SheIsCorean
Bio
I make broken look beautiful and my strength lives within the life that I've lived
Stories (3/0)
Are you my mommy?
standing in the kitchen, as a 32 year old woman, my eyes focused in on a fly, flying around me as I did the dishes, as it landed on my kids left over noodles from the night before, I stepped back and watched as the plate I was holding slipped out of my hands, slowly falling while hidden memories came rushing in like a flash flood...The year was 1984, I was nine years old and I can remember waking up to the apartment being eerily quiet, not just a noiseless quiet, it felt as though everything had stop around me, everything except for me. I slowly crept down what seemed like an endless hallway, my malnourished hand was placed against the yellow stained wall, shaking an all to familiar shake. I wasn’t afraid of a monster I had seen on t.v like most little girls would be, I was afraid of the monster who lived in my reality. My monster I called dad. This day after seeing him still asleep I turned and ran back to my room, I can still remember seeing the bottom of my pink ruffled ratted pajamas as I ran to play with the only friend my childhood ever knew, my twin sister, I enjoyed those few minutes of childhood. I was dancing around with my sister acting like what I assume most little girls having fun would act like and in the middle of me reaching to grab my sisters hands, the look came over her face. As her eyes look directly above my left shoulder. i dropped to my knees, knowing exactly what that look meant. My dad grabbed me by my hair and shouted "I WILL MAKE SURE I NEVER WAKE UP TO YOUR DISGUSTING VOICE AGAIN" I was shaking, barely able to stand ,from fear. He dragged me down the same hallway I had just been down but this time it seemed like i was in slow motion. I never fought back or tried to talk my way out of a situation. I always just prayed. After we got to the miniature bar where he hid his worn out leather belt, he began to hit me. it was never with the strap part of the belt, and rarely on my bottom. I placed my hands over my mouth so that my screams did not anger him further. I could hear my sister crying, even though i was the one that always got the beatings, i swear she was always in there with me, enduring the same pain.After this beating on this day my dad tended up throwing me on a brown, torn, smelly couch that sat randomly in his room and the old me not to move or speak . I was so afraid as I looked all around me, I didn’t know if I was more afraid of the known or the unknown. I looked all around me, my mind being pulled with different levels of fear in directions that put me in a paralyzed state. I sat there a 9 year old little girl so scared I could barely feel my body hurting as my pajamas pressed against my bruised body, I decided I wouldn’t say anything. I swear what I went through at this moment in my life was torture. Looking up my green eyes glossed over with tears I begged inside my head” please please please help me please help me” I clutched my fingers and toes begging for someone to help me knowing that my cries would go unheard I whispered "daddy", he didn’t hear me so i repeated it a little louder "daddy"! WHAT he replied, “there’s white things all over the couch" i said. He looked at me and said shut the fuck up its rice, just as I was about to respond he said "if you say one more thing...
By SheIsCorean3 years ago in Horror
Stage 3
Have you ever wondered how a cancer patient really feels? What they really go through? Over time the word "cancer "has become a word that is whispered or never spoken of. Whether it is spoken about or not the reality is those who are diagnosed with cancer can not escape it's grasp. I was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer and thought I would die for about 5 weeks, then after having a double mastectomy, reconstructive surgery and 19 lymph nodes removed (5 testing positive for cancer) the final diagnosis was stage 3 which I was grateful that I could at least try to fight for my life. I completed 7 months of chemotherapy, 6 weeks of radiation therapy, and am 2 and a half years into hormone therapy, that I have to be on everyday for 10 years. Here is the truth, our truth. Here's my story. Before March 3rd 2017 I thought a “Breast cancer survivor" was a woman who had breast cancer and did not die from it. Boy was I wrong! The word "Survivor" doesn't give justice to what it is we really overcome. Being a Cancer Survivor means so much more then whether we live or die. Survivor is about surviving, not necessarily surviving cancer itself but more about surviving the mental abuse that the effects of cancer will put you through, have you questioning and second-guessing every decision you once were so sure of. Being a survivor is about surviving the emotional abuse that to often leave you feeling crippled, but with no crutches. Try to imagine fighting for your life while everything you once new about yourself is being taken over by an unseen impostor, that confusingly... is you. Surviving are those moments when we begin to question if it's even worth it anymore and as were crying, alone, on our bathroom floor, we find the strength to get back up in order to be a wife or a mom, because no matter what we go through we want those around us to feel normalcy within their own lives. We become survivors every time we show up for chemotherapy, radiation , and for endless surgeries, some so painful that at times you will forget how to breath, praying for it to at least lessen just enough to catch our breath, even if its just for a moment. Over time the pain does lessen while little by little strengthening the way that we will view ourselves. Eventually becoming proud to wear our permanent badge of honor. finally being able to see that we are so much more than just our scars. But that won’t happen until we overcome everything we once never thought we could, like having my breast removed, possibly having my ovaries removed and put on hormone therapy to stop the estrogen in which fuels my cancer, leaving me to ask “if you take all of that from me, than how will I ever feel like I am a woman again?" Being a survivor is the moment we are handed the pen in which our oncologist gives us and we are told to place our signature on a form (before we are given chemotherapy) stating that we understand that chemo will kill some of us. You see for me, just like so many other survivors,our fight doesn’t have anything to do with whether we will survive or not, It’s the possibility that maybe, just maybe because of the fight in which we are fighting today it will give my children and your children a greater possibility to never have to wonder whether they will lose their battle to cancer because we already fought that fight for them.
By SheIsCorean3 years ago in Motivation