Shattered World

Shattered World

Shatter means: to break or cause to break suddenly and violently into pieces.
World means: a person’s life and activities. My world is shattered. I have been broken, beaten, and defeated, by my own shortcomings and a governmental body who does not understand human nature.

My Life
         As a child I was happy. I grew up in Tinley Town, Washington D.C, with my mother, grandmother, and grandfather. In 1987 my mother decided we would travel with the carnival. While traveling she met my stepfather Tony. Mom didn’t want to travel any more so, we moved back in with my grandparents in Washington D.C.

The Beginning of the End

In 1988, mom and Tony got married, soon after the abuse began. I watched my mother being beaten and put down, for nearly a year. The abuse got very bad, and finally my mom had enough, so we “ran away”. Away from the only home I had ever known, away from my friends, and away from the only thing I knew.  I was at my friend Leslies house playing in the backyard when her mom stuck her head out the backdoor and told me “Ginger you mother needs you to come home”. I told Leslie “ bye I’ll see you tomorrow”. Tomorrow never came.

A New Life
         As I boarded the Greyhound bus, with only my teddy bear, a small purse, and a backpack full of clothes, I had a feeling I would never see my world, as I knew it again. I don’t know how long I was on the bus, but we finally arrived in Poplar Bluff, Missouri, a little backwater town that was like night compared to the day of Tinley Town.  I started
a new school, lived in a new bedroom, and ate in new kitchen. I was very scared, I didn’t know what was happening, and my mom wouldn’t tell me.

Moving Day
         My mom found out she was pregnant with my sister soon after we moved. She decided Poplar Bluff, just wasn’t the place to raise kids. I packed my teddy bear, little purse, and backpack, and again boarded that Greyhound bus.  This time we landed in Denver, Colorado.

Denver
         Denver was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like home. My mother was acting weird, and not like a mother should. I though the high altitude might have changed her. After 9 years, 1 sister, 18 schools, and 30 homes, I still didn’t know why we had left, or why I couldn’t see my grandfather.
         Death. My grandfather was my hero, my night in shining armor, and my world. He died in 1993; he took my heart with him. I went back to D.C. to watch him be put in a wall. As I listened to his twenty-one-gun salute and some people speak in his honor, all I wished was to be in that wall with him.  I was never the same after that day.
         
Changes.

              As the months went on I got more depressed, less outgoing, and more bitter. I began to question my entire life. My mom could have cared less, she worked a million hours a week, she took me out of school so I could baby-sit my sister 24 hours a day 7 days a week, and never asked what I wanted. I wasn’t happy anymore,
I couldn’t concentrate, or be a child. I watched my sister day in and day out, never caring about myself, because I had nothing to live for.

The Evil Man
         In 1999, my mother met Daniel. If I thought my life was bad before, then I had a great deal to learn. Instead of my stepfather number 2 just beating my mom, he beat me too. Daniel decided he and my mother wanted children of their own. My mother had a tubaligation when she had my sister. She gave him permission to get me pregnant, so I could carry a child for them. I had no choice; if I didn’t do it I would have been killed, according to him.
         A number of months later, I was kidnapped to California. I was six months pregnant when Daniel threw me down a flight of stairs in a public mall. I thank God everyday for that day because I was finally free. A man saw me lying unconscious on the floor, being kicked, blood flowing from my ear, and nose. He yelled for Daniel to stop, and he ran to me, as Daniel ran away. I was rushed to the emergency room, and soon I had police all around me. I pressed charges. He is currently spending 10 years in prison.

Jesilyn

My beautiful daughter Jesilyn, was born on July 15th, 2001. After years of struggling with being a good parent, and trusting my mother, Jesilyn was taken from me. I fought for fifteen months to her back. According to Child Protective Services, I was a bad mother. I was forced to sign away my parental right in May of 2005 that is when my world truly shattered.  Forever the words “Mommy you forgot to pick me up from school” and “Mommy I love” will ring in my head. Words are powerful. When you’re told you’re a bad mother and you’ll never amount to anything; they stick in your mind, like a bumper sticker sticks to a car.

The Fight
         I fight everyday for my child. I fight for families who are going through what I am going through; I fight for all the children who were needlessly ripped from their homes and their families, while I fight to rebuild my world.

Pieces of My World

         I had a rough past, but my future looks bright. I have learned how to be strong from my past. I remember my baby everyday; I pray she will be returned to me. Day by day I pick up more pieces and I fight harder. I learn from my mistakes and move on. One day my shattered world will once again be whole.