Yes, moving can be a very traumatic experience for some, but in my case…a panic attack follows at the mention of the word. Afraid of what’s to come.
I can’t think clearly or breathe, as I think back to what happened to me when I was seven.
Imagine living a peaceful life surrounded by those who love you unconditionally…
That was my life during my first seven. I had my chores of course and I did them with a big smile. Because my chores were not a job.
Our loving family worked as a team. We collected eggs from the hens on our farm, fed the animals, picked our vegetables, and got water from the spring.
The meals were prepared from what was harvested on our farm. We were many, so we ate what we were served and never wasted anything. We appreciated what we had as well as each other and what each of us had to offer.
Then one day, I’m on a plane heading to a new “home”. I suddenly found myself living in a very turbulent environment inside and outside. My entire world was turned upside down.
Inside I became a maid for my “biological mother”, their children and her husband. Outside I was a migrant worker trapped by “peace work”. I had to perform my best or there would be trouble at “home”.
I did not matter, so no one despite the evidence of abuse came to my rescue. This hell lasted twelve long years.
In school I was no longer a star student. I was bullied and laughed at for at least four years because, I did not speak English.
I faced ridicule and was introduced to racism. “Jim Crow Laws” existed and the pride of those who created the laws.
I was broken, but had a deep desire and feeling that I would find the angels who gave me the best first seven. I never stopped searching… for I knew they were out there! I found them as well as many more angels here and above. Each played an important part in creating the woman I am today!