Today is my first Blog and I decided to write about my own family and why I wrote Chocolate Flowers.
I know readers often contact me upset that my family was so horrible or that certain things in the book happened to me so I thought this would be a good place to explain my thoughts and explain why I wrote the book.
I was born to a mentally ill mother and a mentally ill father, not by choice but that's what I got. When my Mother was in labor, my father dropped her off in front of the hospital telling her not to call unless I was a boy. I heard this story every year on my birthday for as long as I can remember. I had an older sister whom my Mother adored but for some reason that I never quite understood, we were treated very different. She was the pretty one, the one Mother would cater to and make her future plans of being a model. My sister enjoyed the attention but also resented the treatment she would see our parents give me. Later in life, she would tell me that she purposely allowed Mother to cater to her to keep her away from me.
Father was sexually abusive and physically abusive to my Mother. I remember him holding her down tickling her for hours while my sister was at school. My father had a great career but because he would drink away all his money and by everyone in the bar free drinks, we would often have to pan handle for grocery money, which I actually loved to do because it got me out of my bedroom and out with Dad being proud that I was able to ask strangers for cash. Normally my Father would stop by the massage houses and get a massage as I waited out side for him to describe the sexual gratification he would have.
Mother was finally rescuced by the man next door and we moved far away from our Dad and got a new one who really didn't have patience for children so we were in our rooms most of the time and he worked all the time so I don't remember seeing him much growing up but we had a nice home with a creek behind it.
Not long after, Mother had a baby that she rarely brought out of her room. As Mother's depression and her mental illness worsen, my sister and I would do anything to try to make her happy. Mother would insist on my sister wearing bikini's and lay on the front lawn as men would stop to look, my Mother would invite them over for a closer look as Mother would cater to to her bringing drinks and spraying her down with a home made orange oil explaining that Mother was saving money to buy her a nose job and breast implants.
I stayed in my room unless I was told to come out and clean, go to school (which was never forced, it was if I woke up got ready and left the house), people who would ask about me were often told I had mental illness and felt safest in my room. I was also allergic to the sun and it was best for me to sit in my room but I was bored in my room. I don't remember having many toys and would often play with waisted paper making my own dolls to entertain myself.
Mother had not been diagnosed with MPD until us children all moved out of the house and someone had accused her of molesting their child. This may come to a shock to most people but not to me as I knew this was her way of showing us love.
There were eight distinctive personalities and they all had names but there was one that she called the 'Dark' one and she wouldn't talk about that one. This one is well remembered in my childhood memories, although I was alway's scared of my Mother I also craved her love and affection which she gave to the babysitting kids.
At the age of 14, I was removed step-father's request as he caught me holding my Mother down beating her. He said I was trying to kill her and I believe that to be true. Camille allowed me to move in to her home and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Just like bad foster homes, there are good ones too although I am not sure that Camille even ever got paid to have me live with her, it was the reason I am the parent and owner a business today. She inspired me to work hard and I had to attend my classes for the first time in my life, I had structure.
I don't feel like I was abused for some reason looking back I supose I was but I never thought of it that way before. I guess writing the book was a way for me to understand and deal with past issues in
To be continued... Chocolate Flowers by Jori Nunes
I know readers often contact me upset that my family was so horrible or that certain things in the book happened to me so I thought this would be a good place to explain my thoughts and explain why I wrote the book.
I was born to a mentally ill mother and a mentally ill father, not by choice but that's what I got. When my Mother was in labor, my father dropped her off in front of the hospital telling her not to call unless I was a boy. I heard this story every year on my birthday for as long as I can remember. I had an older sister whom my Mother adored but for some reason that I never quite understood, we were treated very different. She was the pretty one, the one Mother would cater to and make her future plans of being a model. My sister enjoyed the attention but also resented the treatment she would see our parents give me. Later in life, she would tell me that she purposely allowed Mother to cater to her to keep her away from me.
Father was sexually abusive and physically abusive to my Mother. I remember him holding her down tickling her for hours while my sister was at school. My father had a great career but because he would drink away all his money and by everyone in the bar free drinks, we would often have to pan handle for grocery money, which I actually loved to do because it got me out of my bedroom and out with Dad being proud that I was able to ask strangers for cash. Normally my Father would stop by the massage houses and get a massage as I waited out side for him to describe the sexual gratification he would have.
Mother was finally rescuced by the man next door and we moved far away from our Dad and got a new one who really didn't have patience for children so we were in our rooms most of the time and he worked all the time so I don't remember seeing him much growing up but we had a nice home with a creek behind it.
Not long after, Mother had a baby that she rarely brought out of her room. As Mother's depression and her mental illness worsen, my sister and I would do anything to try to make her happy. Mother would insist on my sister wearing bikini's and lay on the front lawn as men would stop to look, my Mother would invite them over for a closer look as Mother would cater to to her bringing drinks and spraying her down with a home made orange oil explaining that Mother was saving money to buy her a nose job and breast implants.
I stayed in my room unless I was told to come out and clean, go to school (which was never forced, it was if I woke up got ready and left the house), people who would ask about me were often told I had mental illness and felt safest in my room. I was also allergic to the sun and it was best for me to sit in my room but I was bored in my room. I don't remember having many toys and would often play with waisted paper making my own dolls to entertain myself.
Mother had not been diagnosed with MPD until us children all moved out of the house and someone had accused her of molesting their child. This may come to a shock to most people but not to me as I knew this was her way of showing us love.
There were eight distinctive personalities and they all had names but there was one that she called the 'Dark' one and she wouldn't talk about that one. This one is well remembered in my childhood memories, although I was alway's scared of my Mother I also craved her love and affection which she gave to the babysitting kids.
At the age of 14, I was removed step-father's request as he caught me holding my Mother down beating her. He said I was trying to kill her and I believe that to be true. Camille allowed me to move in to her home and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Just like bad foster homes, there are good ones too although I am not sure that Camille even ever got paid to have me live with her, it was the reason I am the parent and owner a business today. She inspired me to work hard and I had to attend my classes for the first time in my life, I had structure.
I don't feel like I was abused for some reason looking back I supose I was but I never thought of it that way before. I guess writing the book was a way for me to understand and deal with past issues in
To be continued... Chocolate Flowers by Jori Nunes