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Intro
If you've never endured it
As a child
Blinded
Grief for Grandpa
The Beginning of the End
Vision
Still Lost
Soon Enough
Dreams
St. Jude House
September 3rd
Note from the Author
Lastly
When you hear the phrase “domestic violence”, you think of a cocky man that hits his wife or girlfriend because she’s cheated on him, or smacks her around occasionally because he’s gotten drunk and remembered the time she forgot to pick him up from work or pack his lunch, right? That’s just the simple definition. You imagine, that she loves him so blindly that she decides to stay, knowing that only what she allows is what will continue. You can see this woman having two very obvious choices: to stay or to go. But do you know how hard it really is? Do you know some women have been forced to leave everything they have, just to flee to safety? Do you know that in some instances women are genuinely afraid for their safety? Do you know women have been threatened to be hunted down and beat, raped or killed if they leave their abuser? Do you understand that physically men have prevented women from leaving their own place of residence? Do you know that someone’s abuser can appear to be the person they actually believe loves them the most? Do you know that most abusive relationships begin as the world’s greatest love stories, straight out of a story book? That cute puppy love, that seemed too good to be true, and it was. Then it becomes a nightmare you are stuck in. If you’ve prepared yourself with an open mind, good cup of tea or a comfortable chair, this may take a while. I will tell you how I personally entered into one of the worst mistakes of my life, how long I endured it all, and then how I got out of it.
I didn’t see far enough into myself to see any true beauty, so I always wondered why people thought I was beautiful. However, I also took their word for it and felt validated by their flattery. Although most people chose not to look any further than skin deep. I was okay with that. Why? You ask. Because I didn’t know any better. No one taught me how to have respect for myself. No one taught me that I didn’t have to please everyone, nor should I try to do so. No one lectured me on how to determine my self-worth at a young age. I never understood why people would always call me “beautiful” when I thought I was ugly, rather than calling me smart or funny. I was always just “fine”, which translated to something everyone thought they could get a piece of.
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I didn’t see far enough into myself to see any true beauty, so I always wondered why people thought I was beautiful. However, I also took their word for it and felt validated by their flattery. Although most people chose not to look any further than skin deep. I was okay with that. Why? You ask. Because I didn’t know any better. No one taught me how to have respect for myself. No one taught me that I didn’t have to please everyone, nor should I try to do so. No one lectured me on how to determine my self-worth at a young age. I never understood why people would always call me “beautiful” when I thought I was ugly, rather than calling me smart or funny. I was always just “fine”, which translated to something everyone thought they could get a piece of.
I began to adopt his lifestyle, doing drugs, smoking weed, drinking when I could get away with it. Trying to maintain an image that didn’t fit me. Hanging with a crowd in which I didn’t belong. I would only go home to change clothes, go to school for a few days, or to nurse and lie about a black eye or busted lip that he’d already apologized for. I would continue to be a fool for what I thought was love. By now, I was lying, cheating, and stealing my way to make him happy. That’s all I cared about was showing him that I was “down”. Down for the ride, down for the cause, down to ride the wave; little did I know, I was definitely going down (the wrong path). My family begged me to leave him alone, but relentlessly, I would break up and get back with him, because with him I felt free. Free from Mom’s house rules, free from criticisms, free to do exactly what I wanted. But the fighting, differences, and disagreements took a toll on me emotionally. I was literally oppressed. The man had become increasingly dishonest, untrustworthy, abusive, and controlling, so I moved back home and we broke up for a while. I had accumulated so much truancy that my high school counselor recommend I drop out, or prepare to retake my junior year’s classes.
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