March 27th was the day I decided to change my life. March 27th was the day that I decided to speak up. Not only for me, but also for the rest of the people that, ‘til this day, don’t know how not to be afraid to speak their minds. As you all may know, I made a YouTube video that allowed me to share my deepest secrets.

One of my deepest secrets was that I had been molested as a child by family members. It first happened at the age of 5 by one of my mother’s uncles. I went from weighing 305 pounds to getting the gastric sleeve done to still not being happy in my own skin. Then I spent most of my life trapped in a closet, in relationships that made me unhappy, just to please those around me.

On my YouTube video, I shared with the world everything that I never had the courage to talk about. I was so scared to tell my family that I had been molested. Sadly, after the video was posted, I got a call from my mom saying, “What the hell are you thinking?! Why would you mention your father?!” I replied by saying “Mom, it’s a project that I am working on to help others!” She continued yelling at me at the top of her lungs. I could not take it so I hung up on her. You guys have to understand, though. My so called mother stopped being a mother to me at the age of 12, when she told me not to tell anybody in the family that my father had molested my little cousin. In the video, I only stated that my father had molested me. I knew that if one day I ended up on Ellen, or on TV, I would eventually come clean about it all.

The next morning I decided to text my older brother, whom I was a victim of sexual molestation of from the age of 6 until 13. I texted him and told him that regardless of what he did to me, he will always be my brother. I told him that I loved him and that I always wished that he would talk to me about our past, so that we could have closed that chapter between us. Surprisingly enough, he replied telling me to never contact him again and that he stopped being my brother the day I turned my back on mom. He believes that I turned on my family the day I decided to be openly GAY. At that point I was so furious at his response that for the next hour we had a texting battle. He went on calling me names, bullying me, and threatening to show up at my job. I told him that he had already done his damage, and that he had already scarred me. There were no words in the world that he could have used against me at the time that would hurt me more than what he had been doing to me for years. My brother, and the rest of the men that abused my innocence, changed my life. They ruined the little bit of normal that I could have possibly had. I was scarred for life! For the past years there wasn’t any man who passed my way that I did not think was sick in the head and wasn’t out to harm me.

Why speak now, you may ask yourself. Well, like others, I was afraid of the consequences. When I saw that my own mother did not want to help me, why would anyone else want to? I was scared to get hurt by those men if I ever spoke up. The crazy thing is, though, the older I got, the harder it was to speak up. I was afraid that people would judge me and question my sexuality due to my past. As a Dominican, one of the biggest things we have is our PRIDE. There was no way I would let anyone’s opinion affect me or make me feel any less important. My kids. What would they think of their mother? And their uncle? And grandfather? Especially the love they had for my mother. These were just a few of my many concerns that I soon realized were irrelevant.

As a child, I discovered that I was interested in girls. I liked boys, but I just liked the fact that they would do anything for a pretty girl. My interest was in girls! I came out to my parents when I was 14. My mom told me not to tell anyone in the family, of course. She suggested that I was just confused but that she was going to give me the liberty to figure it out on my own. Within the next few hours, my whole family knew about it. That’s just how Dominican families work. A few months later, my family relocated from Massachusetts to Florida. I guess my mom thought that by relocating, she could change the fact that I was gay. Then, as any other teenager would do, I attempted to try and be with a boy just to please my mom. I went to Orlando on vacation and saw a guy who is now my kid’s father. He and I basically grew up together and are pretty much family. He was the only guy I had ever trusted. I lost my virginity to him. When my mom found out, she came to get me and took me back to Miami. Shortly after, he told me to move in with him. In my eyes, I saw this as the opportunity to ESCAPE. Living in a home where I did not feel safe, where two of my predators lived, where the man who was supposed to be a father figure, constantly looked at me like a piece of meat, I decided it was my only chance. Years went by dealing with domestic violence, cheating, deceiving, on-and-offs, and many lies. Then I had my first encounter with a woman. Ever since that first encounter, I realized that that’s where my true happiness was.

It was hard for me to be a single mother with two kids, and not have the support of anyone. This is also why it was even harder to speak up. I was afraid that everyone would judge my sexuality, or how I would call it, my gayness, because I was stuck in a relationship with a man. Or so I thought. Like many others, I was one of those women who relied on the man for everything. I did not think I could make it on my own. So once I was able to save enough money (secretly, of course), I managed to leave him, get my own apartment, and learned to be independent. I got out, ALONE ☺.

