Ontop of taking care of and raising myself, I had a younger sister to take care of. I watched her on my own after she learned how to walk. Thankfully I did not have to change diapers. I think I just lucked out on that one. It wasn't long before my sister was diagnosed with Autism. I raised an Autistic girl as a 7-8 year old child. I babysat, I fed, I played with her, I picked her up and held her when she was hurt. She was no longer my sister, she was my child. In a sense anyway. I never felt emotionally connected to her- I just took care of her. All the time.

Eventually, the "adults" divorced and split up. My responsibilities multiplied. There was one less able-bodied human in the equation- also the only world-capable person who could buy groceries, pay for bills, drive a car, ect. This was just one of the many stones that built my prison.


Just the three of us; The Ogre, an autistic girl and myself. We moved around for a few years. I was home schooled for a semester of 5th grade, which screwed up my "credits". No one technically taught me since the Ogre is always on night shift. Of course, I did ALL of my own work, picked up my sister from school every day, made lunch for her, made dinner for her AND helped her with her homework. But that wasn't good enough for public school.

We stopped moving after the Ogre got engaged (to a very handsome man) and they bought a house in a "high-brow" but not really neighborhood. This was also about the time (that I can recall) that I started to take medications from psychiatrists. I had already been going to a few therapists by then but I never talked to them about anything. At that point, I never really had anything to complain about. Plus, I was 8-12 years old. An 8-12 year old child doesn't really know what is going on. Not completely. Not enough to put all of the right words in the air.