Dangerous Courage

By Alexandra J. Dover

My story starts out with me immigrating to America at the young age of four. This is a unique story of true events that I endured in life. I will talk about my depression from the young age of five and all the heartache compounded with my depression. From the young age of five is when I came to realize that my life was full of so much pain and misfortune. From abuse to abandonment at the hands of my parents, I struggled to survive on my own. Oftentimes wanting to give up, I would find a way to go on. Along the way there were so many kind souls that helped me to find my way and do so much. Through all the suffering and pain as a child, I overcame so much. Surprisingly not the way one would assume.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504955201

Alexandra J. Dover

She is a new author that has written an autobiography. She immigrated to the United States in 1979 with her Cambodian family. Alexandra has been married for thirteen years and had four children. Still surviving are her three children; the fourth, who was the youngest, was miscarried at five months. She dedicates this book to her baby up in heaven. There were so many struggles to overcome; she had to live through diversity, abuse at the hands of her family, starvation, depression starting at age five, and mainly trying to survive alone. Alexandra was abandoned at a young age of five and had to find her way and survive life’s cruelty. Through her life’s suffering, she learned many lessons, which got her through the hard times of her life. She shares her life’s journey with all so that she can help those that might suffer the same plight. In all her difficulties in life, she faced it them head-on, never turning to drugs or alcohol to numb her pain. Her depression remains with her to this day, and she still struggles with life’s misfortune, but she continues to stay steadfast for her three surviving children, whom are her only legacy.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Today, June 4th 2015, is officially the first day of summer break for my 9 year old daughter and my 6 year old son. We are in the year 2015 and time seems to be getting faster as the years pass. I am at a crossroads because of my years of battling with severe depression. I am the type of person who wants instant results and the pill that does that the best, is what I strive to find. For those whom have never felt depression in its most severe form, the best way for me to describe the feeling is loss of a loved one. That empty feeling consumes my whole body and I essentially become a prisoner. I want to sleep so I don’t have to feel. I have no interest in anything, even eating. The worst part is that I am a mother of three and I have no family or friends that I feel comfortable leaving them with. My husband is there physically, but emotionally he can’t begin to understand my heartache. I feel alone and I can’t reach out to anyone because they can’t feel what I feel.

I have been taking prescription medications since my early 20s to treat my depression. Before then, I was too ashamed and embarrassed to tell my doctor that I had this condition. I had trained myself to hide it so well that a lot of people really had no idea. Behind my closed door it is the struggle of literally a lifetime. The RX pills were helping and keeping me numb, but there were still bouts of depression caused from and event. Being a female and having your hormones constantly changing each month makes it more difficult for a depressed person. I wanted to be bubbly and happy and enjoy life instead of dreading the prospect of each day. Now comes the other RX pills that I came across. My husband had injured himself very badly, and him getting up in age, he needed some help with the pain. He had gotten a RX for a very popular pain killer. The little magic yellow pill. I was fine with my 200 milligrams of my antidepressant a day, but then I had hurt myself and my husband gave me half of one of his magic pills. I had never felt such a jolt of joy in my whole life. I wasn’t sure what this sudden feeling of elation came from, but I loved it. My husband noticed a change in me and knew exactly what was causing this euphoria. I eventually figured it out because that it was the first time taking this pill the feeling lasted all day.