For the next couple of years after that, I was involved in 3 other relationships with people (ncluding one who I am with now), and was happily gay and OUT. Being with these women and opening up to them allowed them to open up to me. Ironically, every one of my past relationships all had one thing in common: They were ALL victims of sexual abuse and molestation, INCLUDING my kid’s father. This was one of the biggest eye openers to me. I always said that I had a purpose in this life but never knew what it was until now. At 25, I have changed my life for the better. They opened up to me. I healed them but realized that I had yet to heal myself. I did not know where to even begin.

Ever since the video, no one in my family talks to me. I came clean to my mother about the rest of the men that hurt me. She has not talked to me since. My so called “ride to die” best friend stopped talking to me, too. She so happened to be my older brother’s ex-girlfriend. You ask why she stopped talking to me? Because she is still obsessively in love with him. I am pretty sure he told her to stop talking to me. Like many other women who value scums, she listened. I made updated videos on YouTube putting them all on blast. I showed my texts with my older brother, specifically so all my family could see, because at that point he was making me look like a liar. As part of my healing, I wrote to my little cousin on FB, the one who had been previously molested by my father and brother. I apologized to her for not standing up for her, for not telling anybody, and for not warning her that my brother was also a molester. See, it took me years to realize that if I had spoken up and warned her about the sick men around us, I could have saved her from becoming a victim. Another surprise, I have yet to hear from her, too. I don’t know if she’s afraid, embarrassed, ashamed, or all the above, but I understand her. I also made a video of my beautiful baby girl. She will never be a victim. I did it so that people can see that it’s ok to talk to your kids about things like this. It’s ok to be open with them. It’s better to talk to them and make them aware that there is ugly out there. My story has been shared by thousands. I receive daily emails from victims thanking me for my courage. I stay in touch with them through their healing process. I became a motivational speaker for EHarlem newspaper. My story was posted on SoLatina and shared with thousands. I hosted a live show on YMP radio motivating others to speak. I will not stop here. There’s so much more to come.

On March 27th, I came clean. I told my story. I am no longer afraid to live my life the way I want to live it. I am no longer afraid to be gay. I am no longer afraid to share my past. I am no longer afraid of the consequences. Most of all, I AM NO LONGER A VICTIM.

Some Latino children in the United State have had a very different upbringing in the United States than their parents had in their respective countries. The children of many of the immigrants have better access to technology, access to a free public education, and a free-er life. Many parents who came to the United States wanted their children to receive the best possible education, and they wanted their children to have some of the toys and pleasures that they did not have. The parents who spent most of their own childhoods in restrictive environments wanted their children to have an easier lifestyle, and they wanted them to keep their childhood innocence for as long as possible. In Cuba, for example, parents might have lived under a curfew, so they could not come and go as they pleased. Some adults in Cuba also lived under the fear of violence. Cubans dealt with government corruption and extensive censorship under Castro’s rule.

A New Life In America

During my childhood in Miami, I remember when my best friend, a Cuban immigrant, invited me to her home for the first time. I thought that I had a lot of dolls and toys until I went inside her room. She had some of the most beautiful dolls, and they were all wearing beautiful clothes. She had so many games that we’d stay occupied for hours, playing with them. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she had every popular game.

Her room was all pink and frilly. It was a little girl’s dream room. I could tell that her parents wanted the best for her. They emphasized good grades and hard work. I could also tell that they wanted to be sure that my friend had a real childhood, full of dolls, parties and laughter. I went to my friend’s house to play in her pink paradise. We’d also giggle together when I tried to speak Spanish. The first time that I said the word, agua, my friend Teresa tried to teach me other Spanish words. Teresa and her brother spoke perfect English, and her father spoke a little English. Her mother didn’t speak my language, but I could tell the family was proud that their children could communicate and relate to their English-speaking neighbors.

Protecting The Children

Teresa and her family were not rich. Her mother was a stay-at-home mom, and her father was a mechanic. Her father worked hard to afford Catholic school for his children. As a child, I didn’t really understand what life was like for him and his wife in Cuba. As an adult, though, I realize that he saw possibilities in the United States that were probably out of reach in his homeland. He wanted his children to have the childhood that he didn’t have, and to have to have an easier life. A kind, quiet man, he donned his mechanic’s uniform, left early in the morning when we went off to school, and returned late in the evenings with patches of oil and dirt on his uniform. I don’t think that Teresa knew much about his upbringing, either. He preferred to talk about buying her new skates or making sure that we didn’t ride off too far on our bicycles. As a parent, he wanted his children to know only of the curfew he imposed. He wanted them to be home before the streetlights came on. He wanted to keep government imposed curfews and censorship far out of reach from his children’s experiences. He wanted his daughter’s childhood memories to be made of gorilla playsets, dolls, and plenty of frilly pink dresses. This is what he wanted.

