Narrative: My Father As A Victim And Bystander Of Domestic Violence

My childhood wasn’t filled with the cliché dilemma of the white picket fence and utterly carefree upbringing as most. In fact, it left me in a constant state of nervousness filled with anxiety of what might occur once I returned home from school. As on as I can remember I’ve been both a victim and bystander of domestic violence. My father was an unforgiving dictator in our home and at times the severity of it got so bad that you wondered if a life filled with that magnitude of mental and physical trauma was destined for you. He controlled every aspect and every detail. If nothing went his way, then all hell would break loose until Nicholas was sated. There was such a sadistic nature that he carried that when it was unleased, you’d be in constant

As the years went on, we were so immune to it that it became the norm and he made us believe in his own twisted way that we desired it. Everything only subsided once we went into hiding and we’re still in hiding. Counseling helped lessen the anxiety and the edginess that was constantly present but, it never healed all wounds. My mother’s an immigrant and she doesn’t have enough educational experience to have a job that fully supports us. The last four years have been the worst emotionally and financially that if it weren’t for our church, we would be homeless. It’s a relief to know that he isn’t going to strike me for no reason behind my head but, metaphorically speaking our days are numbered since the day he finds where we are could be right around the corner. What is helplessness typically defined as? Most would say it’s a state of where an individual feels like despite all their efforts they can’t do anything in their power leaving them in a situation that they’re unable to avoid nor escape. My failure I felt was my helplessness --- my inability to protect my mother and my sisters from