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Over coming the statistics

Updated: Mar 10

I was created with a purpose, to say the least. Being part of "the statistics" was just what I was born into. With a mom being a recovered addict and father still not in the right state of mind, her home was anything but normal. At the age of 8 months her mother did what any mother would do to protect her kids, she fled! With 3 kids under the age of 7, my mother became a single mom who ran for her life from a domestic violence situation. Just like many broken homes, finances was a big issue. For the lack of better terms I was a "Welfare" baby. With a mentally sick mother, and an absent father, turning 18 didn’t mean freedom, it meant responsibility. Instead of enjoying my soon to be 18 birthday candles, I was stressing with my mother on how we were going to pay rent after the state would take away her benefits, because I was no longer being a child at the age of 18. I had recently graduated but had little to no work experience, nor did I have the proper resources in my life to help me get prepared for a job. For a couple of months my mother seemed to handle things on her own, till the fatal day came, when a Dr. cut one of her main arteries to her heart during a surgery. My life was nothing short of a soap opera. Only when my mom bled out internally did her Dr. realize her mistake. Never did she own up to her mistake, and she left my mother in a coma with no explanation on why she was responding to the surgery like that. With my mother lying in a hospital bed attached to machines in the ICU in responsive, my brother and I were left to tend to the responsibilities of the house hold. This is something no young adult should have to face. Specially when mental illness plagued our family. Time after time the neighbor saved me from the raft of my brother. Like typical brother and sister we had fights. Not like typical brother and sister, my brother was diagnosed with manic bipolar, and I was diagnosed with smart ass. I learned a few lessons, when I could have just walked away... All of these factors put me in a very vulnerable state of mind, I just wanted to escape and make sure my mom wasn’t homeless, if and when she came home. Being in a vulnerable state of mind makes you the perfect victim to start grooming. For many of us when we hear the word groomed, we think about someone who washes your animals and makes them look even more exceptional to love. When you enter the world of Human Trafficking you learn the real meaning of groomed. Grooming is when someone builds an emotional connection to gain their trust for the purposes of sexual abuse or sexual exploitation. Welcome to my story, on how I was sold across state lines.

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