When I was younger I always heard horror stories of teen pregnancy, and the young mothers struggling to make end meet every day. I recognize that this is, unfortunately, how it is for nearly all teenage mothers. When I was 18-years-old, and still a senior in high school, I discovered that I was pregnant. I had been with my boyfriend for almost a year-and-a-half. Needless to say, we were both scared and worried about what steps we should take. I panicked about telling my parents, and tried to forget about what was happening for as long as I could. Finally, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I announced my pregnancy to my family, and my boyfriend announced it to his.

After the initial shock wore off, the mothers and I had a female meeting about what to do. I was 4 months along at this time and I still had not made up my mind. Adoption was heavily pressed in my face from all sides (sadly from my boyfriend, as well). However, I decided then and there in that meeting that I would be the strong one. I have always been able to make up my mind and stick to it, no matter what the challenges. I declared that my baby would be mine and damned anyone who said otherwise. My boyfriend suffered from a few months of debating whether he wanted to be in our child’s life. But after seeing my strength and fortitude, he came to realize that our baby was happening and that I had the power to overcome any obstacles. I think that it was my strong-mindedness that eventually brought all the families on board. My boyfriend attended all of my doctors appointments. We graduated our high school year successfully, with me in my 5th month of pregnancy.

That summer was a learning experience. We started to take our first steps towards our new family life. My boyfriend searched high and low to find a job that would make us enough money to support a household and our living expenses. In October, our daughter, Lorelei, was born and immediately put into my bawling boyfriend’s arms. I remember the look in his eyes as he cried over “the most beautiful little girl in the world.” For the seven days I was in the hospital (I had complications) he never let her out of his sight. I was unable to feed her, so he took it upon himself to feed her, change her, and would only grudgingly give her up to me. I think that my boyfriend had found what he calls his “meaning of life.”

The next few years passed by quickly with my boyfriend and my daughter’s bond growing stronger every day. At the age of 20, at Lorelei’s 2nd birthday party, my boyfriend asked me to marry him. He said he wanted to try to give back to me all that I had given to him. We were married and my now husband demanded that our daughter be in his arms during the ceremony. I was lucky enough to have a family support structure that was strong enough to allow me to go to college and graduate with honors with a bachelors degree in Biotechnology.

As of now, my marriage is stronger than I ever thought a marriage could be. I am finishing up graduate school with a PhD in Pathobiology. My husband has yet to finish school, but says that because I have amazing job prospects, all he wants to do is be a stay at home dad. Lorelei is now 6-years-old and I have the satisfaction of arriving home every night in time to watch my husband drift off to sleep holding our daughter in one hand, and a story book in the other.

What I would say to those of you in positions that are scary and uncertain, is that you have no one stronger to rely on than yourself. If you have the confidence to take control of your life, then things will fall into place much more readily than if you try to beg and plead for your boyfriends to stay with you because you need them. Of course, you need them, but you are stronger than you think you are. No matter what the outcome, your love for your child will exceed anything else you can possibly imagine. So take heart, and get ready for the most amazing experience of your life.

A newly released surveillance photo shows Estrella Carrera in the silver sequined cocktail dress that she wore to her wedding last week – and which she still had on when police discovered her stabbed to death in her bathtub only days later. The release of the image comes as police and FBI continue to pore over more than 100 tips in an effort to locate Estrella Carrera’s husband, 30-year-old Arnoldo Jimenez (pic below), who was charged in the killing. More than 30 law enforcement agencies had joined federal agents in the search for Jimenez, who married Carrera on Friday and allegedly stabbed her to death just hours later. Investigators would not reveal in which states they are looking for Jimenez, only saying that it was “all over the country”.

“We are following every lead, no matter where it takes us,” said Captain Joseph Ford, of the Burbank Police Department.

Authorities began looking for Jimenez soon after Carrera’s family reported that she failed to pick up her two children, ages two and ten, Saturday as she had arranged. The family had been unable to reach Carrera or Jimenez, so they asked police to check on her at her apartment in the suburb of Burbank. That is when the 26-year-old’s body was found in the bathtub, still clothed in the party dress she also may have worn at her wedding ceremony at Chicago’s City Hall. There were no signs of forced entry into Carrera’s apartment, according to investigators.
That day, the bride’s family received a haunting phone call from a sister of her new husband, who told them he had called her weeping and said that he had left his bride bleeding after a ”
“bad fight”.

