Before I was seven years old, I had been a part of two deaths of family members.  At three I witnessed my cousin drown and at seven I caused an accident that took the life of my little brother.  I blamed myself and believed that if I had died, them my brother would not have died.  That belief caused me to believe life was against me.  Self-hate was my drug of choice, and I didn't even attempt to do many things believing I didn't deserve them.  At age 45, I found a light that lead me to forgiveness of myself and my past.  I want to share that light with you.