I Survived
Present Day: I'm cruising through another jam-packed day: a ten a.m. class, got some gas in the tank, finally tackled that laundry I've been putting off, and now off to the store for that all important industrial size box of coffee and a bag of lime hinted Tostitos. I'm heading for the checkout and making good time when, suddenly, I'm stopped dead in my tracks. Somewhere in the near distance was the sound...... The unmistakable one I can identify in a crowded room as if there was no one else there. The desperate cries of a child demand my attention like fire alarms at a station. I'm instantly overwhelmed with the feeling that there is a child in danger, and immediately begin to zero in on their location. I am sweating, my heart is pounding, and I am desperate to find and protect them.
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Winter 1974: I am born as fraternal twin number one, with a sister following three minutes later. That was day one of an excruciatingly long and treacherous two decades. My childhood days from infancy through young adulthood were consumed with unimaginable violence at the hands of those that were supposed to be my protectors. At a very young age, I learned to blend into the background and stay under the radar as much as I possibly could-though even my best efforts were futile. I was one of four siblings born to this monster I called mother. I had an older sister, a twin, and a younger brother. It was not hard to decipher which of us were wanted and which were not. My younger brother and I endured the brunt of the brutal torture, and debilitating mental cruelty on a daily basis. My sisters, however, had not gon unscathed in the ordeal. Their role in the madness was to be accomplices to the monster, and if they did not, they would suffer the same consequences. I never blamed them out loud of course, I knew they had no choice. Though I was perpetually terrified, I felt I could withstand the abuse. The only thing I could not with handle was seeing my little brother suffering. The pain in his eyes brought me to tears every time, and the cries for mercy....... the very sound I'll never stop hearing.
Present Goals and Why: I did not know it at the time, and I was quite surprised to hear my doctor explain that what I have is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. A child's cry is an instant reminder of the horror of my past, and a trigger for me to go into a fight or flight mode. It is an automatic defense mechanism we all have to protect ourselves if we feel the need to. Mine, however, happens several times per day.
Today, I am proud to say that I am an adult survivor, and will continue to be every day. I am a psychology major and soaking up every bit I can to one reach my goal. I would love to advocate for and treat children who have been, or are in danger of being abused. I will make a difference, the difference that I needed once upon a time.
