Personal Narrative: Cycle Of Abuse

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Liken the human mind to a freshly turned field in early summer; a blank canvas with the potential to nurture a blossoming life. However, anyone who’s ever laid eyes on a newly plowed field has likely seen ruts carved into sections of aerated earth. Just like any plot of soil, stress and strain can riddle a human mind with divots and craters, all of which must refill before a mind can continue to grow.
Abuse, among other calamities of life, can leave a person feeling unable to clamber out of their deepest trenches, let alone fill them. For more dark days than I care to mention, I dwelled inside a cycle of abuse with a mother consisting of one part alcoholism, two parts narcissism, and three parts insanity; and I remember how utterly small I

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