Nightmares are dreams too......this is my true story.
I was born in India but I do not know my actual birth date. I always felt strongly and have fleeting memories that I was well loved and cared for in the early part of my life. Around the age of 3 or 4 years old while I was sleeping, a woman stole me from my bed and my family in the night. The details are too much to go into but this link will tell the story of my early years http://www.missingindiankids.com/searching/vanessa/
I then arrived at Holy Angels Convent in Thiruvananthapuram kerala India in 1974. I was taken very good care of by Catholic Nuns while I lived there. The nuns called me Latha until I was baptized and named Mary Magdalen. The years that I lived at the convent were happy memories for me. I was fed, clothed and educated. We slept on mats and we did not have a lot of material things, but I was happy. I was a lighter skinned young girl than the other children there. They would call me cat but it was never in a mean way that I felt I was being bullied or anything. I was never sexually or physically abused there. One time I remember pulling myself up, and looking over the wall of the convent and saw a house next door with a wonderful swimming pool--when I saw the pool, I wanted one so bad. After that, I went into the huge shower stall and plugged the drain with a cloth and turned on both shower heads full blast so that I could go swimming. For that I got in trouble. The nun tried not to laugh when she went to spank me. Another nun, Sister Mary had a little dog which was a Pomeranian named Bruni. Bruni was my constant shadow, slept with me every night, and was a constant comfort for me.
One day a man came to take individual photos of a few of us children who were at the orphanage, and I was one of them. A picture that was taken of me had a write up which said Latha likes reading so much that she picks up whatever paper or book she finds and reads. She is clever at studies. She is fond of singing and dancing. On the whole she is a bright child and good at sports. I was then informed a few months later that I was going to be adopted to a wonderful loving family in Canada. Then the preparations started for me to be adopted to Canada. There were five of us girls being adopted out at the same time. We were taken to Madras by train and taken before a judge for the adoption to happen.. we returned to the convent to wait.
Then the day came for four of us girls to be sent to Canada. Sister Mary then took us by plane to Madras where we stayed one night in a convent there. The next morning we were taken to the Madras airport. Before Sister Mary before said goodbye to us, she pulled me aside and told me that all my dreams were going to come true in Canada. Little did I know then.... nightmares were dreams too. We were then put into the care of a woman with a baby on the flight to Canada. This woman accompanied us all the way to Toronto, Ontario where she had reached her destination to deliver the baby to a couple there. We were then put under the care of the stewardesses for the remainder of the trip to Calgary, Alberta where we were going to be met by the families that had adopted us.
It was night when we arrived in Calgary and we were met there by the families who had adopted us. I was adopted along with another girl to the same family. We stayed one night in Calgary at a hotel. We were so excited we kept looking at all the lights outside of the hotel. I was beaten by my adoptive mother for that and was told in a mean manner to go to bed. That was my first experience of the evilness of my adoptive parents. The next morning we were taken to McDonald’s and fed an egg mcmuffin or breakfast. My body was not used to Western fast food, and I began to vomit as I was eating it. Mrs. Pearce the adopting mother, then started shoving it down my throat telling me I could be starving in India.
We then left for their house in B.C. The Pearce family lived just outside of a small heritage city called Nelson, B.C. I was given the birth date May 18, 1969, even though I have no idea what my real birth date is-- so many people take this for granted. Mr. and Mrs. Pearce then changed my name to Vanessa.
I quickly learned and experienced that Mrs. Pearce was a cold and abusive woman and should not have been allowed to have children--let alone animals. I was literally kept in the attic of their home. The attic was freezing cold in the winter and stifling hot in the summer. I could barley even stand up in the room. There was a single bed in there and nothing else--and I mean nothing. Not even a light. I was not allowed in the living room except to clean like a maid. Not allowed to watch TV, touch the fridge or stove. I was not allowed to get out of bed until I was told I could. Everything was very controlled in the household by Mrs. Pearce. All I can say is, prisoners lived better than me. I was always scared and jumpy because I never knew when I would get a beating for no reason.
In the early months even though Mrs. Pearce was cruel, her husband Mr. Pearce was kind to me and would give me books and food when Mrs. Pearce would deny me food for periods of time. The books helped me escape, even temporarily, from my living hell. By being kind to me and providing me books and food, Mr. Pearce earned my trust. Then all of a sudden one day while I was allowed to play the piano he came behind me and grabbed me and he had an erection and started humping against me. This is when his sexual abuse of me began. I had no safe place to turn. Sleep became my only friend--it was the only time I could escape and forget the horror I was going through.
School was not much better. The surrounding communities were predominantly white. I was bullied by children at school for being of a different color than them. I really started to believe that there was something wrong with me and that I was truly unlovable. This especially rang true when Christmas came. All I heard from kids at school was about Santa Claus and how he loved all children. Yet on Christmas day all I found was a note in my stocking saying that I was a bad girl and if I was a better girl the next year he might bring me something. So, I thought even Santa Claus hated me. I felt I had no place to be safe except when I fell asleep.
I always felt cold and hungry and I missed India--the convent, the nuns, the warm weather, and being treated kindly. I was finally able to get a letter off to Sister Mary begging her to bring me back to India. She sent a letter back saying she could not bring me back and to say my hail Mary’s. After receiving this response from the one person whom I still trusted and thought could keep me safe, I lost all hope. After being beaten again for unknown reasons, I found a can of turpentine and drank it and began to vomit. Mrs. Pearce dragged me by my hair into the attic and left me there to die. Both Mr. and Mrs. Pearce left abruptly in their car. By some miracle I did not die.
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