About Me
I was born and named, but I wasn’t supposed to make it. I was loved and claimed, but still, I wasn’t supposed to make it. I was born In West Philadelphia to a seventeen year old girl who had epilepsy and a father who had a drug and alcohol addiction. My mother ( Yvonnia Glover Poindexter)only lived eight months after I was born. I never knew her nor could I remember seeing her face, yet I found myself crying for her many nights. This void in my life was supposed to destroy me and I wasn’t supposed to make it. It was March 5th 1975 when my mother died in her sleep. You can say that my father died that day also because he was the one who found my mother in her forever sleep. He was so torn that drugs and alcohol replaced me and in that brief moment I was mother and fatherless. I know that it must have been very hard coming in and finding your wife dead a week after you just celebrated your 1 year Wedding Anniversary (February 23) . Unable to deal with the pain, he continued in his addiction and sold his soul to lust and drugs. He remained in bondage for my entire childhood. He was delivered from his addiction in 2007 and died January 27, 2008. I always thought my daddy didn’t love me until he died and I read his journals, then it was too late to truly forgive him. The pain, sorrow, grief, guilt, and regret were hard to come out of. I felt as if I wanted to die as well. His death took me by surprise and you can never be prepared in your mind to accept the death of someone as close as a parent, child or spouse. For the first time in my life I had a glimpse of the pain my Dad must have felt when he lost my mother.
I grew up without an example of a real man in my life and as I searched for love, I only to found pain. I was raised by my mother’s mother and she did the best that she could. She raised me along with my two older cousins who were boys. Their mother died six months after my mother in the same year! My Aunts name was Clarissa and she was only 23 at the time of her death. My Grandmother was not young at that time when she began to raise all of us. She was 62 years old, but a very strong woman. My cousins were three and five at the time of their mother’s death. She too had just given birth and her youngest was 6 months, but his father would take care of him.
When I turned 13 I started to seek love in other places because my Grandmother no longer accepted me for who I was or who I was becoming. She said things to me at times that caused scars that no one on earth could heal. For example; I was called a slut when I was still a virgin. I searched for anyone and anything to fill what she emptied, yet I always found myself in pools of pain. I started getting drunk and was sent away to live with my Dad at the age of 14. I returned home to Philly within ten months because I missed my Grandmother, wanted the streets and felt as if my Dad never really loved me and now was loving his new family more. He had remarried.
No best friend would keep me, no guy would love me, and not many would accept me. I just wasn’t supposed to make it. I can still hear the strong yet powerless voices that tried to destroy me, “why bother going to school, you’ll still be dumb? You aren’t worth nothing and you’ll never be nothing!†It’s funny how you start to believe others and their opinions become your facts about yourself. If for a second you believe you can be some body you quickly tell yourself you’re lying because everyone can’t be wrong. Then your goals seem unobtainable and your dreams seem unreachable. You have this strong desire, but you’re so drained from all the ridicule, criticism, and being unaccepted, that you lack the energy you need to climb the steps to success. That was me, I had so many dreams. I believed in me and my piers did also, it was when I stopped receiving from my Grandmother that I shut down. When I knew she couldn’t stand who I was becoming something with in me gave up and died. I know she did her best to love me, but there were times when she would get so frustrated with me that she would lash out at me with harsh and hurtful words. Slut, whore, tramp, dumb, fool, these words were suppose to remind me of who I was. I wanted to believe different and searched deeper and deeper for someone, anyone to make me feel better about myself. Acceptance became my god and I would stop at nothing to gain it. I grew to nearly hate My Grandmother because she didn’t display her love in a way that I could see. I was very mean and disrespectful to her. I stole her money, credit cards, her car, and even opened credit cards up in her name. I searched all over for a love to replace hers and that only led me to attempt suicide by taking a bunch of pills. It didn’t work!
My older cousin Ira Gibson became addicted to drugs at a very young age. My Grandmother said it was as a result of having my father as a role model. He would steal everything from phones, to bus passes, to meat from the freezer. If I spoke up, I was beat up. I can count two black eyes, and many horrible nights. He sold his soul to drugs and lust and died at the same age as his mother (23). He was stabbed in his head and never came out of his comma. I hated my Grandmother for allowing him to live with us and hurt me so bad. I thought she must have loved him more because she didn’t protect me from him.
At the age of 17 I was on my search for love and found a guy who was not what or who he said he was. All I wanted was someone to love me so much that they would be willing to die for me. I thought I found love in him, but all he had was lies. I believed that it was possible for someone to see good in me. I believed that it was possible for someone to love and accept me for who I was (who ever that was), and I believed it was him. I would become what ever I thought I needed to become to be accepted, and that looked like a whole bunch of things.
