Growing up I watched my mother suffer everyday because of what my father had done to her. The physical and emotional pain she endured is only imaginable in your worst nightmares. One day when I was about three, after my father left, I caught her sitting on the toilet in the bathroom crying. I will never forget as long as I live when I looked up at her she said to me, “Don’t ever let a man see you cry because at that very moment he will think he owns you.”
It was at that moment I vowed to myself I would never fall in love. I spent my life hating men. I dated a few boys when I was young but knew to never get too close for I would regret it when he grew the nerve to raise his hand to hurt me. I was the teen girl who was more interested in the drinking than the boys. I began to lash out as I got older. Some people say it was because of my past. Some people say I was just born to fail. All I knew was men couldn’t be trusted.

When I was in eighth grade my mother worked two jobs to send me to a catholic school, put food on the table, and a roof over my head. My fathers check was never on time if it even came at all. She did the best she could but it wasn’t enough for me. I wasn’t satisfied. I began stealing because if my mother couldn’t depend on a man for money, I would depend on no one. I thought I had it all, the drinking, the drugs, the money, until one day it came crashing down on me and I finally got caught. I had stolen money from a girl I didn’t like. What that girl doesn’t know is how sorry I truly am to this day for it. One of her friends had heard through the grapevine that I was the one who did it and immediately brought it to the attention of the principal. When the principal called me to her office I knew in my heart it was over. I was expelled from school the next day. When I got home my mother asked me to pack my things. As tears filled in her eyes she told me my father was coming to pick me up the fallowing day and that I would have to go live with him. I don’t think I have ever been so angry in my life. I hated him how could she make me live with him? I asked myself this question over and over again and didn’t realize until recently I had to go through everything I did because like many people say you are given the life you have because you are the only one strong enough to live it.

The ride to New Hampshire was silent. I didn’t know my father. What could I possibly say to him? The first night was the worst. I fell asleep to the sound of crickets instead of horns and sirens. The next morning my father told me that he was leaving for Florida and that he would be back in one week. This was typical of him, to just walk out when things are to hard for him to handle. When he came back I was forced to actually attempt to get to know him. After two days I realized I hated him more than I thought I did. I eventually was taken out of his house for reasons I won’t speak of.

When I got back to Boston I hesitated to knock on my mother’s front door. I wanted to run. I wanted to run without ever looking back but I didn’t. Instead I knocked on the door. When my mother answered the door I immediately pushed her aside and went to my room. At this point I was so angry with both my parents I just wanted to be alone. When the school year started I began to walk down the same path that landed me in New Hampshire. I just didn’t care anymore. One day I walking down the street and saw my father drive by and then slam on the breaks. I fell to the ground on one of the busiest streets of Boston and began to cry. As I listened to the traffic and chaos around me I realized my mother was kicking me out again.

I have lived in New Hampshire ever since. My father is a lot better than he once was but even though my bruises may fade the pain will last forever. I keep my trust and my heart guarded to this day. I have learned so much in my life through my personal experiences and I have gained so much strength. I will never go through what my mother did because unlike her, I will never be with a man who shows his anger through his fist.