Reflections, Fight or flight response.


It was a raining day, I was in my room alone writing, I started writing poems.  Random thoughts nothing special.  I wrote many poems about love.

I wrote about father, about school.  I recall writing a poem, it wasn’t my poem but it was a song I had heard.  They use to play that song upstairs most morning and I just learnt the words.  The song meant nothing at all.

I Love How Your Eyes Close Whenever You Kiss Me
And When I’m Away From You I Love How You Miss Me
I Love The Way You Always Treat Me Tenderly
But Darlin’ Most Of All I Love How You Love Me

I Love How Your Heart Beats Whenever I Hold You
I Love How You Think Of Me Without Being Told To
I Love The Way Your Touch Is Always Heavenly
But Darlin’ Most Of All I Love How You Love Me

I Love How Your Eyes Close Whenever You Kiss Me
And When I Am Away From You I Love How You Miss Me
I Love How Your Touch Is Always Heavenly
But Darlin’ Most Of All I Love How You Love Me

I Love How You Hug Me
I Love How You Squeeze Me, Tease Me, Please Me.



Well that was a beating I will never forget.  She flew into my room, “what are you doing” she screamed. She  grabbed the book from me, ” is this all what you want” she said  “man”  “I’m going to give you man”,  I had tried to make my room nice and I drew pictures and stuck on the wall.  No colours or crayons just pencil.  She tore every single one of the wall.  I was not given a chance to explain.  I think mummy had just remembered she hadn’t beat me that day, and the beating was overdue.  It’s like she needed to fulfil her daily routine.   It was pandemonium in the house that day. She was coming for me, like I had killed her mother.

I screamed,  I ran I jumped over my bed but  she was behind me like she was possessed.  I ran  out the door and into the bathroom.  I closed the door safety.,.she screamed at me to open it.  ” please mummy no, “please mummy no”. I screamed.  What was the use in screaming no one ever came.  I lifted up my hand to shield the blows.  ” a fight you want to fight me”. No mummy no!

I was battered that day like no other.  She said ” so you want to fight me”. All I did was raise my hand up to cover my face.  She repeated this sentence while the blows rained down on me. She flung me around the room like I was a rag doll to trying to beat the devil out of me.  Then she went and got a large piece of board and gave me .  Here you take one, and we will fight.  I wouldn’t take the board.  I didn’t want to fight her,  I cried until I was weak. “Shut your mouth” she said.   I wanted to shout at her, I wanted to fight back but that would be suicide. I was bruised everywhere.  I somehow manage to escape her grasp she was like a raging bull as she charged after me.  I tried to get out the front door but I was locked in again. So I  ran into the second room,  for my life.

Then it happened.

I am convinced that God helped me that day, well somebody did.  My mummy had a large vintage wardrobe in that room it was dark brown antique looking it was stuffed with clothes. image

On that day I had the strength of a Ox.   I recall pushing the wardrobe right across the door to stop her getting to me.  I recall I was surprise at the ease that the  wardrobe  shifted , I was a small 12 years old.  Yet it moved right across the door before she could get in the room, despite the short distance from the bathroom and the bedroom.

I assumed it was a God, but it could have been fight or flight response  as I had not really built a relationship with God at that time.

The fight-or-flight response is also known as the acute stress response. Essentially, the response prepares the body to either fight or flee the threat. It is also important to note that it can be triggered due to both real or imaginary threat.

I then  Jumped across the bed in the middle of the floor and ran to the window, and opened it, we lived  on the 4th floor. I could hear her, walking  towards the door.    I climbed out and hanged onto the ledge.  I saw her push the door and the wardrobe toppled slightly. I learnt many words that day, Dying, giving up, pain, sadness, fear,. JUMP……

I  could now see her face as she stuck her head through the door. She was coming.  I found my voice. That day ” IM GOING TO JUMP MUMMY”  “I WILL”.  Once she saw one leg was already out the window, she turned around and walked back out the door with the belt in her hand.  I climbed back in slowly and looked down outside the window, people were gathered.  My mind still said “Jump”.  I was hoping one of the nice ladies at the bottom of the window would catch me. But I believe GOD said NO. ….

I stayed in the room huddled by the window, tired but refusing to sleep, hungry but scared to ask.  Then she called me, “strip and get in the bath”.  I was cold and shivering, I was in pain from head to toe.  I sat in the warm water that she had already prepared for me. Mummy came in and started hitting my back and all over my body with a large towel that was filled into a ball like shape. No conversations was held.  Apart from instructions as to where to turn next. She called it sapping.  This was a terminology that she used.  The aim was to beat out the marks so no one would see.  The “sapping” on my body was as painful as the thumps I had already received. I dared not tell anyone.  All I could do was wait for my beatings the next day!


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One Response to Reflections, Fight or flight response.

  1. T says:

    This hurts just to read it. No child should ever ever have to go through this! 😦


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