They say your morals and values are conceived in your home. Meaning that how your family and friends choose to behave is influenced on you. If they show love and compassion to one another, those same actions will be reciprocated to you. The same is held to be true when hostility and malice are executed; your innocent mind will establish those behaviours as normal. It is this unfortunate turn of events that changes a child’s future and endorses them to execute those same practices. This cycle of neglect and unconcern was broken by my very hands that endured a lifetime of pain and sacrifice, only to ensure my daughter doesn’t experience the same.

I was always a hopeless romantic. I fell for anyone and everyone who showed me the slightest bit of attention. My friends would always banter me about how effortlessly my heart opened up to every boy, but I couldn’t help it. I never found the words to defend or prove myself to them. And how could I, when my own mother did the same? My father would always say visious and venomous words to my mother, yet she would never hold him accountable. He quickly learned that his abusive demeanor was acceptable and ultimately continued in his ignorant ways. His anger and frustration used to be reciprocated through his words, but was later exchanged with his fists.

My child-self never questioned his behaviour because my mother didn’t. I soon came to adapt to his actions and integrated them into what I thought was okay. This idea ruined me over and over again as my relationship with my boyfriend was starting to be similar. In the early stages, we were deeply in love. He brought me flowers, wrote me love letters, and took me out to many dates. We never went a day without talking or seeing each other. My boyfriend and I later got a place of our own, allowing me to move out of my parents home.

Two years after, I got pregnant and had a baby girl. This was, of course, unexpected and posed a financial issue to our relationship. Shortly after my difficult delivery, things changed between my boyfriend and I. Our usual outings were lessened, romantic dates were decreased, and overall communication between us declined. He slowly stopped helping me out with our daughter and consumed alcohol on a regular basis.

He started a poisonous cycle of calling me degrading names and disrespecting my hard work. I didn’t know any better but to keep quiet and continue on with my life. It eventually came to me that I didn’t want to live the life my mother lived and ultimately changed my actions. My responses became heavier and proved my independence. My demeanour consequently defended my words and ultimately altered how my daughter saw me.

It was evident to me that I saw my mother as a vulnerable woman who possesses the power to change her life, but fears to. I, on the other hand, did not fear anything but my daughters future and capability to control her life. My grasp on not only my life, but also my beloved child’s was something that was difficult to bear. At times, I questioned my strength and power to perform such farfetched actions; whether it be ignoring my boyfriends taunts or eventually speaking up about them. After my powerful remarks, I felt a sense of accomplishment and relief that my daughter will too, integrate my independent behaviour into her own life.

I  picked her up and cradled her in my arms. As I rocked her back an forth I fixated my eyes on her smooth skin, plump cheeks, and graceful eyes. I finally felt a sense of love and happiness that came to me in waves; one stronger and loner than the next. It was at this point that I felt I had done something right in my life and in hers. I couldn’t fathom my gratitude and quietly shed tears of happiness.