I am a product of a dysfunctional family. I am child of domestic violence.
I watched my mother be physically and emotionally abused by my stepfather for almost my entire life. One of the earliest childhood memories is of my mother being abused. It wasn’t the first time she was hit, it’s just the first time I remember with great detail. I remember it like yesterday.
(This is a photo of us in 1989)
I was four years old, it was in 1989. I remember watching my step dad yell at mom. He was in her face, really close. He yelled and he yelled. I couldn’t understand how he could be so upset over nothing. It started with a slap, then a punch. I was afraid, but not for myself, for my mother and siblings. I walked into my bedroom to comfort my siblings. My brother and sister (twins) were two years old at this time. I closed the door and told them to play with some toys, turned on my Fisher Price radio and hoped they would get so distracted they’d ignore the screams from our mother coming from the living room. Once they were situated I walked back to the living room. I peeked around the corner and watched my mother being slapped and punched. I watched blood leave her body as she tried to run from my step-dad. He was getting more and more upset because she wouldn’t be quiet. He keeping saying, “Shut up! Shut up before someone calls the police!”
