All I can remember is waking up in the hospital.
Confused.
Scared.
Bewildered.
Positive.
In pain.
"What happened?"
I was looking up at my friend Belinda whose eye's were locked tightly onto my own.
Belinda found me laying on the floor in my flower shop.
She's the one who called the ambulance.
I owe her everything.
Thanks Belinda.
You saved my life.
February 14 2001.
Valentine's Day.
The busiest day of the year for flower merchants.
The worst day of my life.
My HIV was kicking the shit out of me.
It had been for weeks.
Relentless fucker when it wants to be.
This HIV.
Emotionally and physically.
It was all becoming too much.
Overwhelming.
Frightening.
Lonely.
Embarrassing.
Shameful.
And I was responsible.
No one else.
So crucify me.
I could not hurt any more.
I own my mistakes.
Every one.
It was relentless.
All around me.
This HIV thing.
Laughing at me at night.
My spirit was weak.
Shaking the very foundations of my youth.
I had collapsed from exhaustion.
Fatigue.
Dehydration.
A blood disorder.
My body shut down.
I hit my head on a sandstone pillar.
On my way down.
The floor was covered in my blood.
HIV blood.
Apparently, Belinda thought I was dead when she first saw me on the floor.
She told me she didn't care about the blood that she saw everywhere.
She cradled my head until help arrived.
Now, THAT'S a friend.
But then I moved.
And then I moaned.
My head was swollen.
I had blood in my ears.
I had blood on the brain.
A small stroke.
She called 000.
This was my wake up call.
I realised I was not 'normal' anymore.
My body was falling apart.
And I was only thirty one.
I wondered if I would live to thirty two.
And now I am thirty eight.
And I am still kicking.
My mother dashed to Australia from Canada.
AGAIN.
I had to close my flower shop's doors.
I eventually handed it to a friend to operate.
But it's closed now.
Five years of solid work.
A memory now.
After a while, it became very apparent to us all.
My friends and family.
I had to move onto something more conducive to my new predicament.
A new environment.
A fresh start.
I had no choice's left.
I needed country life.
I was born in rural northern Canada.
I am used to isolation.
I needed clean air to breath, and true nature to hide in.
Calmness.
A serene place to rest and recover.
Think about my life.
My past, present and what ever was left of my future.
Heal and learn.
Speak to God.
Pray.
So, I sold everything I owned, and bought my farm.
'Bethel Park'
My farm saved my life.
Everyone here knows it.
A million times.
It has saved my sanity.
It has fed me daily, the nourishment I needed, to become healthy once again.
It took two years, before I was back to my old self.
I gained weight.
I processed so much information in a beautiful setting.
I was back!
My mother decided to migrate from Canada to live with me for a few years.
A blessing like no other.
I needed her.
She also made my future bright again. As soon as she arrived.
Building my confidence and self esteem back up to their previous levels.
Cooking me wonderful comfort food that indeed gave me comfort.
And a love handle.
Hehehe.
I often cry when I think of my mother.
Her presence is everywhere on my farm.
Her hand has touched hundreds of plants and trees.
We became a team for a few years.
I miss her terribly.
I need her soon.
But she is happy again in Canada with my nieces and Grandma.
I am so pleased for her.
Tell your mother today that you love her.
Or you father.
Tell someone.
Anyone.
The farm became my child.
I tended to it every minute of the day.
Woke it up at dawn.
I coddled it.
Protected it.
Worried about its development.
Nourished it with food.
Blessed it everyday.
Put it to bed at dusk.
I am Bethel Park.
When I went to the Philippines to holiday with my Filipina Queen,
the last thing I expected was to meet someone.
Trust me.
But then I met DJ Montano.
Our relationship blossomed VERY quickly and we started to make plans for our future life in the Philippines.
I was prepared to give it all up (the farm) for a life on Boracay with DJ.
The beach, sand, and locals.
It was love on my part. Pure love for DJ.
I really fell so in love with him.
I can't explain it.
I thought he was perfect.
This is before I knew him, Manila, Celine or any other GG members.
DJ one on one is VERY smooth.
Like a baby's bottom.
DJ had NO plans to actually move to Boracay.
More lies, lies, lies and more lies.
I had to go home to Australia for six months before returning to live permanently.
We were to have a long distance relationship until our reunion.
Six months long.
I was floating in the clouds. So it didn't matter.
I had a little Buddha I thought.
My own little Buddha.
DJ.
ANYTHING but a Buddha.
One thing led to another and suddenly the pressure was 'ON BIG TIME' to send money to DJ.
From Australia.
Western Union.
I mean PRESSURE.
Pressure for our restaurant.
Pressure for Montage Travels.
Pressure for everything having to do with my house on Boracay that I was to rent.
Once I sent the first 7000 dollars, I was in it up to my eye balls.
I just had no idea how much more he would ask for.
It never stopped.
Every phone call had a sting at the end.
I burst into tears one night on the phone with him.
I started to think he only wanted my investment capital.
And not really my love.
I should have listened to my instincts.
I will NEVER doubt them again.
I borrowed money from my mother.
A lot of money. Almost twenty thousand dollars in total.
To send to HIM.
I am not used to dealing with thousands and thousands of dollars.
Neither was my mom.
We were bamboozled by him.
Eventually I borrowed too much.
I had to sell my share in the property.
To pay my mother back.
She was stressing out so much.
I was crying so much.
I had no choice.
He kept asking for more.
He had me send some to his sister.
Some to his mother.
Some to his bank account.
But most through Western Union.
I am working with WU now to nail DJ's ass.
I no longer own my home.
I was paid 100,000 dollars last year for my share.
70,000 went to DJ.
I also paid off my mother.
And the remainder was spent to relocate to the Philippines where I lived for seven months.
On Boracay.
It cost me a bit to set up home there and ship to my possessions from Australia.
Because I was seriously making a HUGE change.
But then I had to ship them back.
De javu.
This is why I have no money now.
No investments.
No business.
No life in the Philippines
No money.
And soon, no home.
I am VERY lucky to be able to stay here until June.
I will spend every minute soaking up the history of my farm.
I will shed tears over my reality a few more times before I drive away from here forever.
Drive where?
I have no idea yet.
I am collecting a pension.
700 dollars a month.
That's it.
I have 148.00 dollars in the bank.
ARE YOU READING THIS DJ.
You RAPED me of my security DJ.
You ripped away from my body the very fabric that held together my life.
You penetrated every orface I have with your cruelty and deception.
Left a bit of yourself inside me.
To prolong the pain. The hurt and anguish.
The fear of the unknown.
I have lost my farm because DJ stole my savings from me.
I have lost everything.
Except my virus.
That unfortunately is going no where.
We are fused.
Until it takes me out.
I am NOT ashamed of my PayPal donation button.
I have to leave here soon.
Bethel Park will soon be a memory too DJ.
Thank you DJ.
You have taken everything from me.
May karma strike you down.
I will move to Canada in June where I have friends.
My Filipina Queen is in Toronto. I need her now more then ever.
She told me I can stay in her house free of charge.
She's my girl.
And my family is there.
I will continue with my blog.
Until I am satisfied that I have balance again in my life.
This blog is the only thing getting me through this horrible time.
That and the love of my readers and supporters.
And my mom.
Please respect me.
Don't ridicule me for making the decision to have a donation button.
I am embarrassed enough.
I am exposed here and bare.
Although I am tough.
This decision was VERY hard for me.
I did this.
For my life.
My living.
My happiness.
My fears.
So I can move on.
And exhale.
Because DJ may never ever pay me back.
