In the beginning stages of becoming homeless

"It was a cold and blustery Wednesday morning on February 9, 1972. The high temperature that day struggled to reach twenty-three degrees, and the relentless winds offered no retreat. It was on this very day that I was brought into the world. I have heard that I was born breech. I came into this world shoulder first. My umbilical cord was wrapped around my shoulder and my neck. When the nurses untangled me, I was still a shade of blue. I have never found out why, but I was born with no middle name. There were four people at the hospital that day. They were eagerly awaiting my arrival. One of these four people was my grandpa. When he saw me for the first time, he said, “Look at our brand new baby blue jay!” And just like that, I had my middle name. Little did I know then, the significance of this very name would later play a profound role in shaping my life's path. My grandparents were present that day because they had lovingly agreed to help raise me. My mother and father, of course, were also present. That Wednesday afternoon must have been the purest joy of my life. I was born into a world where both my parents and grandparents were there, waiting for me. Sadly, this beautiful gathering would prove to be the last.

You see, after leaving the hospital, I was taken to a house where I was an unwanted child, a place where abuse, neglect, and sexual assault would become my harsh reality. My father, after a mere four long, miserable days with me, decided to leave, returning to his hometown in Iowa. I wouldn't see him again for another eight years. My mother, battling alcoholism, was also present in that house, and soon after arriving, I began to suffer abuse, neglect, and profound mistreatment."