During this time, our first born. Our daughter was only 16 months, and I was mainly concerned about caring for our baby. It was really emotionally draining. I had no mother or mother in law to turn to for a shoulder. I had to learn on my own with some help from my husband. Men are not the greatest of help, especially when they are used to being the breadwinner. Essentially that was what he did and I took care of the baby. Good luck trying to get any emotional support that was lacking also. This was a truly difficult milestone in my life because I had a toddler and I was really feeling the depression. The sad part of depression is that no one can make you feel better with some encouraging words and a hug. The depression stays whether it is welcome or not. I was frustrated and so full of heartache that I was becoming this horrible mother that could not take care of a toddler. I could not take care of her in the traditional way that most people could. I felt so much sadness on a daily basis, but I could not release any of it through crying. I couldn’t cry at all. This massive black cloud was consuming me; all I wanted to do was sleep so I did not have to feel. Bless my husband for trying to give me a quick fix, but it would soon turn out to be a mistake. He gave me another yellow pill, but this time I was not in pain. I took it because I was desperate for anything to fix this unrelenting sadness. It worked and so well that I thought maybe another the next day would fix me. Oh did it, but then the feeling of happiness didn’t last as long as it did with the first half pill. So I asked my husband for another half. Instantly the feeling of pure worry free happiness was upon me. The big problem was that I was wanting this now; I was depending on it. The alternative was to endure the unbearable sadness that plagued me. I chose to have happiness; who wouldn’t? Along with the good there is always the bad. When I came off the high of happiness the side effect was anger and rage. I found myself losing my temper more often than unusual. I took it out on my toddler. I became detached as a mother. I got more impatient with her crying and needing me so much. I never hurt her I just wanted to be left alone. The effects of this magical drug were really showing its ugly side. I came to and realized that I have to stop. That is a lot easier said than done. I stopped and oh my goodness here came the major anxiety. I was so out of sorts I could not breathe and sit still. It felt like I was trapped in a locked casket six feet under. I was so anxious and could not get free. So I went to my doctor and told him my problem, minus the part about the magic pills. He prescribed an antianxiety pill so that I could get back on track. It was amazing how the stuff worked. The anxiety subsided for a while, then it came back and I took another pill to defeat it. This took about a full week. I was back to being on just my 200 milligrams of my antidepressant and no more magic yellow pill. You are a bit Jill what was will show will Life went on as best as I could make of it, but I still had some days of depression that I could not shake. Those days were spent in bed with the baby. Lucky she was napping twice a day, so I could get away with it. I started feeling guilty for not being the mother that I had set out to be. The mother that I didn’t have, which was literally having no mother or father. I felt like I should be taking my daughter to the park and joining a playgroup. She should have play dates and going to birthday parties. She should have a fair chance of childhood; the kind I did not get. I just did not have the emotional strength to be that kind of person. I was essentially a recluse only socializing with my husband and our mutual acquaintances. I did not have friends apart from my husband and really only had him for a confidant. It came to the point that I was resenting my daughter and blaming her for my sadness and misery.

I was and still am a shell of a person that can’t cry and release my pain. This is why I am writing. I needed to tell someone how I feel without judgment and feeling blame. I guess that would be myself. Soon of course this hopefully will be a book for all to read and maybe it will help someone else that couldn’t help themselves. Through all my writing you’ll notice that I go back and forth from past to present. The reason I do so this is to update myself and the readers on the emotional state that I may currently be feeling. I hope that by writing this story, I will be able to help fix myself and be the mother to my children I always longed for. My goal is to accomplish something that is a big deal, like writing this book. I want to be remembered by all for having written a profound book that helped others. I want to leave my children with a legacy. Most of all I want to help others that struggle through deep depression the same way I do. I know that each person is different according to their situation in life. I want to remind others that they are not going through depression solely, but helping to fix their depression is the sole purpose.

I have lived with depression from the very young age of 5. I guess this was the age that I began to start caring about my surrounding and the effects that my parents had on me. It’s a big emotional task for a child so young. I don’t clearly remember a lot of pieces of life until I was 5 years old. That age marked the beginning of the end for my hope of a happy life. I wasn’t an only child I was one of four children that my parents currently had. By that I mean that there were other children from previous relationships that were grown or abandoned. My life began in another country far from the US.

In 1975 I came into this world. As I have heard I was born in the Jungles of Cambodia, in SE Asia. I, along with my mother, father, older sister and brother were traveling to reach a safe camp that would ensure safe departure to the US. How I survived is a miracle in itself. The night I came into this world it was in the jungle. It was pouring down rain and not an appropriate environment for a new born. I was frozen cold and stopped breathing. The rule was that we needed to travel in the night to avoid detection from the war rebels. My mother was heartbroken because she was losing a child. She begged my father to please build a fire so that they could warm me back to life. That sounds so unbelievable, but that was my mom’s hope to save me. My dad made the difficult decision to put the rest of the party in danger to try and save my life. Usually in a situation like this, refugees on the move, accept their collateral damages and move on no matter the emotional pain. That night my mom was insistent on trying to bring me back to life. Something in my father must have known that I was meant to survive. He stopped and tried to build a fire even everything was damp from the rain. Everything this night was against us, but my parents risked their lives for mine. A fire was finally started and my parents somehow built a rotisserie type contraption and literally roasted me over the fire. By shear amazement I started to breathe again and my color slowly came back to my lifeless infant body. I was alive and my parents had saved me. The fact that they did this for me, a new life that was insignificant, was an amazing sacrifice.

