"Don't give up! God has a plan for you" the words i used to hear every now and then. I dont believe it befor until i saw the gift that God gave to us. it is the turning point in my life. this is not a normal story but i know im not the only one who experienced it.Im a rape victim by my biological father and uncle when i was 7yrs old up to 14yrs old until my older brother saw eveeything and he told my mom about it. On that day, me, my mother along wth my two brothers decided to leave the house. we have to filed a case against them, we have to find a house to hide ofcourse for our safety and we have to go to a psychiatrist because of the traumatic experiences. on that day My lofe is a mess. 6 months after the incident i saw my mom and daw talking. I know my mom,.i saw her eyes, she still loves my dad. I never had a courage to confront her …show more content…
yes he died peacefully and he left me living in hell because of what he did.he died and let me suffering the pain of what he did, alone! i came to realized that i can never go back to change everything that i done. the words i used to say,"i dont have to be scared, i have nothing to lose" is not true after all. i lost my self, i lost my respect for my self. i had to go to psychaitrist again and i had to tell my story all over again which for me it is the most traumatic part, for repeating and telling my story again and again. 2010. i was invited by my friend to his birthday. that night I wasn't aware of their plan of gang rape or something. i have an idea because of my experiences, i knew it because im not stupid but i dont care anymore. Then one of his friend came to me and started whispering "Miss lets go home,i know waht they are planning dont worry i will delivered you at home" I dont know why but i trusted him and i said "yes please" He held my hand,we walked away and he really delivered me at home. That night I met Vanjo ,my bestfriend and eventually beacme my
Now that I am in the counseling program I have become aware of the dysfunctional family that I have grew up in. Growing up I remember my father was never around. There is a memory I will never forget it seems blurry but I remember my parents arguing and becoming angry. I went into a room and when I came out I saw my father’s hand bleeding. My mother was holding a kitchen knife and she had cut his hand. Since my father was hardly around we never had family trips or family time together. He would spend his weekends drinking or going out with his friends. I have another memory that stands out. I remember I was in the back seat of the car and my mom was dropping of my dad somewhere. They were arguing the whole way over there, once we got to the destination my dad got off and walked out. I can imagine this affected my mother as a woman because her needs were not being
Personal narratives allow you to share your life with others and vicariously experience the things that happen around you. Your job as a writer is to put the reader in the midst of the action letting him or her live through an experience. Although a great deal of writing has a thesis, stories are different. A good story creates a dramatic effect, makes us laugh, gives us pleasurable fright, and/or gets us on the edge of our seats. A story has done its job if we can say, "Yes, that captures what living with my father feels like," or "Yes, that’s what being cut from the football team felt like."
Since then, for seven years, she constantly abused and tortured me on parts of my body that nobody usually sees. That was until last year, when she finally got caught and my father had been horrified, not by the fact that she was cheating on him AND killing those she cheated with, but by all the wounds on my body. There surprisingly weren't any scars for reasons even uknown to me, but they were most certainly there, in my
Don’t be disappointed. I gave up finally, but on the contrary all I ever wanted was a reason to persevere. All I ever wanted was to really live, but I didn’t know how. I just couldn’t find it. That purpose and meaning eluded me.
On December 11th 2001 two days before my birthday my parents got divorced I was only four. My mother had been having an affair with her boss. My mother had always loved buying things, but when my father said no she wanted a divorce. While I was growing up with my mother she always told me how bad my father treated her and how she always had to do everything for us. At the rime I was young and saw my father as a bad guy for treating my mother so badly. I believed the lies she told me and turned on my father.
When the end of my 5th grade year had hit; A land mark of the most traumatizing event of my life was about to take place. My mom had left my father and took us along with her. Over the summer and a few addit...
I was an 18-year-old freshman in university, it was the first Christmas that I hadn’t spent with my parents. I was invited to a frat party with three of my closest friends and I told my parents that I was sleeping over at one of their houses after the party. We actually had made plans to stay at the house of this guy I have been hanging out with. He was 21 years old and I had been hanging out with him for about six months prior to the party. We once in awhile would make out and hold hands, but I had made it clear to him that I did not want to have sex with someone that I was not dating.
