Poison Ivy: Immunity

By “The Goddess”

Some people appear to be immune, others become immune. HOWEVER, you can gain or lose immunity, so to assume you can't get it if you never have before is foolish. People change as they age. I would never assume that I was immune at any time no matter what my past experience was.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483618289

“The Goddess”

AN EMBASSADOR FOR CHRIST, THIS IS MY SECOND BOOK I’VE WRITTEN,MY FIRST BOOK LOVE LETTERS (LOVE45) WAS WRITTEN FOR ALL YOUNG LADIES TO FALLOW THEIR DESTINY NO MATTER WHAT LIFE STORM MAY COME THEIR WAY. I AM MOTHER OF A 20 YEAR OLD DAUGHTER. SHE IS IN HER SECOND YEAR AT FAU IN BOCA RATON, FLORIDA. I HAVE A MASTERS IN BUSINESS. I’M A CASA ADVOCATE, BUSINESS TRAINER AND PHILANTROPIST.

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Copyright © 2014 by The Goddess.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2013908365

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4836-1827-2

      Softcover       978-1-4836-1826-5

      Ebook            978-1-4836-1828-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Rev. date: 03/31/2014

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Preface:

I FELL IN LOVE WITH A STRANGER… .

For HE FIRST LOVED ME,

Even though I had no idea who the stranger is.

I could not see him, but yet I can talk to him, He made my life complete. When I need him he is there and his is faithful, today he has not let me down.

I was lost, confused, misused, abused, abandoned, broken and misunderstood.

My mother and father did not want me.

My brothers and sisters could not stand the sight of me. Friends and acquaintances left me after I had nothing left to give. My strength left me. I felt I had nothing to live for and my mind was absent. Until one day, my life changed forever. One day, I sat on my bed and cried out for help. RABBI, SON OF DAVID HAVE MERCY ON ME!!. When I TOUCHED THE HEM OF HIS GARMENT, I touch the HEART of JESUS and that when it all happened…

I WAS BORN ON a rainy day on April 29th, 1967. Well, at least that what I was told. Three Months after I was born later within that year, my father left my mother and married another.

I was not sure of what my father promised my mother, but all of her dreams and ambitions died when he ran off. I guess my mother needed someone to blame for my father leaving, so she blamed me. She left me in my grandmother’s care. For years, my grandmother took care of me. In my eyes, she was my mother and I loved her dearly. She was the nicest, sweetest person I knew, and I knew I would have a great life with her. Unfortunately, my grandmother did not have the same plans for me. She thought it was time my mother took responsibility of me.

When I reached the age of 9 years old, my Grandmother took me to meet my mother. As we walked up to the house, I saw a woman and two children around my age standing in front of the door. My grandmother looked at me and told me that the woman was my mother and the two kids were my brother and sister. We all started to walk into the house, but my grandmother’s grip on my hand began to loosen until it was gone.

When I looked back to find her, she was gone. I never thought that would be the last time I saw her. I cried for weeks, wondering why she would leave me. In that instant, my life took a drastic turn for the worst.

I became the domestic in the house. I slept on the cement floor with one sheet. I would clean after my brother and sister. I was not allowed to touch my sister’s belongings. If I did, my mother would snatch them from me. I could not play with my siblings because mother said they were superior to me. She would make me dispose of the family’s entrails, and when they finished using the bathroom, I had to clean up after them. We had two house cleaners in the house, but it was my job to take care and clean up after my siblings. My sister would always see my mother beat on me. She never tried to stop her, she just watched. Most of the time, she deliberately did things to get me in trouble. Some days, she would give me her toys to play with and tell me it is okay. However, when our mother would walk in, she would not say a word, and watch her beat me for taking her toy. When I tried to tell her the truth, she would not believe me. She never did. She would just hit me, push me, and slap me until I confessed. She would beat me with whatever she could find: shoes, electrical cords, equals, bottles, Pots, pans, and so on. I knew I would never be happy in that house. I cried myself to sleep every night, wondering what I did to deserve this life.

My little sister was the only one who ever saw my mother beat me. Mother never hit me in front of my younger brother. All my uncles and neighbors knew, but no one did anything about it. They just went about their lives as if nothing was going on. They would turn their heads in public and ignore it.

The local children would laugh and ridicule me. No one liked me.

My siblings attended the best private school money could buy. They were taken to school by one of the maids, then picked up at 11 a.m. for lunch, then dropped back to school again. I was always late for school because my siblings were the priority and I was not attended to till after they were ready and on their way. For years, I wore the same uniform and shoes to school. Those shoes warned out, the soles were gone. I owned only one pair of socks and it never washed because I had to wash it myself and I did not know how. No one taught me anything. I had to learn on my own. I went to school without any supplies. She would always tell me I had to take care of it myself.

Once I was ready, I had to walk an hour, by myself, to school. By the time I made it there, the gate closed. The school had a strong Attendance policy. If you were late, you were whipped.

Every time I was late, I had to be punished. The school would call my mother and tell her I was late, so when I came home, I was beat by mother, as well. I had to be ready for my beating constantly on a daily basis Day after day, night after night.

I woke daily with a beating from mother. If I looked at her, I got a slap in the face. I started to believe that my mother took pleasure in beating me every day. It was like a sport for her. It was hell for me. I thought after time, I would have gotten used to it, but I never did.

I went to school on an empty stomach daily with the anticipation for lunch if I am lucky; unfortunately, my class was the last block for lunch, so sometimes there would be no food left for anyone else. I remember a friend’s mother would bake and sale cookies at the school. I was so hungry, I would ask her to sell them to me, and I would pay her back when my mother gave me the money. Whenever I asked mother for the money, she would never give it to me. One day, the women told the school I owed her 15 Gourd. The principal told my mother, she had to pay the women back. By the time I got home, my lips was busted and my face was bruised. She was ashamed of me and told me she wish she never gave birth to me.

When it came to food, I was always the last to eat. She would feed me whatever she had left in the saucepan. If that was not enough, she was adding water, stir it up, and then give it to me. She would scrap the bottom of the rice pot and give that to me, as well. If I did not eat it, I was punishing for everything that went wrong in the house. Mother made rice or banana pudding for dessert, the whole family ate except for me.

During Christmas, Mother would buy a bunch of toys. When my siblings woke up Christmas day, they would all have gifts under their pillows. When I would wake up, I would look under my pillow and find nothing.

When I would ask her why I did not receive a gift, she would say, Santa does not come for children like you. My sibling’s father lived with us and she would always tell me, That man is not my father and his job is not to take care of you.

My mother never had anything good to say to me. She would always say I was no good, that I would never amount to anything, that I was dumb, ugly, you so country, stupid, and a whore. When an object fell and broke on the house floor, I was blamed and got punished for it. Mother would punished me and sometimes not feed me for a day or two.

There was once a boy at school named Peter, who liked me. One day, he decided to send me candy. When my mother found out, she was infuriated. She came home and almost killed me. My face swollen from the slapping and the smashing, I could not see out of one of my eyes. Afterwards, she made me kneel for ten hours straight.

Mother was the kind of person who liked an audience, so she made the entire neighborhood watch. When I thought I had no one on my side, I actually did. My uncle Dan saw what my mother did to me and told her a thing a two.

He nursed me back to health and made sure my swelling went down. God bless his soul.

The next day, she sent me to look for Peter to give him the