A statistic like me...

I was a handful in my youth. Why wouldn't I be? I was a walking statistic by the age of 3.

Parents divorced at age 3.

Abused at 5 years old by the babysitter.

Father died when I was 9.

Mother died when I was 12.

Run away at 14 and 15 years old

Living on my own at 16

Pregnant by 19

Once you've been sexually assaulted at a young age, you tend to get confused about what it is, exactly, that little girls are supposed to do and not do. I was at further disadvantage because my father wasn't part of my life. He never had been and died when I was 9 years old.

My mother was my world. She worked constantly but never failed to spoil us. Yes, me and my brothers were very spoiled. I had dozens of Richie Rich comic books, a regulation size pinball machine, a pool table AND a trampoline in the back yard!! We went on family vacations to Disneyland, Hollywood and Sea World. Our house was the neighborhood playground with tons of things to do for fun, and the neighborhood kids visited us in droves.

When I was 12 the next door neighbors called me and my brother over to their house and sat us down, wanting to tell us something. My brother instantly started crying and I was clueless as to why. They had their bible out and started telling us how our mother was going to live with God in Heaven. My brother kept crying. I, however was sure this was a HUGE lie! I promptly ran out of their house to go and tell my mother on them!

3 months later she died of Cancer.

I remember at her funeral, they had an open casket. The funeral home had put this deep red lipstick on her. I began yelling at anyone who would listen that my mother wore PINK lipstick! I pitched a fit until they fixed it. Imagine a 12 year old cursing out all the adults who worked in the funeral home.

Yes, I did... And when I got home I took off that dress (I hated dresses!) and put on some pants. I slung myself over the side of the chair and sat in the most UN-ladylike position I could muster up and ate potato chips. I didn't have any grasp on what was happening and everyone was angry at me for my behavior.

My mother didn't want our lives to change drastically so she asked one of my brothers to move into our house and watch over us. He was 21, married, with a wife and new baby girl. He worked a lot and I was grateful for that because he also worked very hard at trying to be my Dad which was something that wasn't happening under any circumstances.

Eventually, I ran away to my 27 year old brother, which ended up in all kinds of abuse and trauma. I ran away so often from there that all the executor of my mother's estate could do is set me up in my own apartment and encourage me to finish high school. I didn't. I ran away to Dallas, Texas with a girl I met and we proceeded to drink, take drugs and be very promiscuous.

Statistically, children who are sexually abused are more likely to lead a more promiscuous life because they are attempting to regain their power and autonomy over their own selves.

When I was 19, in fact on this very date, September 30th 1981, after having been pregnant 8 months I had a 7lbs 1 ounce baby girl. She was beautiful. I had spent a lot of my childhood being selfish and it was beginning to catch up with me. I blamed my mother for not having the courage to tell us herself she was dying and I blamed myself for being so spoiled and disrespectful at her funeral. I was probably clinically depressed and didn't even know it.

I spent a lot of time wondering how my life would have played out if I had told my mother about the sexual abuse I had suffered at the hands of so many men in my youth. Would she have made it all better? Would she have helped me heal? More than likely she would have been doing a lot of police calling and suing people because that's how she was, she knew the law, she knew business. She was a professional woman.

But of course we'll never know.

After I had the baby, I planned adoption for her. I was unfit to be a mother, I barely made it through my own childhood as it was. So I did the most unselfish thing I knew to do and let her go to a family who couldn't have anymore children.

Today is her birthday. She's 43. I think about her often, especially on her birthday every year. I don't regret planning adoption. It was one time in my life I was unselfish, I was like my mom, for once. I wonder how she is, how she's done in her life. What she does for a living, and so on.

But of course I'll never know.

So today, let me just end by saying Happy Birthday, Krista Nicole! I love you very much...