Painful Flashbacks on a Friday Night

This was about ten years back, in preschool. I don't remember specific details, not any of my classmate's names, any of the teacher's names. But I do remember a teacher approaching me, while I was coloring and minding my own business. She studied me for a minute, and asked me "Lisa, where did those bruises on your arm come from?" I replied "My mom."

Now keep in mind that I had been abused my entire life so far by my mother. At the time I was young, that is all I had ever been exposed to. It was totally normal to me. Thus the reason why I replied in total honesty. This astonished the teachers and I was shocked to see the Child Protective Services at my home when I got back from school that day.

From then on, I grew up and learned. I realized that my mother was very different from the other children's mothers. The girls in my school would talk about how their mothers braided their hair, painted their toe nails, and packed their favorite food in their lunches. My hair always waved freely behind my back, knotted and tangled. In first grade, I acted surprised when I opened my lunch box to see the very lunch I packed for myself that morning, I lied and bragged about how my mother packed me the best lunches.

I feel lost sometimes. I feel like God purposely gave me a mother like my own. Your childhood is everything. I wonder how my life would be like if I was raised differently. Maybe I wouldn't feel so hurt. But I also wouldn't be as strong as I am today.