Dear world,
From a young age, I knew you would be challenging. When my mother decided that a fun life was the better life for her and left me alone at age 2, I knew I had to be strong. The fears, the tears, the pain of crying alone at night I waited, I waited for someone to come show me that you were a safe place again. At 3, I got to “begin again.” My grandmother’s gentle and loving hugs and comforting arms held me at night, and she sang to me. The tears over the years began to cleanse my heart and I learned that love was safe. Untill I became an adult and made a terrible, life changing mistake. Altering my belief of what true love was.

I became weak when his words slashed my soul to pieces and his powerful hands marked my face and body with imprints from his rage. I lived in a cage. I was locked up in the darkness and had to dig myself out of his prison. The night everything went black, after his final attack, I had 3 children to live for.

With the first blow to my head, I begged him to let me live, and he laughed at me. I fought. I had to be strong. His angry hands took me down, I didn’t think that I could fight any longer, harder, yet I did, and I survived his powerful blow to my head. Because I was strong. My will to survive became my power and when I woke up I knew it was the beginning of the end. I was determined to live that night. That night my grandmothers car and my grandmother became my safe place once again. My babies were safe. We were safe in her arms once again. I looked in the mirror and saw the patchwork bruising that he left all over my face. I cried and I cussed. I looked up for the first time in years, and said to myself “I’m strong enough to survive this” I didn’t give up, when I wanted to give in. My life has not been beautiful, but I am still here, and thanks to my strength, every morning when I wake up, I get to begin again.