I never knew about the story of my short death until I was older and able to understand about life and death. Before my mom told me her detailed caption of the scenario, I had always had these calming flashbacks of peace. During the time that I had died as an infant I must have went to the light. I could see blow me a beautiful golden field of wheat. There was a gentle warm breeze that blew and in the distance was a beautiful and majestic apple tree full of red fruit. The tree was a symbol that I was home and safe. In the distance of the horizon were mountains with caps of snow on the tops. The sky was a perfect blue and I felt so perfectly warm and happy. I had never felt this sense of happiness again in life.

We were escaping the rapture of the war rebels called the CA mere Rouge. As some are aware, they were ruthless savages that killed families including children trying to escape the Vietnam War. They recruited children of young ages to kill. The whole situation was very tragic and scary. I could not imagine the fear that my parents felt on a daily basis. The fact that we made it through was a miracle in itself. I have flashbacks of concentration camps and corrugated steel roofing. I see red dirt floors and the winds are very high all the time. I recall being very filthy dirty and always being hungry. Life for us was poor and hopeless. I did not understand sadness and heartache yet. I wish it could have remained that way, but unfortunately I got my depression from my mother whether I wanted it or not. As I mentioned I only remember bits and pieces of my life before age five. This was the age that marked my recognition of depression.

At age five I really began to see life for all the sadness that it holds. I would never wish this upon any child. Life was difficult enough trying to figure out how to be a child, but compound by sadness and hopelessness with it, a recipe for bad things to surely come. Our family of six was settled in a small two bedroom apartment with the bare necessities. To us it was luxury, things we were not accustomed to. Furniture was a marvel and clothing was so fitted for each of us. We had never been in such riches, but that would soon be taken for granted. In Asia before the effects of the war came to us, my parents enjoyed the sips of alcohol consumption. They were more like gulps actually. Then there were the occasional recreational Asian and remedies that gave them an added bonus with the booze. Then the war came and cut into their liquid enjoyment. It was time to buckle down and move on to keep us alive. I am not sure the years of travel. That will be another story.

I don’t recall the age I was when we finally made it to the United States, but I was old enough to remember the scene of the airport and the hustling and bustling of people going in all directions. I was not really sure why we were in an airport and I don’t remember the plane ride; I must have slept the whole way to kill time. We were picked up by the Edmonds; they were the main respondents’ of the refugees that arrived. It was a whole new world, being in this luxury car headed over to the church to meet the rest of the congregation. At the time I hadn’t realize that they were rolling out the red carpet to welcome us to the United States. The church that sponsored our family to come the US was a Lutheran church that had missionaries that visited these was torn countries and help families that needed to get to safe refuge. These people were selfless; they were risking their lives in order to help these poor third world countries. How does this kind of kindness even exist?

When we arrived at the church, I was in absolute amazement of the sheer size of this sanctuary. I thought that it was another fancier refugee camp with other Cambodians staying there. The first sight of the church was beyond overwhelming. Surrounding the building were amazing and colorful stained glass images of God. The main church was this tall castle like structure that reach up to the sky. Our destination was to enter the doors of the reception area and meet those fellow church patrons that were extremely excited to finally see these Asian refugees from the far away land of Cambodia. When we entered the doors we were greeted like celebrities. What did we do to deserve such a reception? We were simple people with nothing to give as an offering to be so welcomed by complete strangers. I was so afraid of this whole new situation, that I remember holding onto my Mom for dear life. All these people were reaching their hands out to shake my parents hand as if we were some sort of phenomenon. When things settled and everyone was able to get a peek at the Asians, we all sat down to prayer for the upcoming meal that we were about to partake in. There was a buffet style line of food that formed this giant horseshoe.

