She Chose Life

This is the story of my mom’s life and I marvel at her strength.

My mother is half Vietnamese, half American. She and my uncle were the results of my grandma sleeping with one of the men that went to Vietnam during the war. When my mom was two, he left them. It was hard living there because they were always hungry, but it was worse having some American blood. People would do such things as to throw rocks at these kids. I think she was nine- years- old when she was sent on a plane to come here. She considers herself lucky to be alive because the plane that left before her and her brother’s had crashed, killing a number of people. They finally arrived at her uncle’s house in California. Rather than being save, though, they were just moved into another miserable situation. Her uncle was abusive. He beat them for every little thing and would sexually abuse my mom. There came a point when he would strike them if they spoke in Vietnamese. (I’d like to clear up that it was especially difficult since he never taught them any English). They didn’t talk for a long time until they were able to teach themselves. While living there my mom had owned a little lovebird, which I’m not sure when or where she got it. She loved that bird. Unfortunately, her uncle only kept it around to use against her, saying he’d kill it if she told anyone about the abuse. My mom tells me stories about how she was scared to go home every day, (especially the day report cards go home), how he would make them stand in a corner all night and would hit them if they fell asleep or sat down, and how she once ran away and lived on the street for three days before being found when she was about thirteen. My mom had some rough school years, too. The abuse made her socially awkward and the one friend she had once had a sleepover and also got sexually abused. Guess who never talked to her again? When my mom was sixteen she sent her bird to stay with her uncle’s mom (her grandma, I think). After her bird was safe she told her uncle that if he dares to ever touch her again she’d call the cops. The abuse was over and when she turned seventeen she left and joined the navy. Later in life her bird, the reason she lived through those years of hell, was accidentally stepped on and killed. She wanted to die. She took her car and left to drive off a bridge. Something happened, she told me, a flash of bright light covered her windshield. Now we’re actually not all that religious. We don’t go to church and we don’t feel strongly about one thing or another, but my mother swears it was god and her bird spoke to her, telling her everything was alright and that he wanted her to continue to live. She went home that night unharmed and I’m thankful for that.

To all those suffering from depression: I hope you’re able to find that one thing to keep you going.Probably no more posts from me but, thank you for reading, everyone. I do consider this a bit lengthy so, I’m glad you were able to bear with me.