Personal Narrative: I Was Not Abuse

I have always been one to speak up for what I believe in. Discrimination, more than other things, is something that I will always oppose. As a child, I was aware of the bigotry that takes place in America but had never experienced it firsthand. Santa Monica is often thought of as a utopia, being the welcoming community that it is. I was oblivious to the real world. Fortunately, I grew up in this diverse community as a white and privileged female. During my junior year, I was put in one of the most difficult situations I have ever had to deal with.

Hello, my name is Dee and I am a survivor of domestic abuse. A good friend asked me if I would write a piece about domestic abuse. He said it would be therapeutic for me and beneficial for other women who have been abused or are being abused, and I think he is right. So here I sit wondering where to begin, after about an hour of emotional flashbacks. And when I do think about this I wonder how on earth could I have let it go on, and for as long as it did. And more-so, what did I ever do to deserve it. I was never abused as a child. Never beaten or abused emotionally or mentally, never called names, or cursed at, and I suppose I grew up thinking this was how it was for everyone. I was only 19 when I met my abuser. I already had a son, and had been out on my own for 2 years. Life was hard, bringing up a baby, surviving on living assistance, living in ghetto like neighborhoods. I had always aspired to be a journalist, but my dreams were broken when I became pregnant right out of high school and was forced out of the house to care for my son. I met my abuser one day when I was down town shopping with my son. He came into my life like a "wolf in sheep 's clothing", and was just about as nice as he could be. I suppose I was somewhat lonely since I never got to go out very often. He soon moved in with me and helped me with my son, helped in the house, and helped financially so things were definitely looking up. Or so I thought. He was from an abusive home himself, and years

Today wasn’t a great day. I almost got fired from my job, my spouse was angry at me because I broke her valuable snow globe, and my baseball bat was stolen, and to add to all of that people think I’m going insane.

There are many things I wouldn’t put past my estranged mother: she’s trolled me in the comment section of my online articles, publicly disowned me and my sister on Facebook more than once, and put me in very serious legal trouble. But I never thought I would see her openly defending a man who bragged about “grabbing pussy”, nor did I think I’d see her outright mock victims of alleged sexual assault, especially because she is a survivor of sexual abuse and assault.

On September 2nd 2016 my best friend, Ashley Minor, who is a single mom of two, was working her twelve house shift at the hospital. At the end of her shift her life stopped for a short time when she received a phone call that her 8 year old son Teagan, was hit by a car, and had multiple injuries.

Throughout our lives, every person encounters hardships that put a strain on other aspects of our lives. The biggest hardship that I have faced was taking care of my wife after she suffered a severe head injury while at work. The injury was the result of a salad fridge door falling and striking the back of her head, causing her to receive a severe concussion that lead to post-concussion syndrome. As a result, she became completely dependent on me. Some of the major hardships that we faced during these times are finances, helping her cope with her injury while she recovered, and maintaining my 4.0 GPA.

I spent nearly five years getting rid of the shadows that I have experienced sexual assault. This incident occurred in the winter when I was a five-grade student in primary school. However, until now, I still remember it.

that we're conditioned to not ask questions and have been marginalized into this as our only source of news .

When I was a child, I moved around quite a bit. It became hard to get attached to places because we were never assured that the sacred spots would be ours for much longer. As I got older, however, I have realized that special places do not have to be dictated by a length of time, and allowing myself to fall in love with a place gave me the roots I had been searching for. While I have not lived in Indiana for several years now, there is something about this certain cluster of trees in Indiana that remain special to me. When I was a child, I saw them as the gateway into Narnia, and during the winter snows I would bundle up in my cheap fur coat my mother bought at a consignment shop and run outside searching for Mr. Tumnus and calling myself Lucy. My imagination gave me the ability to bring the characters I loved so dearly to life. This experience has shown me that providing children with the ability to use their imagination not only provides entertainment, but also allows children to have a safe outlet to cope with traumatic situations, make

After the phsycilogical abuse from my parents, my only goal was to graduate and nothing further until I befriended my sister's friend. I didn't really think much of him until I discovered his past. This person came from living with a physically abusive father to living on the streets to becoming this successful person standing right infront of me. This person has shown me that no matter what background or family you come from, you can always bring yourself up. Because of this person I've been able to become who I am

If I learned that a close friend was experiencing domestic violence, I would immediately do everything in my power to aid her and show her the resources out there to help her escape this terrible situation. My actions would take place in three different steps.

On Thursday January 26, 2017 I was absent due to the fact I had encountered with the stomach flu or also know as gastroenteritis, an infection of the stomach and intestines. The side effects are: nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, stomach pain, cramping, fever, and a headache. That morning I all of those side of effects and I could not get out of the toilet. Consequently, I am a commuter who lives thirty minutes away from school and it was impossible for me to go to even one class that day. I soon realized that I was getting worse throughout the day and needed to get medicine. My cousin Kristen had picked up medicine for me and made me a little better. Thankfully by Saturday I was fully recovered and I will continue to attend this class hopefully

As a person who has personally dealt with years of harassment I am most definitely an anti-bullying activist. However, never have I felt the need to take my own life over the verbal abuse that I endured over the years, but knowing that there are far worse situations than mine, I understand why someone would do so. No one can fully understand how it feels to be mentally or physically abused unless they have dealt with it themselves. I believe that no one, under any circumstances, should ever bullied for simply being themselves, for instance, their race, skin color, sexual orientation, religion, etc. Most bullying cases take place in school, which should not come as a shocker for anyone considering adolescent suicide is literally all over

I built a Battering Ram. Battering Rams were used for breaking down gates and bridges in medieval castles and cities. I made this Battering Ram with wood, glue,paper, and string. I got these materials by go to wal-mart and buy the stuff I need. I set out the big piece paper on my table and drew out the battering ram. Then I took the wood and placed it to were I thought it would look good, And put the wood glue on the wood was. Then I took a big piece of wood and drew a circle on it. I did this 4 times. Then I took and thin piece of wood and glued it on the bottom of the Battering Ram. I did this 2 times. 1 in the front 1 on the back. Then we took the wheels that we made earlier and glue them to the thin sticks, 2 on

Mom quitting her job and staying at home was a good thing for me because after working she found my father fast asleep on the bed while I on the floor wearing a dirty diaper or no diaper and clothing and my face stained with dried tears. The rationalization he would give is it was too hot to wear clothes. There were other times I was left me alone in the apartment, or worse, left with a heartless woman. For all of these reasons, she never went back to work. She would never again wonder if I was being neglected in her absence, and she would never again have to explain the marks of abuse that on her face. It’s not that the abuse stopped, but at least she didn’t have to explain. My mother never knew what kind of mood my father would be in, or what he would do next, so therefore we all lived with constant insecurity, stress, and fear. Making matters