My Life: A Picture of Strength

By Sharonda Fisher

Sasha has suffered and overcame trauma in many ways. Her near-death experience is where she felt at peace and safe. As far as what happened once her heart stopped, she has no recollection of that.

Nothing could have prepared her for motherhood. Once she realized she was responsible for another human being, she became motivated. She sees it as inspiring, purpose-giving, and exhausting. It motivated her to become a better person so her children would have all they need. She worked ten times harder to get where she wanted to be.

Her and her husband celebrated their unity in public proclaiming they are meant to be until death. Couples vow to become friends, partners, and lovers. Lies, deceit, infidelity, and division were not in her plan. Her husband’s inappropriate advances and molestation charges had repercussions. She was left aiding the trauma he had caused. She taught her children how to be strong, move on, learn, and use their feelings about this traumatic experience to drive them in a better direction. Her resilience and determination to keep going comes from self- belief.

“God is faithful and honor the faith of his chosen.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662418006

Book preview

He Heard My Cry

Thank you, God, for being my hiding place, and protecting me from trouble, for you showed me your wonderful love; as I waited patiently, you turned to me and heard my cry.

Chapter One

The Norm

During my younger years while attending elementary school in the Woodlawn area, I was always active and cheerful.

I love to go to school every day and participate in different activities. My most favorite activity was the school choir. After school, my friends and I would walk across the grass field picking berries and honeysuckle from the trees. Today I can still hear my mom fussing at my sister and me about all the germs spread on the field. But kids being kids, we did it anyways. We thought my mom and stepdad were telling tales. All the neighborhood kids knew about the honeysuckle trees and the horse stables. We were like tomboys. Boy, those were the good ole days.

During the summer break my sister and I’d go stay at Grandma’s, where our family was originally from, the historical Harlem Park area on the west side of Baltimore. Back then, there was unity in the communities. Predominantly African Americans. It was a tight-knit community. Everybody knew everybody. There was hardly any violence, and we referred to law enforcement as officer friendly. We respected our elders. When the streetlights came on, we all knew what time it was. It was our cue to come in the house.

Growing up was hard from time to time while witnessing my mom being physically abused by my stepdad, Darell. She cared so much about others and loved others more instead of loving herself first and foremost. My mom was very dedicated to her family and career. She always put the needs of others first. Starting from high school, Mom has always taken family and friends in. Mom graduated from Frederick Douglass High School. After high school mom pursued her nursing degree at the Baltimore City Community College, and earned her certification in Fashion Design. She loved her career and did it with excellence. Her second passion was sewing. Mom was well known as a seamstress in the Baltimore City and County areas. There were a selective few from out of town that would travel to seek my mom’s sewing expertise. She was popular for her sewing. Although my mom struggled being physically abused, she was strong. As a petite woman, she dealt with a lot in her marriage. I can recall moments hearing my mom cry when she thought we was not listening. My sister and I witnessed a lot of the abuse. We made a promise to not allow that same trauma when we become parents with our own families. Mom and Darell sought counseling. There were some cracks and crevices, wounds that could never heal, but Mom stuck in there. Some things never change.

Tasha, wake up, I said in a mild tone.

What’s wrong? my sister said, jumping up out of her sleep.

You hear that? Mom and Darell arguing again.

Okay, let’s stay up.

It was only a few hours before it was time to get up for school.

Do you know why they are arguing? Tasha asked.

No! I heard the bedroom door slam a few times, that is what woke me.

While Tasha and I were sitting up on our beds, we were trying to figure out what they were arguing about. At ages eight and nine, this was our reality. The noise stopped for a moment, then following was someone gagging for air and tussle. Our hearts started pounding, scared and frightened with tears falling from our faces. We held each other tightly until the noise stopped. Attempting to call the police, my sister stopped me.

No, Sasha! We are going to get in trouble.

Thinking back on past events, we got our asses whipped by Mom and Darell.

So what are we going to do? I looked at Tasha sarcastically.

There is nothing we can do.

We both looked at each other with fear in our eyes and decided to say the only prayer we knew together. The Lord’s Prayer. Our Father who art in heaven, hollowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…

Finally, at around 4:30 a.m., everything died down. The door slammed and Tasha jumped.

Calm down, Tasha, it is only the front door.

Do you think that bastard is gone, Sasha?

I don’t know. I hope so. I hope his ass is gone for good.

It was seven in the morning, the sun beaming through our windows. The alarm clock sounding off to the radio station playing Eric B and Rakim’s Paid in Full. Mom tapped on our door.

Girls, get up for school. You two are going to be late.

Tasha and I were feeling exhausted from earlier, with our heads under our pillows.

Ma, we just went to bed, what time is it?

Time for school! Mom said.

But, Ma, we were up all night from you and stepdad arguing.

Mom