Over Coming Abuse: Standing Strong Through It All

By Jeanette Foster-Williams

Dedicated to the journey of my life as a young child who had to overcome the abuse from the people that I thought was protecting me. Through it all I stayed strong and wanted to share my experience with others who went through similar experiences. Thank you all for reading my book, and allowing me into the spaces of your heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeanette Foster-Williams
• Release date: May 29, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215294000

Book preview

You are not a victim but a survivor that lived to tell your story. You are a beautiful gift from god, who was placed here to walk with others through the toughest of time. You are loved.

Prologue

Over Coming Abuse Is a book that will tell you a story of my life that will include real characters with fictional names. This book will take you on the journey about a young girl who had experiences that could not be talked about or discussed with anyone. Come along in this journey while I share delicate parts of my life with you.

Chapter 1

Born into the world of an unknown reality

Born as Jeanette Foster, an Aries from the angels on March 21, 1980 at Booth Memorial Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio to my mother and a father with two older siblings who at the time was three and four years old .

    Living in poverty on Brackland Ave off of Eddy Rd, in an apartment infested with roaches and rats so bad that the mice were climbing up the curtains. This was a place where I ate and slept for two years before my father was eligible to purchase a single four-bedroom, 2,126 sq ft home, located at the time in a predominantly white neighborhood in the East of Cleveland, Ohio, in 1982.

 Dingbat Leaf

During this time, I have memories of my mother waking me up every morning because I had accidents in my bed. She would clean me up while getting my two older sisters ready for elementary school. I remember eating my bowl of Corn Flakes cereal while watching the cartoon Fat Albert.

It was a great memory for me because I felt safe, and I always looked forward to being woken up by my mother as she bathed and cleaned me, preparing for whatever the day had in store. She was my safe space, the person I looked forward to seeing every single day. She helped keep me centered.

    As I got older, the memories of watching Speed Racer played in my head, as I couldn't wait to go downstairs to the living room to watch it while eating my cereal. I can still recall the smell of grits and butter with fried bologna for my father.       

    My mother used to cut three corners of the bologna so that it would come out with a nice little crisp on the ends. She would also make different flavors of Kool-Aid inside a clear juice jug with the blue top. It was so exciting because my mother would pour me some of that juice into my little cup, and it was amazing how it would turn my tongue different colors.

I would watch her prepare my father’s plate while she poured his kool-aid inside of his large drinking cup filled with ice. I was so jealous of how his plate was made so perfectly, and placed on his food tray while she took his meal upstairs through the side kitchen door. I would just hold on to her shirt and follow her up stairs while making sure I kelp up.

I would sit on the floor in my parent’s bedroom while my father ate his meal. He and I would watch tv while my mother would go and iron his work clothes in the guess room. This was a routine that she never missed, and did every single day even if it was on the weekends. His pants would be ironed and creased in perfection just for him.

This was normal in the household, never during this time did I think that this was a obligation for my mother. In my eyes I looked at my mother as a woman of steel. I never understood how she could get up every single morning and take care my father, sisters and I without a complaint in the world, never knowing that behind her mind was fear.

Their was an age gap between me and my two older sisters, where one is three years older with the other being a four year difference. These two always looked out for me as well as sat on my head when they were being mean. At the end of the day, these were the big sisters that I followed all around the house.

We played hide and seek, played with toys, and ate together everyday. I felt like the youngest since there was times when toys was not shared with me. It was ok with me as long as I had them to follow all around the house. The excitement of always trying to figure where they were going, was always the best part of my day.

Remembering being on the road in a yellow and brown station wagon with my two big sisters in the back with me, my mother on the passenger side, with my father being the driver. Having to go into small towns for bathroom breaks, sandwiches already made up by my mom, and never knowing where we were going until we got there.

Arriving to the camping spot with blue sky's and grass everywhere, with open bathrooms and showers. Family tent, kerosene lanterns, and the cooler stored with our food for the weekend. No plug in for devices, just old school charcoal for the grill,  batteries for the boom box and flashlights.

During this time, I never understood the value of sleeping out with the sounds of crickets in the middle of the night, with the crinkling of the sounds of the leaves as they blew across the grass. Being too scared to ask my mother to get up in