Hope…

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My best Friend whom I had not seen for a year.  She came to see me, she just turned up.  I secretly made a vow that day that we would never part again.  I was happy that she made contact, though she wasn’t lost, I was not in a position to reach her.  My fear of D meant my duty was to stay at home. I was happy but I didn’t want her to know what I was going through.

D was extremely jealous of the friendship for a time. But gradually he became use to the idea, and she became a regular visitor.  My life seemed to have settled a bit,  I believe D thought I was telling my Friend stories about him.  I didn’t tell her  anything at all, because I wanted to prove that I was somebody, that I was happy and doing ok.

After all I was living with a man and I had three children.

I tried never to cry in front of her, I didn’t want her to be upset and because I was afraid of D.   I lied that I was ok.   I thought he would ban her from the house. So I was technically sleeping with the enemy for peace sake.

My Friend was still single, although I was happy for her, I did wish I could just leave my baggage one day and be like her. I was never jealous of her, but I worried that she would find a man like  the ones I knew.  We would go to the park and she would play with the babies, I treasured those  happy times indeed.

My Friend coming to see me, brought out a lot of resentment about my life.  I felt this was not what I wanted from life I wanted to be with her, I wanted to be free. My Friend made me realise that I could do better.

The idea of education was becoming a dream, that I now wanted.  I had no education since I left school. I was becoming more independent but I felt useless, and worthless.  I felt I had been forced into motherhood, I was unable to cope, the house was a mess most of the time, but I tried my best.  D was an excellent cook due to his Caribean upbringing, that was grounded in the fact that children have to be independent.  I did not have this upbringing as I spent most of my life on the streets, it was awkward.  I use to ask girls on the estate to cook the food, and I would warm it up just before he came.  The thing that saved me was D liked cooking, so unbeknown to him I learnt a great deal from him.

A Jamaican  woman must be able to cook, no questions.

This was one of the questions his mum asked, “can she cook? can she keep house? ”  If only she knew I had been cleaning house, cooking well that was a different issue.   I hated my life.

When my daughter was around six months old, a Jehovah witness came to the door, I listen to her talking about Jehovah,  I was so confused, but it made me start to think about God more.  Once I read the leaflets they had given.  I was now thinking deeper about my life in general.    I was also beginning to read the bible for comfort like I would do as a child and I would still recite Psalms 23 when I was afraid.

I was getting older and I had questions, I use to sit and question the existence of God.  I could never understand how and why a seven year old whom had never hurt anyone, be plucked from a happy environment and be  treated so badly. “If God exist really, then why wouldn’t he help me”.

Why was I sexual abused?

why rape?

why violence?

what did I do?

“Was I cursed like the gypsy had said to me?.  (Previous post)

mummy said she was a christian, “why did she hate me?

“Was it something my father did”.

“The bible say, don’t spare the rod and spoil the child,” she would say.

Was God  strict then?.  I was angry at God, because he gave mummy permission to beat me for no reason.

God took away my father”  and this was unforgivable.

I  had so many unanswered questions, which got worse following the visit from the Jehovah witness.

Nevertheless, psalms 23.  Remained a permanent fixture in my heart and  mind. Maybe deep down I knew God existed but I was still far from Christianity.

When I woke up one morning, there was a brown envelope at the door addressed to me! My youngest daughter was one years old.

I opened the letter…..

 

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