I am seven years old now, we moved from the mobile home trailer, to my fathers auto body shop, to morning star, and then we finally moved in with my grandmother. I couldn’t be so much happier at my grandmothers house.

My grandmother was like a second mother to me. My mom worked 2 maybe 3 jobs just to support me, and my fathers addiction to drinking. The drinking and the violence kept getting worse. One day he went to take a trip to Maryland with one of his friends.

That week was the most happiest my mother and I had in a very long time because my father wasn’t there to hurt us.

Then he came back from Maryland he changed more. He came back and the abuse was worse than ever. My father pulled my hair while he was washing my hair because I wouldn’t sit still.

This went on for years and years of witnessing my mother going through the emotional, mentally and physical abuse. I didn’t as bad as my mother but I will never forget all of this.

Back at our old mobile home in Loudon New Hampshire, my father shows up hours later drunk of course. My parents didn’t talk to each other for the rest of the night.

The day came when my mother and father had a big fight, I was about five years old at the time. My father then took off down the road on foot. My mom packed me up and put me in my car seat, she started the car and started driving to go find him. Well she found him, she was yelling “GET IN THE CAR JIM” he kept walking. She yelled again, he stopped walking she stopped the car. She got out to talk to him but he didn’t want to talk so here comes a yelling match again. Sitting in the car witnessing all this wasn’t easy. All of a sudden my father pushed my mother into the car and then pulled her hair right in front of me. I started crying and yelling for my mom to come back to the car and to drive away. About five or ten minutes pasted, she finally got back in the car and we drove back home. I will never forget the look on my mothers face when she got back into the car. Her hair was messed up and the tears rolling down her face, I didn’t know what I could do I was only five at the time.

I was born August 14^th, 1992 in Concord New Hampshire. Life as a baby was easy for me, but not for my mother.

My mother was with my father for thirteen years. Those years were rough for my mother, my father was an acholic and use to put his hands on her and me sometimes.

I am dedicating my blog to, two important people in my life. My husband Nathanael Worrell and our son Anthony Worrell. I love the both of you to the moon and back again. Thank you for making my life complete, if it wasn’t for the two of you, I wouldn’t be here today.