I saw blood gush down my mom's mouth and chin after getting punched by my drunk dad. Remember it like it was yesterday. I was standing outside her bedroom door listening to their argument when she suddenly opened the door holding her hands to her face. She was headed to the bathroom.  My dad followed after her violently and I quickly stood in between them to protect her.  I think I was about 10 or 11 years old but I was ready to fight him with all that I had! A rage of anger took over me and I decided in my heart to NEVER let a man put hands on me, abuse me or bring me down.  This is where feisty Patty was born. In every relationship with men that followed I took control immediately.  I set the tone from the beginning that I don't cook, clean nor slave after any man!  You feed yourself and do your own laundry!  I made it clear that I could curse you out when I got angry but don't you dare curse at me or I'd hit you.  I'd buy and wear what I wanted and did what I w

  I'm tired! Tired of worrying and carrying burdens that are not even mine to carry. They say you have to stay strong but I have been strong for way too long.   I'm not as strong as many may think or I make myself to be.  Turns out I've been in survival mode for decades. Wondering if instead of strength, it has been adrenaline sustaining me all this time. But I'm running out.  I'm tired! Tired of holding this shovel that I was given as a child. Used it to dig a hole deep enough to bury my emotions for all the years to come. I will not let weakness get in the way of my role - being the protector. Emotions are a crutch so it's important to bury them immediately. Crying could only be done in silence otherwise the others could sense the truth. And the truth would break them and I could not let that happen. I'm tired! Tired of wearing this mask. I don't want to be pitied so I just dwindle away in hiding. Very few notice the silence. It's better that way b

When I was 10 my dad incited a fight and then watched me be put into a choke-hold by a bully and left me to defend myself. Gotta love my dad and his ways of teaching survival skills. Forget the scouts lessons on how to make a fire out of rocks and sticks. Those tools didn't help in the projects where I grew up. This is what happened! One summer day while waiting in line at the ice cream truck, a boy on his bike hit me with the front tire and pushed me out of the way to cut in line. I was a frail child weighing a possible 49 pounds soak and wet. Soon as it happened I turned to find my dad for help. I go over to my dad and tell him that a boy hit me, pointing at the kid as I tattled. My dad walked back with me to the ice cream truck and called out to the kid. "You hit my daughter?" he asked in his strong boricua accent. I stood there with a 'that's right m*f and a grin on my face', waiting for the aftermath of what was about to happen. My dad was no joke! Then I

Over 15 years ago, I frantically drove up and down the Berlin Turnpike looking for my husband. I entered every single motel on that strip, slowly driving through each parking lot checking for his car. I called his cell phone countless times leaving numerous voicemails begging him to please answer me. With smudged eyeliner all over my face, I could barely see through the tears as I sped up and down the strip in my car. And if that wasn't bad enough, I had left behind my six year old daughter sleeping home alone (thankfully she didn't wake up). Talk about poor desperate choices!   A woman's brokenness is usually rooted from childhood experiences. Insecurities planted way back before they became young adults. Beliefs of being less than or not good enough subconsciously programmed into the mind. It's not noticeable right away but it changes their behavior. Later in life, she accepts constantly being rejected, disrespected and manipulated by their spouse. Just like the ocean