"A broken neck will be the least of your worries by the time I'm done with you."

This was the last sentence of substance that my mother spoke to me as her hands squeezed my neck. I was 22. It was the day after Christmas of 2004. I had stopped in for two reasons: to see if she liked her Christmas gift, and to pick up a book I had let her borrow months previous. I'm not sure what her trigger was, but I was attacked. Full on nail scratching, face punching, hair pulling attack from behind. It was not a fair fight, to say the least. She had the size and strength advantage as well as the element of surprise.

It was a surprise on so many levels.

Being thrown around by her was nothing new. My brother and I would get tossed around, slapped, grabbed.. but never punched.

That night though, I knew she had no qualms about choking me out. As the lights left my eyes, and the stars took its place, something inside of me snapped. My reflexes and adrenaline kicked in. I managed to fight off my attacker. I remember standing in front of the door reaching for it.

Then I remember driving.

I got back home. I burst through the door in hysterics. I was told I looked like I had been in a car wreck. My face was cut and bruised. Dirt from the floor was ground into my face, and the blood dried creating mud scabs. I was unable to talk, and so my dad went out to look at the presumed damage on my car. He found none, then put two and two together knowing that I was just at my mothers.

The cops weren't called because I feared of retaliation. I had seen the levels of manipulation and the great lengths she'd go to. I wanted nothing to do with that.

I remained silent.

This was the last time my "mother" abused me in any way, shape, or form. Because of this, I strive everyday to not be like her. I want to live my life without her. Without her way of being, without her physical presence, without HER.

I could have lived in her shadow. I could have been a spitting image of her and her actions. I chose not to. So why am I bringing this up? I'm bringing this up because yet again I am being reminded of how my past, and the things that have happened to me are shaping others perception of me. Not because they know my mother, but because they know I lived these experiences. Does that mean that I'm going to lash out and do the same things she had done? No. I am not the sum of my experiences.

It is so damn hard living in light when people can only see the shadows behind you. It doesn't matter whether or not these are tragedies that happened to you, or things you've done that you aren't proud of, you can move beyond them. I want to yell, to scream at them, "I'M RIGHT HERE!" but they seem to look past me, watching what the shadows project on the past. It's hard to live day to day knowing that so many around you are looking to my past to predict my future. They have failed to see me; they've failed to see who I am.

It's wholly frustrating. So what do I do? I look forward. I let the light strike my face. I take in the warmth. I let the shadows fall behind me. I let those who seek the shadows live in the shadows. It can be sad, but for those who walk along side of me, it makes it worth it.

Every damn day.

A broken neck will no longer be the sum of my worries.