As a young girl growing up with eight brothers and sister, some of them I don't really even know, due to the fact of the age difference between us all. My childhood was not good at all, I hated it a lot. I felt like I was an outcast from friends and also my family. When I was 4 years old my nephew and me, who was also 4 wanted to go and see the new horses that were put in the pin down the street from our house. We were also told from my dad not to go down there because the horse were not trained yet and were still wild. But as little kids, you don't listen like your suppose too and we did it anyway. We went in the little red wagon that we had, went down there and looked at the horses. But my my Nephew wanted to get the pin and I told him not to get in there and he did it anyways, but I didn't because I knew my dad would spank me if I didn't listen. I remember my Nephew getting in there and getting behind this one horse, patting his hind legs and he kicked Robert, right in the forehead and split his head wide open and he went flying and landed on the ground. He was just laying there, not moving, nobody to help me, we were far from the house, I had to go at the pin to save him. I was so scared because there were so many horses in there, but the thing is I don't remember how I got him out of there, I don't even remember bringing him home. Everyone said when I showed up at the house I was covered in blood and Robert was lifeless and they had to have him flown to Wichita, KS. The Doctors told my Parents and sister if I didn't get him there sooner he would have died, so they said I saved his life. But my older sister blamed me for the accident, and my parents said I was a hero.
A year has passed since the accident and now I'm dealing with another whole problem I can't tell my parents or anyone. My little sister and I would go to the gas station up the street from our house, which is the only gas station in our town, to buy stuff for our mom a lot, which in return we would get candy or soda, which was a great deal. As time passed the gas station man (Newt) his name, seemed to be really nice a bit too nice. He would let little kids go be countered and pick out candy all the time, and sometimes parents would be with their kids when they would go in there. One day I went in and had to get some milk for my mom and that was when the nightmare began and began for awhile, until one day the police showed up in our town to take him away. Three little girls came forward and told on him, I was not one of them, nor my sister, I couldn't let anyone know that I was a victim from him he was a 65 year old man. I remember them asking us if he ever hurts us and I immediately said no, never. As of Today I have talked about the incident to someone, and also tried to talk to my little sister about it, but she won't talk to me about it, and she will just tell me to shut up and just stop right now, so we don't talk anymore. It seemed like everyone looked at me differently, like I was not part of the family, I even remember asking my mom later in life if I ever was adopted and she said no sweetie, never. My parents were the only ones who seemed to love me more than anyone, and I miss them more than anything. When I was around 7 or 8 I remember when my older sister's husband threw a heavy metal object straight in my head for looking at him wrong, and somehow it missed, but if it would have hit me I know it would have killed me. My mom and sister both jumped up and started yelling at him, and asked him why he did that, and he said because of the glare I gave him. When we left my mom looked at me and said he does not like you, so I want you to stay far away from him, I said OK.
About a year later a tragedy happened in our family, we lost our father due to cancer, which took a big toll on me, I was a daddy's girl, he seemed to be the only one to understand me, he would take me to a livestock auction to pick up cows and hogs for our farm and I loved spending every moment with him. I remember the night before he passed, I asked my mom if I could lay on the floor with my dad, (my dad had a hard time breathing in bed so my mom would make a pallet on the floor for him to sleep with the oxygen tank) and I fell asleep next to him that night. The next morning when mom woke up she noticed he wasn't awake yet, which was unusual for him, and when she went to check on him she notice that he wasn't breathing and tried to wake him up. And that's when she woke me up, and that is also when everything changed for me that day. When I woke up and looked at him, I touched his face, he was so cold and stiff, which I will never forget to this day, I asked him to please get up, but I knew that was not going to happen. About two hours later the corners showed up at our door, we lived so far out in the country, it took a while for them to get there. They came in and took my father away in a black bag, and I thought that was the last time was going to see me
Dad, but it wasn't.
After about a year later my life just went further downhill, it never did get better, I didn't begin to really notice things or actually pay attention just because of all the trauma that happened in my life. My Mom ended up remarrying a guy I didn't like, he was an alcoholic, and he wasn't my dad. I was date raped at age 16, still hate my life and still noticing things around, like I'm alone someone near me.
At age 18 I met this guy who is amazing and wonderful, he is a christian, we get married and have our first son, issues who is the most beautiful thing that God has given me. I feel like my life was turning around for once, even though I don't speak to any of my brothers and sisters. Until one day I make a discovery that my husband has a dark closet, very evil closet. You don't get to know a person well until you marry them, those colors show more. He was mental and very physically abusive to me, even while I was pregnant. I was thrown down stairs, kicked in the stomach, punched, you name it, it was done to me. I had known where to go, know money, nothing, this went on for 16 years we had two boys. The only person I had to talk to was my mom, but she was ill at the time and has passed since, I lost her in 2002, and it has been hard. I told her all my secrets of the abuse when she was ill with Alzheimer's disease because I knew she wouldn't say anything or remember, she didn't even remember my name. When she was in hospice and we were all praying around her, she opened her eyes for the last time and said Natasha gets out before it's too late, and she said I love you, and I told her I love you too. And that was the last thing she said to anyone. So I went back home and about 5 months later when my husband went on his business trip, that's when I left and got my divorce. After all that I have been more aware of myself now and my abilities. At first I thought I was going crazy when I was little and as a teenager and as an adult, but I know I'm not. This Is what I have described to my cousin who is a medium, what I can see with my eyes are orbs and I can also see figures, my figures are like, have you ever watched the movie predator when the alien goes in visible, that's kind of what I see except its more lighter not as thick looking like that, like a watery affect. I can also see white streaks of lights going through the house a lot, in the day and night. Even smells, like I can even smell my dad when he smoked and my moms makeup and hairspray. I have even recorded where they are to show my husband to whom i'm married to now, and my boys that I know exactly where they are, they are like amazed at how I can see the orbs also. My Cousin Molly said I have the gift like she does also, except I can't talk to them like she can, I don't know why yet? Please Let me know what you think and if you have any ideas on what I should do