Prayer was finished and it was time to eat. In my mind I thought that we were not allowed to eat any of this foreign food because of the starvation we endured back in our country. The wonderful patrons of the church quickly came and showed my parents that they were allowed to have this food that this welcome party was because of our safe arrival to the US. My brothers and I stayed at the table with my older sister while my parents gathered up food to bring back to feed us. This whole concept was beyond our wildest dreams. The fact that people were trying to help us and not gun us down was an amazing fact in itself. We hardly ate, but a very little because we were trying to be respectful and this new kind of food was not what we were accustomed to. Then came the sweet and beautiful deserts. There were all these colors and textures that they were pieces of art. I could not believe that were allowed to eat these deserts. The church patrons introduced us to the beloved ice cream. There was chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, and even a flavor that had red, green, and chocolate all in one. Once I took my first bite of this amazing confection I was so happy that I broke out a little shy smile. The church patrons thought it was so cute and they were so happy to have made a little girl so happy. I was overwhelmed by all this kind attention that I was getting all to myself. I thought for so many moments that this must be a dream because this kind of kindness never existed in my life. The fact that these people who didn’t know us at all were showing such kindness and trying so hard to make us feel welcomed into their congregation.

It was now time to get into the car once again, but where were we going? I thought that it was time to return to the war torn country and live a life of squalor once again. In my mind I never expected this level of kindness and for it to last. I was accustomed to disappointment and getting what you get for your family to sustain for a month at a time. The Edmonds were taking us to our home that the church furnished and provided food in the refrigerator. The kindness never stopped and these people just kept on giving and showing their true kindness. We entered this shelter that had actual walls and a ceiling. Upon entering the living room they flipped this switch that magically brought light into the room. Donations from the church had furnished the apartment with the simple necessities of the 70’s era. It was a modest two bedroom with a kitchen that they supplied donated pots and pans and kitchen utensils and glasses. There was one bathroom with a bath shower combo. One bedroom was for my parents and the other was for the kids. This was pure luxury compared to the squalor dirt hut we lived in before. My parents were shown how to use the appliances in the kitchen and what the pots and pans were for. They even showed us the running water and flushing toilet. They supplied us with donated clothes and linens for the beds. This was beyond anything we had ever received. There was so much more to come and so much kindness to be shown, but how would my parents receive this?

My family was the luckiest family in the world! My parents were given a second chance at a great life for their family. We had money and food stamps courtesy of the government. How things get any better? Freedom with free money. We won the lottery! The key was to take this great responsibility and treat it as a second lease at a new life. Easier said than done. I often times wonder what went through my parents head at times. Why didn’t they love us enough to care about our wellbeing? I see so many families that came to America from an old you Vietnam and they seemed to prosper and do well. Mainly they stayed together as a family. Why couldn’t my parents have the frame of mind to do the right things for their kids? So many other immigrants from Asia became somebody’s and opened up businesses.

Drugs and alcohol must have been to strong and the thought of not being on that constant high was too much to face. Seeing all these other Asian families that came here and prospered makes me sad and I wonder if maybe this could have been us. Was it because we were from a lower class, or was it because my parents were so selfish that their needs superseded any others. My whole life I have always felt unwanted because of the abandonment from my parents. I have never embraced that anyone actually wanted me in their life or that I couldn’t count on someone to be there for me unconditionally. Going in and out of foster care, you start to feel like an object that no one really wants, but was a good source of income for them. I am pretty much a recluse when it comes to my emotions and airing them out. I have friends, but I keep everyone at a safe distance so that I don’t get disappointed. The closes I ever got to have a reliable friend was in High School, but even then, it was difficult because they all had families that had parents that raised them. Not me I was the odd one out. Thanks to my parents the feeling of emptiness will always be burrowed in my heart.

CHAPTER 2

My parents were always celebrating their new found free fortune and kids were not invited. The celebration lasted a lot longer than it should have. That free money would supply them with their alcohol and drugs. They were kids in a candy store and their actual kids were put on the back burner. With this constant party came all sorts of cheap friends and American women. That aspect would be the ruin of my mother and father. It is amazing what low class women would do for some money. My dad was a new found man that had money, not a lot, but enough to bring in the rift raft.

