My Story

 

It’s hard to look back into a world that was filled with shades of grey. Trying to sit and write about something that I tried so hard to forget.

I grew up in what people would consider a “normal” family. My parents were together up until I was about 12. I woke up one morning and my mother wasn’t there. She decided to go out the night before and never came back. I knew something was wrong when I got up and my grandfather was there. He was sitting on the couch on the phone with who I now know was my mom. I guess he was trying to convince her to come back. To say the least, she didn’t.  

I always felt like my mother would never abandon us. We were her daughters. She did. At an older age, I found out she left for another man. She left her children for another man….

My father is an alcoholic. Growing up I was use to seeing him with a bottle. As a little girl I never thought anything was wrong, that was my dad. Things got really bad when my mom left. I guess that was his way of drowning his sorrows. As the only one living in the house I am the one that gets the backlash of this alcohol abuse, and in the process people seem to make it ok that he verbally abuses me. They say, Oh you know he has a problem. Is that really an excuse, a reason, does that give him a pass?

There are something’s that he has said to me that I try to brush of, that I’m worthless, a piece of shit. It wasn’t until he called me a bad mother that I realized things weren’t ok. And brushing off what he was saying to me, was changing who I was, who I wanted to become. At that moment I became silent.

 

At the age of 18 I became pregnant. Looking back I wanted someone to love me so bad that, the first person that told me they loved me, I was willing to sell my soul to. A month after we meet I was pregnant. Not the easiest thing to get over. I was scared. Although he told me he would be there and talked me out of having an abortion I knew he wouldn’t be there. I wanted to believe him so bad, I stayed. He was everything I never wanted. I hid my pregnancy up until I was 5 months. I remember getting on the bus alone to go to all my doctors appointments, even crying alone during my first ultra sound. Apart of me wanted the doctor to say nothing was there. I didn’t know if I cried because I was disappointed or happy. Either way I was alone. 

On April 22, 2002 I became a mother.  I remember that day like it was yesterday, Almost like a dream. My mom was there, my aunt, taking pictures of things I would rather not say, he was there, not willingly but, because I refused to have my son without him there, my sister on the phone waiting to hear my son cry. At 1:19 Keishaun Xavier LaVjonne was born. I found myself in tears, the doctor asked me what was wrong, I simply said “I want to hold my son!” Somehow I felt comfort in him, in his eyes, almost like this was my reason, the reason I was still there, going strong.

 

About 2 weeks after having my son, I was raped. My sons father Raped me, maybe now saying it, it will become real.. I remember the way the ceiling looked through my tear filled eyes, it was cloudy. There was no sound; I could faintly hear the TV playing for my son who was sitting in the car seat feet away. I wondered if I could pass this off as a dream but the pain of my flesh being ripped told me it was real. He got up and left me there, walked out like it was something he was entitled to. 

 

I was embarrassed. Going to the doctor a couple days later for a checkup they had to re-stitch me. Asking what happened, my response was, I don’t know. We both knew I was lying.

 

The hardest part wasn’t the incident that took place. It was the way I looked at my son afterwards. Even though he was conceived in what I believed was Love, he was a reminder of the day my sanity was taken away. He reminded me of him. There were nights I cried, asking God to allow me the strength to Love my son like a mother should. I knew it wasn’t his fault. He was my Angel, my baby, I was his mother and I was supposed to love him…..

 

After that, I knew that I had to find the strength to walk away. It was so hard because I wanted my son to have a “family” I wanted his parents to be together, but I couldn’t give any more of me. I was drained…I had to let go.

 

Years after that, I had to fight for the well being of my son from, his "father". I remember the threatening phone calls I would get from his father, and his mother. Telling me that, they were going to kid-nap my child and that I would never see him again. It has been a never ending court battle that, Thank God, I have won up until this point. 

 

I look at my son sometimes and it hurts. I could never give him what a “father” would. Although as a single mother, I do the best I can, I can never teach him how to be a man. The fact that I cannot give him that crushes me every day. But I continue to fight, and when he sleeps I lay next to him and thank God for trusting me with an Angel.

 

In 2006 I started a relationship with a man who for 5 years was my everything. He was the person I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I gave all of me, even gave up on me, in order to love him. I did it and never thought twice about it. I loved him. I neglected all the warning signs. All the talks about him not wanting to get married, he would say it wasn’t important to him. I began to second guess wanting to get married. I thought that because I wanted to be with him, that there might be something’s that I had to let go of, some dreams I needed to let go of and that, was one of them. After 5 years I started to find another woman’s things in his home, It killed me. I remember calling my sister crying to her because I didn’t know who else to call. There were times I begged him, cried for it to stop. I allowed myself to be disrespected, I allowed myself to be hurt because I loved him.

 

I have always been the person to give advice to women who were in my situation, telling them to walk away. And here I was and I didn’t find the strength to walk away.

 One day he decided to walk away. I felt like after all that I did, All the pain I took, all the times I stood by him, had his back, this is what he repays me with. He walked away.

There were nights I called him begging him to come back. I didn’t know how I was supposed to make it without him. I never thought I would have to live without him. Here I was, and I didn’t know what to do, or who to turn to. I felt alone….used….abused…not wanted…. I was scared. I was embarrassed all at the same time.

 

On 2/19 an incident happened with my family where at 8 am there was a possibility that I would lose 2 of my cousins. He was the first person I called. I was uncontrollable. He simply said I have to call you back. He never did. It wasn’t until 8pm where I realized that although he said he loved me, that whole day I didn’t receive a phone call, a text, not even a smoke signal to see if my cousins or I were ok. Somehow I felt like God was telling me to let go, showing me that I needed to let go. I did.

I have never looked at him the same. I couldn’t. After all the pain he caused me the one time I needed him, he wasn’t there. After 5 years, he wasn’t there.

 

It got to a point where I called off work just because I couldn’t get out of bed. I sat home and cried. I was depressed and my son seen me broken. I had to get help. And I did. I decided to see someone.

I walked into the counselor’s office and sat on the couch. Just like in the movies…She asked me why I was there. And I started to cry…I didn’t stop…I cried for a whole hour session. At the end she told me that she couldn’t treat me like that, that I needed to get on anti-depressant meds. Almost a year later I am still on them. Getting up and getting help was the best thing I could have done for me.

 

I didn't want the next man to have to pay for what the last one did. I want to love like I've never been hurt.

I realize that I have so many insecurities; I struggle with seeing myself as beautiful, as worthy of being loved. There are days where I still struggle, but those days are getting far and in between. I am a work in progress. I've slowly been walking this journey of life and along the way I’m leaving my baggage, slowly but surely, on the side of the road. I’m almost empty handed and it feels so good. Starting over...Starting new...but I will always carry a piece is my experience with me. It had made me who I am and without them, this journey would have been a long boring one. I’m grateful for everything God has given me and excited for what is to come.

 

This is my Story which is still being written…Stayed tuned, the best is yet to come.

I’m blessed and highly favored. That I know