“Childhood should be carefree, playing in the sun; not living a nightmare in the darkness of the soul.”
-Dave Pelter
MY STORY
Born in 1992, I was a bleach blonde, blue-eyed baby girl, who had no idea what the world would offer up to her in the future. Living five years under an abusive household, the outside world was my only friend, my escape from living within a terrible nightmare at home. My biological father was a smoking, drunken terror, either taking his frustration out on my older sister, my mother, or myself. He tried to make us believe we were ugly, worthless, and would become nothing later in life. Gaining new bruises on the daily, I now live with the memories sparking up around any violence in this world, feeling others’ pain through my own. My mother was the absolute best, protecting us as much as she could, taking more abuse so we could hide and escape ours, tending to our wounds to ease the pain.
Despite all the wonderful things she did, the one thing that my mother failed to do was find us an escape route from the situation. Trying to hide our abuse from the rest of the world, and mainly DHS, people could see right through our ploy, even explaining to her that we were more transparent than we thought. Even if my mother wanted to leave, he threatened our lives, my grandparent’s lives, and so forth. However, we ended up being lucky, because he gave us the greatest gift by finally leaving my mother for another woman, to which she then picked up the pieces he left behind.
I remember that night fondly, his drunken self beating the walls with his bat, throwing breakables at my mother while my sister and I tried to intervene, all while which he was cursing at us. But then, he finally packed a bag and left, never to be heard from again until my parents proceeded to court for custody hearings. To our demise, he was granted visitation rights, in which we suffered continuous abuse for another year or so, to which he then failed to pay child support and ended up dismissing his parental rights entirely.
Our story ended with us being survivors, but could’ve ended much differently as some stories you hear now in the newspapers and TV news stations. Sadly, my mother blames herself for the abuse, and for never putting us through counseling. I cannot tell the tale of how this affected my sister or mother, but I can relay how this tragedy played a part in my life, on both sides of the spectrum.
Not only did I let this bring my down confidence levels in the upbringing years, but it also gave me an idea of how I should be loved, with abuse. I can’t explain all the terror or mishaps growing up like this brought me (because we’d be here all day), but I can share some bad paths it has taken me through the years. Not only did I not know how to love myself, I tried to find love through men who were abusive or unfaithful, settling with the fact that I had to accept that’s how men in this generation are.
After so many failed relationships, my faith in men dwindled, turning me into an independent woman who decided to find a way to fulfill my own needs without a man around. This turning point came after I ended up having a child with a man who certainly wasn’t my prince, although he appeared to be in the beginning. After several failed attempts to make it work for the sake of our child and different types of abusive slurs, I then came a conclusion. It is my job and choice of whether our daughter will have a different childhood, and then promised myself to help her to never endure such abuse by anyone, man or woman.
I intended to cherish her to the fullest because she deserves a nurturing life in which I’d try to protect her against negative entity coming her way. I wanted my daughter to have good memories, instead of growing up feeling worthless and alone. I’m no perfect mother, but I work damn hard everyday to show her how loved, beautiful, and talented she is and will continue to be along the way. I never go one day without telling her how proud I am of her, squeezing her to bits, or explaining to her that she is my world.
My point is this: we don’t have to let the abuse define who we are, unless we choose to. In my case, I found my shining light from which I turned my self-pity days to reaching for the sky for not only my daughter, but for myself too. Yes it was a long and hard journey that included nights of crying, struggling to see the positive side of being a single mother, but instead of letting it make me bitter and just give up, I used the hardships to motivate me to push for the best life possible to help prove to myself and others that it can be done.
No matter what obstacle in life you encounter, just know there is always a way out and through it, you just have to search for the positive side of things. Never give up, but instead let the abuse shape you into a stronger individual. I can’t speak for others, but I certainly will put my efforts towards advocating for justice against abusers, and/or to possibly bring hope for the ones lost by their own challenges from abuse.
Hoping this message has helped at least one person suffering/previously suffered from abuse, just remember that you are stronger than you give yourself credit for just don’t give up on life or yourself!
Pursuit of Happiness 