Even though it was a constant party, I always tried to find solace. I discovered the beauty of the area I lived around. Although our apartment complex was a pebble rock grey color, it had a lot of beautiful natural green plants all around it. They were mostly weeds, but still I found beauty in the colors. In my later years as I had to walk to school, I discovered the beauty of growing your own food. What a concept! I was so fascinated by all the different fruits and vegetables that Oregon could produce. The surrounding homes on the walk to school had yards and each one was groomed according to their individual taste. I discovered by default so many edible berries and vegetables. Each house has its own personality. Then I got to think about the reason why I feel lost as a child is because I had no home no destination to go to. Nobody feel safe and secure unless they have a home. Not only did I not have a home I didn’t have parents that were even there to take care of us. Life should never be this way for a child that is brought into this world. If I knew that I was pregnant I could not afford to take care of a child or I wasn’t ready to take care of the child I would never bring a child into this world. I can’t bear the thought of knowing that I put my child up for adoption knowing that my child is out there somewhere part of me. Later on in my story you will understand why I cannot put up a child for adoption. Having a home land security for most everyone. My parents were on borrowed time when it came to living in apartments. What I mean by that is they didn’t own their home they didn’t earn their home; they were only borrowing the apartment. They were getting things to easily and I didn’t have to work for the home that they had received. Instead of embracing and taking it with a grain of salt, they took advantage of the situation and expected more. As a result the kids were the one suffering. I don’t know what else to describe my parents from the mind, but they were just plain stupid. Only those that are selfish and self-absorbed take a gift like that and throw it all away and wanting something better. My parents had nothing they came from nothing. They were given a chance of a lifetime to start a new life in a safe country. Instead of appreciating that fact I just threw it all away. I don’t know maybe it’s just me but that just is so thoughtless and selfish and close minded. Going through all they did living in such poor conditions in Cambodia you would’ve thought that they would’ve taken their opportunity and made it into something bigger and better. As a result for myself, I never had a home, never had an identity, and most of all I never had a family. I still struggle today to identify who I am. When I get around people that I don’t know and very quiet like I was as a child. I have this fear of people that they are going to laugh at me or make fun of me. I still have that childlike mentality when it comes to other people.

It was time for my dad to get his first job. Although welfare and food stamps would supply them with the bare necessities, but being allowed to live on those terms my dad had to learn to work an actual paying job. I think he was brought in and started a job at a meat packing factory. He had to get up early in the morning and go to work in this huge refrigerator full of butchered meat. He went to work so early that it was still dark and finished work around 2pm. The job was at a warehouse about ten blocks walking distance in this huge industrial area. When my dad finished work he was invited be other men that worked with him to a new place called a bar. This place had cheap women, music, and full of cigarette smoke. He was in his idea of heaven. It didn’t take a lot to entertain my dad, but the price was the children and family. Although the women in our culture were considered not as important as men, but my mom began to feel the effects of the hurt my dad was causing her. He was taking her out with the trash and discarding her for good. Thus came the nights of crying and soaking her misery in alcohol infused stupors. I couldn’t not bear the thought of leaving my mother alone to face her sadness alone. I would later find out that was the biggest mistake of my life. This decision would mark the rest of my life.

My father had no regard for my mother. My mother couldn’t fathom this concept, how could he abandon her after all they had been through. They traveled through treacherous jungles to escape death together. An experience like that should keep them bonded for life. My father just didn’t care anymore. His new found lust for women overrode any care he had for his family. For myself I had refused to believe that my daddy would abandon his only little girl. I was so wrong and so disappointed. As the days passed my father was never home. It got to the point where he would be gone for weeks at a time. My mother was beside herself in grief and the only medicine that fixed her was her alcohol consumption and the various transient men she would bring home to fill the void where my dad used to be. All care for us children was gone; the pain was too much for my mother to deal with. We kids were just on the side for the brief moment she might be sober. That is the only time I had a mother that was conscious of her situation. It was too much for her to feel so she tried to numb herself in drugs and alcohol.

