The Beginning

I have been trying to find out where to start this section as it's the hardest. I may be healing and I may have survived, but it doesn't mean it still doesn't hurt. Going back into therapy, specifically for my trauma has been a very hard step to take, however, it is also very worth it.

My earliest memory is this: I'm little, *MAYBE* 4 yrs old at the time. The sun is setting, the sky is a pinkish-blue peeking through the curtains that are partially open in our little apartment. My dad is reading books to me and my mother walks in the door. My dad picks me up and wraps me in his arms tightly and greets my mother. She glares and immediately starts yelling and throws her keys at us. I am immediately scared and cling to my dad; my body reacts as if I have seen this scene play out many times. My dad catches them and stands up with me in his arms. He calmly walks to my bedroom and sets me down on my little bed, hands my favorite stuffed animal (Littlefoot from Land Before Time), and tells me to hold him tight. He then closes my bedroom door as he walks out of the room. There is a lot of tension in the air as he closes the door. I don't know why exactly, but I am afraid. I hear a lot of yelling, my mother only. I do not hear my dad raise his voice. I hear a lot of commotion and things getting thrown around. I hear a door slam and then my dad comes in and scoops me up and tells me he loves me and it's time to get ready for bed. He changes me into my pajamas and he is reading me my favorite bedtime book and talking to my stuffed Littlefoot as if he were real and making me giggle. The world feels safe again.

The front door opens and slams shut. My dad tells me to stay put and as he's about to leave, my mother storms in and tells him to get away from me and shoves him into the wall. I'm scared and I sit on my bed, clutching my dinosaur, watching her attack him. He eventually gets the door shut and I hear a repeat of commotion in the rest of the apartment, then the front door slamming again. My dad waits for a while and then I hear him talking to someone but I think it was on the phone as I don't hear anyone else. Then my dad comes in and says "JellyBean, we are going to Grandpa Pete and Grandma Fran's (my mother's father and stepmother) house for the night. They want to have a sleepover with their littlest granddaughter!". There is a sadness in his voice that I cannot quite understand but I go along with it. He drops me off. Before he leaves, he hugs me tightly and kisses my forehead, and tells me he'll see me the next day. He hugs my grandparents and says thank you and leaves. My grandparents look me over and have me take a warm bath and put on new pj's. I didn't realize at the time that they were checking for injuries to me. The knot in my stomach disappeared as soon as I walked into their front door, and my body started to relax in the bath with Grandma Fran talking to me while washing my hair. After the bath, they allow me a tiny cup of pudding in their fancy dishes that I loved while we watched Cinderella in their bed; with me sandwiched between them finally feeling safe again. It is not a long memory, but one that has never left me. It also is a precursor for events to come. Looking back I can see that from a very early age, my brain was rewired to be a survivor. I may not remember earlier than this memory, but the way my body reacted tells me that this was not the first time my mother had been abusive towards me and my dad. I can tell you from first-hand experience that it was not the last.