My brothers and I were separated. When we came back together in our parents home it wasn’t any better. There was still a lot of abuse going on, so I moved back out the spring semester my senior year.
"God started showing me that it didn’t matter if I couldn’t talk plain. It didn’t matter if I couldn’t read and write good, that He was going to use that."
“You’re going to end up like your father, a bum on the street, a loser, an alcoholic.” As a kid, growing up hearing those things hurt me. I thought, “Man, after everything I do for you, this is how you love me.”
I haven’t dated that much, but with my first boyfriend, I just didn’t really hold that much of standards for myself. So I allowed myself to be verbally abused. I allowed him to talk down to me.