Thursday, March 5, 2009

my mom's black eye


There is only one thing in this world that infuriates me and that is the abuse of women. I can't stand it - the thought of it unleashes this rage within that makes me want to scream and destroy every man that has ever laid a hand on a woman.

You would ask why? Maybe it's because I grew up in a household where there was abuse. I remember my mom having a black eye. I remember seeing blood. I remember screaming, shouting and cursing. I remember having sleepless nights. I saw it, I lived it and I hated it.

My dad would come home drunk and talk a lot of rubbish. He would curse. It is amazing how alcohol can change a person. I love my dad. But there were times where I would wish he would go away and never return. Just imagine: it's Saturday and you would be worried and praying that he would come home sober. Imagine crying yourself to sleep because you feel so helpless that you couldn't help your mother.

Yes I was just a child. What could I do? Going to school with your eyes swollen because you were crying the whole night; having to lie to your friends and say you had a rough night. I couldn't sleep that was my story and I stuck to it. Being in class and thinking what the hell is happening at home because you left your parents at home.

Thinking just maybe while I am at school there is a continuation of last night's boxing match. Coming home and not having your parents speak to each other for more than a week. As I grew older it continued. Then I decided to become vocal. I decided to say no, but still that didn't help.

Rather now I became a victim of verbal abuse; I was being called a bitch. He said that I was taking my mother side. I didn't see what my mother was doing wrong. I mean really all I could see was him beating my mom. I would always ask myself why she didn't leave him.

Most children wanted their parents to stay together. Most of my friends were raised by single parents and I used to be so envious. While on the flip side my friends wanted to be me. They wanted a father figure while I wished I didn't. Mommy, why didn't you leave?

Now I know the answer and that was because of me and my brother and sister. She loved us too much. My parents have been together for 25 years and the last incident of abuse was last year (2006).

The bastard bashed a plate against her forehead. My mother is a strong woman and I love her for that. She is my role model; however, I don't want to be like her. I am 24 years old and I have never had a decent relationship because deep down inside I have this secret hatred of men.

I have never been struck by a man and I dread the day that any man would ever lay his hand on me. Now when I meet a guy I have this tendency of fishing and trying to find out if he would ever lay his hand on a woman. I must say I've been lucky because I have come across very gentle men.

No man has the right to beat a woman. Men who beat women are cowards. Even though he has left images in my mind that would haunt me forever, I still love my dad. My mom is a strong woman and she has been through a lot. She has endured a lot of pain and I still ask myself why she stayed. I guess that is the abuse you have to endure when you have children.

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