Most of Carrera’s family disapproved of her three–year relationship with Jimenez, even though he was the father of her two-year-old son. Jimenez had hit and bruised Carrera in the past, according to Carrera’s older sister, Jazmin. Police also said family members reported incidents of violence while the couple was dating. Jazmin Carrera described Jimenez as “very possessive” and jealous. She said she does not understand why her sister married the 30-year-old in what seemed like a rushed ceremony that the bride had kept secret from almost everyone.

Jazmin Carrera received a text message from her sister Friday, inviting her to join them and their friends at a Mexican restaurant and a nightclub to celebrate the nuptials. She chose not to attend.

“It was just all of a sudden,” Jazmin Carrera said. “She didn’t give us enough notice.”

The pair were last seen around 4:00 AM on Saturday morning, according to officials. On Sunday, relatives heard about the phone call from Jimenez’s sister, who said that when she tried to call her brother back, he would not pick up, according to Jazmin Carrera.

Police in Burbank said they are aware of the account and are looking into it. Authorities made a plea to Jimenez to turn himself in “for the sake of his family and especially his children,” Ford said.

According to officials, Jimenez was previously arrested for domestic violence in another city in a case that did not involve Carrera. Police do not know what Jimenez does for a living, although he was last known to be driving a black 2006 Maserati with Illinois license plate L641441. Since the killing likely took place only hours after the couple went to Carrera’s apartment, police said the suspect had plenty of time to flee the metropolitan area, or even the state. Investigators do not believe Jimenez is a danger to others, although they say they have no way of knowing his current state of mind.

This article was taken from MailOnline

I couldn’t believe that the 1-year anniversary of when I lost my baby was coming around. It had been the hardest year my broken spirit ever went through. I had moved two hours away from my family in Chicago. My third pregnancy was extremely high risk and I ended up having to have an emergency C-section to save my life, but it killed my unborn child. Dealing with that pain was something I never expected I would experience.

Two months later I was in a car accident on the interstate that involved my car doing a 360 and rolling over two times until it landed in a ditch upside down. Then I received news that my only grandfather was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I had gone into a severe depression after all of that. I remember dreading for that Sunday (the 1-year anniversary) to come. How would I honor my baby? How would I be able to deal with that day period? I didn’t want my other two kids to continue to see me crumble into this pit of despair. I was losing all hope.

What made it worse was that I thought I was starting to lose my mind. I was going through the same feelings I had when I was pregnant with the child I lost. I never got pregnant easily, so there couldn’t be any way that I was pregnant again. My husband suggested I take a test anyways. I got up early that Sunday morning and rushed to Wal-Mart for the cheapest pregnancy test I could afford. I don’t know why those things never worked for my other two pregnancies. I remember begging God to heal my broken heart. Do something to fix me I pleaded. I didn’t want to continue going through life feeling broken and incomplete. I should’ve been happy. I had survived a life threatening pregnancy and a horrible car accident. My husband and kids needed me. Why wasn’t I happy that I was blessed enough already? I hated not feeling grateful for what I already had, but it was hard because I truly felt as if my heart had been ripped out. I was just left with an empty space where my heart should’ve been. I had spent that year walking around numb from every emotion but sadness.

When I was done begging God for just one more blessing I looked at the test. I couldn’t believe it. Was this test actually right? I ran to my room where my husband still lay asleep. I jumped on him and screamed, “WE’RE PREGNANT!!!!!” I saw my OB/GYN the very next day and he confirmed that I was indeed pregnant. This pregnancy was still extremely high risk because during my C-section I had to have my right fallopian tube and a quarter of my uterus removed. It was a very long 8 ½ months, with prenatal visits twice a week. I had gestational diabetes, which meant 7 insulin shots a day, bed rest for the last four months and another C-section waiting for me. I did everything I could to make sure that my baby would make it. It was scary never knowing for sure if we would make it. I was always in fear that the horrible past would repeat itself.

Then the day came, March 15th. I was excited, anxious and I just wanted to hold my baby already. I don’t remember much of the actual C-section because my mind was trying to stay focused on seeing my baby for the first time. Than my moment came. I heard my baby cry and they placed her next to my head so I could see her and she was beautiful. At that moment I felt complete. She was my miracle baby. She was sent by God to heal my broken heart. I still ache for the child that I lost. That will never change. But I know that my Angel sat on God’s lap and asked him to heal me. It’s been 7 years since that day that I was blessed with my miracle. Not a day goes by that I don’t look at her and tell her just how much I love her. I tell her every day that she was sent to fix my heart, my miracle baby, my Leilani. She is the only child of ours that has a Hawaiian name. I picked it out of a baby name book as soon as I read its meaning. Leilani: Flower sent from Heaven. So beautiful like her, and so true.

