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Something I Wanted to Share

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As the title implies, this is something that I wanted to share.  I had a creative paper project that was due for my Arts and Humanities course on Sunday.  I was supposed to come up with a monument that I would have erected in my honor and describe why, who I am, and include what I learned from the course this semester.  This was a unique project for me, because this is also child abuse awareness month.  I found this in a way therapeutic that I could tie my childhood past into this project.  This is what I wrote.  I cut it off where it starts to turn into boring class crap.


As a child, I did not feel much love if any love from my mother and as a young girl who dreams were bigger than her blue eyes, that is all that I wanted.  Instead, that love was replaced by repeated physical beatings that left me bruised, scarred and scratches covering my face, humiliations privately and publicly, and constant emotional threats being made against my well-being that left me in shambles.  That little girl who one day dreamed of a knight in shining armor taking her away from that place and showing her the world was quickly fading.


I often would do small things to see if my mother would stop her relenting abuse such as completing chores when I was not asked or even just hiding in my room escaping to a world of blonde Barbie dolls and their plastic headed boyfriends that to me were beautiful, loved, and perfect in every way, because I was in control of their well-being and I was determined to not let another human being or possession of mine feel like they were a waste of perfectly good air space as I so often did.


It was not until I reached my teenage years that I realized that the love I sought so often from my mother, I received from my grandmother.  She was my ray of sunshine in a world that was often dark and torturous.  She showed me every ounce of love that I have ever wanted and accepted me for who I was, who I wanted to be, and how I saw the world.  When I had thoughts in my childhood and adolescence of ending it all in order to never be humiliated or harmed by my mother again, I often thought of what my grandmother would say and do as I was her only grandchild and I know that I meant the world to her, because unlike my mother she was able to show me the love that I needed.  Those nagging unspoken words and feelings are what kept me going in my world of hurt, anguish, and tears; a world that a young child should never be in.
Now at the age of 30 and having a family of my own, I can reflect back and know that everything I went through as a young impressionable child has only made me stronger and helped me to understand that if I could make it through those 18 years of torturous hell before I did find my knight in shining armor, I can do anything that is laid out before me.  That is because of the undying and nurturing love that I received from my grandmother.  

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