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A Broken Home

“Being raised in an unstable household makes you understand that the world doesn’t exist to accommodate you, which… is something a lot of people struggle to understand well into their adulthood. It makes you realize how quickly a situation can shift, how danger really is everywhere. But crises when they occur, do not catch you off guard; you have never believed you lived under a shelter of some essential benevolence. And an unstable childhood makes you appreciate calmness and not crave excitement.”

There are little things in life that can affect how we think, how we feel and how we react. Something’s just require processing time and others simply don’t require a second thought at all. I didn’t grow up in a normal household, I would like to think that a normal household wouldn’t put up a front like mine has – several times.

It’s been five years since I last heard a peep out of my teenage tormentor.

But it’s been two years since my last encounter with a monster.

People don’t understand how that can affect a person, not even my boyfriend at the time was really bothered, “You’ll live, it happened to my ex as well” he said.

Lack of reassurance hurt and I felt broken. That one person outside of my family, a haven if you will didn’t even care to give me the time of day.

The last episode occurred in April 2014.

I never know if it will happen again, or when.

I feel as if I rely on my relationships with males to somewhat fill the cracks, stability.

I know I probably shouldn’t, I need to learn to be there for myself. #girlpower

But I couldn’t even help myself last time, but I have my brothers to thank for my life today.

I’ve witnessed pieces of domestic violence my whole life, I remember events from when I was only four years old but I can barely remember my favourite movie at that point in time. Is it fair that a child remembers more about violence than they do playful memories?

I am an actor, I put up a good front.

But there is always that fear that will play in the back of my mind, but so far the monster has been dormant.

I live in a broken household and the cracks that have been made will never be completely rendered over.

When I was thirteen years of age, I returned home following a school netball tournament. I returned to a mess. At thirteen, I chased my brother up the street to comfort him and sooth his wounds. At thirteen I ran the length of the local beach to clear my head. I spent the next day in the offices of the school Councillor.

There will come a day when I will be at peace but it’s certainly not happening anytime soon. All I know is that it has affected me, my choices in men, my need for commitment and my how I view life. My life will always be influenced by my experiences, I’m sure all of our lives are.

To this day, I’ve never really spoken about it and I probably never will truly speak of it.

But I still live in a broken home.

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