I am a survivor. It seems to be in my blood. After having witnessed all of the abusive relationships that have been sprinkled throughout my life, I have no choice but to believe that I am a survivor. I have survived an abusive spouse and come out on the other side victorious and stronger than ever and I have endured through poverty and single motherhood. Certainly I have had my moments where I doubt myself and am tired of surviving, but overall, I have no choice. I have to survive. What’s the alternative? Giving up? No. Not me. I don’t give up. I fight, I survive and I take care of my child. I have survived rape and still can look at men without fear. I believe in survival. I can’t just give up. What kind of example does that leave for others? Even if it hurts to take the next breath, I do it.
Throughout my childhood, my mother had 3 different spouses. One was my father; an abusive drunk who my family rarely talks about now. He was violent, but mom taught us how to leave. The second was violent too, but lacked the alcohol issues. Mom taught us how to ask for help by calling the police and he was gone. The last one preferred injuries that were unseen and ruined us emotionally. Mom taught us how to throw someone out and to reclaim our identities by any means possible… even if that meant therapy. My mother is a survivor and I am a survivor. My mother is a single mother of three and fought for us every day; I am a single mother of one and would lay my life down for my child. We don’t get medals for the wars we have waged. We don’t get a special day on the calendar that marks our bravery. We don’t get parades. We get cards on Mother’s Day that tell us how valuable we are and we just continue to survive. We breathe. In. Out. In. Out.
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