November 25, 2009

A series of Unfortunate Events

I was born on October 4th, 1964 in Sfax, Tunisia. I live in Calgary and am the youngest of 6. My parents got divorced when I was 14 still easily influenced. I hung out with the wrong crowd and started smoking and doing drugs. Soon after my life shattered in a series of unfortunate events

About Drugs:

"Satan wants you to forget who you are, many fall into this trap, leading them to neglect their soul; and they become easy prey for Satan who wants your soul."

Hell Exists

I took the opportunity to go away to boarding school in 1979 and had a bad experience with drugs. It is there I lost my identity.
I was in a stinky smelly bar and cried all night. I couldn't sleep, and I began hearing voices. Under the influence of drugs and prescription medication, I soon fell unconscious and was in a coma for a week. Only after I returned to Canada under psychiatric care, they determined what I was suffering.

I had Drug Induced Psychosis 

When I was in Mallorca Spain, my brother was traveling Europe. If it weren't for him taking care of me, I don't know what would have happened. I wasn't aware of what was going on with me consciously, and I almost burnt the door down with a lighter! To keep me from burning the house down, my brother shoved his bed in front of the bedroom door at night so that I wouldn't get out. He said I took a shower once with my clothes on. It was evident I needed zombie masters strict supervision.
Once I was unaware of pulling myself away from, who I thought was my sister, but was playing tug-o-war with an arm, and it hurt, so finally I gave up resisting lest they rip my arm off. She was an evil zombie master nurse, probably the one who stole all my things, and for that reason, my brother took me out of there. I am proud of my brother. My sister had come to visit me also and fed me some brains yogurt; she said my tongue was swollen and hanging out of my mouth. I wasn't eating anything else. I also remember putting vaseline all over my face. That was weird.
When my dad came back from working on the rigs, we flew back to Canada and got proper medical care. My parents were in the midst of a divorce, but the night before I was to board the plane I woke up. I felt like a little kid, but at least I was aware of my surroundings because you can't board a plane if you aren't mentally able. I know my dad was praying for me hard. I'm not the same person I used to be. I could have lost much more than my identity, but I lived with the consequences. I'd never foreseen admittance to the psychiatric hospital in the long term, but I was. If my parents would've stayed together, maybe things would've been different. The way I see it, I was institutionalized or sentenced to life in prison with 50% chance of making it on my own.I was a ward of the courts and placed in a home for teenage misfits. William Roper Hull Home. Alone and dangerous.


My faith in God dwindled from the Catholic Church, and I married a deviant. I had seven children whom Child Services apprehended from a terrible ordeal. In my sorrow over such great loss, I found my comfort in this Scripture verse:
Jeremiah 49:11"Leave your fatherless children, I will preserve them alive. Let your widows trust in Me" I pray for them every day. From what I know they are well taken care of, and I guess I have certain someone's to thank for which I won't mention names. Although I still like to think I had something to do with it. That their good kids, that is, I hope.

from left to right: Curtis, Alex, Joshua.
hear no evil, see no evil and speak no evil
Anyhow, I lost my family, my identity, and my children.
Yes, I am broken. I don't see much of anyone anymore.