My brother and I were born into a family which was never stable. My mother suffered domestic violence at the hands of my father. The relationship between them was so violent and according to my mother I was conceived because she was raped. As she didn’t want us growing up in that kind of environment we moved to Hackney when I was two years of age. I grew up without my dad knowing that I was a daddy’s girl. My mother used to always tell me that I was my dad’s favourite and that he once went to the extent of climbing through my bedroom window in an attempt to take me but the police were called so he had to bring me back home.
I felt like I lived with a great chunk of me missing because I developed the idea that he was the only one who cared for me. I would often isolate myself from my mum and my brother because I felt I wasn’t needed in the family. This lead to very low self-esteem. I never had any confidence in myself and I used to think I was ugly - there was even a time when I was very young I cried in front of the mirror and this was at the age of seven. I couldn’t stand to look at myself because every time I did I would see this ugly being! Whenever I would look at the mirror all the negative thoughts about myself would just rush through my mind. Once I was about to reach for a fork in my kitchen when I felt something sharp brush on my wrist. I looked down and it was a knife. Surprisingly, the thought of killing myself never did cross my mind but I would always wonder how the lives of others would have been if I wasn’t around. The build up of all the complexes and fear was so bad that one negative word would pierce my heart and I would physically feel a sharp pain at the moment it was said and I would cry for ages. It’s as if all that held in my heart would just pour out instantly as if it were blood from a real stab wound. Because of this people would see me as weak and indeed I was. All I wanted was for someone to understand, anyone! But of course nobody would.
I also remember an incident at some of my relative's house on my mum’s wedding day. Me, my brother and my cousins were playing in the dark as we usually did. It was fun, but that day it wasn't. Someone instead of fighting me was abusing me. I managed to escape the room, looked at my torn dress and felt used. I was much too young to feel like that.
Life continued and by the time I got to secondary school I decided to change. I’d had enough of looking like the weak one. Instead of anyone making me cry I set it in my heart to make everyone else feel how I felt if they ever tried it. I became known as 'heartless'. I got excited! I never did go around looking for fights though, I was always scared that I would lose control and indeed I would have because I had many violent and twisted thoughts. My life was being controlled by someone other than myself. I know this because even to this day all the past events seem like a blur. I was able to realise this when I started to take the vyg (and my own life) seriously after getting kicked out of it. The mask was getting too heavy for me. I didn’t want to be one person in the church and another outside so after speaking to my youth pastor at the time I decided to change.
The interesting thing about my story is the fact that only those who went through what I went through will be able to fully understand exactly what I went through. If I could overcome then you can too! Now I no longer suffer with complexes and low self-esteem. The bubbly person who people see today is the real me because I overcame the fear of being myself.
