It all started roughly when I was somewhere around the age of 7. My mom was always my go to, always the mother who was centered around her children. Always the one cooking dinner, doing laundry hanging clothes on the line outside. A beautiful woman a wonderful mother and an ideal wife. As a child I Painted myself a beautiful childhood. One where both parents were present, and they loved the kids that they made, and they did everything in their power to make sure everything was as it should be. Little did I know I was in for way more than I could ever handle.
YOU ARE READING
my voice
Non-FictionI had envisioned what my life would be like. I had painted a beautiful picture in my mind, but my father came along and dumped black paint all over it. Broke my heart and my spirit in the process!
