In The Dark
My most abiding childhood memory is seeing my father strike my mother on her head with a brass lamp pole.
Choking back the tears.
As I am writing my fingers are shaking and my body trembling.
Sharing this memory is hard. I can barely type as just thinking about it makes me sad.
As a little girl, growing up in the Caribbean, I witnessed horrific scenes of my father treating my mother like a second-class citizen and brutally
abusing her countless times.
There were six of us. I was the middle child, with a free-spirited attitude, quite outspoken and unbelievably stubborn.
Being fiercely protective of my mother, several times, I stood between my mother and father, crying, begging, demanding, and pleading with my father to ‘stop beating mum.’ Many times, I received some of her blows – while my siblings were crouching in a corner, trembling with fear in their eyes and tears streaming down their faces.
Sadly, one of my siblings committed suicide.
I was hungry for CHANGE.
Little did I know, the devastating life-threatening challenges that I was about to have loomed ominously around me to create CHANGE…
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