It has taken me all of my adult life to learn to accept this history about myself. I write it here to give voice to my pain and shame with the hope that I my begin to heal. To me one of the most disturbing things about the fragmented memory of my childhood is that I don't remember her name, or her face. I can remember her last name, but that is not the name that I called and loved her by. It makes me angry with myself because I loved her more than my mother and I can't remember her name! I remember many other things about her; some good and some very bad. She had an amazing voice, beautiful long blond hair and smelled of perfume. As best I can piece together it started when I was four years old. She lived across the street two houses up us. My first memory and most frequent memory of her was of her sitting on her front porch yodeling. It was years later when I heard yodeling again that I had my first flash back memory or her. She sang many songs while strumming her guitar, but the one I remember the most is the one she sang when she wanted me to come over to visit. This song was about me and my pretty blond hair. Years later I would learn to hate the fact I had blond hair because I associated the color of my hair as the main reason why I got unwanted attention from men and women. My earliest memories with Mrs. Chapman were the times I spent in her kitchen eating cookies and milk. We would spend time together playing games. The best part was when she would set me on her lap and read me children's stories like Winnie the Pooh and sing me songs. I liked Mrs. Chapman a lot. I wanted her to be my mom. This is the way I want to remember her, but unfortunately this is not the whole story. She also seriously screwed with my mind and destroyed my innocence. This is the part of the story that I have been trying to make sense of for the last 12 years. I don't know exactly when the sexual abuse started, but I know that she was a significant part of my life from the time I was four until we moved away when I was nine. I have come to learn the hard way that there were many consequences to my relationship with Mrs. Chapman. First, I never bonded with my mother, I can't properly bond with my wife, and more often than not I am transferring Mrs. Chapman onto both. I have serious trust issues with people I should love and an irrational fear of people I have known for years. Lately I am that little confused blond headed kid wanting a mom and not a lover and am confused who should be who.