July 1st 1973

I was 17. Seventeen. It was the ending of my life as I knew it instead of the dreams I’d had for the beginning. Never would I have imagined how my life would forever change that day. July 1st 1973. I had no idea what was in store for me. I could not even have imagined such a life. Had I know I might have ended it then. But then I never would have known the truth. I didn’t and this is my story.

I lived the next fourteen years with mental, physical, and psychological abuse before I could escape with my two precious sons. We still suffer the affects of it all these years later.