A woman stabbed the father of her children several times on Sunday evening when he gave her a cheap Mother’s Day present that she did not like, according to police. Paige Parkerson, 20, from Jefferson County, was arrested and charged with first-degree murder in the death of her live-in boyfriend Clifton JR Barkin, 22.

Police were called to the house by his mother Evetta Wright, shortly after she got a phone call from Parkerson allegedly confessing to the crime. She told the Houston Chronicle, “Paige told me she killed JR, that he was dead.”

Mrs. Wright had just dropped her son off at the house at 11:30 PM on Sunday, and that was after taking him to Wal-Mart to buy flowers and a Mother’s Day card for Paige. Barkin, 22, was stabbed several times and died just after midnight in the backyard of his yellow rental house.

Mrs. Wright said she believes Parkerson expected a more expensive gift, such as jewelry.

The couple’s two sons were asleep at home during the incident. Both are now with relatives. She is being held at Jefferson County Jail on $75,000 bond.

This article was written by Rachel Quigley and taken from MailOnline

QUESTION: I have a boyfriend in DR. I’ve known him for 5 years and we love each other. I’m not a US citizen yet and I plan to go to DR very soon to get married to him and come back and do his papers. How long will it take for him to get his papers and come to New York? Or how long is the process? Thank you!

ATTORNEY ROMAN’S ADVICE: If you wish for your boyfriend to come live in the US you can file for him if you are a US citizen (which you are not, so please see below). That type of visa is a K visa (fiancee visa), and from the moment you first file the paperwork it takes from 6-9 months for him to come live in the US. You need to establish that there is a relationship and that you have met in person. The more evidence you can provide that you know each other, the better. For example – plane tickets, photos, emails, phone records, cards, letters, etc. This is a consular processing, meaning that he will have to go to an interview in his country of origin so that they can grant him his visa to enter the US. Also, you are required to get married within 90 days of his entry into the US. If you do not get married then his visa becomes invalid and he falls out of legal status in the US.

Since you are not a US citizen, though, you should file an I-130 petition for your husband once you get married. You can apply to become a citizen and once your citizenship is completed you can modify the petition from spouse of “resident” to spouse of a “citizen” so that he has to wait less time.

Your husband will have to wait in the Dominican Republic while until there is a visa available. The wait time varies, and you have to look at the visa bulletin on the Department of State website.

Your citizenship application should be processed within six months to one year, if there are no complications in the process. His petition should also be processed within the same time period if there are no complications either.

Best of luck!

Eneida Roman, Esq.

Roman Law Offices

www.eromanlaw.com

PLEASE CLICK ON LINK BELOW TO READ DISCLAIMER:

SoLatina & Attorney Eneida Roman Disclaimer

A newlywed still wearing her wedding dress was found stabbed to death in a bathtub at her suburban apartment just days after her wedding. Estrella Carrera, 26, was found around 3:30 PM on Sunday in the 7800 block of South Rutherford Avenue, in the Burbank area of Chicago, according to police. Carrera’s body was discovered after her sister became alarmed when she could not contact her and asked police to conduct a well-being check at the home, officials said. When police called at her third-floor home, she was found with multiple stab wounds in an empty bathtub. Relatives say she was a Spanish language translator for a welfare agency.

Police today declared the death a homicide after autopsy results confirmed she died from stab wounds.

The 26-year-old was last seen around 2:00 AM on Saturday, hours after her City Hall wedding the evening before. She was due to pick up her two children – her nine-year-old daughter and two-year-old son- from a family member on Saturday afternoon but did not show up, according to the Chicago Tribune. A spokeswoman for the Cook County Clerk’s office said that Estrella did not yet have a marriage certificate on file but had applied for a marriage license on May 2. She just moved to the area about two months ago, neighbors told CW33, and is believed to have married a 30-year-old Chicago man who has not yet been identified. Her cousin Sandy Lopez said he was the father of her youngest child and it was a quick wedding. They had been in an on-off relationship for three years.

She said Estrella called her on Friday to invite her to a party but didn’t mention that it was a wedding party. She told the Chicago Tribune, “She didn’t tell anybody. She didn’t want to tell me she had gotten married, but she sounded happy.” She said she personally did not approve of the marriage or the relationship but was not speaking for the rest of her family. “He’s just a person who had problems,” she said. “She was a beautiful mother, person, sister.”

