I figured its been long enough and now I can share a little bit about my life.
First, I want to give you a little warning. It may seem at times, that I am being cavalier. I'm not. I've gone through more in my 24 years on this planet than more have in an entire lifetime. If I don't laugh it off and give it to God, I would lose my mind (more than I already have).
I was born to a 21 year old Mom (AV), and 25 year old Dad (R). It has been said that the marriage was a mistake. My mom got married to get out of the house. She had to get away from very strict Italian parents. R, well that's a different story. From what I remember, he wasn't all that bad.
I have some good memories. I remember he used to pick me up and put me on top of the refrigerator, and I would laugh and laugh. I would be scared, but I knew he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. Or atleast that's what I thought.
You see, my father was physically abusive to my mom. He started getting violent when my mom was about 4 months pregnant with me. My uncle had passed away and apparently he just lost it. He was so upset that his 'baby girl' wouldn't get to meet her uncle, that he never stopped to think that his upcoming actions would be the reason he would never be in her life past the age of 10.
While my father was physically and mentally abusive, my mom had something else to deal with. Her mom. My grandma. My Nonna. The woman who taught me how to make homemade dough for pizza. She was still practicing the Catholic faith at the time. Good Catholic Italians DON'T get divorced. Even if your husband is doing drugs and beating you. So my mom stayed.
My mom stayed for a total of 8 years or so. She tried everything. Moved into new houses, buying different cars, nothing worked. In a last ditch effort, we moved to South Carolina. I'm pretty vague as to why, but that's where we went. It is here that the story took a turn for the worse.
While I remember my mom going to the hospital at the hand of my father even when we lived in Long Island, this was unbearable. I remember it like it happened 20 minutes ago. I was 7. Mom and I were making steaks. We sat down to eat. He passed a comment that it didn't taste how he was used to and Mom said 'Oh well.' He freaked out. Apparently, the bottle of wine consumed prior to dinner, was just enough to throw him in the wrong direction. Here's where little Amanda comes in. I stood up and told him not to hit my mom. He pointed his steak knife at me and told me he wished I choked on my steak and died.
Later that night, I asked my mom a question in the way only an innocent child could. I asked her when she was going to leave that idiot. That night we ended up in a battered woman and children's home.
We made our way back to NY in a little under a month. There was a divorce and court ordered supervised visitation. That only lasted a few months. Needless to say, there was very little contact after I turned 9.
More to come...Tennessee, Florida, Tennessee, and New York.
Just know that I'm still here. I know how much God loves me. I know that I wouldn't give up anything I have ever gone through. These things made me who I am.
Here is the silver lining from Pompano Beach, July 4th, 2005.