, and they started to contemplate what else they could possibly do, if anything, to change my gravitations.
After my momma prayed, God planted a desire in my heart to go to the Philippines. My friends laughed at me. They said that I would die out there. That if I ever found anyone who sold, and I got caught, I’d end up in prison in a foreign country forever. However, the law there states that all people who are caught using, should be put to death. I for some reason didn’t care. The desire to live there was so strong. I figured that I would think about the withdrawals when they came around… and miraculously, they never did. Although I didn’t realize it was a miracle until I was saved….
to be continued…