Trauma relates to a type of damage to the mind that comes from a severely distressing event. A traumatic event relates to an experience or repeating events that overwhelmingly precipitated in weeks, months, or decades as one tries to cope with the current situations that can cause negative consequences. People’s general reaction to these events includes intense fear, helplessness or horror. When children experience trauma, they show disorganized or agitative behavior. In addition, the trigger of traumas includes some of the following, harassment, embarrassment, abandonment, abusive relationships, rejection, co-dependence, and many others. Long-term exposure to these events, homelessness, and mild abuse general psychological
Once I could not find hope. I still can't. That's why I leaped for joy when it found me instead. Somehow, by the Grace of God, I find myself with the only, single true hope, a nonsensical faith, a belief I cannot prove with mortal things, a book that turns a hopeless, droll, frustrating world into a beautiful, hopeful, droll, frustrating world where smallest intricacies and biggest setbacks bring joy alike. Did I say my faith makes no sense?
Hidden amongst you some are going through that. Studies have shown that there are links between child abuse and mental illnesses later on in life. One of the psychological conditions that you can develop when you are unable to grasp what has happened to you is called Post Traumatic Stress disorder. I was hospitalized at the age of 16 due to this condition. My condition worsened as I remembered more and more of the truth as to what had happened.
A significant moment of my life was the day I graduated from high school. It was on May 26, 2016. I had woken up like it was any other day and I went about my daily routines. I had spent that morning with my sister because she was visiting from North Carolina and was soon due to deliver her baby. It wasn’t until 10am that I realized I had to get ready for graduation. At first it hadn’t hit me that this was one of the biggest days of my life. I had gotten ready while my sister did my nails and my makeup, while my mother helped me with my hair. I hadn’t really thought about how this would change things, but when the time came for me to get to the stadium where the graduation was held, I started to get nervous. The whole entire car ride there I was sweating and crying because I feared that I was going to get there late, I was also nervous about the day had finally come and it made me think of all the struggles I had to go through just to get to this moment.
I’m not sure where it came from: This strange outlook I had on life. Whatever or wherever it originated from is the reason for my insatiable passion for stories. Whether I’m reading it off of the pages of a book, or seeing something unfold before me on the silver screen, stories have always been a special love of mine.
My aunt had sent cops to our house to arrest my mother. We never opened the door. The next day my mom went to some police department. She found that my aunt had put a restriction order against my mom. My mom had also gotten probation. My aunt had accused her of Domestic Violence. I thought it was foolish of my aunt to press this kind of charges against my mom, since they did not live together. I hated my aunt. I knew that both my mom and my aunt were guilty for what had happened, but my aunt had gone too far. My aunt was not injure except for the slap my mother gave her. After that, my dad’s brother and his wife did not wanted us to go to their house. Even though the problem started at their house, we thought nothing was going to change with them, but we were wrong. After the fight they did not talk to us. My mom, my dad, my brother, and I felt so much resentment at them for turning their back on us. I did not know how to treat the wound and it hurt so
About two years ago, the most sorrowful thing that has ever happened to me took place. It was my older brother 's death. I still remember the moment the phone rang, and somebody was telling me that my brother had an accident and was taken to the hospital, and he was not conscious as well. I was speechless at that moment and debating whether I should tell my mom or not because she was sitting right next to me. Anyway , my mom felt that something bad has happened to my brother ; she saw it in my face and immediately began questioning me about every single word that was said in the phone conversation .As a matter of fact , I had no choice but to tell her about what happened. I told her that my brother was involved in a small auto accident , and he was in the hospital
At the age of 11, my parents decided to reunite, and this became my lifelong struggle with trust, mistrust and development of strength and courage to achieve my dreams and goals in life. My mother continued to work long, hard hours while my father golfed, gambled and drank, to what most people would consider “the extreme”. During my school years, I ran our household while my mom worked. I made sure the house was clean and dinner was always on the table for my father, which left no time for a social life. My dad was abusive towards my mom and I would feel helpless as I listened from my room to him physically and mentally abusing her. After many years of not having the courage to help her, I finally at the age of 16 gave her an ultimatum. Either she leaves the abusive relationship or I would leave, so I would not have to endear the pain of it any longer.