Neighbor Jason Tokarczyk, 24, told the paper she was quiet and generally kept to herself. He said he frequently saw her with her son but was surprised to hear she had married. “I’ve never seen her with a dude…I figured she was a single mom,” said Mr. Tokarczyk. “She was quiet as a mouse. I was shocked out of my mind to hear something had happened to her.”

Another neighbor said police were searching all around the area in dumpsters and garbage cans for a weapon but came up with nothing. Another local resident described the 26-year-old as “pleasant” but said she was relatively unknown.

Burbank police were releasing few details but said the death was being investigated by the South Suburban Major Crimes Task Force. Police are calling it an isolated incident stemming from a domestic situation, but did not say whether anyone was in custody as of today.

This article was written by Rachel Quigley and taken from MailOnline

So many people say that some mothers are selfish because they don’t let their baby’s father see their kids. Well, I dare to disagree with that because my baby and I were victims of that saying for a year.

Once upon a time I got pregnant. I was surprised but embraced the blessing with grace. My child’s father and I separated when I was about 5 months pregnant. I never took him back because he cheated on me. Not with just one girl, but several. I say “girls” because they were all underage. I was disgusted and didn’t want anything more to do with him.

I went on with my life, avoiding him at all cost. My son was born and my ex begged to be there for his birth. Well, he was there for a couple hours and then bailed out for a whole 3 months. I didn’t bother to contact him. I really didn’t care about him or him being around. His family tried to be there for his son (their grandchild) but he didn’t try himself. He knew where I lived and had my phone number, yet he never called or stopped by. Thanksgiving came three months after my son was born. His mother invited me over for T-Day and I went. He was there and said he was tired of the single life and wanted us to start over. I said no. He said I was selfish and blah, blah, blah. I said, “I don’t love you or care about you. If you want to be part of your son’s life, you can. But we don’t have a future together.” He got pissed off and said that I was only thinking of myself and that I should be thinking about my baby’s future and how my son needed a father. So I said “And you can be there. But not with me.” He got pissed again and I didn’t see him again ‘til 5 months later.

I was working and his mother was babysitting my son during the day, because she worked at night. One morning she had an appointment so she left the keys to her house and said I could go ahead and let myself in. Well, “baby’s daddy” showed up unannounced (he lived in another city with his 17-year-old girlfriend).
He kept calling my son “Nigga”. I hate the concept and sound of that word said to a child who’s only a couple of months old. I told him to stop. He said that was his son and he’d call him whatever he wanted. I told him the only time my son would be his child would be when he decided to be there for my son, both financially and emotionally. He was like, “You got a boyfriend. Have him take care of him” (I was talking to someone but hadn’t introduced my son to him yet ‘cause I didn’t know if we would stay together). I told him whomever I date is none of his business and that he needed to take care of his child and stop being a wanabe gangster. He got mad and jumped me. He choked me and tried to throw me out of his mother’s house. His friend who saw everything pulled him away from me and told him, “Lets go.”

After that, I left the house, too. I called the police for a restraining order. They went and looked for him. He already had a history with the police. When they caught up to him, he had a scratch on his neck (which, keep in mind, I didn’t do) and he told them I attacked him and his friend as soon as they got to the house (which was a lie). Of course, they arrested me and let him go because the bruises that he caused didn’t show up on me ‘til the next day. The scratch on him was a visible injury, the police said. My ex used to be physically abusive during the 5 months I was with him but he never attacked me that way, so I didn’t think it would ever get worse. It did that day, though, and he had no remorse for it.

I was convicted of 1st degree Criminal Domestic Violence while he wasn’t charged with anything. My bruises were dismissed because they said they weren’t visible the same day the incident happened. As far as I’m concerned, bruises take up to 12-24 hours to show on skin. But anywho. I was the victim of a man and the system. I almost got my son taken away from me. I was ordered to take anger management classes, which they changed to women’s counseling for battered women. And I couldn’t find a job.

Well, a whole year went by after that incident but a man showed up and picked me up from misery and made my son and me his life. Now I am going to school and looking to open my own business soon. My son is healthy and very happy! I am a survivor. I want to tell any woman out there that no matter how hard life can be, there is always a good reward for those who don’t lose faith. Today I am far away from that man. I am happy and so is my lil’ man. Stay strong, stay put and don’t let a harsh life lead you. You lead life!

Thank you for reading :)