What would you see looking through the windows of her childhood home? You would see two adults seeping rage, resentment and despair and a young girl soaking it up like a sponge so not to spill outside the doors into the neighborhood. You would see the expectations of two parents who grew up in violence and poverty pour all of their ideas of perfection onto a young girl who never went to bed hungry, had to wear rags or cover up black eyes. You would see this young girl living in the same kind of terror her parents did, not from fear of punches, but from the tension to be perfect.
You would see the fire of dysfunction blaze higher as her Aunt moved in with them and poured gasoline on an already explosive situation. She adding her manipulative controlling nature to the chaos and trying to be a wedge between parents and between mother and child.
You would experience the silent yet deafening arguments between parents about the aunt and her actions towards the young girl. You would see this young girl lost, lonely and afraid, not sure who or what to trust, isolating and hiding from life. You would see her comforting herself in the only way she knew how through food and fantasy about living someplace else. Someplace where she would be safe appreciated and emotionally nourished. If nothing else a place where she could be a little girl.
I am grateful to explore hidden talents and embrace life and all it has to offer.