His lies made me feel wanted, special, important, needed and some how complete. Although our entire three and a half year relationship was built on lies, it made me feel cared for. He was the first and only guy that stayed around after sexual intercourse. I started having sex at 16 years old and figured this would be a tool to get someone to love me. Although he did something every week to cause me to want to leave him, he would promise me he’d die without me. He would fall to his knees begging, crying, (literally) and promising me change. The words were powerful but it was the tears that made me stay. After about six months in the relationship things got real crazy. Abuse became a normal way of communicating. I can’t even remember the first hit because there were so many fights. Being as though I was raised with two boys I was no punk, so I always fought back. He pushed, I kicked, he slapped, I scratched, he grabbed, and I punched. It was terrible. I never even realized that I was reliving the life that my mother and father had. Here was the cycle continuing. Even after all of the disrespect, fighting and cheating, I stayed. He made me believe that no one else would love or accept me, no one but him. He also used verbal abuse to tear me down, and with all the STDs he had given me, why would some one want me? We’d break up almost every two months or so and end up back together. Hit after hit, fight after fight, girl after girl. I cried and cried but lacked the strength and courage to leave. I use to pray that I would just die and never wake again. I wanted to escape but I thought I lacked the will power to leave. I had what it took to leave, but I choose to stay and believed his lies. I moved into my own apartment at 18 and that didn’t work out. I had to leave him because I was laying awake at night planning how I would murder him in his sleep. I had discovered that he was having sex with girls in the apartment while I went to work and school. I left the apartment and moved back in with my Grandmother, yet, I couldn’t separate myself from him totally. And at the age of 19 I was pregnant. At that time we were not going together but we still slept together. I was not going to keep my baby because I didn’t want any connections to him. I made three different appointments to have an abortion but due to financial issues it never took place. By the time the money became available I was already convinced by his tears to keep our baby. I thought it was rather strange that he wanted me to keep our child because when I was 5 months pregnant he put his hands on me (again). Being the fool that I was, I took him back and nothing changed. Through out my entire pregnancy he had unprotected sex with numbers of girls, yet he wanted this baby? I was not in the dark about his cheating and I cried nearly everyday. Only God kept my son alive and healthy, because if it was left up to my stress he might not have made it. I regretted keeping my baby at that time because more and more I realized that I would be doing everything all alone. I knew I had to run from that relationship. It was only a matter of time. My poor Grandmother had to watch me destroy my life over and over again and she hated that I wouldn’t listen to her.
After having my son, I started to feel needed, loved, and accepted. My son brought me strength and joy. More and more I started to believe that I was a beautiful person and that it was possible for someone to really love me. The love that I had for my son was not shared by his father so that made it easier to leave him. One day he just became so unattractive that I couldn’t even bear to see his face. So after one more night out of him cheating on me it was finally over, forever. Or so I thought. I wound up pregnant again by him and got an abortion at 5 1/2 months. That relationship was another trick that was suppose to destroy my life, my confidence, my dreams and my being. I was supposed to either die by his hand or commit suicide and I wasn’t supposed to make. The struggle, the pain and the obstacles that lied in front of me were endless. It took another year before I could fully get this fool out of my system. When I received enough physical, verbal, and mental abuse I moved on to a few more abusive relationships. I didn’t stay around as long because I began to know, and not just think that I deserved better. After being kicked down so low I tried things to lift me high, like weed, alcohol, dust, Xanax, volumes, and prescription cough syrup. I started drinking at 14, smoking weed at 18, and the other things at 20 years old. I thought being so high would keep me from feeling my pain, it didn’t. In fact, it was the reason I recall being in 4 car accidents (in one which my 1 year old son was in the front seat and seriously hurt) but there may have been more. I wasn’t supposed to live through all of this in the devils eyes. The more pain I felt, the more sex I had. The more pain i felt, the more drugs I took and persons I became to try and find an unconditional love that would last.
When my Grandmother died in July of 1996, it was time to answer the Lords constant call. It was at her funeral that I chose to give my life to Him, but I still had a far and long road to travel. Somehow I remained in bondage and the devil kept getting victory instead of GOD. I still struggled with living with a man, fornication, drinking and smoking weed. One day at a time I would try in His strength to give things up, yet sex was a stronghold that I never could shake. Then, when I hit the bottom of rock bottom I was delivered. I was in a homeless shelter and I received some very serious counseling. I realized that I didn’t have a problem with men or sex. The problem was that I had made ACCEPTANCE my God, and My Lord was not going to settle for 2nd place. Sex was just a tool I used to gain love and acceptance. It wasn’t easy and I had fall after fall. Yet, staying in His Word (The Bible), Church, Bible Study, Revival, Ministry, Sunday School, Biblical Education Classes, Prayer Meeting, Fellowships, and on my knees, I learned to put HIM 1st over everything and kill my flesh. That is, refuse to give in to what it wanted and still wants. I was actually kicked out of the homeless shelter due to my lack of participation after a while. I had a full time job and was going to collage, so it became very hard to follow all of their programs. The shelter no longer exist today, but GOD used that experience to get me ready for the next phase in my walk and I have not looked back since. I learned that I had to keep GOD 1st and HIS will for my life and now today I am free. I have a wonderful best friend who is also my HUSBAND, and an awesome son! We own our home in a beautiful suburban area, we have a beautiful church home, a car, a business, and I am a stay at home mom. I am a self published book author and a Christian rapper. I am walking in Gods light and shinning every where we go! And despite the odds, I MADE IT!Header Banner Made with MyBannerMaker.com! Click here to make your own! <img src="http://img149.imageshack.us/img149/6601/mybannergl
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