By this point my brothers and sister were wondering around the small city of Eugene, Oregon getting into who knows what mischief. I always stayed home with my mom to keep her from killing herself. She was so full of pain that she lost any will to live. She would often yell and scream in an alcoholic rage; threatening to kill herself. That left it up to me to keep her from taking her life and getting my dad to come home. I had no idea where my dad was, but my mom did. So we went for a walk to a bar several blocks away from our home. The place was so smoke filled and full of dirty old men that were so perverted and made feel violated. It was up to me to go to my dad and beg to please come home. I pleaded and cried begging from the bottom of my heart, for him to please come home. He was so drunk and didn’t care about my mother or his little girl. The bar patrons started hooting and yelling at how sexy my mom was. They all gave her advances and that really brightened her self-esteem. She then realized that even though my dad had no interest in her, other men did. My dad didn’t like that fact at all. My mom had a new vice in life to bring my dad home. A fight broke out and the cops were called. My dad was arrested and so was the other guy. My mom and I were told to go home and never to bring a child there again. I think my mom was proud of herself for finally getting one over my dad.

The chaos never ended though. Although my dad was called on his bad behavior, he continued his escapades of chasing American woman. I guess you could say that my life was interesting to say the least. My mother continues to have her crying rages and my father continued to accompany himself around whatever women followed him. They had no objections to the type of people they were around, as long as they drank and paid attention to them. My father was usually off at some bar near the house with several women. My mother preferred to stay home, but not alone. She would bring home homeless men that hung out near the railroad. They were dirty, smelled, and had no qualms about having relations with my mother. Most of all they loved drinking as much as my mother. This one particular night my mom had brought home about five men. They were all transients and fueled by alcohol. They loved nothing more than to drink and have their way with a woman. My mother was in men heaven, she loved having men surround her. This filled her sadness and loneliness. Besides drinking, men filled her with that feeling of being young and meeting a boy for the first time. There is always that feeling of exhilaration and excitement. Although she had so many men fighting for her affections, none of them could replace my father. He was the one she wanted because he was the one that she couldn’t have. I became so overwhelmed with the feeling of hopelessness that I wanted the pain to go away. I started thinking back to that evening in the pitch black of night because the lights were out due to nonpayment. My mom had drank herself to sleep with the bottle still in her grasp. I felt my way to the room she slept and with the light of the moon I could see her grasp of her wine bottle. I went over and took it from her as I did many times before. This time I was intending on pouring into the toilet. Then I thought that I should consume some because it might take my pain and sadness away. So I took the biggest swig I could and held my breath and swallowed. Nothing happened so I did it again, and it tasted awful! I could not stand to taste anymore of that stuff. Soon I started feeling woozy and the room started spinning. I started to cry out of fear, but no one heard because I was alone. I don’t remember how long I cried, but eventually I went to sleep.

