I grew up in what I thought was a pretty loving home until I saw my father, who’s a preacher, hit my mother at the age of seven years old for the first time. It was a consistent image that would be ever-present in front of me until I was 17 years old. At that age, my mom got the courage to get a divorce. Having endured the turmoil accompanied by my parents’ tumultuous relationship, as a child, I often held an unfortunate ringside seat to the dysfunction that swarms the homes of children living amid parents whose relationships are thwarted with domestic violence.
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