by Kristie Trombley

Created on: May 02, 2008

Why I write? I have learned through the years that writing is an escape for me. I began writing as a very young child. I had some traumatic difficulties when I was very young and also when I was growing up. Before I every went to kindergarten I was sexually abused by a family member and also by my mother's best friends daughter and her friend. The abuse by the family member went on for several years, but the other was a one time shot. I can honestly say, I believe the one time shot was as difficult for me to cope with as the other, and quite possibly more so. Those girls not only hurt me by their lit matches, their actions tortured, and haunted my mind for years. Furthermore, when these women became mothers of daughters, and then grandmothers, the memories they left me with nearly ate me alive. I could not stand the thought of what they may be doing to their own daughters or grand daughters. Quite frankly, I could not seem to keep them out of my thoughts, because they lived, and was from the same town I was. So, I am very thankful for writing, and for the release in which it gave me.

I have had to deal with much through the years and writing has kept me sane. I do not know what I would have ever done, if I had not had the escape of writing. I write daily and have found that this escape has helped me to focus much clearer. Writing has also helped me to sort many different things out and come to a better understanding of what is bothering me. I have found that when I write, I do not dwell on things nearly as much. As a matter of fact there is not too awful much that can get under my skin, since writing. It has taught me to deal with much and helped me through many difficult times.

When I was sixteen, my first sexual experience with my boy friend of over three years, had me pregnant. Obviously it was a first time experience for both of us. Even though this was much for me to cope with, it was a disaster in his parents eyes, because he was their youngest. Although, he and I were the same age. His parents ordered him not to see me anymore. That lasted about a month. He then was given the permission of his father to marry me if he wished. He was so excited he came directly over after he had called me with the wonderful news. A day that felt so wonderful turned in to a ferocious and horrific day, one I would never forget. He drown that evening in my hometown park pond.

Yes, writing has been like breaths of air to me. Without writing I believe I would have taken my last breath of air, many years ago. I am very thankful to have had many pencils and much paper, for writing. Writing saved my life...

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