I siblings I were always trying to find interesting and fun things to do. On our way to school would pass through a set of train tracks were freight trains would go through. There is something about the train tracks that intrigued us. We would play all day long searching for treasure waiting for trains to go by. We count the long cars and trains see what was inside their cars. They would use the train tracks as balance beams walking along them as far as we could to see how far we can get without falling. Not exactly the safest place for a little kid to play but no one else told us otherwise. There was this one particular great day my sister and my two brothers we were all playing a long train tracks. I was always busy looking at plants and rocks and things that had skewed nature. There were some plants growing in between the train tracks that intrigued me and I was just trying to figure out what plants they were. I was so engrossed in looking at these plants and rocks in the train tracks that I didn’t even notice that was a train coming. My brothers and my sister were also busy playing and doing other things around the train track and they had noticed the train either. As a train approached and got louder my sister looked up and noticed that I was on that track which the train was coming. For some reason I didn’t think it was the same track I was on so I kept on looking and playing the rocks. My sister tried yelling for me to get out of the way the train was coming the train was coming get out the way. Of course the sound of the train was so loud I couldn’t hear anything. Then the sound got very loud in the tracks that I was sitting on started moving a little bit. I look up from my rocks and my plants and here’s this big huge train coming right at me. In that moment I sat there and contemplated staying in from the train. I was wondering what would happen if the train kept on coming toward me. For some reason I was not afraid of his big metal machine coming towards me. My sister started running towards me yelling for me to get out of the way. For some reason I was really mesmerized watching this train coming at me that I could move. It all happened so fast and in an instant I moved out of the way right for the train almost hit me. I remember after the train blew by the engineer must realize that there was a little girl on the track that almost got run over. I know he was angry because there was little kid playing on his track or if he was telling me to stay off the tracks because he honked the train’s horn for so long after passing. While this was another brush of death for me. I guess it wasn’t my time yet. My sister came over and grabbed me and shook me asking me why I didn’t get out of the way sooner. I gave her a blank stare and said I don’t know. At that point in my life I was at a crossroads where I could’ve ended my life then or continued the misery I was living in. It’s sad to imagine that a little girl my age even thought that way but that was my reality. I guess the reason why moved off the tracks that day was to spare the sadness in my brothers and my sister would’ve felt. Not to mention the mess I would’ve created on the railroad tracks. It was my first real conscious brush of death but I wasn’t afraid. That day I figured out that I do have a choice I do have control of the things that I do. It is the profound moments like almost getting run over by a train that make you realize there’s a lot more out there in the world besides just yourself. My sisters and my brother and I continue to play along this train tracks but I never stayed on attract if I knew train was coming. I would be mortified today if my kids were playing on train tracks the age I was. I couldn’t imagine how life would’ve went on if that day my life was gone. The difference of my life as a kid and the difference are my children’s lives as kids are night and day. I would be beside myself with grief and sadness knowing that my children were out there alone on their own. I can’t even let my children play at the park without me being able to see their every move. As a mother and going through all the experiences that I did as a child I never want my children to ever be in that kind of danger. There’s any parents of want their children in the kind of danger that we were putting the kids, but to know that I can keep them safe and I care a lot more than my parents did about my well-being is enough for me to go on.

I was in a mischievous child but somehow I seem to get into a lot of dangerous situations. I love being outside and playing I tried to be wise about my environment, but I was also trying to be a kid. Most kids don’t even know where they are half the time but for myself I knew where I was and I knew I had to watch out for the dangers of bad people. I don’t know why sometimes it was my brother and me playing together and wandering around all over town or if it was just me by myself for me and my sister, but on this day it was me and my little brother. I don’t quite remember how we wandered off so far but we were really our distance from our apartment. We were always looking for parks to play at, so my little brother and I wandered and finally found the park. I sort of knew where we were but I wasn’t exactly positive on how to get back home. This was a completely new area that we had never been. I was older so I knew I had to watch out for my little brother. And I didn’t know how much trouble I was going to get into if I return home. What a better place for a pedophile than a park. While it wasn’t soon to the creepy man noticed that there was two little kids all alone playing. I was busy playing and also trying to watch my little brother, but I also noticed this creepy man. You realize that I had noticed she was creeping around us and following us wherever we went. I just kept on playing in trying to stay close to other kids parents that were at the park. I was smart enough to know that no one could hurt us if there were other adults around that were kid friendly. As the hours pass my brother wanted to keep playing but I was begging him to please let’s head home. Little kids don’t ever want to leave the park I have proof of that with my three kids now. I don’t understand the dangers that lurk around them. While that was the case with my little brother this day. It was starting to get late and the other kids and their parents were leaving the park so it was just myself and my little brother. This guy was still lurking around. I had hoped that some of the parents would notice that this creep was around and would’ve maybe stayed behind to make sure that we were okay but apparently nobody cared. So finally I took my brother by the hand and I think we need go because we’re going to get a beating if we don’t get home. He had watched me get a beating many times before I think he felt bad because he didn’t want me to. So I had to come up with a strategy of exiting the park without this guy seeing us. He had his eyes close on us but then I had my brother gone to a part of the playground with me kind of concealed us. My heart was beating really fast and I was getting kind of scared me I told my little brother we were going to play hide and seek. I told him there was a creepy man was trying to follow us and he wanted to play hide and seek with us so we had to hide really well. Fortunately for myself I think he understood that this man was dangerous so we had to stay hidden. As we sit there concealed on the playground to try to look out to see if the man had left. He was lurking around in different areas there waiting for us to come out. So then I took my chance when he wasn’t looking into my brother’s hand and ran towards the sidewalk. Before you know it he’d spotted us running off and started following us. My heart was racing and now I was scared. It was getting dark I wasn’t really sure how to get home. My poor little brother could barely keep up with me but I was pulling his arm. The man was a distance from us but he could still see us so I turned the corners fast as I could and we went into some bushes and hid. We were still in a public type area where there were no homes. By this time the sun had gone down, but it wasn’t completely black out. So I told my brother to please be quiet and don’t move because the bushes will make noise. Squatted down in this little bush’s trying to stay still as we could. We were both scared to death. Then appear at the man in a bit of a distance looking around for us. Thank goodness that the sun had gone down because it was very difficult to see much. We were so small that we fit into this tiny little bush so was hard to imagine that anyone could be inside the Bush. He gave us a great hiding place and a view of the creepy man following us. My poor little brother was so scared she started to cry and said he wanted mommy. I felt so bad for him for bringing him into this danger. But I was determined to get amount of it because I had caused this. I was scared to death myself because I really didn’t know how to get home and at the same time I was trying to escape this creepy man following us. He’d gotten closer to the point of where we were hiding and he couldn’t see us so he stood around quite a bit waiting and looking. By the grace of God brother and I were little kids that had enough common sense to know how to stay safe. We also have the patience to sit in that tiny little bush stay perfectly still and quiet. Eventually after an hour our patience paid off. Although it seemed like an eternity for a little kid man finally left. I was still so scared that maybe he just made himself disappear and using come back out as soon as we left the bushes. So I slowly took us out of the bushes and looked around and headed in the direction that I thought home was. Gosh I think I was only about seven years old and my little brother was five. I kept going until I found the landmark that I recognize. Finally after quite a while wondering finally found something familiar and new which way to head home. That dad that mice self and my brother in a lot of danger. I told my brother please don’t tell anybody that that man followed us because we were getting a lot of trouble. He understood even at that little age of five because he knew his big sister was going to get the beaten.

