Prologue..

Looking back, I wish I could hold the little girl that suffered soo much pain. When I was younger, the trauma I went through, I always questioned why me? Why do they hate me? What did I do soo wrong to deserve all the pain they caused me? Why would you abuse your daughter(s) and call her names? Make her feel less than she deserved? I saw no end... So many nights of crying myself to sleep. My sister and I talking at night and her telling me it will be ok sissy or me telling her the same. We shared a room for as long as I can remember. We would stay up even after we were told to go to sleep, whispering into the night. Our stepdad or mom hearing us, would yell to go to sleep. But it was the only time we had too feel the innocence we once held.

Our dad, he left when I was 3, my sister was 18months old and our baby brother was just a newborn. We didn't see him again until I was about 5 and my sister was around 3. By then our mother remarried. Honestly she remarried about 6 months after our dad moved away. So we grew up with our mom and step father. He was an alcoholic. Some memories around that time are fuzzy. But the older I got, certain memories stand out more and more. There was always fighting going on. The yelling, that sometimes still rings in the memories. Especially, when I hear yelling today. The physical abuse, that I tend too block away but there's times when it comes flooding back. The triggers, they can happen anytime, it could be the littlest thing. The smell of eggs, which is weird right? There's definitely a story behind that. I hate eggs and ALWAYS HAVE. But in our house, you ate what was cooked. They knew I didn't like eggs, so I wouldn't eat them. But I was made too, like physically made too. First they would be my meal, every meal. The same eggs they made that morning. Then when I still refused ( I am pretty stubborn.. That's totally the Aries in me) He would make me eat them. Like who does that? I couldn't imagine physical making my kids eat something ever. Well he did. Our mom, she let him. It was always my fault, I should of ate them. She was supposed to be my protector, my safe haven. But I learned early on in life, she was not. She was always on his side. They would fight sometimes, like she was standing up for her kids. But he always played the victim and she fell for it every time. Sadly, she still does. I found comfort going to school and seeing my friends. I loved going to my best friends house every chance I got. I felt accepted there, way more than I did in my own home. The love and warmth that you just felt being around them. We shared soo many laughs and soo many memories. I went camping with them and shopping. I even went to church with them. I always questioned why couldn't my home feel this kind of love and warmth? Why couldn't we be this happy? Why is there always fighting? Why does everyone always have to be soo angry? The yelling, the living on the edge, the fear of "doing something wrong" and facing the consequences, I knew that lay ahead. No one seemed to really care, at least that's how I felt. When your that young going through the abuse, you feel like its your fault. You feel like you did something wrong and you pissed him off again. You feel like you no matter what you do, its never enough. Then you start fighting back. You feel like you have to protect yourself because no one steps up to protect you. To be that young and to feel those feelings, the feelings of being unloved, anger and .(Just a few of what I felt) It makes it hard to leave those feelings behind as you grow up. I strive to be the best mom I can so my kids know I love them and I will always protect them no matter what, because that is my job as a mother.

Here's the start of my story, with so much left unsaid. But there's time and I will continue to tell it piece by piece. So for now this lady is going to be with my family, and be grateful every moment!

With light and love always, Kimmi Hope