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I can remember the day vividly as if it were yesterday. I awoke from my sleep when I remembered what had occurred the prior night. It was the throbbing and pulsating sensation that ran through my arm that reminded me of the horrible events that had transpired. I stumbled from my bed to the shower. My hand twisted the knob and I was thrown back as the chill of the water hit my body.
By the time I arrived at school a single tear slowly trickled down my cheek. Stepping through those large brown doors, I knew this day would change my life. When I walked through the halls, my legs seemed heavy and felt like I was being pulled into quicksand. Slowly I fell and began gasping for breath. I was clawing my way out of the quicksand. My world turned to darkness and in the next struggled breath I found myself sitting in a chair with words flowing from my quivering lips. Suddenly I floated above my body and listened to the words being said. "BAM, POW, you're nothing, you'll never be anything, I wish you were never born." The words echoed through my spirit. My body felt weak and sore. I sat there screaming inside, unable to free myself from the stabbing pain that pressed upon my body.
Blood pressure rising and face turning red, embarrassment swelled over me. Crouching in my chair, the counselors' hand pressed down on my shoulder to let me know that things would be different from now on. I allowed my emotions to tell my story. Bluntly I burst out, "My parents hit me." His eyes reflected the shock. It was unimaginable that someone who appeared to be so outwardly happy was so dead on the inside. Hate flooded my mind and I felt the need to die. I was in a state of nothingness but because I finally shared my pain I was free.
Reflecting on this traumatic experience picture myself as a little girl hurt by her parents. At times I am haunted by the memories of that ominous night. However, the feelings I possessed no longer have a hold on me. The day I walked through the brown doors and opened my heart broke the ten-year silence that paralyzed me. The moment I stepped forward and freed myself was the day I grew up.




Growing Up Is Sometimes Hard to Do I can remember the day vividly as if it were yesterday. I awoke from my sleep when I remembered what had occurred the prior night. It was the throbbing and pulsating sensation that ran through my arm that reminded me of the horrible events that had transpired. I stumbled from my bed to the shower. My hand twisted the knob and I was thrown back as the chill of the water hit my body. By the time I arrived at school a single tear slowly trickled down my cheek. Stepping through those large brown doors, I knew this day would change my life. When I walked through the halls, my legs seemed heavy and felt like I was being pulled into quicksand. Slowly I fell and began gasping for breath. I was clawing my way out of the quicksand. My world turned to darkness and in the next struggled breath I found myself sitting in a chair with words flowing from my quivering lips. Suddenly I floated above my body and listened to the words being said. "BAM, POW, you're nothing, you'll never be anything, I wish you were never born." The words echoed through my spirit. My body felt weak and sore. I sat there screaming inside, unable to free myself from the stabbing pain that pressed upon my body. Blood pressure rising and face turning red, embarrassment swelled over me. Crouching in my chair, the counselors' hand pressed down on my shoulder to let me know that things would be different from now on. I allowed my emotions to tell my story. Bluntly I burst out, "My parents hit me." His eyes reflected the shock. It was unimaginable that someone who appeared to be so outwardly happy was so dead on the inside. Hate flooded my mind and I felt the need to die. I was in a state of nothingness but because I finally shared my pain I was free. Reflecting on this traumatic experience picture myself as a little girl hurt by her parents. At times I am haunted by the memories of that ominous night. However, the feelings I possessed no longer have a hold on me. The day I walked through the brown doors and opened my heart broke the ten-year silence that paralyzed me. The moment I stepped forward and freed myself was the day I grew up.