Thinking back to that day breaks my heart. The fact that a five-year-old and the seven-year-old workout by themselves far from home but no mother no father. If my kids were even out the front driveway of my house and I didn’t know it I would just be in a panic. The fear that my brother and I felt that night is a fear I never want my kids to ever know. We were just tiny little kids and had no business being out all by ourselves. It just amazes me that we went through so much and we survived so much. How could my parents be so irresponsible and careless to have even let the little kids out of the house not knowing that they left? Once we got back that night of course I got in trouble because I put my little brother in danger. He didn’t tell them about the creepy man following us but I got in trouble because I took him out and we were gone for hours and he was the precious little baby. I didn’t get a beating because the adults were all too drunk at that point to even care. That day was big wake-up call for me though. Started to imagine what would’ve happened if that man did get us and if we would be dead. At that young age I was very aware of death and how close it was to me. That is something a little kid that age should have to worry about but I was well aware of. I never took my little brother out again and did something like that again for the sake of his safety. My siblings were all I had and really all I cared about. I would be heartbroken to know that when my siblings died as I brought them into danger. The pure fact of losing a family member was heartache enough.

I tried always spending time with my siblings as often as I could actually try to follow my older siblings wherever they went even if they liked it or not. So course there was another day where we wandered the city looking for parks to playing activities to keep us entertained. And yes there were those in the streets of the city cars driving fast and little kids can’t be seen. They tried her best to abide by the laws of the road meaning the crosswalks. Even so people don’t expect little kids to be running across the road on their own. So comes another brush with death for myself. Reading about this you would be dumbfounded at how someone could have such luck. I was me. So I’m running trying to keep up with my older siblings, crossing a busy road. I was probably many steps behind and in the middle of the road. I think at this point I was not at a crosswalk I think we were jaywalking. Meaning crossing at a non-crosswalk. Well that wasn’t too smart because here comes the car headed straight for me. My brother and my sister were arty across and looked back to see that this car was coming straight for me. So here’s this car and here’s me playing chicken. It’s one of those situations where everything seems like it’s going in slow motion. So right before the car is getting ready to run me over my instincts tell me to lay flat on my back. Unfortunately for the motorist he didn’t see me until it was too late so she didn’t have time to break. My being so small any the car went right over my body without one. It was an absolute miracle. Thinking this for me was only one car coming and not several