My story

It's time for my readers to get to know me better. Before I go into that though, there are a couple of things that I need to say. The first is that this post may be difficult to read, so you may want to have a box of tissues nearby. The second thing I want to say is that my aim in posting my story is not to gain pity or sympathy, but to allow you, the reader to get to know a little bit about who MotorizedMillie is.

I started out as a mistake. What I mean by that is that I was an unplanned pregnancy. My parents had already had one child and had decided that one was enough. So, in 1972, my mother had an in utero device, more commonly known as an IUD implanted inside of her. This was a form of birth control that was very popular in the 1970s. My mother became pregnant while she still had the IUD inside her. The doctors that she had at the time didn't want to remove the IUD for fear of terminating the pregnancy in the process, so it was kept in.

The IUD eventually punctured the amniotic sack causing me to be born 2 months prematurely on June 20, 1973. I was eventually diagnosed with cerebral palsy at the age of a year and a half. I grew up in a house where conflict was the rule rather than the exception. The screaming and shouting between my parents and my sister, or indeed between my parents themselves went on almost 24/7. On top of that, from the age of 4 until the age of seven, I was physically, mentally, and emotionally abused by a nanny.There was also one incident of sexual abuse inflicted upon me by the son of the nanny. All of the abuse was so horrific that my mind eventually blocked it out. The memories of the abuse didn't return until many years later, while I was attending Courage Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota USA. This is a rehabilitation facility where people with disabilities such as mine could go to gain the skills needed in order to live independently. I was there from 1991-1993. I'll write more about how I was able to come there in my next post, but these are the facts that are relevant to this post.

By 1992, the memories of the abuse that I had suffered as a child had begun to return. and I had begun the painstaking process of healing which was to last many many years. During the holiday period of that year, I returned home to Seattle, Washington to spend Christmas with my family. My parents picked me up at the airport and almost immediately began arguing again. I said nothing until we arrived at the house. When we got there, I rook my mother aside, told her that I hadn't come home to listen to arguing and asked her if she and my father had ever considered marital couseling. Her response was to look me in the eye and tell me that if it weren't for me, the problems between she and my father wouldn't exist. Needless to say, as a result of that conversation, I respect my parents as human beings, but that is as far as it goes. There is obviously more to come, but I need to stop for today because writing this has taken a lot out of me.