December 24, 2006 was my parents' 23rd wedding anniversary and sadly, instead of celebrating it, they separated that morning. I witnessed my mother attempt to commit suicide by swallowing sleeping pills while my father handed her a liter of Sprite. I had celebrated my parents' wedding anniversary the night before, but instead ended up burning the postcard I had worked on for hours the night before. I remember running outside after burning the paper, screaming and wishing the ordeal was a dream. I couldn't believe what I had witnessed. I was only 13 years old. My parents gave me different kinds of traits like bad temper, good work ethic and being a great host helped me transform into the woman I am now. Growing up my family lived a "double life". To the outside world, I had the most loving and respected family that the whole city knew and loved, but closing the doors was hell. My father physically and verbally abused me, my siblings and my mother for a long time. My father would beat me with a telephone cord until drops of blood dripped from me for little things I would do wrong, like getting dirty outside or playing with the children. My mother sometimes joined my father when it was time to beat me and my brothers. I knew that the effect of my parents' beatings on me was a stress reliever rather than teaching me to respect them. My mother hardly disagrees with my father because the time she would do so is when my father would beat and rape her in their room. I thought it was fine, my mother would come out with a bruise on her face after leaving the room because my mother would tell me "We like to play together a lot, don't worry, my son." My grandparents who lived with my family did......half the paper......not the pitch to have more things at a party. I once asked my mother why she and my father were very strict with me every time we attended parties, my mother's response was: "So people can respect our family and never question what we do effectively behind closed doors." Now that I'm older, my parents' text every time we went to a party makes sense to me. I never went to therapy to help me deal with my family problems or my suicide attempts, self-therapy has helped me understand things I can't change about my past, especially my upbringing. Tackling skills worksheets and having a good support group in my life has helped me control my temper and try to look at the positive aspects of my past. The positive traits that my family gave me are the ones that I hold on to closely because these traits have helped shape me to be an independent, compassionate and ambitious woman.