Where it all began.

I remember being a kid with absolutely no worries in the world. I also remember playing outside with my friends (Although I didn’t have many). On beautiful days, the sun would warm my pretty brown skin like a skillet on a stove top. The light shining so bright, it would tend to burn my eyes, it was a good feeling though. The feeling of being alive, careless, and free. Growing up I had a normal Life, or so I thought. My mother was born in California and was raised by a devious, drunken mother and a strict war veteran father. So, you can only imagine her neglected childhood and the physical, emotional, and mental trauma she endured. It only got worse as she began having children. My mother Felecia had 4 children at the time, in which I was the 3rd oldest. If you’ve had quite a large family, hand me downs and old things became normal. My mother began having children very early. She was only 14 when she had her first baby, who was my eldest brother named Michael. Then came along Damon, Damonzhane (me) and Jamese. Since my mother was so young, she hadn’t given up her partying days. She was a heavy beer drinker daily and drinking heavy alcohol by night. She even dabbled with some sort of pills. My fathers name is Damon (where part of my name comes from). He was born in Chicago and raised partly in Sacramento. That is where he and mother met. Sadly when I was about 3 years old my father Left me. He and my mother got into a dispute and he decided he no longer wanted any parts of me. That indeed left many open voids that I felt needed to be filled. I felt unloved, like a mistake, guilty and angry. All of these emotions running through my body and unsure how to handle or maintain them. Although I didn’t know much about my father, I certainly knew he was a coward. I knew it because how could a man just up and leave his family. The worst part is the children wondering why? And if maybe it was because of them. Besides the grief, loneliness, and anger, over the years I rarely got to see or speak to my father. It’s weird because he wasn’t an addict of any kind, he just simply didn’t care to be the father I needed. It was like he was nonexistent. It was like being placed on earth without a clue to who you are, or even a guess in mind that they even care. My mother met a new man, and his name was Lonnie. Lonnie was a very nice, considerate, and a hard worker. At the time my mother worked as a Nurse’s assistant in a busy downtown clinic. She never had much time for her children. We didn’t get to bonding time, fun activities, or family date/game nights. When Lonnie and my mother met, my mother was 18 and Lonnie was 28. Yeah, you guessed it, 10-year difference. They eventually got married and had a baby boy. His name is Adwoan and this made child number 5! The marriage slowly came to an end when Lonnie became jealous, abusive, and beyond clingy. Time after time again I remember the arguing, the fighting, the police, the hospital visits, and the list goes on. That’s what really made me realize that any type of abuse whether its physical, emotional, or mental is not ok.