At 5 years old is when my life changed. I was a lot closer to my mom when I was younger.

This

was due to the constant cycle of abuse that was occurring by my dad and his parents. I still to this

day commend my mother for the bravery she exhibited. The resources were scarce and my

mother wanted to keep me safe. So at the age of 2 she sent me to India to live with my

grandparents. She did this primarily so I didn’t get my childhood ripped away from me. She

didn’t want me to worry about what was going on, and wanted me to get the childhood she knew

I deserved. I don’t remember much, especially in intricate details of my time in India, but I can

say that my grandparents taught me a lot about my culture. They tried to teach me how to say

certain words in Gujarati, and took me to a Garba which is a traditional dance, danced on a

holiday known as Navratri. They loved and nurtured me. After a few months, when everything

calmed down, I went back to Georgia. I was around 3. Quickly, 3 turned to 4 and 4 turned into 5,

and there I was, in the middle of the night, still in my little mermaid pajamas with my bags

packed, leaving quietly so no one could hear my mom and I. Before we left my mom said,

“Go upstairs into your aunt's room, and tell her we’re going over for a sleepover at Gracie’s

house.”

I wobbled as I went up, my little legs weren’t long enough for the steep stairs. I knocked on her

door and she let me in. She was very confused as it was extremely early in the morning, around

2am. My aunt couldn’t hear nor speak so I had to gesture what I was saying. After I was done I

walked back down, trying not to trip on the staircase. As I was ready to step out of the house my

mom grabbed my arm firmly and said,

“I know this is a big decision to make, but you have to tell mommy the truth ok?”

“Ok” I say, still half asleep.

“Do you want to stay with mommy or daddy?”

“Mommy!”

I say innocently in excitement. We then left the house, we had nothing, barely any money or

clothes, but we had each other. We lived with her friends, distant family, but nothing permanent.

As I grew up, I saw many different states, as we moved frequently due to my mom not being able

to find a secure job. We moved from Georgia to Philadelphia, Philadelphia to Kentucky, and

Kentucky to New Jersey. I remember from Kentucky, my best friend at the time, Katie. She was

2 years younger than me. She had shimmering blonde hair that looked magical under the sun,

and her green eyes looked like emeralds. She was the most energetic person I had ever seen. We

lived parallel to each other. Once at the bus stop she asked me a question.

“Why do I never see your dad around?”

The question was very sudden, and something I wasn’t expecting. I just replied with,

“Oh, umm he’s dead.”

I looked down and saw her green eyes glowing with pity and sadness. I didn’t know what else to

say, I just blurted something out. I know the obvious answer was to reply with, “oh my parents

are divorced.” but when you are in 2nd grade and have barely any friends, you try to do

everything possible to not look like an oddball. I felt incredibly guilty but I didn't dare utter

anything else. After a few more months we moved to New Jersey. It was a fresh start. New

Jersey I would say was the most financially secure out of all the places we lived. It was a tiny

one bedroom apartment with tiny detailed floral designs all over the walls. It included a tiny

kitchen with a big window looking out at a big oak tree. No matter how scrappy our conditions

must’ve been, my mother always tried to get me everything a little girl my age could want.

She put me in voice lessons, dance classes, sports, and everything a little girl could want. Every

birthday I would be so excited as she always made the best homemade pancakes. The birthday I
remember the most is my 9th birthday. I woke up to the smell of freshly cooked pancakes and a

cup of chocolate milk. After I ate my birthday breakfast my mom told me to close my eyes. I

squealed in excitement. I opened my eyes to a beautiful, color changing Ariel doll. She had big,

ocean blue eyes and deep red hair. My favorite part about it was the tail, it changed colors when I

soaked in water. She never told me how much it cost but I knew that it was out of our budget, yet

she pulled extra shifts to give me a good birthday. During this time my dad still had to see me

once a week. This was because he had partial custody of me. Every time I saw and hung out with

him, I felt like I was with someone who didn’t want to be there with me. I knew he was only still

visiting once a week so he could try and change my mind into living with him. That wasn’t

because he loved me or cared about me, it was because he wanted to prove a point to my mom as

he knew I was the only reason my mom still hadn’t given up. Plus, my dad at this time, was

living with his new wife and his new baby daughter, in my old family house. I didn't feel good

enough for him. I kept thinking about how he loved his new daughter better than me. It reminded

me of when I was 4 or 5, when he used to tell me to my face how he wished my skin was whiter

like my cousins. He always used to compare me to everyone he wished I could look like. This

really affected me and still affects me to this day. It made me extremely self conscious about how

I’m being perceived as, or how dark or light my skin looks in certain lighting. On the other hand,

my mom never made me feel anything less than my worth. She always supported me through

everything. She had done everything by herself to provide for me that he couldn’t have done in a

decade. I was a little kid and sometimes I would blame everything that happened on myself.

Even though I’m almost 16 I still do that to this day. I didn’t love him much, but I wanted him to

love me. I wanted a father to come to my father daughter dance in elementary school. I wanted

my dad to cheer for me during my soccer games, but he was never there. Instead it was my mom
cheering. The loudest in the crowd at every game, and helping me finish my late night projects.

My dad was clearly not the one who raised me, he chose to walk away. So I became the child

who craved affection more than anything else, but refused to accept it when I got it. I became a

teenager who constantly craved love and searched for it in all the wrong places. I became a girl

who thought she wasn't enough and needed the constant approval of everyone around her in

order to feel decent about herself. Now I am slowly becoming the girl who has healed from the

trauma he has created and infested in me, all those years ago.