This video is part of the video series Born in Hell. This video contains graphic and explicit material. Please listen at your own discretion. If the topics of abuse of any kind, domestic violence, child sexual abuse, or violence bother you, please do not watch this video. After my mom had completely destroyed my heart, telling me that she never wanted any of us, we did not count, and that we did not matter to her, I decided I had to move far, far away. I decided to move to Canada, because I had dual citizenship and I proceeded to get all my paperwork done, documentation complete and packed my few belongings in storage. I was ready to make my final cut, and move on and begin my life as an adult for the first time. I told my mom and dad I was moving to Canada and my mom was attempting to con me into staying. She could not use the old ploy of crying and pleading with me to stay and help keep my dad from raping her, because my dad was not attempting to rape her anymore. The only thing she could think of was to try and guilt me into staying in order to help her stay alive. She told me several times during the four months that passed while I was preparing to move that if I left, she would die because my dad would not help her get what she needed to stay alive. I did not fall for it. She did not want me to stay in order that we might build our relationship or learn to love each other and get along, she wanted me to stay so she could continue to use me. I told her I had to go. The day I was leaving for the airport, my mom was sitting at the kitchen table, not looking at me while I talked to her. I told her that I loved her, that I had always loved her. I told her that it was my turn now to get my life going and that I had to go. I kissed my mom on the top of her head because she would not look at me. I left, and arrived at the airport, boarded the plane, sat down and put my seat belt on, looked out the window, and breathed a heavy sigh. It had all been too much. All of the abuse, the manipulation, the con games, the torture of my mind and body had all been too much. I was tired, exhausted and emotionally drained. I went to Canada to stay with my brother and his wife in Alberta. I found a job within three weeks and was excited about getting my own life started for the first time at the age of 29 years old. Within a few weeks of working as a cook's helper on a railway tie maintenance crew train, I began to become attracted to the lead cook. He was handsome, friendly, very polite and very mature. We had been getting along so well at work and I knew he liked me too. We began seeing each other and after another few weeks rolled by, we were a "unit" and officially together. I felt that I could trust him, and because I had been sexually abused as a child, had difficulty allowing him to get close, but I was so needing to be held, to be loved, to be a woman. The CSA/incest that I suffered as a child caused me to break down and cry and become upset when Cecil would try to get close, and I had to fill him in a bit about the abuse because he knew I had been hurt by someone. He held me, consoled me, and treated me with kindness, love, care and was so gentle with me and my feelings. It was so good to have him in my life and we were really enjoying our time together. Within a month after we started seeing each other, we both were injured while working and had to get off the train to go to Edmonton for treatment. Cecil was going to have to stay in Edmonton and have surgery, and my wrist was in a soft cast from tendinitis and would be for about 3 months. Cecil wasn't sure if we should try and stay together in Edmonton or just go our separate ways. I wasn't sure either but we decided to split the cost of a motel near the hospital for one month to see how our relationship went. We really enjoyed each other's company so much. He was lonely before he met me, and I was so in need of someone to love me and just hold me and want to spend time with me. We knew that we cared about each other but were not sure if it was a lifetime relationship. The first week in the motel, I had a nightmare about my mom abusing me and woke up crying, shaking, and yelling out loud that my mom abused me. Cecil woke up and just held me, consoled me and listened to me as I told him about some of the abuse she inflicted on me. He had already seen some of the scars on my body, but he did not know the extent of the damage done. I really needed someone to hold me close, to comfort me, to not let me go. After our month at the motel was up, we decided to move into a furnished apartment together and give our relationship more time to develop. This was all new to me, but I was willing to give it a try.
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